Maid for Her by Eve Knight is about a forbidden but undeniable love. Forced to bear witness to her lady’s torment at the brutal hands of her lord, a maid, fearing banishment, confesses her love for her mistress. When her feelings are reciprocated, both women face the risk of discovery. Knowing she can’t be with the woman she loves, can the maid let go enough in her heart and show her lady that pleasure might one day be hers with a lord?
Huck Pilgrim has already had two releases in 2015, both part of the Carnal Series, taking place in the small town of Carnal, where it's always hot no matter what the season. No matter the length, Carnal stories are always dark and dirty.
In what is probably the longest title I've seen in erotic fiction, Choking of a Beautiful Girl by the Bastard of George Clooney a beautiful girl finds herself at the mercy of a Mexican kingpin. Lisa is young, beautiful and a little bit shallow, but it's not something she notices about herself. She goes to Mexico for a little fun. Some excitement, but something goes wrong, and Lisa finds herself face-to-face with her own limitations. Fortunately for her, she meets Americo, who is only too happy to help her imagine herself differently. Perhaps even as an entirely new person! Also included in this book is a bonus story, A Small Favor.In American Girl, Rafia Saad longs to be part of the in-crowd at her new school. She meets Veronica Smith, one of Roosevelt’s most popular students, who is only too eager to help Rafia find an appropriate place in the school’s social hierarchy. The position Veronica has in mind for Rafia involves one of the upstairs guest rooms and most of the boys on the football team. Rafia reluctantly agrees to giving each of her classmates a little spin, but then the homeowner shows up and makes his own demands. Will Rafia overcome her shyness long enough to assert herself? Will she learn to accept her own needs and desires?
Here is a red hot excerpt from American Girl:Rafia willed herself not to look at him, though it would have been impossible to see him in the dim light anyhow. She wanted to affect the role of the wounded date. Meant to tell him about how rough he had been with her. Had he really ripped her sexy black panties? She felt annoyed. She meant to make him say her name—Rafia. Wouldn’t accept another “Baby” from him for the rest of the night. American boys respected assertiveness.
But she didn’t want to be shrill. Not a bitch.
She raised her arms over her head and nuzzled her bottom into the couch. Tone was important. She felt the cool air on her damp underarms, enjoyed the stretch of her torso. Draped one of her slender legs over the back of the couch.
He knelt nearby the couch, his hand on her tummy. Rafia kept her gaze averted. Let him do some work to get her attention.
His hand moved to her breast, massaging her nipple. Cocking her arm over her eyes, Rafia enjoyed the feel of his fingertips on her body. He’d returned to make sure she’d get to come tonight. This thought pleased her. Sure enough, Rafia felt his hand on the inside of her thigh. She licked her lips, tried to remain absolutely still as he explored her. Perhaps he would use his tongue on her. When his light touch moved up her thigh to the hot spot between her legs, Rafia gave a soft moan. His thumb rubbed her clit. Gently rotating her hips, she wanted more of his touch. Could feel her own desire mounting.
He withdrew his hand and Rafia heard him unfasten his fly, lower his pants. Plenty of boys had an appetite—here was one with a stamina to match!
Rafia smiled as he raised her knees toward her chest. She opened herself wide, gave herself over to him. He mounted her, remaining upright. Though she had already surrendered the role of wounded date, Rafia kept her arm mostly across her eyes, the better to focus on her own hard breathing, the orgasm steadily mounting in her body. She listened to the wet sounds coming from between her legs as he pumped his hips. His earlier deposit had left her wet, slippery. His cock popped out of her and he rubbed its fat head on her lips before sliding himself back inside. He pressed his hands on the backs of her thighs and pumped his hips with abandon. Rafia felt her own pressing needs rising. Then he leaned forward and put his warm mouth on her nipple. She groaned out loud. Reaching for him, Rafia got the shock of her life—a head full of soft curls, a slim torso. This wasn’t Logan!
She gasped.
If the boy recognized it as a gasp of surprise, he didn’t let on. Rafia’s mind raced. Perhaps there were other rooms on this floor and he had been up here with his own date. Perhaps he left to go to the bathroom, got mixed up and ended up in the wrong room. He stopped suckling her breast. His head was only inches from her own, but Rafia couldn’t make out who he was in the dim light. Rafia felt her stomach lurch, even as her body strummed with desire. Whoever this was, she had willingly opened her legs for him. Now he was inside of her. His hips jacking in and out. Fucking her. Filling her with his slick cock.
What would Logan think?
What to do? What to do? —Tap this boy on the shoulder, say, “Excuse me?”
Lying still, Rafia listened to her own heavy breathing. The discovery had cost her some sexual momentum, but the further she got from the find—and the longer the boy pumped his cock between her legs—the less it seemed to matter. She was so very close to orgasm, her first during sex. A deliciously dirty idea took shape in her mind—Rafia decided to wait until after her own orgasm to reveal the mistake this boy had made. Of course, she would allow herself to be appropriately appalled in the aftermath, but only after she had come. As she gave herself over to this course of action, she let go, lost her inhibitions and began to roll her little bottom and moan. Whimper. Rafia rode that slippery fat cock between her legs. Suddenly the door burst open and loud house music filled the room with a rich, driving beat.
The boy raised himself stiff-armed on the couch and shouted with great irritation at the door: “Not done yet!”
Rafia quickly glanced toward the door and—before it was hastily pulled shut—saw a small crowd of heads and shoulders standing outside. The boy on top of her continued to thrust himself between her legs. In the dim light, she could just make out his white teeth. He was grinning down at her.
“Logan?” Rafia said. She had meant it as a question of the boy, but then she immediately turned her head and called the same name to the door. “Logan!”
“He’s downstairs,” the boy said softly. “He can’t hear you.”
The boy slowed his thrusts. Now he used a gentle grinding motion of his hips. “Logan doesn’t mind,” the boy said. He sighed tenderly and settled into a comfortable rhythm with his hips. Rafia considered this new information.
Her mind raced.
No one said anything for a bit.
Then the boy silently began resuming his thrusts. Softly at first, then with growing intensity and purpose. Rafia listened to his breathy grunts, the sound the couch made as it received his efforts. She realized the crowd outside the door was a line. A line of boys. Boys waiting to come inside here.
To come inside her.
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