Tag Archives: #adultfiction

Once Upon A Time (adult fiction)

In the wee small hours of the morning, Anna sat at her desk, her writing in full flow. The desk in front of her was littered with post it notes with phrases, names and key parts of the storyline scribbled on them. Earlier in the evening, she had reached the part of the tale where her male and female protagonists kissed for the first time. Caught up in the moment, the scene she initially envisaged spiralled and her “chaste kiss” became more passionate and as she wrote had evolved into something way sexier than she had first intended… but it worked, her characters were having fun, so she went with it.

Her male lead had given the female lead a ride home after her car had broken down…corny but true. In fact, her own car had broken down on the way home from work that afternoon and as she had walked the three miles home, she had dreamt of a “knight in shining armour” rocking up to give her a lift.

The tale emerging in front of her had seen her female lead invite her “knight in shining armour” in for coffee. They’d shared that first not so chaste kiss in the kitchen.

A noise from the kitchen behind her startled her back to reality. It sounded like footsteps. It also sounded like someone was making a pot of coffee, but she was home alone…

Quietly, Anna got up from her desk and tip toed across to the door which stood slightly ajar. As she peeked through the narrow gap, she caught sight of a man in her kitchen. She paused, a scream half-formed on her lips. He looked familiar. Long sun-bleached blonde hair caught back in a ponytail. Skinny black jeans. Black boots worn down at the heel. Slim fitting black V-neck tee. Tattoos visible from under the short sleeves.

She sniffed the air as a whiff of aftershave teased her sense of smell.

With a glance back at her notebook, Anna shook her head. She had to be hallucinating. The man making coffee in her kitchen matched the description of her male lead to perfection. Even the aftershave was the same scent.

Deciding that logically this couldn’t be real, she opened the door and walked through to the kitchen. At the sound of her feet on the tiled floor, he turned to smile at her. Oh, it was that dazzling smile she had written about a few hours earlier when he had stopped to rescue her female character.

“Hey,” he greeted her casually. “Where do you keep the coffee mugs?”

“Top cupboard on the left of the sink,” she heard herself reply as she took two small steps towards him.

“Black? Right?” he checked as he set two mugs down on the countertop.

“Milk and two for you?” she replied.

“Spot on.”

“I’ll get the milk,” she offered, reaching for the fridge door handle.

As she gazed into its brightly lit depths, Anna’s heart was pounding. Whatever was going on here, he was hot! That smile! Those eyes!

Lifting the carton of milk from its place on the door, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves then closed the door over. With trembling hands, she took the milk over to where he stood beside the two mugs of coffee.

“Which one’s yours?” she asked, unscrewing the lid.

“One on the right,” he replied as he spooned in some sugar.

As she stepped in to pour the milk, she felt his hand on the small of her back. Little ripples of excitement scooted up her spine at his touch. Setting the carton of milk down, she turned to face him. Their eyes met as he reached his hand out to tip her face up towards his. As their lips met, he drew her close, their kiss deepening with unspoken desire. Her hands were running up and down his back as she relished the taste of him. When she felt his hand move to caress her breast, she sighed.

“I want to make love to you, Anna,” he declared between kisses. “Right here. Right now.”

“Not here,” she whispered.

“Where then?”

“Family room,” she suggested. “Through here.”

Taking his hand, she led him into the adjacent family room. A small table lamp was still lit and offered enough light to create a more intimate atmosphere. Without a word, he scooped her into his arms and gently laid her down on the couch. Straddling her, he began to unbutton her blouse, exposing the swell of her ample breasts. He ran his tongue over their curves while his fingers continued to deal with the remaining buttons. Not wanting to be the only one undressed, Anna tugged his t-shirt from the waistband of his jeans before reaching up under the soft cotton, feeling his skin smooth and warm under her cool fingers.

Within moments their clothes lay discarded on the rug. Naked, they explored each other’s body with a combination of gentle caresses and soft tender kisses. Anna ran her finger over the reddish birthmark on his hip. He traced his fingertip around her areola before biting each nipple sharply. She gasped at the thrill of the bites. He slid his hand up between her thighs, his thumb instinctively finding her sensitive nub. A small groan of ecstasy escaped from her as sparks of electricity fired through her at his every touch. Reaching down, her hand found his hard length. As she wrapped her fingers around him, it was his turn to let out a small growl of pleasure. Slowly, she massaged his erection while his fingers explored her wet feminine folds.

“I’m going to make love to you,” he said, his voice warm and husky. “I need to feel you around me.”

Parting her thighs, he entered her with one confident thrust. Her hips bucked in response. Still kissing her neck, he began to stroke her slowly, languidly, teasing her towards orgasm.

“Harder,” she breather as their bodies moved together as one. “Deeper.”

“As you desire,” he said, thrusting hard and fast.

Her orgasm shattered around him a split second before his own hot creamy load filled her in a few frantic thrusts.

“Mark,” she purred as she felt herself sink back into the soft cushions of the couch.

“Sh, Anna,” he said, putting his finger to her lips. “That was…”

“Perfect,” she finished for him.

Again, she was rewarded with one of his dazzling smiles.

Gently, he eased out of her then he spooned around her, cupping her exposed breast with one hand. Stirring purring with contentment, Anna savoured the warmth of his slender muscular body around her.

She felt her eyelids grow heavy…

A sudden chill wakened her minute…hours…later.

He was gone.

Gathering her discarded clothing into her arms, Anna wandered back through the kitchen, barely noticing the two mugs of cold coffee sitting forgotten on the counter. Her mind was focused on one thing. She needed to keep writing until she wrote Mark back out of the story…

Introducing Colin Ginn

This week I’d like to introduce you to another fellow indie author, Colin Ginn.

Colin’s just released Rose, book three in The Flower Girls series.  Before we chat to the man himself, here’s an excerpt from Rose

Suddenly I awake from my recurring nightmare, the nightmare that has been haunting my existence for over three years now. The sweat is pouring from every pour of my shaking body. Today this nightmare has taken more out of me than normal. After ten minutes of being woken with the force of a freight train my eyes are just becoming accustomed to the sharp early dawn light cascading through the parting in my bedroom curtains, knowing this is the last time I will wake up in here. My eye’s weep as I look towards the photo on my bedside table, “mumma I’m sorry I’ve lost your beautiful house, this house all because I didn’t listen to your all-knowing advice”.

        Leaning over I pick up the photo and kiss the picture of my mumma holding the magazine with my first cover shot on it. The tears are streaming down my cheeks running down the silver frame as my tears drop from my chin. My finger gently wipes the tears from her face and I kiss the photo as I have done every day since my darling protector passed.

        I finally get up carefully packing the photo in my case, not knowing when or where I will be placing it by my bed again. After a long cold shower, I get dry and take the carton of milk and give it a sniff. “No, I don’t think so”. Instead, I go for the warm orange juice sitting next to the remaining content of my fridge that was taken away yesterday. The Russian bastards took everything that wasn’t in my bedroom. They are coming back for what’s left today together with the keys of the house my mother left me in her will.

Sitting naked crossing my legs as my bum makes contact with the floor. Again, I go over and over the paperwork from the court house taking my mumma’s house as part payment for the debt my no good ex husband run up in my name over three years ago. Now all the hardache of what that piece of shit has taken from me comes flooding back.

        It’s been nearly three years since my modeling career came to an abrupt halt. I remember when my face was on the front cover of all the major mags, I went to all the best parties and restaurants where I ate some amazing food and lived in a wonderful apartment in New York overlooking Central Park, and I didn’t get out of bed for less than fifteen thousand dollars a day. That all ended when my ex shit of husband Jack, gambled it all away and some. All of his debts, my dear husband Jack the bastard secured with my earnings and my property which against my mums advice was unprotected by not having a pre-wedding agreement.

        Jack was not only my arsehole of a husband and Lawyer he was also my manager. When he got involved with a gambling syndicate run by what now turns out to be Russian Mafia, I unknowingly secured his debts by signing the papers he constantly put in front of me. When he ran out of money, they didn’t threaten him, they went straight for my assets legally through the courts and got everything I had and more. They even got my name Jane Roseanne Beckett as it is registered as part of my assets, I had my name copyrighted and the court handed it over to them. My lawyer did get the Judge to agree I could have full copyright of my name back once the entire debt was paid off. The Russaian’s or I should say their fucking layers persuaded the Judge to also stop me from modeling or being published until the debt, yes you guest it until it is paid in full.

        The court did agree that I could change my name to Rosanne Manford, Manford being my momma’s maidan name. But did not agree to me still working as a model even though it would have been the easiest way for the debt to be paid. The Judge said that it should a warning to anyone in the public eye that all debts have to be paid no matter who you are. Which I thought was a bit harsh of him especially when it was my shit face husband that had run up the debt.

        So there I was no money, no home and no Job and that’s when mumma gave me a life line allowing me to move back home, for two years I worked waiting tables sometimes getting noticed as the model who gambled all her money away. Slowly changing my image to blend in, turning into long haired brunette from short blonde hair did make a difference but not as much as the grungy ill-fitting clothes and hoodies that covers my curves and face, turning me into an unknown plain Jane.

        Mumma supported me while all of my earnings from waiting tables and the other part time jobs I managed to get from time to time went to pay the Russian bastards who knocked on the door each week, holding their hand out and reminding me with laughter in their voices how much was left to pay off. Even on the day of mumma’s death six weeks ago the bastards demanded my wages, then two weeks ago at the reading of her will they produced a court order taking my mumma’s house and contents that she lovenly bequeathed to me, giving me two weeks to find somewhere to live. Which I have have not managed to do with the available funds I have.

        Yesterday the day before I am being forced to leave my home, I get a phone call from my lawyer Mr William Slade Snr saying he has been contacted by the consortium that Jack’s debt or should I say my debt is owed, with what he is saying is good news. I have been offered a two-year contract to work for them at the Blue Lotus Club as a hostess. He has looked over the contract and in his words it he would recommend that I consider taking it, accommodation, food and a small wage has been offered and after the two-year contract has ended, I would be free of my debt to them and would be able to use my name again. I have been invited to attend the Blue Lotus Club at 3pm today, Mr Slade is going to meet me there to go through the contract with me and introduce me to potentially my new boss.

Hi, Colin. A warm welcome to my blog. Tell me a bit about yourself. Have you always wanted to be a writer?

First if you don’t already know I am a Bedfordain, I was born and apart from the odd holiday have lived my entire life in Bedford England. I have reached that age where my options flow freely and I have no worries who I tell them too. I’ve been described as fun laid back (horizontal) English Gentlemen, so I will go with that. Have always wanted to be a writer, well not really it was a scribble on a bucket list I wrote many, many years ago. Write and publish a book.

What can you tell me about your latest release, without giving away any spoilers?

Rose was the story I started to write with the intention for it to be the first in the Flower Girls series. After getting about three quarters of my way through it I thought I hadn’t given any thought to how the Blue Lotus Club came about, so I placed Rose back into the vase so to speak to write Grand Opening and Defaulters at Ten. What I will tell you about Rose is she was Supermodel before her now ex husband gambled away every penny she had, and she had a lot of pennies. Now her debt is being paid back in a more unconventional way.

Which of your characters do you like most? Why?

Well to be honest I love them all but if I am being forced to choose from my babies it would have to be Honeysuckle. She has that, well you know when you meet someone for the first time, and you say to yourself I really like you. Honeysuckle is that person not only that she is an absolute beauty with love and affection for everyone, you are going to love her.

Is there one particular person who inspired you to write?

Jessica Gomez another independent who I met on Facebook when she was promoting her first release. Over time we became friends and as things got moving for her, she asked me to become her PA. She really did inspire and light up my now passion for writing.

A cruel question, but what’s your favourite book/who’s your favourite author?

Not cruel at all I have to go back to the classic that was the first book I read from cover to cover. Moby-Dick by Herman Melville.

Tell me a bit about your approach to your writing. Are you a meticulous planner or do you tend towards letting your characters go with the flow?

My planning is like taking a packet of seeds throwing them up in the air and see what grows. What happens is like Rose I start a story then follow another storyline into another story getting back to it when it fits back into the timeline. It’s really like writing in the TARDIS.

I love to write outdoors. Where’s your favourite place to write?

I write on my Tablet while I’m sitting on my setee in my front room.

What’s the best piece of advice you’ve been given?

Well I don’t know whether it’s advice or not I was told never to give in- keep going.

What advice would you give to other aspiring authors out there?

Apart from don’t give up, I would say never compromise on the story you want to write, nobody

knows what ideas are rattling around in your head and you need to get them on paper in the

way you alone want to read your story. Always write for yourself first.

How do you overcome writer’s block?

I must say I don’t get writers block, what I do get a sense of fear I won’t be able to get something

written down before I forget it.

So, what’s next creatively? Are you working on anything else just now?

The Flower Girls series is continuing, but what is exciting is I am currently writing a murder

mystery something which is not easy for me and requires me to adopt completely different

mindset.

Now for a bit of fun:

Favourite food Steak and Kidney Pudding

Favourite drink Brandy

Favourite Band Queen but to be honest, the best artists I have seen live are Neil Diamond and Cliff Richard.

Favourite holiday destination  Venice Italy

If you could have one superpower, what would it be and why? Mind reading, I really want to

know what people are thinking

I’d like to thank Colin for taking time out of his busy day to chat. It’s much appreciated.

The Blue Lotus Club is open for business and the Flower Girls are ready and waiting to bring all your dreams and desires to life. If you want to check it out for yourself, the links you need are below:

The first three E-books in the Flower Girls series are available to download now! Books one and two are also available in paperback, with book three following soon

Grand Opening permanent low price online buy link: https://books2read.com/b/3n5qP5

Grand Opening paperback: ISBN:9798201651510

Defaulters at Ten online buy links: https://books2read.com/b/mv1DjV

Defaulters at Ten paperback: ISBN:9798201485993

Rose online buy links: books2read.com/b/4Avw7K

Don’t forget to look out for the Flower Girls Companion series

Becoming Maple online buy links: https://books2read.com/b/3JEqPA

Becoming Maple paperback: ISBN:9798201528935

Warning: All stories in the Flower Girls and Companion series are written for the Adult Reader and contain bad language, violence and not forgetting scenes of a sexual nature.

If you want to catch up with Colin himself, here’s the links

LinkTree: https://linktr.ee/ColinGinn

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/BooksbyColinGinn/

Facebook Readers Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/341894799653343/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/colin_ginn_author

Twitter: https://twitter.com/colin_ginn

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18009250.Colin_Ginn

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/colin-ginn

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/colinginn

Amazon universal link: viewauthor.at/ColinGinn

Twisted Silk – a dark tale (adult content)

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The text message had been quite clear. She knew the rules, knew how to play his game.  Christ, she should after twenty-five years of marriage. Only this time, she planned to add a few moves of her own.

As instructed, she arrived at the hotel at four thirty, entering the room with the key card he had given her at breakfast. Room 413- his favourite suite in the small boutique hotel. They’d spent many anniversaries in that room and she knew it intimately.

The room looked identical to it had the year before as she entered. With a smile, she removed the black wig she had worn and shook her red hair free. She stuffed the wig into the side pocket of her overnight bag then set it down on the floor. Carefully, she hung her coat up in the wardrobe. She kept her long satin gloves on.

A bottle of champagne sat in the ice bucket beside the bed, two lead crystal flutes on a silver tray beside it.

She had an hour to finalise her preparations. Keeping her gloves on, she began to undress.

 

By five thirty, she was sitting on the edge of the bed ready to greet her husband. She had spent a little extra time on her makeup, ensuring that it was perfect. The black silk lingerie that he had requested that she wear wasn’t exactly what she felt comfortable in but she knew the role she had to play.

Behind her on the bed lay the “toys” he had requested that she bring from his personal collection at home.

She had opened the champagne, poured two glasses, ensuring that the additional “surprise” in her husband’s glass was fully dissolved. To calm her nerves, she drained half of her own glass in one gulp then topped it up before adding the rest of the powder to the bottle, wiping the neck clean.

The click of the key card in the lock caused her to jump. Could she pull this off? She owed it to herself to try.

“Good evening,” she purred as her husband stormed into the room, slamming the door behind him.

He barely grunted his reply as he dropped his phone and car keys onto the dressing table.

Praying her hand stayed steady, she passed him his glass of champagne.

“Happy anniversary, master.”

“If you’re a good girl, it will be,” he stated before draining the glass, just as she had hoped he would.

“I’ll be good, master. I promise,” she replied, taking his empty glass and refilling it.

He took a sip then set the glass down.

“Allow me to help you, master,” she suggested.

Slowly she slid his suit jacket from his shoulders and hung it carefully over the back of the chair. She loosened his tie and draped it over the jacket. With trembling gloved fingers, she undid the buttons of his crisp white shirt. As she slid it off, she allowed her fingers to caress the backs of his arms just as he preferred.

Without a word, he took another mouthful of champagne, then sat on the bed and invited her to remove his shoes. Slowly, allowing him to savour his view of her full breasts, she bent to slip the Italian leather loafers from his feet. Ignoring the pungent aroma, she removed his sweaty socks then gently massaged his feet.

“Enough,” he barked standing up.

“Of course, master,” she replied, her tone dutiful but not overly submissive.

She unfastened his trousers and slid them down his slender thighs. He side stepped out of them as the material pooled on the floor at his feet.

Carefully, she folded them and laid them on the chair beside his jacket.

Before she could return her attention to him, he’d reached across the bed, selected his “toy” of choice, a riding crop, and smacked her hard across her ass. The blow stung and she gasped, biting her lower lip to prevent herself from squealing. A squeal would earn a second, third or even fourth blow.

“Too slow,” he growled as she turned to face him.

“Sorry, master.”

Already she could see his cock hard and erect in his boxers.

“Bend over.”

Obligingly, she bent over the bed, baring her bare butt cheeks to him. Her black silk thong hid nothing and offered no protection. She bit down hard on her lip as he cracked the crop across her buttocks twice more.

“Resume,” he commanded before draining his glass.

“Yes, master,” she replied.

The black silk negligée had slipped, revealing more of her breasts and the crests of the dark areola that surrounded her nipples.

Smoothing out her long satin gloves, she sensuously slid his boxers down his long legs. His erect penis stood proud as she bent down to fully remove his shorts. He staggered slightly as she lifted his feet in turn for her.

For a split second, as he stood naked before her, she was reminded of how attractive he could be. Without being asked, she refilled his glass.

She handed it to him. As he drank deeply, she saw him sway a little.

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Change of plan,” he declared, setting the glass down and lifting two silk cords from the bed. “On the bed on all fours. Hands on the bedstead.”

Obediently, she moved into position, staying stock still as he tied her wrists to the wrought iron bedframe. His knots were loose and sloppy, she noted with relief.

Crack went the riding crop as he whipped her across the butt once more, leaving another fresh red welt among the many.

Roughly, he grabbed the thin fabric of the thong, ripping it off with ease. His coarse hands roughly shoved her legs further apart. With a primal grunt, he thrust into her hard and deep.

Clutching the bedframe tightly she felt him lean over her. Felt his breath hot and stale on her neck.

“Happy anniversary,” he hissed before biting her hard at the back of her neck.

Totally disregarding her pleasure, he continued to thrust his erect penis into her hard and fast. His movements were clumsy and rough.

In her heart, she began to panic. Had she misjudged this? Was her plan about to fail?

Suddenly, she felt his weight slump down onto her back and his cock slide from inside her. Quickly she shuffled up towards the top of the bed, allowing her husband’s drugged body to collapse on the clean white linen duvet.

Time was now short.

Swiftly she wriggled her wrists free and removed the cords from the bedstead. Using all of her strength she wrestled the naked form of her husband onto his back, his un-satiated erection going flaccid in front of her.

She reached under the pillow and withdrew the knife, selected from their own knife block that morning. Placing the knife in his left hand, she wrapped her own gloved left hand over it and guided the knife over his right wrist. The sharp blade slit through the thin skin of his inner wrist with remarkable ease, opening the vein as planned. Breathing hard, she switched hands and repeated the action with the right, slashing deep into his left wrist. She let his hand fall to his side, the knife still loosely in his grasp.

Blood poured from the open veins soaking into the duvet.

She paused for a split second, then lifted his right hand along with blood stained knife for a second time. Leaning her body weight to it, she drove the knife into his abdomen.

Blood oozed from around the edges of the blade.

Time to tidy up.

 

Luck was on her side. There wasn’t a drop of blood on her or her gloved hands. Methodically, she wiped her own empty glass clean and set it back down on the silver tray. She gathered up the sex toys and returned them to her overnight bag.

In the bathroom, she removed the remains of the black silk lingerie, stuffing the tattered fabric into her bag. Using her make up remover, she wiped away the thick layer of foundation, revealing her natural pale complexion complete with cigarette burn scars on her cheek. As she dressed, she caught sight of her thin body in the mirror, wincing anew at the dozens of cigarette burns, some old some fresh, on her body and her breasts. She ignored the pain of the bruising on her ribs to twist round to inspect the bite on her neck. His teeth marks were clearly imprinted in her skin and were already turning a deep purple colour.

It was finally over.

Meticulously, she tucked her long red hair up into the black, bobbed wig. She lifted her coat from the wardrobe and slipped her arms into its warm soft sleeves. With her Jackie O sunglasses on to hide her face, she lifted her bag and left the room without a backwards glace.

Freedom awaited in the hallway.

 

One week later, she sat in a different hotel in a different city reading the newspaper that had arrived along with her breakfast tray. On page seven, she found the article she had been looking for – “Business Tycoon Takes Own Life As Company On The Brink Of Collapse.” The by-line detailed how he had been found by a member of hotel staff. The coroner had ruled that his death had been caused by an overdose of tranquillisers mixed with alcohol and multiple self-inflicted knife wounds. A statement from his lawyer confirmed that the IT firm was in ruins and that he had been on the brink of bankruptcy. The journalist went on to reveal that the family home had been saved from the business collapse as it had been in his reclusive widow’s sole name. He continued that the mansion had recently been sold to a mystery buyer and that the grieving widow had been unavailable for comment.

Sitting back, she closed the newspaper and smiled.

 

(image source via Google -credits to the owner)