A Menage Of A Different Kind – Guest Post By K D Grace

My guest today is long-time friend of the Naughty Corner, K D Grace, who has a juicy book excerpt and a prize giveaway to share. Welcome, K D!

Giveaway: To help me celebrate the launch of Landscapes, I’m giving away a $30/£20 Amazon gift voucher. Enter via the Rafflecopter for chances to win!  

A Vampire, a succubus and a Landscaper Go into a Pub: A Ménage of a Different Kind

Thanks so much for hosting me on the very first day of my Landscapes blog tour and giveaway, Liz! It’s always a pleasure to be your guest. I’m very excited to be here.

A vampire, a succubus and a landscaper go into a pub. No, it’s not the first line of a joke, though ourkdgrace-landscapes-final succubus might view it that way. She has a very skewed sense of humour and, though this love story isn’t hers, Talia Zephora finds herself playing cupid for our boys, Alonso and Reese, in a most peculiar, more than a little bit kinky way. Talia is close friend and familiar to vampire, Alonso Darlington. She’s also his liaison with the mortal world, which he tries to avoid as much as possible. Like all succubae, Talia is completely irresistible when she works her magic, but Talia is the succubus with a little extra. She’s a bit like a living, breathing flash drive. She can take into herself the details of a person and their life when she has sex with them and then give that information back, exactly as she experienced it, to whomever she has sex with next. This makes her particularly essential to Alonso, who doesn’t trust himself with mortals. He knows that no matter how civilized he endeavors to become, at the end of the day he’s a very dangerous predator, and he can never be close to humans without a risk to them.

That doesn’t keep him from lusting for mortal landscaper, Reese Chambers. In fact, he wants Reese in the worst sort of way. The attraction is instant and devastating, so Alonso sends Talia to seduce Reese and bring back the experience of the man, so that he can get to know him from a safe distance by having sex with her. While it may be Talia’s body Alonso is actually having sex with, it’s the whole experience of making love to Reese and more that she brings back to him.

When Alonso is bold enough to hire Reese to do some landscaping of a derelict garden on his ancestral Lakeland home, again, he uses Talia to make love to Reese so that Reese can experience him.

The thing about Talia is that she doesn’t like secrets, and she doesn’t like dishonesty. If the two men are hot for each other, well she reckons they ought to know the best and the worst, and she doesn’t mind the minor complication that Reese is falling for a vampire and that she has been the go-between for said vampire. Complications always make for good story, and this one was as much fun to write as it was outrageously sexy, with the intimacy passing through the catalyst of a third party. What started out to be an MM story ended up to be a different kind of ménage, and for all of Talia’s faults and scary-arsedness, she loves her friend, and she wants to see him happy. Here’s a little snippet of just what Talia brings back for Alonso from her first encounter with Reese – unbeknownst to him, of course.

Landscapes Blurb:

Alonso Darlington has a disturbing method of keeping landscaper, Reese Chambers, both safe from and oblivious to his dangerous lust for the man. But Reese isn’t easy to keep secrets from, and Alonso wants way more than to admire the man from afar. Can he risk a real relationship without risking Reese’s life?

Buy links: http://kdgrace.co.uk/books/landscapes/

Landscapes Excerpt:

It was nearing dawn when Talia returned to our accommodations smelling of sex, as I knew she would if she were to obtain for me what I wanted. By then my blood burned in my veins, and my body felt too close to me, as though the flesh that I dwelt in suddenly conspired to crush me with its demands. And though I knew that Reese Chambers could not have refused her even if she had come to him as a toothless, foul-smelling hag, I hated her that he had poured himself into her body while I had been left with only my fantasies kindling my lust to an inferno.

Though my need was such that my flesh was fevered and my cock an insistent throb, until she returned, I held myself contained within skin that felt too thin. When she saw the state that I was in, she pulled the heavy drapes with an efficient tug, then with a nod of her head, motioned me to follow her down into the basement room that had been prepared for me. When she turned to me at the foot of the bed, before she could opened her kiss-bruised lips to speak, I took her mouth, starving for the first taste of him, the taste of his saliva, the taste of his blood, mixed with hers. She’d bitten him; he’d bitten her back. He was rough, and he liked to be treated rough, but he kept that to himself. He was embarrassed by it. His lips were slightly chapped from so much time in the sun and wind, and they’d slid against hers, suckling and stroking and pressing until her mouth opened to his. With ravenous laps of my tongue, I tasted him in her mouth, and she held back the moan of response, so I could hear the echoes of his groans, heavy with need he’d not satisfied in awhile, and I felt kinship in my own unsatisfied needs. Images of him flashed through my head. Christ, his eyes were green, dark green like the evergreen forests of the north, and he kept them open when he kissed her, taking her in with his eyes.

I shoved aside the silk of her low bodice exposing her breasts, breasts that his hands had cupped. My nipples peeked to sharp aching points at the feel of his calloused thumbs raking, pressing and releasing. I breathed in his scent on her breasts, burying my face in her cleavage, licking the taste of salty, slightly picante maleness, sniffing and tasting until I could stand it no more. In one violent jerk, I tore the dress all the way down and shoved it off her shoulders, away from the flesh he had licked and kissed and mounted. I cried out at the feel of him, weight on one elbow, knee spreading her thighs, fingers opening her heaviness, anxious to penetrate, anxious to relieve his need. And then, with Talia free of clothing, Reese Chambers’ essence filled the room. Talia’s panties were still wet with his semen mixed with her humid desire, and I tore them from her and forced her onto her stomach, onto her hands and knees, so that it was not her face I saw, but his that I imagined. With hands on her hips, I raised her bottom in the air and spread her still swollen, still slippery folds with fingers made awkward by my arousal, letting the scent of his hot bread and honey release intoxicate me. Then I buried my face in her snatch and, as I ate his lust from her, I knew him.

He was Cumbrian born and bred, and his accent was the soft lilting sound of the fells. He was a landscaper and a gardener by trade. His hands held the magic of the earth and his mind conceived ideas for beautiful outdoor spaces; those he liked best were patterned after Renaissance and medieval gardens. He was homesick and heartsick. He’d gone to Surrey to work with his father because the money was good. But his father had died recently and he had returned home to Cumbria. He didn’t care if he had to work in a pub or muck stables. He wanted to be home. He missed the people and he missed the fells. He missed the simpler, more honest rhythms of life. He was shy, even a bit reclusive. He read voraciously and widely, he liked astronomy and he was afraid of snakes, though it embarrassed him to admit it. He hadn’t had sex in a long time, and found it better to have a wank session than a meaningless encounter. The facts of him, the details of his life raced at me in a flood I consumed ravenously with each lap of my tongue.

As I ate Talia I felt the shape of his face, the curve of his chin, the rise and fall of his chest as he had done the same. I felt the soft tuft of bronze curls nestled between the hard rise of his pecs and the courser, deeper curls that caressed his testicles and his cock when it was at rest, but it hadn’t been at rest. How many times had he taken her? He was thick enough to fill her and the friction of him inside was delicious and maddening. The shape of him – I wanted to caress the shape of him, with my hands, with my mouth, and the taking of his essence from Talia was an act of ripping away something that should have been mine. As I bruised her arse with kneading fingers and, as I licked the last of his release from her, she managed a breathless moan. ‘Take the rest. God, Alonso, take the rest, and release me.’

About K D Grace/Grace Marshall

Me and the Battle Rope bondingVoted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really is all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.

KD has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Sweetmeats Press and others.

K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include The Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, To Rome with Lust, and The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.

K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition, Interviewing Wade are all available.

Find K D Here:

Websites: http://kdgrace.co.uk/

http://www.thebritbabes.co.uk

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KDGraceAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KD_Grace

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/kdgraceauthor/

GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/k-d-grace-9/

And to enter the giveaway, go to http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/8b9ec5be164/

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Decorations – Guest Post By K D Grace

Today I’d like to welcome the fabulous K D Grace to the Naughty Corner. She’s talking about her story in the Love Under The Mistletoe Xcite Cariad Christmas collection.

Thanks for having me over, Liz, to celebrate the release of Cariad’s fabulous Christmas collection, Love Under the Mistletoe. I’m very privileged to be between the covers with you, Alice Raine, and Demelza Hart with my novella, A Valentine for Christmas. It’s lovely to be in such sexy company.

Rockefeller Center at ChristmasI’d like to talk a bit about decorations. I’m sure all of us have fond memories that involve decorating … something. As a child, I used to love the decorating of the tree and the house at Christmas time. And then there was the wrapping of the presents. My mother got wise early on and started putting everything – even my own gifts in boxes, taping them securely shut, and letting me take care of all the wrapping. I could get pretty creative with some shiny paper, a bit of tinsel, a roll of cello tape and some ribbon. My mother got out of the wrapping, which she loathed, and had hours of quiet entertainment for her very energetic daughter. Result!

And what child doesn’t love the Christmas pageant? It was the perfect opportunity to decorate ourselves with cardboard and glitter angel wings and tinsel haloes. I’ve always been a bit of a magpie. I love things that glitter and shine, and I’m sure you can well imagine how suited I am to a halo J

We live in the age of elaborate body decoration. I mean even if you’d never get a tattoo for yourself (not brave enough, me) how can you not love to look at them and admire how beautiful some of them are. Then there’s body piercing, hair colour, cut and styles, and manicures and pedicures have evolved into a whole new art form. A few hours at a salon and you can emerge a whole new person. Let’s not forget shoes and handbags, clothes and make-up. Practical or not, we humans love to decorate our bodies. In fact, I think it’s safe to say that we humans love to decorate just about everything, and nothing gives us a better chance to do just that than Christmas and New Year.

Gerard Jasper, the hero in A Valentine for Christmas, isn’t keen on decorations. In fact, he hates the holiday Mistletoeseason, and would gladly skip it if he could. In spite of his loathing of the season, he condescends to let his housekeeper put up a tree every year because she’s been with his family for a long time. Imagine his surprise when he comes home on Christmas Eve after a hard day at the office and finds someone has left him a gift under that Christmas tree. That gift really doesn’t need much unwrapping because that gift is a woman, and that woman is wearing nothing but the red velvet ribbons that bind her wrists and ankles and the sprig of mistletoe adorning her hair.

Which brings us to a completely different level of body decoration – love bites, red marks from spanking, a little bit of rug burn on the knees and elbows, lovely red welts across a bare bottom. And let’s not forget those stylish little bruises left by fingertips when they grasp at and curl around tender flesh in the throes of passion. Though some body decoration is not meant for public viewing, very little body art makes the wearer, nor the creator, prouder. The body art of passion implies possession. It’s a physical way of saying I belong to you, and you’ve left your mark on me. And even if no one else knows or sees, I’ll know. I’ll know from the tenderness, I’ll know every time I sit down, I’ll know every time I get dressed or get undressed. Those marks will remind me of passion and wild abandon; they’ll remind me of the act of physically coming together, and I’ll be sorry to see those lovely body decorations fade, while at the same time I’ll be looking forward to the next ones. Those lovely decorations are not seasonal. They’re a symbol of possessing and being possessed and, for humans, the need to belong to someone is at least as old as the need to decorate our bodies.

Blurb A Valentine for Christmas:

All work and no play, bah humbugging CEO, Gerard Jasper’s, anonymous Christmas gift is actually a Valentine — Moira ‘R.M.’ Valentine, the mysterious CEO of the Valentine Corporation. Moira’s walk on the wild side has accidentally landed her naked and bound with red ribbon under Gerard’s tree – not good when their companies are negotiating the deal of a lifetime. When two lonely people with enough baggage to fill a 747 come together for Christmas, the fireworks rivals New Years at Times Square, but can they overcome their pasts to give each other the true gift — a merger of hearts?

Excerpt from A Valentine for Christmas:

It was late when Gerard got home – even later than he’d anticipated, but that was fine. Being tired enough to sleep for a week made facing the next few days a lot easier. He shoved out of his jacket and slung it over the ladder-back chair by the door, then loosened his tie, somehow not finding the strength to actually remove it completely. Ignoring the evergreen bunting strung across the balcony above the stairs, he made his way into his study. From the credenza across from his desk, he poured himself a whiskey, neat, then dropped into the Cordovan leather chair beside the fireplace. He tossed back the shot, then closed his eyes. He only intended to rest them for a few minutes before he went to the kitchen where he knew Olga had left food prepared for him. He’d specifically overseen the menu this time to make certain not a slice of turkey nor a smidge of cranberry sauce darkened the fridge. It was bad enough his apartment was decked out like Rockefeller Center, but at least he could dictate his own meals.

Yes, he had only planned to close his eyes for a minute, but it was a scuffling sound and a soft moan that startled him from sleep and from dreams of falling into deep, icy water. He opened his eyes and looked around. In the silence he could hear heavy breathing. There was another moan. He exhaled slowly and looked around the room. Carefully, cautiously, he leaned forward in the chair, wrapped his fingers around the poker in front of the fireplace and pulled it free from its stand. Holding his breath, he came slowly to his feet.

There was more scuffling and a sharp, low grunt. It sounded as though it were coming from behind the Christmas tree. Fucking tree was a health hazard, a fire hazard, and Twyla never stopped to think that it was perfect for a thief to hide behind, though how the hell anyone could have gotten past his security was beyond him. He tightened his grip on the poker and raised it like a baseball bat. Bracing himself, he took a step forward, but the next moan he heard was decidedly feminine and it was coming from under the tree! With a quick movement, he reached for the lamp near the chair and switched it on, and the moan became a little yelp of surprise.

‘What the …’ Words died in his mouth as he lowered his arm and dropped the poker against the chair. He blinked twice then rubbed his eyes. Surely he still had to be dreaming. Thought this dream beat the hell out of the usual drowning dream. There was another moan and, as his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized it came from the woman lying on her side under the tree. She was completely naked except for the red velvet ribbons that seductively bound her wrists and her ankles. The only other thing she wore was a sprig of mistletoe pinned in the muss of thick dark hair that fell over her shoulders partially obscuring breasts that were obviously full enough to balance the rest of a figure that curved dangerously in all the right places. Even in that confused post-wake-up state, Gerard’s cock got the picture just fine, thank you! But what the hell was a naked woman doing tied up beneath his Christmas tree?

Before he could ask, the woman moaned again – louder this time – and doubled over as though she were in pain.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ he asked, dropping to his knees, forgetting the fact that this chick had invaded his privacy.

‘Oh, God!’ She gasped. ‘It’s my leg. I have a cramp. In my left hip and it’s making my butt numb.’ She bit back a curse that he was pretty sure would have curled his hair if she’d let it fly. But he figured perhaps she was on her best behavior – red ribbons, mistletoe and all.

It was then that both he and his cock remembered, at exactly the same time, that she was tied up. He was in complete control. He settled on his haunches and folded his arms across his chest. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he asked.

She moaned again and tried to shift to a more comfortable position, which made her breasts bounce and her hair slide away to reveal nipples darkened and stiff atop goose-fleshed areolae. ‘I’m your Christmas present.’

He blinked. ‘My what?’

‘Christmas present? You know, happy holidays, noel, peace on earth … ouch! Oh hell that hurts.’ She hissed between barely parted lips and writhed in a way that should have made him sympathetic, but only made him hornier. ‘Could you please untie me so I can take care of this cramp.’

‘My Christmas present?’

‘Yup. Ouch! Ow! Please!’

‘From whom?’ Oh fuck, the more she shifted and shimmied, the more her breasts bounced and they were exquisite, and the more they bounced, the more of his brain function rerouted itself to his cock.

‘I don’t know,’ she bit back. ‘It’s a surprise.’

‘Clearly,’ he said. ‘But how do I know you’re for real?’ Surely Terrill and Twyla wouldn’t be so cheeky. Would they? He added quickly, ‘How do I know that the minute I untie you, you won’t try shoot me and rob me?’

She gave him a sour look. ‘Seriously? Where would I put a gun?’

His eyes followed down the curves of her body to the juncture between her legs with its tight nest of dark curls.

Whatever it was she was about to say, she swallowed it and offered a forced smile that was not quite coquettish, and all the sexier for it. ‘You’re welcome to frisk me.’ She nodded down over he belly. ‘Just please untie me so I can work out this damned cramp.’

He studied her for a long moment while she writhed and bit a full bottom lip he found himself wanting to taste. ‘It was pretty ballsy of someone, anyone really, to send me a prostitute as a Christmas present.’ He leaned forward. ‘I don’t need to buy sex, you know?’

‘I’m not a prostitute and you’re not buying me.’ She sucked back a sharp breath. ‘I’m a gift. Pleeeeese,’ she begged, ‘Untie me.’

I don’t need a gift. I didn’t ask for a gift.’

‘Of course you didn’t ask. That’s why they call it a gift.’ She practically bounced off the floor as another wave of pain hit.

‘I still don’t trust you,’ he said. ‘But I don’t like to see a woman in pain either.’ He heaved a hard-put-upon sigh and leaned forward, pulling her into his arms. She yelped as he scrambled to his feet and moved to the leather sofa in front of the fireplace. But instead of laying her down on it, he sat and turned her over his knee. What the hell was he doing? He should untie her, toss her in a taxi and send her on her way.

‘You’re gonna spank me?’ her voice came out high pitched and breathy. ‘I haven’t done anything.’

‘Might do, if you give me any grief,’ he said, realizing too late that draped across his lap as she was, she could definitely feel his erection. Well she was naked, wasn’t she? And he was a healthy male. How the hell was he supposed to respond? Besides, it wasn’t like she hadn’t been expecting to make him hard. ‘So tell me now,’ he said, keeping his voice as neutral as he did in the boardroom in spite of the message his body was giving, ‘where does it hurt?’

Buy Links:Love Under the Mistletoe

Amazon UK

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Love-Under-Mistletoe-Alice-Raine-ebook/dp/B00OQDLSVW/

Amazon US

http://www.amazon.com/Love-Under-Mistletoe-Alice-Raine-ebook/dp/B00OQDLSVW/

 

About K D Grace/Grace Marshall

Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?

Pic from ETO winBqxJnN_CEAIXatU.jpg-largeWhen she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.

KD has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats Press and others.

K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.

K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition are all available.

Find K D Here:

Websites: http://kdgrace.co.uk/

http://gracemarshallromance.co.uk/

http://www.thebritbabes.co.uk

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KDGraceAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KD_Grace/

http://twitter.com/GM_Romance

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/kdgraceauthor/

Shenanigans at Sh!

Well, the reading at Sh! Portobello last Friday night in honour of K.D. Grace’s new novel, Lakeland Heatwave: Body Temperature and Rising and the Sexual Advice Association was a riot! As you’d expect, the readings were spicy enough, the highlights being Meg Philip deliberately going over her five-minute slot in the hopes of earning a good paddling from the evening’s Mistress of Timing, Kay Jaybee, Annie Player and The Dragon King’s Daughter proving poetry is anything but sedate and the unique Ernesto Sarezale getting his kit off for the girls in a delightfully urbane way. But what really brought the house down was Sarah Berry’s hysterical performance of her take on the Chicago standard, All That Jazz –  anyone who thought ‘burlesque’ was a synonym for ‘classy stripping’ needs to watch Sarah in action. Meanwhile, K.D. had provided cookies for the evening which she’d baked herself – and, in keeping with the book’s paranormal theme, imbued with love, contentment and prosperity spells. No wonder we all felt so good by the end of the evening!

Audience and participants alike had a fantastic time as well as raising money for a very worthwhile cause, and you can find pictures from the event and details of all those who took part at K.D.’s blog. What a spellbinding night!