They are friends in public, lovers in private. In an age of sex, drugs, rock and roll, they want it all. But 'all' has a different definition to everyone. What happens when sexy drummer Matt Loren wants bandmate Jules Breaux as more than a bedroom plaything? Is her love more than a four letter word?
“Hey.” Modulating her voice, she made sure it sounded casual and even sleepy.
“Hey. Had a bad dream. S’okay if I sleep in your bed tonight?” So sexy, he stood, taking the time to look her over before entering the room. No sooner had she shut the door, than he turned, pinning her against it for a deep kiss. “Tried to call you a couple of times…” Reaching over her, he locked the door and then began to kiss her again.
“Went to the party.” She managed to speak around his kiss.
“Mmh hmm. How was it?” Both hands closed around both of hers. His tongue glided along her lips as he spoke.
“Okay, I guess. Where were you? You stay around here?” His breath, his taste was more than slightly alcoholic. Unusual for him. She punctuated each sentence with a return kiss.
“Went with Keith to a club.” Bringing her hands up, he trapped them between his and the door.
“Keith? Really?” She could barely imagine Matt drinking beers with Keith, but he had definitely had more than a few. And not just beers. She could taste and smell the hard liquor. Not enough to reek, but enough to ingest with each breath he took—probably enough that, for once, he didn’t taste it on her. Getting out on the town was not something they had done much on the road, and she sulked against his lips. “Well I would have gone. You didn’t have to take Keith.”
“You wouldn’t have gone.” Blissfully, his body sandwiched hers snugly between his and the door. Their handclasp was palm to palm, hers still between his and the door. “Wasn’t that kind of club, cari.”
It took her several extra seconds to realize he was speaking of a strip club. If his alcohol count tonight surprised her, this new revelation surprised her more. Somehow, she disentangled her tongue enough to tease, “Really? You don’t know that.”
“Really? Thought I did.” The smug kiss that followed was extra firm, and she smiled into it, feeling his return smile.
Restless to touch him, she strained her hands against his for the umpteenth time. He let them go this time, but in two swift movements, he exposed her completely to his gaze—the admiring gaze she now knew she craved.
“So pretty. Prettier than anyone, anywhere.” Her back, now bare, made contact with the door as he moved in close, sliding a hand down between them as he did so.
Her gasp, like so many times before, was smothered by his kiss. A kiss combined with a touch that was quickly making her mindless. Like his hand, his words caressed her over and over, and in a random moment of clarity, she demanded in mock outrage, “Did you just compare me to strippers?”
“Yep. The hottest, classiest strippers. It’s a legendary place. His tone was light, bantering, and then he finished solemnly, wisely, “But there is no comparison.”
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Bedtime stories that will heat up your night.
Naughty Little Bedtime Stories contains twelve short stories that will arouse your senses. You'll find stories that contain light bondage, food play, ménage (m/m/f), and other erotic events. Each story has a different setting and couple who explore all things naughty in and out of the bedroom.
Content Warning: adult language, graphic sexual situations
We ate dinner, drank some wine, and talked about our week. Maybe tonight I would finally pop the question. After cleaning up, I refilled our glasses.
"Did you get something for dessert?" Emma asked.
I smiled. "Yes, I did. Why don't you go into the living room and make yourself comfortable while I get it ready."
"Okay. Are you sure you don't need help?"
After she left the kitchen, I gathered the bowl of strawberries and can whipped cream from the fridge. I walked in the room to find her on the couch, sipping her wine. I sat down next to her and placed the food on the coffee table.
"I love strawberries, but why the can of whipped cream?" she asked with a twinkle in her eyes.
"Close your eyes. No peeking," I whispered in her ear.
I took a strawberry and traced her bottom lip with it. She opened her mouth slightly, and I allowed her to take a small bite. A low moan escaped her lips, and my dick twitched in response. I began to feed her another piece of fruit. My cock was getting harder by the minute as I watched her lips wrap around the strawberries.
"I want to feed you one," she said as she opened her eyes.
"I have a better idea. Close your eyes," I said in a deep voice.
Emma sighed and closed her eyes. I picked up a strawberry and touched her bottom lip with it, and she opened her mouth to take it in. I leaned in and bit the other end, letting our lips meet and eliciting a faint squeal from her.
"Would you like some whipped cream?" I asked her as I grabbed the can and shook it.
"Yes," she whimpered.
I squirted some whipped cream on her bottom lip. She seductively licked them while looking at me lustfully. I groaned, shifted to adjust myself, and placed my lips on hers. She wrapped her arms around me and the kiss deepened. Our tongues rubbed against each other. She tasted like whipped cream. Pulling away, I placed kisses down her neck and made my way to her chest. I lifted her shirt over her head. She was wearing a pink lace bra.
"Beautiful," I whispered as I reached around her and unhooked her bra. I slid the straps off her arms, placing more kisses on her neck. "Lay back," I told her as I took my shirt off.
I unbuttoned her jeans and slowly unzipped them. She lifted herself up as I slid them down her amazing legs and threw them on the floor. She was a sight to behold in just a pair of pink boy shorts.
"Do you trust me?" I asked.
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She’s married and a stay-at-home-mom of two beautiful young girls, they reside in Western New York. Cuddling up with a good book under an electric throw is her way to escape the cold Buffalo nights. Besides writing, she co-owns Shades of Rose Media and hosts a talk show on Talkshoe called Live with Tamaria ~ Giving authors a voice.
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