Monday, April 14, 2014

Tempting Taste: In the Kitchen

Ooh, my 'tempting taste' title takes on new meaning! This week's teaser is from my contemporary erotica story, In the Kitchen. Ever fantasized about being with one of those hot chefs featured in cooking competitions on Food Network? (Or is the food and sex thing just me?) In this story, the kitchen gets hotter and hotter.

Marti Agrassi is taking the biggest risk of her life using her inheritance to open a restaurant. At least she thinks so until she partners with Rigg Anders, a cocky show-off contestant of the hit show Top Chef, and has to get along with him, while somehow keeping it strictly business. But a celebration one night takes things to the next level, and a sneak peek at Marti’s lingerie shows she’s wearing his favorite color. What ends will Rigg go to, to make it work with Marti, and their restaurant?

In the Kitchen is a contemporary erotic romance short story (Approx. 10,200 words). This story is intended for an adult audience only due to graphic portrayal of incredibly hot sex between enthusiastically consenting adults. 


“I found the place,” Rigg shed his jacket in a hurry as Marti opened the door. They’d grown used to working together in her home kitchen over the last couple of months. They had their bank loan, and they’d worked out a menu to get the place started. They still had some trouble agreeing on how often to change the menu up. Rigg was a fan of trying new things all the time, while Marti liked to offer the same well-built dishes customers expected. She had a feeling they could find common ground somewhere in the middle, like they had on so many other topics.

Once they had a location, they’d be full steam ahead.

“Tell me about it.”

“No. You just have to see it. I made us an appointment with the realtor. He’ll be there in half an hour. You game?”

“Yeah. Let me change.”

Marti ran up to her bedroom. She couldn’t help thinking about Rigg downstairs while she was naked in her room upstairs. Part of her wished he’d come up and push the issue between them. The sexual tension hadn’t dissipated over the months. But she still couldn’t take that chance.

Marti threw on black pinstriped slacks and a black sweater. She pulled her hair up off the nape of her neck, fastening it in a clip. She added a jade necklace and bracelet, and jogged back down the stairs.

Rigg whistled as Marti retrieved her leather jacket from the hallway closet. “You look nice,” he told her.

She smiled. “So where are we going?”


If it had been her style, she would have whistled. “Nice area. What is that going to cost us?”

“It’s actually a bargain. We’re lucky to find it,” he told her.

He was right.

The place was beautiful; exactly what Marti would have chosen herself. And it was in their price range. They set it up to sign the contract as soon as possible.

“Want to go out for a drink?”

“Absolutely.” After she blurted that out, she had second thoughts almost immediately. Get inebriated in the presence of Hottie McHotterson? This was not at all wise. But she couldn’t exactly back out now, and a big part of her didn’t want to.

They walked north a couple of blocks to a swanky looking bar called the Looking Glass. Heavy black drapes lined the plentiful windows, and the walls were a deep gray that bordered on purple. The rich dark wood of the tables and benches warmed the place up, along with the candlelight flickering from sconces and tabletop lanterns. The eye was naturally drawn to the bar, an expanse of cherry wood stretching almost the entire length of the back wall. The array of bottles reflected the flickering candlelight.

“You okay?”

Marti realized she’d been zoning out on the vibe of this place. “What do you think of that bar?”

“Great for this place. As soon as you walk in the door, you’re drawn there. It’s a great focal point.”

Marti was about to agree, when the waitress walked over and took their order for drinks.

“A martini for Martina?” Rigg teased with a grin, nudging Marti’s foot with his under the table. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through her.

“A mojito, actually.” Marti returned Rigg’s smile. “And for you?”

“I do want a martini, thanks.” He nodded at the waitress, who gave him a funny look before she walked away.

“Think she’s seen you some place before?” Marti laughed.

“It is silly, isn’t it? I just cooked on camera. It’s not brain surgery. Is anything more special just because you do it on camera?” He leaned in with that question, like he was really interested in her answer.

“It was brave to be on camera doing what you love. But no, I wouldn’t say it’s more special. It might be less special, because the motives aren’t as pure, are they? Chefs cook for the love of the food and the love of those we feed. Fans muddy up the waters. Strange business for a chef.”

“I agree, one hundred percent.” Rigg said emphatically. His eyes were almost fierce. “You get it.”

Just then the drinks came, and Marti felt bad for the waitress, because Rigg’s eyes were for her only.
“I can understand it must have been strange. But I think you’re also more outgoing than I am naturally, so maybe it wasn’t as odd for you as it would have been for me.”

“It was a rush for a while. Then it got old. Then it got really tiresome,” he told her, leaning toward her again as if in confidence. “My hope is that it was worth it, and it’s changed my path forward.” He held up his glass for a toast. “To the path forward.”

Marti raised her glass. “To the path forward. May it be bright and profitable.”

“Good toast.” One corner of his mouth quirked up, and she had the suspicion he wanted to make fun of her optimism. Well, let him. Tonight was a night for optimism. Marti took another swallow of her mojito, and changed the subject.

“Are you coming in?” Marti asked Rigg a few hours later, when they pulled up outside her house. “I’ll make us a snack.”

“Nice. I’ll take you up on that.”

He walked up the steps behind her, and Marti had the distinct sensation her ass was being looked over thoroughly. She hoped so.

“In my opinion, eggs are the only choice after a night of drinking.”

“Throw in some of your biscuits, and you’ll make me a happy man.” He spoke from just behind her left shoulder as they reached the door, close enough she could smell the spicy aroma of his aftershave.

She resisted the urge to lean back into him, and focused on fitting the key into the door. It was possible she’d had one too many. Luckily, he’d been more restrained. A little bit in the kitchen would turn her around. Right now she was feeling tipsy and foolish, and she was a little worried what she might try in this state. But did she really want to sober up and be responsible? She really wanted to sober up and jump his bones, but she knew that wasn’t the smartest game in town.

She finally managed to get through the door, and let him help her out of her coat. He hung it up along with his own in her hall closet, a gesture that spoke volumes about how familiar they’d become. He knew her house, he knew her kitchen...he knew her.

She led the way to the kitchen, pulling out her favorite knife and setting it on the butcher block. She grabbed an onion and small orange and red peppers to go in the eggs.

Rigg had the knife when she got the veggies back to the butcher block. “You’ve had one too many to do the chopping, lady. We’re not risking those fingers over a late night snack.”

His concern brought warmth to her cheeks. She tilted her head in an attempt at graceful acceptance, surprised it didn’t annoy her more that he was telling her what to do. He just sounded so sensible. And why not let him chop?

“Do you want a little coffee?” She didn’t wait for his answer. Instead she just started brewing two cups worth in her French press.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

When she turned, she caught him watching her with a hint of a smile. “What? Am I rumpled or something?”

“You’re just cute when you’re tipsy. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Er...thanks? Focus on the chop chop. I’m hungry.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

That warm ‘yes ma’am’ in his southern accent made her skin flush. She tried not to show her reaction, but when she looked up at him again, noticing the knife was no longer chop chopping, she realized he’d meant to cause precisely that reaction, and was now evaluating her response.

“Do you like what you see?” Marti’s voice came out husky, her question less teasing and more suggestive than she’d meant it to be.

“Very much.” He set down the knife, and Marti knew they were both going to forget this midnight snack in what came next.

She stepped closer just as he turned toward her, and they both laughed at the graceless start. Marti threaded her arms under his, and gave in to the urge to lean into him that she’d had all night. 


In the Kitchen is available for purchase for Amazon KindleBarnes and Noble Nook, and at Smashwords and All Romance Ebooks.

Monday, March 31, 2014

Tempting Taste: Dark Knight Diplomacy

Looking for a steamy story with a bit of intrigue? Try out this week's tease, Dark Knight Diplomacy, the third story in my Dark Knight Conquests series. See that big sword?...Well, you get what I'm saying. :)

Dark Knight Diplomacy is a historical fantasy erotica short story (approx. 4,000 words). This story is intended for an adult audience only due to graphic portrayal of incredibly hot sex between enthusiastically consenting adults.

Lady Isabella is stuck in a loveless marriage to scheming, greedy Lord Marcus. She puts on a smile for her children, and her elderly father, but in reality, she has little to look forward to. When the Dark Knight of Lightloss joins Lord Rolf at her dinner party, Lady Isabella's thoughts turn to what she'd do to such a man if he were hers. And later, when they find themselves alone, she can't pass up the opportunity to try something new, especially in the pleasing form of the Dark Knight.

Lady Isabella strolled gracefully on her father’s arm on the way to her grandly set table in the great hall. As she approached, she raised a hand in silent salute to her husband Lord Marcus, ruler of the great city of Andalene, who was seated at the head of the table.

He nodded in return, continuing his conversation with the diplomat next to him. Isabella had forgotten this one’s name. Not exactly proper from a woman reared to rule the house, but lately Isa found she had no patience for the trivial matters her husband deigned to discuss with leaders far and wide. Greedy Lord Marcus looked for an edge everywhere, and Isa had wearied of constantly standing as a pawn in his games. Her role was to look the part of the beautiful, put together Lady of the house. She could do that much, but her mind was elsewhere.

Isa kissed her elderly father’s sunken cheek, and smiled at the delight in his eyes. His love was a joy; she knew she’d done her father proud, at least. She could play this part for him, for whatever time he had left, and for her two children, too young yet to even learn to hunt and joust. Still, they needed less of her these days. She struggled to occupy herself and keep from growing bored in the confines of her castle, which had the dual nature of proclaiming her worth and confining her to a woman’s prison of home and hearth.

Maybe if she loved Lord Marcus, things would be different. Many of the girls she’d known at court had grown to love their husbands. A few were lucky enough to make love matches from the start. It hadn’t turned out that way for Isa. Her husband was a selfish bore. No, marriage did not hold any love for Isa.

As she took her seat beside her husband, the doors at the other end of the hall opened to admit another guest. This one Isa recognized. Lord Rolf ruled the country south of Andalene, a rural holding called Cavenaught.

Isa caught her breath when she recognized the man who’d accompanied Lord Rolf.

The Dark Knight of Lightloss wore midnight blue, tonight, and his sword as well as any hint of armor were strangely absent. Instead, he wore two short swords – little more than knives, really – one on each hip. His clothing and manner were that of the court, not the battlefield.

Isa wondered whether his attire was meant as a barb, or to allay concern at his motives. The Dark Knight was a warrior, not a diplomat. Some would question why Lord Rolf would bring the legendary knight to dinner instead of his new wife, Katrina.

There was a flurry of motion down the long table as seats were rearranged to accommodate Lord Rolf’s arrival, but Isa didn’t pay attention to that. The Dark Knight drew her eye like a lighthouse to a ship lost at sea. His smile was cold as the steward greeted and seated him. He was placed further down the table, while the steward arranged to accommodate Lord Rolf two seats to Lord Marcus’s right.

Isa watched the knight, marveling at his masculine perfection. As the steward began to pour his wine, he covered his glass with his hand and shook his head. He set into his plate with gusto, however, redeeming himself in the steward’s eyes.

“My lady, do greet our guest,” Marcus whispered in her ear.

Lady Isabella rose from her place and picked up the pitcher of wine. “Lord Rolf, be welcome to Andalene. It is good to see you.”

“And you, Lady Isabella. Please accept Lady Katrina’s regrets that she was unable to attend this evening.”

“I had hoped to see her. Please take with you my regards, Lord Rolf.” Isa poured his wine without spilling a single drop, and returned to her seat. As she looked back to the Dark Knight, she found him watching her, a slight smile turning one corner of his full, kissable mouth. She blushed despite her courtly training, feeling the heat under her dress as well as on her cheeks. The more she tried not to blush, the deeper her blush became, so she calmed her breath and ate a few bites before she looked back at that particular man.

When she did look, it was from under her lashes, and she found him watching her still. How forward, to watch her so as she sat next to her husband in their hall. The Dark Knight raised his water glass as if in salute, and Isa raised her wine. She drank it back at a single gulp, and the steward came forward to refill it for her. Isa found the knight’s gaze again and saw that his eyebrows were raised, a gesture that seemed to mock her.

Isa determined she would not look in his direction again, if it took all the power of her will. She kept that promise until the last, and as she rose to leave the hall she realized the Dark Knight had gone. A stone settled in the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t as though she’d anticipated more, even so much as a word, as he’d been something to light up the dullness of her castle life. Just looking at him had been so much better than not having him to look at.

Marcus gripped her hand before she could walk away. “I retire to my parlor, dear. A nightcap with our guests. Will you see that Lord Rolf is given a room? Then you may retire, if you wish.” He made no mention of inviting her to his parlor, and she had long since stopped looking for the invitation. He had his business to attend to, and she had...

After speaking with the steward about Lord Rolf’s rooms, she checked on the children. She found them already in their beds, with their nurse dozing in her rocking chair before the fire.

She withdrew to her own room, where she paced for a few minutes before grabbing her cloak and darting down the back stairs. She had to get some air.

The courtyard was far from deserted, but the stables were quiet when Isa slid open the door and entered, her slippers silencing her footfalls. She often came here to talk to her mare, and give the other horses treats. Tonight she stopped by Whisper’s stall for just a moment, pulling a small apple from her pocket especially for the gray mare.

Next, Isa walked back down the long line of stalls to one on the other end of the stable. Sure enough, the Dark Knight’s stallion Terror filled the space, separated by two empty stalls from any other horses.

The notorious animal whickered at her, more friendly than she expected, and she was about to step forward and give his black nose a pat when she heard a voice close behind her.

“I wouldn’t do that, my lady. He’s taken a finger or two in his time.”

Isa whirled, the hood of her deep burgundy cloak falling back as she faced the Dark Knight. “How did you know it was me?”

“That carriage would be difficult to hide. I’m glad you don’t try.”

“Hmm. On the contrary, I hardly notice my carriage any more; I’ve been trained so well.”

“You sound bitter.”

“And this is an awkward conversation. How did you know to find me here?” Isa raised her chin a notch and took on her lady-of-the-house stance.

“I actually came to see my horse was bedded down properly.”

He’d actually said ‘bedded down’ and now all Isa could picture was tearing his clothes from his muscled body and bedding him in the next stall. Maybe it showed in her eyes, because his lips parted and his eyes narrowed at the same instant, a predator sighting prey.

Isa stepped into him boldly, and melted against him as his arms came up around her. He framed her face with one hand, and gripped her waist with the other. She could feel the strength in him, and suddenly wanted nothing more than to feel his body atop hers, his warmth, his cock, pressing into her. She hadn’t looked for this, but she was not about to waste the opportunity.

The Dark Knight pressed her up against Terror’s stall, and Isa could feel the horse’s breath behind her. 

“How about ears, has he taken ears in his time?” she squeaked.

Laughing, he lifted her off her feet, pivoting to press her against the opposite wall. She felt his hard length slide along her belly and into the cleft of her sex. Isa felt the flame in her belly stir higher. If she hiked up her skirts, would this muscular legend with the face of an angel take her right here?

You can buy Dark Knight Diplomacy on AmazonBarnes and NobleSmashwords, and All Romance Ebooks.

Monday, March 24, 2014

Tempting Taste: The Dark Knight's Appetites

I have a doozy of a tease for you today: my second Dark Knight Conquest story, The Dark Knight's Appetites! This story was so much fun to write -- I love the female character, and her interactions with my non-hero. Fun, fun, fun! And steamy, steamy, steamy! Happy reading. :)

The Dark Knight's Appetites is a historical fantasy erotica short story (approx. 4,000 words). This story is intended for an adult audience only due to graphic portrayal of incredibly hot sex between enthusiastically consenting adults.

Gillian tends her parent’s inn, the only inn in the small village of Sailaway. Patrons have tried various means to get her into bed – with varying degrees of success. But she’s never relished the sight of a man like she does the appearance of the Dark Knight of Lightloss at the family inn. She’s been waiting for this opportunity. Such a man is worth the risk, if she can just get around her father’s protectiveness, the jealousy of her many suitors, and a full house waiting to be served.

Gillian swayed to avoid the back of a patron’s chair as she delivered drinks in her parents’ inn in the tiny village of Sailaway. Her skirts swished to touch the arm of another man, Desmond, who reached out to playfully pat her bottom. She squirmed out of reach before he could give her the pinch she knew was coming. Men. A dime a dozen in this joint, and every one of them wanting a piece of her. Some nights they were a welcome diversion, but other times she just wanted some peace. It didn’t look like she’d be getting any of that tonight. It was a full house. Locals had come out to see a visiting musician, and he’d brought his own entourage. The new faces were welcome. A couple of them were downright handsome.

The dogs barked out front. Gillian had just brought the musician a small pitcher of water and a plate of food. She wiped her hands on her apron and looked out the front window, expecting to see another local come to indulge in music and drink in lonely Sailaway. Instead, her stomach dropped as she recognized the big black horse, and the big man in black who had just dismounted, his sword hanging straight at his side.

The Dark Knight of Lightloss.

Gillian’s heart thumped erratically. She’d been waiting for just such an opportunity.

She glanced down at the worn blue dress she’d put on for the evening. She looked around and thought maybe she had a second to slip out and change. She ducked into her room at the end of the hall, shoving the door with her foot, but forgetting to latch it. She tore off the worn dress, rummaging in her chest for a suitable replacement.

Suddenly, she heard the door close and a single footstep, and then felt his hands on her hips, and his hard cock pressed against her slit through her underclothes. She looked up from the chest to find the intruder. Although she’d let him intrude on a number of occasions, so she didn’t exactly blame him for trying. “Not now, Lewis. I’m changing. I have a lot of work to do.” Lewis was a decent lover, and a good man, but not the sort she wanted all the time. He was also no comparison for the Dark Knight of Lightloss, who would any second be entering their establishment. She’d be damned if she let her mother be the one to show him to a table. 

The Dark Knight's Appetites is available for purchase on AmazonBarnes and NobleSmashwords and All Romance Ebooks.

Monday, March 17, 2014

A TED Talk on Orgasm! Talk about Excitement!!

Funny scientists are just plain awesome. And Mary Roach fits the bill. In this TED Talk, she works through 10 Things You Don't Know about Orgasm. I went in thinking she'd surprise me with two or four....but I'd never heard eight of these things, and I like orgasms a whole lot!!

If the pig insemination bothers you....what the heck are you doing here on an erotica blog? Probably things that would embarrass some of your fellow humans, and that pig! Get over it! (Definitely don't mention it to me. If you're grossed out, I don't give a hoot. I think this talk is hilarious.)

Tempting Taste: Saved by the Dark Knight

My first ever steamy story, ladies and gents! Today's teaser comes from Saved by the Dark Knight, the first of my Dark Knight Conquests stories. Come back next week to meet the sequel. :)

Saved by the Dark Knight is a fantasy erotica short story (approx. 3,800 words). This story is intended for an adult audience only due to graphic portrayal of incredibly hot sex between enthusiastically consenting adults.

Katrina is a young noblewoman about to be married off to a much older man. She fervently wishes her first time could be with someone desirable. When she stumbles on the Dark Knight of Lightloss in a compromising position, she might just get her wish.

Katrina watched her mare Rosie grazing the meadow as she meandered along the bank of a stream, deep in thought. Her wedding was a mere month away now; time was a fickle trickster, slipping away from her. Soon she’d have no choice but to go to the bed of Lord Rolf a virgin, and she couldn’t stand the thought. He was nearing thirty years older than her, and had packed off his last two wives to convents when they proved too meek in the bedroom. Katrina didn’t think she’d be meek. She was more likely to scratch his eyes out when he laid a hand on her.

Her father had good reason to arrange the marriage. It was their family’s best hope of keeping their land, and thus the peasants’ best hope of not being subjected to the direct rule of Lord Rolf. For that reason, she hadn’t rebelled against her father’s wishes. But she couldn’t believe what she was being asked to do. Lord Rolf was so old, and to imagine her first experience of lovemaking with a decrepit old tyrant just didn’t do it for her. Yet what choice did she have?

Katrina stopped walking for a moment and watched the flow of the stream, gurgling over the rocks steady in its bed. She sank to sit on a rock there by the water’s edge, looking back over her shoulder to see Rosie grazing nearby. She wouldn’t cry; that’s what she would not do. It wasn’t like she was fourteen, some silly girl bent on a perfect wedding night. She’d seen enough women get married to understand that the ceremony was for the woman, the wedding night was for the man. Yet she also knew that women could find joy in the bedroom, and the bedding. She’d witnessed that in stolen moments in the castle as she skulked about avoiding the womanly work her mother had set her to.

One time she saw the maid enjoying herself with the stable boy, quite handily. They’d both made so many noises of pleasure that Katrina had almost lost her wits and joined in. They’d made her feel things she hadn’t understood at the time. But she’d thought on it a lot since, like when they went to the king’s court and watched the jousting, the knights on their fine horses, so shiny and utterly masculine. They’d pounded each other into dust on the jousting field. Katrina had wondered then, as she wondered now, what it would be like to spread her thighs and let a man like that pound into her body, consuming her with his heat, his form, his lust.

The idea made her tingle between her thighs, that spot at her core, that place where a man would enter her. She grew wet and hot and achy. She didn’t want the old man, Lord Rolf, to be the one to enter her. She knew he would be, but did it have to be him for her first time?

She’d already been subjected to her virginity test, and Lord Rolf’s old maid had confirmed she was entering her marriage in pristine virginal condition. Now, in another month that wouldn’t be the case. She’d be the mistress of Castle Cavenaught, and share Lord Rolf’s bed every night.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he’d be a really good lover and make up for his age and looks. She could only hope, because there was a need in her that demanded to be satisfied, ever since she’d seen those knights on the jousting field last summer.

Katrina rose and kept walking, the stream’s continual movement calling her to the same. The late spring afternoon was warm and lush, and the foliage grew thick along the meandering path.

Suddenly, Katrina thought she heard a noise. When she stopped to listen, a soft moan drew her attention to the thicket in front of her. She saw Rosie prick her ears; the horse had been following her at a distance, grazing in the grassy meadow near Katrina’s route. There was definitely someone in there, and Katrina quelled the urge to run. She could leap on Rosie’s bare back in an instant and ride her trusted mare to home and safety. Yet safety wasn’t exactly what Katrina was after at the moment.
Those moans gave her a fair idea of what was going on in the bushes, but she still had wild fantasies about what she’d find if she took a peek. Did she dare?

She crept forward, her feet moving seemingly of their own volition, without orders from her. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this; it was far from the safest, most rational idea. She just couldn’t help herself. She was drawn to find out more about this unexpected treat in her otherwise dull life, which had become ever drearier as she dreaded the bed of a man nearly as old as her grandfather.

Katrina finally came to a spot where she could see through the branches to find a dark-haired man seated on the ground, leaning against a towering rock. His trews were open and his hand pumped at his lap. His head was thrown back and he moaned again, softly, as his hand slowed and the head of his penis showed above his fist, its large mushroom-top glistening. Katrina gasped, then clamped her mouth firmly shut as his dark eyes flew open and pinned her where she stood. 

You can purchase Saved by the Dark Knight, or read a longer sample, at Smashwords, or purchase it on All Romance eBooks, and for Amazon Kindle and Barnes and Noble Nook.

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

New Release: Daphne Plays Doctor

I've just published another erotica book for Amazon Kindle -- Daphne Plays Doctor. Here's a little bit about this latest addition to my contemporary erotica collection. Happy hot reading!

Daphne Michaels has always been painfully shy. She’s never asked a guy on a date. But now she can’t get the idea of seducing Dr. Charlie Heller out of her mind.

The fantasies start when she overhears him telling a coworker at the Lucky Springs Coffee Shop where she’s a barista that he’s moving his practice to another town.

She’s been watching the good doctor for months, but the sudden news of his departure brings a new urgency to her erotic desires. When she schedules an appointment, it’s not his professional opinion she’s seeking.


Daphne Michaels ducked down behind the counter and ran hunched over to the Lucky Springs Coffee Shop’s small kitchen. She ran a hand over her face, and her fingers through her hair, gathering it into a fresh ponytail.

“You’re ridiculous. He almost saw you that time,” her coworker Marie huffed as she swept past to get Dr. Charlie Heller his coffee.

Mortifying. Simply mortifying. Daphne’s cheeks flamed. Was she a grown woman, or what?

Not when it came to Dr. Heller. God that man was far too good looking to have sat through years of boring medical school. That permanent five o’clock shadow made her want to reach out and stroke him. And then keep stroking him. He was obviously brilliant, but always bordering on disheveled, as though he couldn’t be bothered with trivial aspirations like keeping his hair combed. It was damn adorable.

She wasn’t usually like this. It was just that her shyness was practically debilitating, especially around men she…well, men she wanted to bone. And Dr. Heller was a fine specimen whose proximity had proven too much for Daphne time and time again.

Daphne noticed Marie was taking longer than normal, and tuned in to the conversation she was having with the friendly neighborhood doctor.

“…So I’ll be moved by the end of the month. Taking a partnership in a practice in Castle Rock.”

Daphne’s stomach dropped. He was moving? No more hot Dr. Heller making her hide in the kitchen?
Once he left, Marie hopped up and sat on the counter, swinging her feet and acting all of her nineteen years.

“When are you going to get over yourself and make your move?” Marie asked, checking out her nails as Daphne came up beside her, still staring at the back of Dr. Heller’s head. “It’s been a while since Todd–”

Daphne shot Marie a dark glare. They might be buddies, but her abusive ex was not a topic she was interested in discussing at work, even if it had been months ago and even if the coffee shop was empty, as it was now.

She looked back at Dr. Heller in time to catch him running across the three-lane street. She dropped her gaze to peruse his firm ass and realized her fingers were clenched on the counter. “What was he saying?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He sold his practice.” She waved helpfully across the street to the little brick building that housed a psychiatrist’s office and the family practice of the man who haunted her fantasies. “He’s moving.”

Somehow, knowing she was on borrowed time with Dr. Heller accentuated Daphne’s desire. She couldn’t stop thinking about him.

When Daphne got home from work she kicked off her shoes into her small closet, and stopped by the kitchen to reheat some leftover lasagna. She poured a glass of red wine, her cheeks flushing at the fantasies of Dr. Heller that ran, seemingly in an endless loop, through her mind. There was something too kinky about the fact that his name in her mind was Dr. Heller.

Daphne cupped herself through her jeans. Her panties were already wet from the fantasies she’d been putting off while she was at work all day. This was getting ridiculous. She needed a fuck something serious.

That thought was all her mind needed to kick into overdrive. In her mind’s eye she saw Dr. Heller smile, that five o’clock shadow rough on his boyish face, as she went to her knees in front of him and took his cock from his pants. She imagined herself stroking it, the hot, soft skin growing slick as she took the head in her mouth, and then more of him.

Daphne took off her jeans and lay down on the couch, running her hand over her stomach and in between her legs. She moved aside her soaked panties and ran a finger around the lips of her pussy, getting it nice and wet.

The cock she dreamt of stretched her mouth wide. She imagined Dr. Heller’s fingers in her hair, pressing her forward to take more of his cock, moaning her name.

Daphne’s fingers pressed a firm rhythm against her clit, and in no time she cried out as her body clenched and then released in a mind-blowing orgasm that had been building all day. Wave after wave carried her off into a sea of pleasure, no less awesome for the fact it was self-induced.  

If only she had a chance with the real thing. She had no doubt he’d be even better than the wildest fantasies her imagination could come up with. But she’d never know.

Unless she did something radical.

Right away, Daphne squashed that thought. She wasn’t the radical type.

But what did she have to lose?

Despite her better judgment, a plan – far too dirty in its simplicity and kinkiness – began to come together in her mind.


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