I think today is an excerpt day - and a cover reveal!

I promised an outtake or an excerpt. Today it's an excerpt from Adventurous Me, AND you get the cover too!

It's coming out on April 1, and it's a fun read that's sweet and hot and sad and happy and every other great adjective you can think of. Trish is so funny sometimes, and sometimes she's so naive, but she's a very good person who deserves better than she got, that's for sure. So have fun with this excerpt. It's steamy and kind of scary and is very typical of, um . . . well, you'll just have to read the book. Enjoy!

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     The bliss is short-lived. On Saturday afternoon apparently I commit another faux pas. When he comes into the living room to watch the ballgame, I’m kneeling on the floor in my spot. The first words out of his mouth are, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

     My eyes go round. “What, Sir? I don’t know . . .”

     “Your hair. Why did you do that?”

     I just pulled it up into a ponytail after I washed it. I thought it would be nice, since it didn’t appear we were going anywhere, and it would keep it out of the way. “Uh, Sir, I . . .”

     “I thought you understood that it belongs to me. I don’t want it tied up. I like it down. Go back there, take it down, brush it out, and get back out here. Pronto.” I take off at a run, or as much of one as I can manage in heels, and do as he says. Then I come back out and drop back into my spot. I thought that settled it.

     It did not.

     He disappears and comes back with a pair of nipple clamps in his hand. “Stand in front of me and arch your back. Put your arms behind you and grab each elbow with the opposite hand.” When I do, my boobs stick out and my nipples are front and center. He twists and sucks one until it’s hard, then puts the clamp on it, and repeats with the other. Once they’re on, he starts to turn a little screw device on them and they get tighter and tighter until tears are running down my cheeks. Then he grabs the chain and pulls me across the room.

     When we get to the front door, I wonder if he’s going to lead me out onto the porch naked, but he doesn’t. Instead, he twists a loop into the chain and pulls it down, looping it over the doorknob. “You’ll stay there until I tell you that you can move. And keep your arms behind your back.”

     It takes about fifteen seconds for the position to get uncomfortable, and less than two minutes for it to become unbearable. It wouldn’t be so bad if I could use my hands to brace myself, but I can’t; they’re still behind me. It’s becoming hard to stay upright on the heels when I’m bent over so far, but I know if I fall the clamps will probably rip my nipples right off.

     He watches the first inning. Then the second inning. I can’t believe I’d still be standing by the end of the third inning, but I am. Halfway through the fourth I’m beginning to think I won’t be able to stand it another minute when he says, “Unloop the chain from the door and come over here.” I do as he says and totter to him, still somewhat bent over and tears streaming down my face.

     “Here we go,” he says and pulls off the first clamp. The agony makes me lightheaded. I’m panting and screaming when he pulls off the second one, and I stumble and almost fall from the pain, but he catches me. “Now you can kneel.” That’s all he says, and he goes back to watching the game as though nothing has happened.

     I look down at my nipples. They’re purple and swollen, and they have little ridges in them where the clamps were. I desperately want him to suck on them, lick them, make them feel better, but he just keeps watching TV. At the end of the fifth inning he asks, “Still hurting?”

     “Yes, Sir,” I whine.

     “You can reach them with your mouth, can’t you?” he asks.

     I nod. “Yes, they’re big enough that I can, Sir.”

     “Suck and lick them yourself. And do it so erotically that I can’t watch TV for watching you.”

     I start. At first I’m just flicking at them with my tongue, but then I start to actually suck them. They sag just enough that I can bring them up and capture them between my lips – hey, gravity is not my friend, okay? At first, he’s paying absolutely no attention to me. As I suck one, I lick it, and I moan a little.

     That gets his attention, and he unzips his jeans, pulls his briefs down under his balls, and starts to stroke his cock. I want to suck it so bad that I can’t stand it, but he hasn’t told me that I can, so I keep it up with my nipples. After a little while I draw them down, then roll and pinch them with my thumb and fingers. I pull on them individually a couple of times, then at the same time, then go back to sucking them, and I watch him start to stroke faster. A little groan escapes his lips and he rubs his palm around the suede-soft head of his dick, then goes back to stroking. I’m getting hot and wet watching him, and he’s getting hot and hard watching me, and we’re driving ourselves crazy watching each other. I take a chance.

     “Sir, I’d love to suck your cock.”

     “I’m sure you would, but I want you to watch me pleasure myself instead. Does it arouse you to see me do this?”

     “Yes, Sir. It’s very, very hot.” I pause, then I say, “You’re very, very hot, Sir.”

     “Thank you, Vännan. You’re pretty damn hot yourself. Bring those tits over here, baby.” I crawl in between his legs and lean in, and he squeezes my breasts together and slips his cock between them. In a matter of seconds he’s tit-fucking me like crazy and I’m still playing with my nipples. Watching me makes him frantic and he’s thrusting like crazy. He cries out, “Oh, god, Trish, oh, fuck!” and shoots cum up under my chin, where it runs down all over my chest. When he stops panting, he looks down at my chest and smiles, then runs his finger through his cream and sticks it in my mouth. I give his finger a hard suck and he repeats the action, watching me with sparkling eyes while I suck his finger over and over until I’ve taken in almost all of his cum. “You’d lick it off your chest if you could reach it, wouldn’t you, Vännan?”

     “Yes, Sir, I would,” I say, blushing a little and looking away.

     In a flash his hands are on my waist, pushing me down onto the carpet, and he’s in me and pumping like a maniac before I can even brace myself. My legs come up and around his waist, and he squeezes the flesh of my ass in his hands as he drives into me, his palms searing my skin, the ballgame forgotten in his frenzy to take me. “Reach between us and stroke yourself, baby. Make yourself come.” I don’t need to be told twice, and I start stroking my hard little nub and crying out, grinding against him with every thrust of his hips.

     I finally scream out as I convulse, my cunt banging into his pelvis as he continues to slam into me, and he cries out, “Oh, fuck me!” I can’t believe there could still be a drop of cum in him, but it shoots into me and runs back out as he continues to milk himself into me.

     When he drops on top of me, his lips find my ear. “You are without a doubt the most precious, delectable fuck I’ve ever had,” he whispers, nibbling at my earlobe, and I giggle. “Do I do it for you, little one? How do you feel when I fuck you, baby?”

     “Like I can’t get enough. Like you fill me up in ways no one else ever has. Like I don’t want it to end, Sir.” I want to say, Like I’m falling for you, but I don’t.

     “Then we’re on the same page,” he whispers back to me, and I feel something in my chest, something that makes me feel like a fifteen-year-old girl.

     And I like it.