Titillating Titbit Numero Uno

I have my author copies of On Demand now, and they are handsome indeed. They look good, they feel good, they even smell good. Mmmm.

And, if you haven't got hold of one yet, here is a snippet of what lies within:

‘Oh God, that’s beautiful,’ whispered Phil, capturing the moment, the lips fixed together, the hands flicking at Maddie’s stiffening nipples, her legs weakening so that Damian hooked one of his in front to keep her upright. The eroticism of it made Phil wonder how long he could continue as mere onlooker. Perhaps he should speed the action up somewhat. ‘What if he puts one hand in your knickers, Maddie?’

‘Mmm hmmm,’ she consented, pushing her bum back against Damian’s hard crotch. One large hand travelled slowly down her stomach and into the waistband of the burgundy satin French knickers. Maddie had to part her thighs a little, wobbling on unsteady legs, to provide unhindered access to the wandering fingers. Damian groaned as they slid between the lips, finding them wet and ready for some serious attention. His wide palm rested against her mons while the fingers rubbed and probed. Phil’s photographs depicted the large bumps of his knuckles straining against the satin while Maddie rotated her hips, her mouth still caught against his, her sighs absorbed by his tongue in her throat.

‘OK,’ said Phil unsteadily. ‘Turn her around to face you and take down her knickers now.’

Maddie let out a meek ‘oh!’ at the withdrawal of Damian’s fingers from her secret spots, or was it the return of his tongue to his own mouth? Nonetheless she allowed herself to be moved around, her stomach up against the hot bulge of his cock, while her recent model peeled the knickers and stockings down slowly, revealing her smooth tan bottom to Phil inch by inch as he snapped hungrily. The elastic slackened at the top of her thighs and the silky material dropped down to the floor, looking eerily like a pool of blood in colour and dispersal. Damian, it seemed, no longer needed to take direction, and he lowered an unprompted hand to knead her buttocks, re-establishing their kiss while the other hand resumed its work between her legs.

‘Fuck, I can’t do this any more,’ said Phil, tossing the mobile phone on to a bed. ‘Make room for me.’

Tempted? More excerpts to come if you need swaying!