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  • feedwordpress 10:47:48 on 2018/04/29 Permalink
    Tags: americana concubine, , ,   

    American Concubine – steamy S&M with a younger man 

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    Five Star ReviewsExcerpt from American Concubine – Story 1 from FALLEN ANGELS

    They finished eating.

    ‘Come here,’ he commanded. ‘Come, come.’

    He tapped his knees and she obeyed. She stood, finished her wine and sat back in his arms. He caressed her breasts. They were on fire, stinging as if from a bee sting. She squirmed and wriggled. He slid his finger into her mouth. She sucked it and he opened the lips of her vagina, the warm pad of his fingertip feeling for her clitoris which he nursed until her head dropped back, her eyes pressed shut and she sighed like someone who had reached the end of a journey.

    She stretched her legs over his thighs and the sudden thought that this is where she sat with Paul and the children on summer mornings flashed through her mind like a memory of another time. Without memory, there is no past. Without a past, there is no future. She arched her back and fought for breath as the tip of his finger worked its magic, a part of her that had been concealed in darkness revealed in brilliant light. The feeling became ecstatic, almost unbearable. She could feel her own juices run down her thighs. He steadied her as she rocked on the bridge of his knees. The contractions drew closer like waves rolling up the beach and, at that moment, that exact moment, he slowed, he ceased, and he left her floating across the abyss.

    ‘Don’t stop. Don’t stop…’

    He turned her in his arms and kissed her. She was trembling. Shaking. Her pulse raced. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and thought she was having a heart attack. For ten of the fifteen years she had been married she had been asleep and now she was awake.

    ‘Fuck me,’ she said and he smiled.

    ‘All in good time.’

    They stood. She was unsteady, as if the floor were the deck of a ship at sea. Just as he had slapped her backside when they left the bedroom, he slapped her again, a little harder this time, and it made her clitoris glow brighter.

    ‘Ouch,’ she cried.

    ‘That wasn’t hard.’

    ‘It hurt.’

    ‘Did it hurt, or did it sting?’


    ‘Let me ask you something, Michelle: have you ever laughed so much it hurt?’

    ‘I can’t remember.’

    ‘Pain and pleasure go together, sometimes, the greater the pain the more the pleasure.’

    He kissed his fingers and touched her bottom. Her whole body felt hot, electric, possessed. They went back to the bedroom. Moonlight lit the walls. She climbed into the mussed sheets and he rolled her on to her stomach. He massaged her shoulders, her back, her thighs. He pushed his tongue into her warm cleft, she was sopping, wet as a young girl, and transferred her fluids to the dark flashing eye of her anus. He pushed his tongue deep inside her, in and out, relaxing the muscles, and she was too…too in the moment to remember that she had never let Paul or anyone do this to her.

    Five Star ReviewsFallen Angels is out now with Xcite Books – six steamy novellas that will make your mouth water. Grab a copy from your local Amazon


    The post American Concubine – steamy S&M with a younger man appeared first on Romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

  • feedwordpress 13:54:21 on 2017/09/19 Permalink
    Tags: americana concubine, BDSM, being a concubine, , ,   

    Snow Falls Softly – from American Concubine 

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    Snow Falls SoftlySnow Falls Softly is the second story from American Concubine – it is the night before Josh Caton’s wedding and the girl in his arms is not his fiancé …       

    Men are governed by lines of intellect – women: by curves of emotion – James Joyce

    He kisses my eyes. My lips. My neck. He slowly draws my top over my head and my breath catches as his long kiss caresses the hollow of my throat. I feel the elastic on my bra stretch. I hear the snap of the catch, the pop of the button at the back of my skirt, the crackle of the zipper. My skirt falls to my feet and I step from the folds.

    My heart drums and my blood races as his fingers reach for the strips of silk at the side of my panties. He eases the material over the curve of my bottom and I sigh as if relieved of a terrible burden. I am naked and only naked are we completely ourselves.

    His lips continue their journey, roaming over the swell of my breasts and down in a line to my belly button, which he licks as I recall licking sherbet from my hand as a little girl. That’s how I feel that instant. Naked after a bath. A little girl wrapped in a big fluffy towel as I am wrapped now in the moment.

    He drops to his knees and nuzzles through the garden of my pubic hair. I stroke the back of his head as his tongue dives between the lips of my vagina into the pool of my liquids and secrets. I am a lake, drenched, sopping, overflowing. I can smell the soft breeze of my own arousal. Warm juices run down my thighs. His hands cup my bottom and I have the odd desire to feel their weight, to feel a flash of pain to focus this agony of pleasure. I feel proud, confused, ashamed. I am floating. My entire body has become one erogenous zone. If longing makes the heart grow fonder, I have longed for this moment until my heart was ready to burst.

    His tongue runs in a line up the length of my body. We kiss again, my taste on his lips, my body folded into his embrace. He wrestles from my arms, stands back and removes his clothes. I watch as he places them over the chair beside the desk with its clutter of papers, a cup from Starbucks, an iPad with its blue points of light. I wonder if guilt has intensified my feelings and observations. Everything in my mind is sharp like a razor. Josh Caton is forbidden fruit. I am forbidden fruit. Was it coincidence or the motions of the moon that has put us together here, now, like it was meant to be?

    He is naked. I admire him like a work of art, a sculpture by Michelangelo. He is six feet, broad with strong legs, large hands and a mesh of bronze hair on his chest. His cock stands straight like an arrow pointing the way, like a lifeline thrown from a boat to a drowning man. Or woman. The sunset is silver in the cold November sky, the light in his office darkening with the dusk. It seems as if we are about to enter a myth, a fairy story, a fantasy, and pause at the gate as adventurers pause before they set out on the final leg of the journey.

    American ConcubineSnow Falls Softly



    “For male readers, the stirring insights Chloe provides into the most intimate sexual machinations of the female mind, simply is a MUST read.” Michael Swanson, Amazon.com

    The post Snow Falls Softly – from American Concubine appeared first on Romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

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