Monday, July 4, 2011

Guest Blogger: Dawne Prochilo, erotic romance author

I'm pleased to welcome erotic romance author Dawne Prochilo, a fellow member of the Naughty Romance Writers, as a guest blogger today. We're trading spaces and I'm over at her space today.


A real erotic romance author's hidden pleasures

What's the first thought when you hear the words erotic romance author? Sex... sex and sex. You probably imagine some hot sultry red-head in a negligee... or perhaps a bleach-blonde bombshell wearing a skimpy thong and half shirt.


 Maybe she's sitting at her laptop hammering away at a tantalizing sex ménage with a bulging stiff member inserted into the moist hungry hole of his female partner while the third person watches, eventually joining in on the fun.

We watch pornography to get ideas for our scenes. 


Our refrigerators are full of lick-able and tempting foods like whipped topping, strawberries and chocolate syrup. 


Our reading library is full of sex books on how to please your man/woman--or the latest issues of Playgirl/Playboy.


Our bedrooms have every scent and flavor of massage oil.


Mhmm, we also have every adult sex toy known to mankind at the tips of our fingers for when we're writing an arousing sex scene.

Yup, we just whip out the old vibrator, pleasure ourselves, then finish the scene. Easy peasy...

Got those images in your head? Well, wipe them away! So not true...well, maybe a microscopic part of the toy comment...forget I said that. Let's continue.

In reality, I only own two negligees and they rarely see the outside world past my dresser drawer.

There's more to life than a bulging sex member. Really...there is.

I don't watch pornography...often, but I prefer HGTV, the Food Network, and Detroit Tigers' baseball.

My refrigerator is jam-packed with leftovers and fresh baked goods.

I read sweet romance and suspense. Just because I write erotic romances doesn't mean that's all I read. Hey, I graduated Cum Laude from college with dual degrees in Early Childhood Development and English.

The only oil rubbed into my body is mineral and baby.

And as for the sex toys, I must confess (like I have done a hundred times before), I do reviews online for adult sex toys...and I love it! NOTE: Must buy larger box for assorted items.

So before you think you KNOW who and what an erotic author does in her free time or during her writing schedule, remember how I spend my days.


Follow Dawne on her facebook fan pageher blog and her newest blog promoting and bringing together upcoming authors and publishers.
Dawne has five erotic books publishedone sex and relationship advice book, oversees and contributes to eight blogs weekly and coordinates seven facebook pages and is the lead administrator of a private facebook erotic author's group.


Saturday, July 2, 2011

Master Sgt. Montague (Master Adam) tells it like it is


This excerpt from MASTERS AT ARMS takes place at the Naval Medical Center where Damián is in rehab after losing his foot in the Second Battle of Fallujah. (Damián's character was inspired by actor Orlando Bloom--see photo above where new recruit Damián is thinking about his perfect day at the beach with Savannah.)  

In the scene below, Marc "Doc" D’Alessio, Damián's Navy Corpsman and close buddy, is worried about his friend's low morale. Marc has called their retired master sergeant, Adam Montague (Master Adam), to have a serious talk with Damián before he's discharged the next day. Marc fears (and rightly so) that Damián plans to commit suicide. The young man doesn't have the support he needs in San Diego to fight his way back.

So, Master Adam has just offered Damián a home with him in Denver--and a job at the sex club he and Marc are going to start. Adam has described some of the kinds of activities Damián would be involved in at the club. Just hearing Adam's words, Damián gets his first hard-on--or "full salute," as he put it in the preceding paragraph--since his injury. (Adam has noticed Damián's pup tent, too!)

Only Damián and Adam are in the room and we’re in Damián’s head.





Damián adjusted the sheets to hide his stiffy, and then slid his leg out to reveal his bare grotesque stump. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m missing a foot.”

“Well, last time I checked, most of the ladies at BDSM clubs are more interested in a firm hand and a stiff cock. You still seem to have both of those in your inventory. Sure, there may be some chicks with a foot fetish, but you still have a good one, don’t you?”
Damián was speechless.

Damián was speechless.


MASTERS AT ARMS will be published at Amazon, Smashwords, and Barnes & Noble in August 2011.


Read more Six Sentence Sunday blogs here http://www.sixsunday.com/ or follow #sixsunday on Twitter.



Commercials that would be banned in the US

This morning, a Facebook friend posted a banned commercial video on her wall and it led me to look for others. It's amazing how hot commercials are outside the puritanical United States. I think you'll get a kick out of all of them, too (or you probably wouldn't be on my blog!).

What's a little strip poker among friends?

(For a really hot read about a card game with highly erotic stakes, check out Cassandre Dayne's blog and her excerpt for Spankdown!)

What would you do if you woke up handcuffed to a woman’s bed?


Workout anyone?



One-upman/upwomanship at a sports bar.


Now for a commercial that's legal in the US--if you're 18 and older. Check out the Grand Opening celebration at the Naughty Romance Writers’ new Web site. Lots of great prizes! Sign up and you may win one of the many prizes being offered! Also check out more than 25 authors who are members of the group!


Don't miss tomorrow's Six-Sentence Sunday here, too! Wait until you hear what Master Adam says to snap Damian out of his post-Iraq depression. Master Adam does NOT mince words!

Thursday, June 30, 2011

Luke, the reluctant hero in Nobody's Angel

I have been remiss in introducing you to one of the heroes in my upcoming release, Nobody's Angel. You've met Master Marc and Angelina in previous blog posts. but things are going to be a little more complicated. Master Marc's little subbie-in-training will be pursuing his Search-and-Rescue partner, Luke Denton.

Luke's wife was killed in an avalanche seven years earlier. Angelina doesn't know it yet, but her father died trying to rescue Luke's wife. Luke knows he and his wife shouldn't have been hiking where they were and is riddled with guilt. Once he learns whose daughter she is, Luke tries to shut down his attraction to her. 

My inspiration for Luke was Gerard Butler (but with a Texas accent).Despite the leather pants in this photo, Luke is not into the BDSM lifestyle Marc loves.

 
In this scene, the three are heading to Denver, where Luke and Marc live. (I don't want to put a spoiler in here, but she needs to get away from home for a while without her family finding out what has happened--and they have a very strong alpha-male need to protect  her.)

You are reading Marc's thoughts here:

He looked down at her, watching her breasts jiggle in the opening of her blouse as the SUV bounced along. They were entering the metro limits, so she’d have to wake up soon anyway. He reached over and began stroking her thigh. She moaned in her sleep. His pene hardened.
“Mmmmmm” Angelina spread her thighs apart and let her head roll against the back of the seat. Her eyes remained closed. She appeared to be sleeping, but he’d guess she was faking. He knew one thing she couldn’t fake. His fingers glided along her velvety skin until he reached the curls covering her pussy.
Very good, pet. No panties.
Marc slid his middle finger between the folds and into her wet opening. She gasped as he entered her without hesitation. Dio, she was so wet for him. He withdrew his finger and encircled her clit. Her breathing grew more shallow and rapid.
“Who is touching you?”
“Marc.” Her eyes remained closed.
“Who?” His finger stopped its motion.
She grimaced in frustration. Her eyes opened and her sleepy gaze met his. “Sir.”
“Better. Tell me what you want, bella.”
“More.”
“More what?”
“Marc, please.” Her frustration grew.
“What did you say?”
“Sir! You know what I need.”
“Of course, but I asked you to tell me, cara.”
Her groan tore at him, but she needed to learn to respond to his questions. He couldn’t read her mind—well, not all of the time.
“Touch me, Sir. Faster.”
“Touch you where, Amato.”
“There.”
“Where?”
“My clit!”
He'd work on respect later. His finger resumed his ministrations, increasing the speed he massaged her clit. Her breathless panting and gattino mewling told him she approached the crest. She leaned back against the seat and tilted her pelvis upward to give him easier access. He slid two fingers inside her, positioning his thumb over her engorged clit. 
This seemed as good a time as any to spell out a few more house rules for exactly what he expected of Angelina this week.
“Ask permission to come, pet.”
She opened her eyes, which held the glazed look of a woman about to reach an orgasm. Confused, she asked, “What?”
“Beginning now, you will ask and receive permission to come, or you will be punished. Ask.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Wrong question.” He halted the motion of his fingers and thumb. “I assure you that I would never joke about something as important as my pet’s orgasms.”
She shrugged. “Okay. Sir, can I come?” 
He’d definitely have to work on her attitude. And her grammar. Why was it Americans slaughtered their own language? “May I come?” he corrected her.
“What!?” His finger remained still. She tried to move against him.
“Remain still.”
She surrendered with a sigh. “May I come?”
“Sir.”
She looked over at Luke as if he would rescue her. Luke shrugged. “Sorry darlin'. That stuff’s between you two.”
She looked back at Marc and groaned, her frustration evident. “Sir, may I come? Now!”
“Are you asking sweetly or demanding?”
“Begging, actually. Dammit, Sir Marc, LET ME COME!!!”
Yes, she had a lot to learn about how to speak respectfully to him. “You’ll be punished for speaking to your dom in that tone.” Marc felt her vaginal muscles spasm around his fingers. He smiled. The thought of being disciplined aroused her, whether she fully accepted her nature as a submissive or not.
“Sir, please. I need to come! Please don’t bring me this close and leave me hanging.”
“You two are making it damned hard for me to keep this vehicle on the road,” Luke complained, his knuckles white as he held onto the steering wheel with a death grip.
Marc laughed, but his focus quickly returned to Angelina's training.
“When you obey, you’ll find your experience will be much more pleasurable.” Her request to come was far from where he wanted it. His fingers remained still.
She bit her lower lip, taking slow, deep breaths. He watched her breasts rise and fall. Lovely.
“Please, Sir, may I come?” she pleaded.
He smiled. Much better. With his free hand, he reached over and pinched her right nipple—hard. His fingers resumed pumping in and out of her vagina as his thumb rubbed her erect clit.
“Oh, yes!” She reached out to grab his and Luke’s shirt sleeves and hung on for dear life. Her pelvis bucked against his hand as she crested and then tumbled over the peak. “Yesssss! Mio Dio! I’m coming!”
Of course you are. I permitted it. He smiled as she flew apart for him.
When her quivering vagina settled down to sporadic spasms, she looked over at Marc and smiled. “Thank you, Sir.” After a short pause, she added, “May I have another?”
Mio Dio was right. Absolutely enchanting. Marc grinned, then leaned over and kissed her.

 Comments always encouraged and welcome! Let me know what you think!

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Six-Sentence Sunday excerpt from MASTERS AT ARMS


 This excerpt takes place a little later in the scene I posted in this blog June 17. Master Adam has been drawn from his office like a magnet to steel toward the bar area by the voice of a woman auditioning to perform at the Masters at Arms fetish club. He hasn’t seen her face, but is very attracted to her from what he has seen and heard. (Finnish Goth singer Tarja Turunen is my inspiration for Karla and that's her in the photo above. Karla is auditioning to "I Walk Alone" and thinking about her big brother, Ian.)

When Damián calls her by name, Adam is horrified to find he might be lusting after the 16-year-old runaway he rescued in a bus station nine years earlier. (They had kept in touch by correspondence over the years, from the time he was serving in Iraq, but strictly in a mentor/paternal role from Adam's perspective.) 

I wanted to put the three sentences preceding this week's "chosen six," too, but then I’d have nine. Oh, heck. I'm a rebel and they’re short, so I’ll do it anyway. I'll just separate them a bit. <smile>. Enjoy!



 No. Couldn’t be. No fucking way


As if in slow motion, Adam watched her brush away the tears and raise her gaze to Damián’s. She smiled, but he saw the quiver in her lips. Her face was much like he remembered, except her blue eyes didn’t sparkle anymore. Then she noticed Adam and her smile faded. What little color she had in her face drained away.
When she swayed on her feet, he rushed to the stage and caught her in his arms before she collapsed.


MASTERS AT ARMS will be published at Amazon, Smashwords, Barnes & Noble, and other booksellers in August 2011.


Read more Six Sentence Sunday blogs here http://www.sixsunday.com/ starting Sunday morning. (I had to post a little early this weekend.)


Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Hot teenaged sex at the beach (MASTERS AT ARMS)


Today, I sent MASTERS AT ARMS, the prequel to my RESCUE ME contemporary series of erotic romances, off to my editor to have her way with it. 

Then I realized you haven’t met the third heroine in the trilogy (whose story will be told in NOBODY'S PERFECT in early 2012). Savannah Gentry is wealthy, beautiful, and hiding a secret that isn’t talked about in the circles her family moves in—incest. The evening before this scene takes place, Damián Orlando rescues her from a dangerous situation in a hotel room with clients of her father's. Damián can’t help himself, even though the last time he rescued a woman (his big sister), he wound up spending eighteen months in juvenile detention.

This scene takes place the next day between the two 19-year-olds in a cave at Thousand Steps Beach (Laguna Beach, Calif.). No, that above photo wasn't taken there, but inspired me nonetheless. Neither wants to go back to their real worlds. where he’s been escaping since he’s had wheels. The beach cave holds a special memory for Savannah, as well, although at this point in the prequel, she only recognizes it as her safe place—where she goes in her mind to escape her father’s and his clients abuses.

The scene has just shifted into Damián’s point of view. Enjoy my hot Chicano master-to-be and his “Barbie” doll! (When he first saw her the day before in a restaurant where he works, he described her as follows: “The man in the suit sat with a gorgeous blonde who reminded him of his little sister’s Barbie doll—the one he decapitated when they were playing dolls and dragons as kids.” I remember my own kids, a boy and a girl, playing together and there were headless Barbies everywhere, although my son preferred dinosaurs to dragons.)

Grab a fan and enjoy! Unedited excerpt from Chapter Three, MASTERS AT ARMS (to be released August 2011):



 
Damián brushed the wetness away from her cheeks. Tears? Why? “What’s the matter, querida?”
She shook her head and more tears spilled from the outer corners of her eyes. “Just kiss me,” she whispered.
He had no idea what had happened to the mood from when she’d been giggling on the beach. But the hard-on he’d been fighting against since he’d held her last night demanded he worry about all that stuff later. Right now, he held the most perfect woman in the world in his arms. She wanted to be kissed. By him. Before she vanished into thin air, he would give the lady what she wanted.
His head lowered to hers, capturing her lips. So sweet—better than honey on sopapillas. He drew her lower lip between his teeth and into his mouth, sucking gently. When she moaned and pressed her pelvis against his, he decided he wouldn’t be able to slow this down. He needed to be inside her. Now.
Mierda. How would he ever last long enough to make it good for her?
His tongue entered her softness, then he sucked her sweet tongue into his mouth. He held her lower back with one hand, pressing her body against his hard-on. With his other hand, he brushed his fingers down her arm, then reached between their bodies to cup her tit. So full. Firm. Her nipple was rock-hard even before he squeezed it. Her hips jolted toward his.
Damn. He needed to feel her naked skin against his. To see her beautiful body in this setting, erasing the image of the grotesque position he’d found her in yesterday. He wanted to see her hot and writhing beneath him, waiting for him to please her.
Stepping back, he took the towel from her and spread it open on the wet sand to protect as much of her skin as he could. Then he unzipped his leather jacket with shaking hands and slid it down her arms. Rolling it into a pillow for her head, he placed it near one end of the towel.
He reached down with both arms and pulled the hem of her dress up. She lifted his arms to aid him in removing her dress. His dick pressed painfully against his zipper. Precum wet his jeans.
Jesús. Please let me last long enough to make it good for her.
He reached between her breasts to unhook her black lace bra. Her breasts spilled out and he cupped them. She had bruises from the ropes last night. He hoped he wasn’t hurting her. His brown skin against her snow-white breasts caused his dick to strain even more. Then she skimmed her panties down her legs, careful not to pull at the bandages on her thighs. He throbbed when he saw her natural golden triangle of soft curls.
Mierda. The only thought remaining in his brain was how much he needed to bury himself inside her. But he froze, unable to keep from staring at her body. Perfection. Her nipples became swollen, begging for attention. He bent down to draw one hard peak inside his mouth, flicking his tongue against it, causing her nipple to swell even more. She hissed air between her teeth, grabbing him by the sides of his head, causing his dick to throb even harder. His hand cupped the neglected other peak and he rolled it between his fingers. Hard. She gasped, tilting her golden triangle against his zippered fly. His dick pulsated even more.
Madre de Dios, he couldn’t wait much longer. Maybe if he kept his jeans on, he’d be able to stretch this moment out. Pressing her down onto the towel and his jacket, he kissed her lips again, his hand skimming lightly along her abdomen as he sought the downy curls between her thighs. His finger stroked between her outer lips and she opened her legs for him. Wet. Her pussy was so fucking wet.
Pulling away, he looked down at her.
“I’m sorry. I can’t wait. I need to be inside you.”
She smiled and nodded, reaching down to grab his dick through the denim.
He pulled away. “If you touch me like that, I’m not going to last until I get inside you.” He quirked the corner of his mouth and shrugged. She released him and smiled.
“Open for me, querida.”
When she spread her wings wide for him, like the beautiful mariposa she was, he felt pride surge in his chest. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. How had something so delicate, so perfect, flitted into his life?
Knowing this moment would be fleeting, in more ways than one, he planned to create enough memories to last a lifetime.


Comments and critiques welcome! See cover art and another excerpt from MASTERS AT ARMS that includes Master Damián years later here. Savannah won't come by into his life for many more years and many secrets, old and new, will be revealed.