I'd like to welcome author Elise Hepner to my blog today to celebrate the release of Sextionary.
Guest Post from the author
Keeping a Marriage Hot
Okay, so technically, I’ve only been married for three
years—still in the honeymoon phase I’ve been told, yet out of the most common
divorce rate. But we’ve been together for eight years total. That’s a lot of
sex and a lot of time to get to know each other well enough to spice it up.
What with my profession, most people think I’m the kinkiest of the kink when
they find out what I write, but I delve into things surprisingly slower than
most. Lots of research, remunerating on how I want it to happen, fantasies
galore—the whole shebang. Mostly, because spice doesn’t count to me unless
there’s a whole heaping spoonful of sexual tension. Enough that I want to
scream.
That was the idea when I first started writing Sextionary, that I wanted sexual tension
charged enough to start a lightning storm.
What are some of your favorite ways to spice it up?
Anticipation or no? Every commenter wins a chance to be entered into my drawing
for a 10 dollar All Romance Ebooks gift card at the end of the Sextionary Blog
Hop.
Not only is Elise offering up a chance to win a $10 All Romance Ebook gift card, but she has shared the blurb and an excerpt with us.
Blurb:
One small, sand filled timer flipped Jasper and
Jill’s world.
Boring, board game date nights evolved into twenty
questions or a spanking. From stimulating conversations—to ripped panties as a
makeshift gag. And Jasper’s new fascination with anything leather pulling Jill
further down onto her knees.
The
Rules of the Game:
Jill draws on paper what she wants from her
husband’s lips, tongue, teeth, and fingers
No stick figures
If Jasper can’t guess her needs, he takes over any
way he sees fit
Only a minute to shift their roles—but there’s
always time for the darkest pleasure—and a line they never thought they would
cross.
Excerpt:
“Honey, I’m home,” she called out, secretly pleased when
her voice didn’t quaver one bit.
The scent of strawberry—wafting from the candles tucked
in every corner—both soothed her mind while also tightening her muscles as she
dropped her purse on the floor. One measured breath after the next. Total
silence while she fought off the urge to fidget, picking at her tight skirt or
unbinding her hair from the constricting bun. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—mess with
their ritual. A personal game during date night that had taken on new meaning
half a year ago. Had become so much more than enjoying each other’s company
over a glass of sugary, sweet fruit wine and a board game.
More intimate than talking, so she held back her voice,
even as she longed to walk into the living room. But it wasn’t only about her
wants. Her needs. Marriage was a partnership and she was willing to do her half
to make her partner happy. Even if it meant standing perfectly still while her
nipples hardened against her rough sweater and she recalled all the fantasies
she’d harbored all day at work looping through her brain without a pause
button.
“Where are you,” she mouthed the words to herself
without breathing a sound.
A shadow wavered out of the corner of her eye. Before
she had time to turn her head he stood in front of her as if he’d been there
the whole time. A formless shape only defined by flicking shadows and her engrained
memories. At least until they made their way to the living room—but she knew
from experience that part wasn’t soon. No, he stood his ground in front of her
with an unreadable expression against the darkness. Shallow, barely there
breaths. Nothing to showcase his eagerness, while she silently pleaded for his
touch, every inch of her skin electric with the urge to reach out and brush her
fingers across his face.
She didn’t touch him for the same reason he made no
movement forward—their anticipation of each other was so much better this way.
Close enough to sense the brush of his breath—hot against her cheeks. His mouth
would taste like citrus toothpaste while his lips would bruise hard enough that
her eyes would fill with tears even closed.
“You look amazing,” his gravelly voice lilted at the end
of his words, an odd accent not anything close to their neighbors or friends.
Tonight, the words didn’t matter. His tone was like a hand groping beneath her
clothes, eager, unstoppable, and full of heady promise.
“You can’t see me.”
“I don’t need to see, to know.” Jasper cracked his
knuckles and the sound was a gunshot rending through the charged silence.
His callused hand wrapped around her wrist and she
barely registered that he’d moved forward blocking the entrance to their
gourmet kitchen. When she swallowed she nearly choked. As her chin tipped up to
look into his eyes, he clucked with his tongue. A gentle reminder. Her eyes
slid back to the cheap carpeting in their entryway.
But she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that when his
fingers pressed ever so slightly into her wrist in warning that her throat
closed on a sigh. Though he hadn’t spoken, she knew his touch well enough it
was as if he had uttered a forceful command. Loud and constant—until her nervousness
was drowned out by the cacophony of blood pumping and rushing between her ears.
“Come ‘ere.” He slid his hand up along her forearm and
jerked her to his broad, muscular chest while he towered above her petite
curves by at least a foot. They rocked together as if magnetized. Pride swelled
in her chest when she merely blinked at his actions though the rest of her
practically dissolved in his arms soaking in the warmth of protection and the
danger his veiled strength.
She didn’t put out a hand to stop him—though it wouldn’t
have mattered. Jasper would have swatted it away and gripped her all the
tighter, all the more painful, until there were tender bruises that she reveled
in the next morning. Small, tender marks that would sweetly sting when he
pressed on them across the breakfast table. Besides, it wasn’t as if he
wouldn’t leave marks, even when she was good. He dragged his thumb across her
skin with his stinging heat—like she was a roadmap to the only destination in
the world that mattered.
And as she closed her eyes, her very cells cried out for
more of his touch. Her hand curved along his solid, muscular hip. His gaze
swept over her until she didn’t have to look at him to know his intentions. Her
stare bore into his white t-shirt, her eyes focused so hard on him that she was
shocked there wasn’t a hole in his chest that started smoking. His other hand
shifted up from her hip to her shoulder, along her neck, and below her chin.
Every place he touched hummed and she dug for willpower to keep her hand from shaking
against the smooth, smoldering heat of his skin beneath his shirt.
One stroke along her chin with his thumb. Enough to set
her teeth to chattering if she hadn’t had her jaw clamped shut in order to
avoid him knowing the impact of his touch. Jasper was cocky—didn’t need any
more help in that department. Until he gave her something, she would work to
give him nothing. All day she’d labored with the knowledge of the sweet, hard
press of his lips against her throat and the particular rat-a-tat-tat of his
fingers against her clit.
The less reaction, the better.
Before she could figure out what angle he was working
tonight, her husband jerked up her chin with a pleased grunt. Her head tipped
back with a blink. A deep breath of pine filled her lungs until she ached
lodging a noise in the back of her throat. She gauged the look in her lover’s
calculating brown eyes. Against the backdrop of darkness with the subtle
flicker to their right she could only make out the bright points of his eyes.
As if flames danced within them. Tonight he would be the devil, her
tormentor—the association inside her mind wasn’t a surprise.
“I’m the man that gets to remove all these trappings to
get to the sweet treat of your nakedness. I’ll never take it for granted—though
tonight you won’t be so lucky,” he breathed against her lips, barely a caress
of skin on skin. Enough of a tease that she arched on tiptoe trying to meet his
mouth, even as he was already on the verge of leaving her high and dry.
There was no reply, because he didn’t expect one. Even if he had, his
chest brushed against the front of her sweater until the commanding caress of
his hand that had shifted onto the nape of her neck became something of an
anchor. Knowing the ritual, their odd little habits every Friday, didn’t make
anything boring or old hat. In fact, her knowledge of what to expect in the
beginning of their little dance only skyrocketed her anticipation—merely
because she knew once his hands were off of her anything was up for grabs.
And with his hands on her while her knees shook, he kept her in place,
their eyes locked with a mutual understanding. The next several hours would
test them both. But it would be worth it—he always made every move worth it.
Jasper’s mouth tilted in a gentle smile that she could barely make out. His
gaze told a different, more ruthless story like the slow, predatory kneading
along her nerve endings at her nape and forearm. Their only points of
connection, yet the subtle contact was enough to send her thoughts spinning
away in favor of simply basking in his touch.
“You know what comes next.”
Buy Links:
The official release date for Sextionary was December 6, 2012.
Author's Bio
Elise Hepner writes smutty goodness for Ellora's Cave,
Xcite, and Excessica. She's appeared in several Cleis anthologies including
69 Stories of Sudden
Sex and Best
Bondage Erotica 2012. She lives with her husband and two clingy kitties in
Maryland. Visit
www.ehwriting.com
to learn more and explore her backlist.
