The Rules of Seduction – a short, erotic story.



“Where are your sensitive places?” He asked. “Where are the places that when I kiss or lick drive you insane? Not the obvious places. Other places.”

She thought for a moment.

“The insides of my legs, the underside of my arm, my earlobe—oh that has me drooling—but not my stomach because I’m so ticklish. But it has to be the right touch at the right time.”

“You’re very particular, I can see. What is the right touch and when is the right time? How do I know?”

“You’ll know it because you will feel the goose bumps on my skin, hear my sucking in air, feel the shivering of my body. The right time is trickier. It’s obviously not just after you’ve broken my favourite vase, for example. You have to be intuitive.”

“What does that mean? I mean, I know what the word means, but how does it relate to you?”

She sat back on her haunches and thought for a moment.

“It’s not something you can cultivate. You’re either intuitive or not intuitive, it seems to me.”

“And am I intuitive?”

“I believe you are. You know when I’m sad, even if I don’t tell you. That’s intuition.”

“So when it comes to touching you or licking you in sensitive areas, how does intuition play a part?”

“Well an intuitive man knows when he is kissing or touching in a woman’s sensitive areas because of the very subtle reaction that comes from her. Some men are so engrossed in their own pleasure that they fail to pick up those signals. It might be a soft gasp, a tiny tremor, a look of pleasure on a woman’s face—all signs that an intuitive man will pick up as he makes love to a woman. He also senses the right time—she might bring him a drink, for example, and he might thank her by kissing the inside of her wrist after she has placed the drink. It says so much more than a simple thank you. But he knows that she won’t want fake moments of romance. She will know if you’re faking it. Better to do or say nothing at all than to fake it.”

“So basically it’s a minefield, the world of love and seduction?”

“I guess it is. But you mustn’t give up on love. It’s worth it in the end if you get it right.”

She rolled over on the bed, her naked body making his heart race, even though they had just made love. He ran his hand down the curve of her back and over the gentle slope of her ass. He could never tire of touching that ass of hers. He remembered what she had said about the inside of her legs. Leaning over he ran his tongue delicately over the soft skin on the inside of her thighs. Was it the right touch at the right time?

She laughed softly.

“I like that you listened to what I said. Some people pay lip service to other people’s conversations—nodding at appropriate intervals but not hearing the actual words. It’s refreshing to have someone listen and remember. But then you seem the type of person who has intuition about these things.”

He smiled.

“I like to think I do. But really I’m just as confused as everyone else—stumbling along in the dark and trying not to cause offence. Sometimes I get it right. Other times I make a big mess of it all. Do these rules of seduction apply in reverse?”

“What do you mean? Oh for men? Well only you can answer that.”

He stopped touching her thighs and rolled on to his back.

“Well we have sensitive places too, and yes, I guess that intuition is a great asset in a woman too.”

“So where are your most sensitive spots—the places that causes a spasm in your groin, that sexually arouse you?”

He paused, thinking.

“Give me your hand and I will show you. I don’t know if these places are the same for other guys, but they sure get me going.”

He took her hand and brought it down to his cock, now already beginning to harden again after their lovemaking.

“The tip of my cock is one place—squeeze it gently with your fingers. Ah, yes, now a little harder.”

He paused for a moment, enjoying the sensation, before continuing. Lifting her hand he brought it down to the underside of his balls.

“Stroking me there is always very enjoyable. Now slide your finger from there over the perineum towards my ass hole. Yes, that is quite exquisite.”

He groaned a little as his cock swiftly responded to the stimulation. He wasn’t sure if he might even come before he got the chance to get inside her again. He pulled back a little. She looked at him.

“Did you not like that?”

“I did—a little too much, unfortunately. You almost made me come.”

She laughed softly.

“So your most sensitive points are fairly obvious, actually. Places that I would have guessed. Where are the less obvious places?”

“Well I’m a guy. Pretty well everything centres around my cock. But leaving that aside I suppose, like you, kissing me in places you don’t normally kiss is very pleasurable.”

She moved closer and moved her body to allow her mouth to reach his thighs and began kissing up the inner edge of his left thigh, towards his groin.

“I like this. Let’s see if you do too.”

He shivered at the tantalising way her mouth was creeping higher.

“But is it the right time,” she asked?

“Baby, every time is the right time for me.”

She stopped just short of his balls, and he groaned with disappointment.

“Sorry, I’m teasing you now, aren’t I? Have you tried edging?”

“You mean when someone takes you to the last possible point before climax, and then stops? Yes, I’ve had it done to me a few times. But I haven’t done it to a woman. It seems a little cruel to offer them pleasure and then snatch it away.”

“But it’s usually only temporarily removed. The idea is that the repeated edging leads to a much more intense orgasm.”

“Yeah, I get that, but not tonight please. I’d like to make love to you again—provided you think I’ve learned the rules of seduction well.”

“I think you’ve passed with flying colours, my love. I think we’ll leave the edging for next time. Right now I want to suck you and lick you until I tip you over the edge. Then perhaps you can return the favour.”

“That sounds like a very enticing plan, my love. By the way, forget about the rules of seduction. The only rule is to follow your instinct.”

She opened her lips and continued kissing up his thighs from the point where she had stopped. He shivered in anticipation of the pleasure to come.


I hope you’ve enjoyed this short story. If so, why not take a look at my recent books (published under my other writing name of Juliette Banks)? The latest one is a short story that has a bit of everything in it—love, erotica, spanking, humour, kidnap, thrills. Here what one reviewer said of it:

This is one of those books that I really wish that I could rate higher than five stars. What starts as a fun kinky romance quickly turns into a fast paced drama with international terrorist themes. I literally could not put it down. This is definitely a book worth reading. (An Amazon Reviewer)  



Roxy is a modern, independent, kick-ass woman, who hides a secret desire—she likes a bit of spice in the bedroom. Will she ever meet a man who can satisfy her desires, without expecting her full submission?

Oliver is a man who loves some kink in his life, but doesn’t want to be tied down by a possessive woman. He also has a secret life that doesn’t bode well for a long-term relationship.

“Hope the roses arrived this morning.”

“Oh, they were from you? There was no note.”

“So who did you think they were from?”

“I made up a short-list of about three.”

“And was I at the top of that list?”

“Well you were pretty near the top.”

“I see. Perhaps I didn’t tan that hide of yours enough on Friday?”

Available at


A Second Chance – a short, erotic story



Warning: Suitable for age 18 + only

I spotted her through the crowds in the ballroom. People stopped mid-sentence to stare at her, but she appeared not to notice. Her eyes scanned the room and stopped when they hit mine. Remaining motionless she hardly even blinked as our eyes locked. What was she thinking? I wish I knew. Her face revealed none of her thoughts, despite the fact that, as an actress, her job was to display emotion to the watching audience. Was I being assessed?

I felt a quiver deep within me as I came face to face with one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. She was even more beautiful than on the screen. Long, dark, shining hair framed her perfect face. It was thick and lustrous and fell in casual waves onto her shoulders. Her face was pale and creamy—clearly a woman who didn’t spend much time in the sun. Her lips were stained deep crimson, her signature colour. I had never seen a picture of her without those lustrous red lips. She was dressed in a long cream satin dress that clung to every curve of her body—low at the front to show off her full, round breasts, that appeared to have no visible means of support. There wasn’t a man in the room who hadn’t spotted those babies, and would give a fortune to clasp them in his hands. Including me.

Our eyes maintained contact as she began a slow walk towards me, her hips undulating in the way that every sensual woman since Eve has done, knowing that the man watching her progress would be reduced to a quivering wreck on seeing it. She made no attempt to ask people to allow her free passage—they seemed to part naturally to let her through; most of the men staring longingly at her posterior as she undulated away from them, until of course their wandering eyes were spotted by their female companions and they felt obliged to avert their gazes.

She stopped about two feet in front of me, looking up with big, brown eyes, circled by long, dark lashes.

“Well, are you going to ask me to dance? Or do I have to find another partner?” She smiled to soften her demand.

I didn’t hesitate, holding out my hand to take hers. Dancing with a woman like her was not a gift to be discarded. I led her towards the area in front of the band, where several couples were already moving to a sensual sax rendition of a Nat King Cole song.

Her dress was backless from the waist upwards and it seemed almost indecent to place my hand directly on to her smooth skin. Indecent or not, I did it. I would dine out on this anecdote for years to come. It’s not every day that a legend of the big screen asks you to dance. She came close to me, her body brushing mine. My cock was already partly erect, and I was afraid of embarrassing myself in this social setting. But it seemed she didn’t care what people were thinking.

“Hold me closer,” she whispered into my ear. “Let’s give the gossips something to talk about. Put your hand on my ass.”

I’m a mature man of the world. I don’t shock easily. I did as she suggested. The swaying of her derriere, unhindered by underwear, and covered only by a layer of satin, made me harder still, as her firm bottom gently swayed under the palm of my hand. My erection must have been obvious. Looking up at me she smiled, before kissing me lightly on my cheek and whispering in my ear.

“What a delightful reaction. It’s a great compliment to a woman to achieve that level of response.”

I turned my head to face her, bending it just a little, and kissed her softly and briefly on her crimson lips, before replying.

“My reaction is, I’m afraid, inevitable. No man in this room would fail to react in the same way, given the opportunity. Why did you choose me?”

She laughed softly.

“I watched you for a while. I saw the way you behaved towards other people in the room—polite and respectful towards both men and women. You’re handsome too, and you’re a good dancer. I saw you dance earlier.”

I was flattered that she had been observing me, and I hadn’t even noticed. Handsome? Well I would take the compliment, even if a trifle exaggerated.

We continued our slow foxtrot, the strains of the tenor sax and the body of the woman in my arms, giving me goose bumps—totally unaware of the people around us. We were in a bubble of our own and I wanted the dance to last forever. Heck, I wanted the evening to last forever. Events like this don’t happen to guys like me. I planned to make the most of it.

Sadly the strains of the music faded. I fully expected her to walk away. Instead she took my hand.

“Would you like to dance somewhere a little more privately? I’m staying here at the hotel.”

Without waiting for a reply, she took my hand in hers and led me away. It wasn’t within my power to resist her. I went willingly to whatever fate awaited me.

Her satin dress, slashed on one side from the hem to the waist, parted as she walked, revealing a long, tanned limb. I ached to slide my hand up her thigh towards her unprotected sex. In fact I ached to explore her whole body from top to bottom. I’d been with my fair share of women, but none captivated me as much as this beauty.

The walk down the corridor towards her suite seemed endless. It was only when the door closed behind us I sprang into action, my caution abandoned. I pushed her back firmly against the door, taking her by the wrists and pinning her arms above her body—perhaps more forcefully than I intended, but she raised no objection. Now it was my turn to take the lead. My turn to show her how receptive I could be to her obvious need. She responded to my increased urgency, her eyes flashing as I pressed against her. The pressure of my lips didn’t allow for speech, but her hands clawing at my jacket told me all I needed to know.

I paused and allowed her to remove my jacket and drop it to the floor, as I took off my tie.

“The shirt. Let me feel your bare skin against me.”

Much as I wanted to simply rip the shirt open, sense prevailed, knowing I had to leave the hotel at some point that night. I unfastened the buttons as fast as I was able, while still pinning her to the door. The shirt landed on the floor with the jacket—but not the tie. I had another use for the tie.

My lips pressed hard against hers before I forced my tongue into her mouth. Our tongues entwined as my hand slid down her thigh and through the convenient slit in the gown, confirming she was indeed naked under the satin material. I was rock hard. My cock throbbed with the need to get inside her, but I wanted to play a little more first.

My fingers slid over her satin-like skin and found her damp slit, primed and waiting for me. I slid two fingers inside, making her gasp.

“Yes, oh yes.”

“Put your arms back above your head.”

I took the tie from my trouser pocket and swiftly wrapped it around her wrists, before attaching it to the coat hook on the back of the door.

“Trust me?” I whispered. She nodded.

“This will help keep your arms up there. Close your eyes.”

I pulled my head back to look at her. Her face was flushed and her breathing was heavy. A faint trickle of sweat was making its way down through the gap between her beautiful breasts. Bending my head I licked and nibbled each nipple in turn, making them hard—her eyes still closed as she softly moaned.

I turned her body around and pushed her back against the door, pulling her skirt to one side and running the palms of my hands over her soft, luscious cheeks. Opening my fly I released my engorged cock, allowing it to settle into the crack of her ass, while reaching around her with my hand. She was already sticky with arousal—it was easy to locate her slit and slide one finger up and down in the liquid. I located her clit and began a gentle massage, which increased in intensity as her moans became louder. I felt in control. She was mine, even if for just this short time. The gentlest of cats becomes a lion in the presence of such a woman, and this lion wanted to fuck her to within an inch of her life.

I’m not a rough guy. I never hurt women, and only do some playful spanking and bondage if they’re into it. But I had the need to assert my masculinity—to know that by the time I had finished with her, she would feel well and truly fucked. I used my extra body strength to hold her upright, while reducing her to a quivering wreck. Leaving the clit I thrust two fingers inside her as far as I could reach. She groaned. I wanted to make her come before I even thought about my own satisfaction. Pulling my fingers almost out of her I thrust them back in—hard. Her groans became louder. Meanwhile my other hand was hard at work, stroking up and down between her ass cheeks, finding and fingering her little puckered hole.

“Oh God, oh please…”

She was nearly there. I slipped a finger just inside her tight little hole. That was enough to bring her to tipping point. Her pussy clamped around my fingers, as tremors vibrated through her. She moaned incoherently, her legs beginning to sag under her own weight. I held her up and released her arms as her tremors slowly began to recede. Picking her up I carried her to the bed, placing her on the end.

“Let’s get you out of this dress. I’m sure it’s a very expensive designer gown and it would be a shame to ruin it. It’s done its job.”

She stood to help me remove it. All I had to do was slide the shoulder straps down her arms and the dress fluttered to the ground, lying in a pool around her. Stepping out of it enabled me to see her magnificent body in its perfection. She looked even more beautiful in the flesh than she did on the big screen.

I opened my mouth and said the fateful words.

“I wish I could photograph you as you are now.”

She froze. The expression on her face changed. There was a slight pause before she spoke.

“So, you’re just like all the rest.”

I was horrified. “No, no, not at all. I’m sorry. It just came out of my mouth without thought. It would only ever be for me to see.”

She looked sad. “They all say that. Then, within two weeks, the pictures are being flashed around the world. The temptation of all that money is too much to resist. I thought you would be different.”

I had difficulty forming the words. I was angry…with myself! How could I have been so crass? I stammered an apology.

“I’m sorry.”

Why the fuck did I open my big mouth. Of course she wouldn’t let a virtual stranger take her picture in the nude. What was I thinking?”

She wasn’t in the mood for my apology.

“Do you know what it’s like to lose your privacy? To be photographed in the grocery store, on the beach, in the beauty salon? To hear that constant clicking and know that within hours your picture is going to appear on some cheap gossip site. I thought my bedroom was my last private place—that you were a trustworthy guy. It seems I was wrong. You’d better go.” She turned away from me.

I reacted instinctively. Grabbing my cell phone from my pocket I dropped it on the floor and brought my heel down hard on the screen, shattering it—glad I was still wearing my shoes.

“There. No pictures, okay?”

She looked shocked at my action, but said nothing. I made no further attempt to persuade her, simply picking up my shirt and jacket and heading for the door.

I turned as I reached it. She remained standing where I’d left her, looking so utterly beautiful and tempting. But I had fucked it up. The best thing to do was to get out of there. I stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind me. Walking away from her room was both painful and humiliating—uncomfortable too, with my still hard erection aching for release.

I’d almost reached the elevator when I heard her voice. Turning, I saw her standing, now wearing the dress, outside her room.

“Come back.” Her voice was quiet, barely audible. I paused for a moment before walking back to her.

When I reached her room, the door had been propped open with one of her shoes. I stepped inside, kicking the shoe out of the way, enabling the door to slam shut. She was sitting naked on the bed, and beckoned me towards her.

“Perhaps I misjudged you. Maybe you are one of the good guys after all. I’ve never seen anyone smash a cell phone like that before. I’m impressed. There’s a bottle of champagne going to waste in the ice bucket over there. How about you pour us both a drink and we’ll see where it leads us. Okay?”

I smiled. “Okay.” Relief, mixed with joy swept over me. I had a second chance, and I intended to make the most of it.


If you enjoyed this story, why not take a look at my latest book, Remembering Roxy, an erotic romance, with some thriller adventure too. Take a look on Amazon at


Remembering Roxy – my new book!



Roxy is a modern, independent, kick-ass woman, who hides a secret desire—she likes a bit of spice in the bedroom. Will she ever meet a man who can satisfy her desires, without expecting her full submission?

Oliver is a man who loves some kink in his life, but doesn’t want to be tied down by a possessive woman. He also has a secret life that doesn’t bode well for a long-term relationship.

When they meet the attraction between them is immediate and electrifying. They are both amazed by their chemistry. But Oliver’s secret life takes an unexpected turn and threatens their relationship as well as his life. Can they find each other again? Or will their relationship be doomed to failure?

Publisher’s Note: This adult romance contains elements of danger, action, adventure, power exchange and sensual scenes. If any of these offend you, please do not purchase.


We didn’t have much serious conversation. After all I could hardly ask about the price of gold when I was tied to the bed and having my backside spanked could I?

Excerpt 1:

I wandered out into the kitchen, still naked except for the stockings—but at least now with a clean face and teeth. I wasn’t a person who was shy in front of a lover, even in the cold light of day. I wasn’t perfect, but I was comfortable with how I looked. In front of me, at the stove, was a lovely pair of naked buttocks—well toned. Oliver clearly uses the gym a lot. He turned and smiled. He was wearing an apron to protect his tackle from a splattering of fat from the bacon.

“Like the informal breakfast wear. Come and take a seat.” He pointed to the kitchen stools. “Unless your behind is too sore to sit. In that case you’re exempted from sitting. You’re permitted to eat standing up.” He was having fun with me.

“Oh I think I will be able to sit—carefully.”

“Let me look.”

I turned around to give him a view of my bum. I’d already checked in the bathroom mirror and knew the marks wouldn’t last long—but I kind of felt they were a badge of honour. Stripes I received voluntarily, which excited me, by a man who excited me.

He ran his hand over my bottom. “Not too bad. No regrets?”

“None at all.”

I sat down carefully, but any soreness was only temporary. Oliver placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of me. “You do drink coffee, I hope. I don’t have any tea in the flat.”

“That’s fine.”

“Bacon sandwich?”

“Sounds delicious. For some reason I feel very hungry this morning.”

“I always like a girl who has a good appetite.” He gave me a wicked look. “I’m afraid I’ve plans for the rest of the weekend. But I’ll drop you off home after breakfast. I hope we can get together again very soon.”

I have to admit I was a little disappointed our date appeared to be over. But hey, no point in rushing a guy like Oliver. Any pressure and he would probably run for the exit. I wasn’t completely naïve about men like him. He probably had women all over the place. At least he didn’t wear a wedding ring.

I did the walk of shame back to my flat, knickerless, with laddered stockings, and in a sexy dress and heels. Anyone seeing me would know what I had been up to last night.

Oliver got out of the car and opened the passenger door for me, taking a look, I noticed, between my legs as I levered myself up from the seat.

“You know you really ought to wear knickers with this dress.”

I grinned. “Perhaps I’ll stop wearing them, just in case someone wants to rip them off me.”

He kissed me. “Bye, Roxy. It’s been a great night. I’ll catch you at work next week and we can fix something up. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

Then, with a cheery wave, he was gone. I took off my shoes and walked barefoot up the stairs to my place. My toes were still sore from the previous evening. My neighbour, a single guy of around forty, grinned at me as I reached the top of the stairs.

“Rough night, Roxy?”

I smiled, but said nothing.

“So, Miss Legal from the 11th, you didn’t exactly rush to get here. I detect a little stubbornness in your character. Or do you wantme to tan your hide again?”


Excerpt 2:


I laughed to myself as the lift door closed. I liked spunky women. Women who weren’t afraid to open their mouths and say what they thought. This one – Roxy – was definitely intriguing. She was pretty hot, too.

I was glad we had met at Temptation. It removed the doubt that she liked some kink in her life. Women didn’t go to places like that without a partner unless they are curious about kinky practices, in my experience. If we had met at work I would have had to do some homework about the type of woman she was, and what were her tastes.

I’m not against vanilla relationships. I’ve had a few in my time. But my proclivities definitely veer towards the more exotic practices. I like women who challenge me and excite me—not shy, timid ones. I’ve no intention of getting involved in anything serious right now—especially with everything that’s going on in my life—but I like regular kinky sex, and I prefer it to be with someone I know and trust. Okay, I don’t know and trust Roxy yet—but I’ve every intention of finding out more about her.

I suppose I could be called a bit of a player, but I’m honest about my intentions. I don’t lead women on with false expectations. I try to let them know I’m just after some hot sex and fun. I’m prepared to show them a good time—wine and dine them—but if they’re after an engagement ring, then they’re wasting their time.

That’s not to say I treat women badly, because I don’t. I’m honest about my intentions and I don’t lead them on with false expectations. I treat them with respect, and I hope they will do likewise. I know men like me aren’t too popular with certain sections of society, but I can’t be what I’m not. This is me. People must simply take me or leave me.

As I travelled up to my office in the lift I planned Roxy’s seduction in my mind. I was going to enjoy this, I was sure.

“Are you sure the pics haven_t made their way on to the Internet?” Twitter


I’ve just had my first review on Amazon for Remembering Roxy.

5.0 out of 5 starsWho Says Bankers are Boring?

29 June 2018 – Published on

I thought I was going to be reading a simple straightforward spanking romance story when I picked this book but what I got was a first rate one, woven into a very good counter-terrorism plot. Roxy and Oliver both work for the same bank but they first meet in what they refer to as a kink club. They are both open and honest about their individual wants and needs and what develops is a very erotic and exciting Dom/sub relationship. The scenes they share are very graphic and extremely hot. However, Oliver has a secret that he does not initially share with Roxy and it causes some separation issues. This is the counter-terrorism twist. Make no mistake, though this story is short it is jam packed with spankings, sex, and action. Not to be missed! 5 Stars
I voluntarily reviewed an advance reader copy of this book.



Amazon Author Page:


Of All The Bars…(An erotic short story)



She was sitting on a bar stool at the opposite end of the bar. Still. Sensual. Sophisticated. Beautiful. Heart-stoppingly beautiful. Alone. She reached out and picked up her cocktail glass, tilting it towards her lips. As she did so she watched me. Maybe she thought that the distraction of holding the glass in front of her face would hide the direction her eyes were scanning. But I was observant. You don’t spend years as a private investigator and not learn how to observe your fellow human beings.

She realised I had caught her eye. Lowering her glass she gave a half smile, before turning away. I was already intrigued and more than interested in meeting her. My two days of business had exhausted me—meeting after meeting with very little pause. I was ready for a little playtime. I picked up my drink and headed over to where she was seated.

On the way I considered my opening remark—nothing glib or corny. I settled for the tried and tested, “Can I buy you a drink?” She looked up at me with big brown eyes and replied with a simple, “Thank you.”

It was hard to take my eyes from her perfect lips—luscious and inviting. My cock was moving ahead of my brain and the anticipation of an evening, maybe a night, with such a woman was causing some movement down there.

“Is this your home town?”

She looked up from under those long lashes. “No, I’m just passing through. I fly out tonight.”

“Me, too.” I didn’t ask where she came from. I didn’t want to know. I was content that she was here, tonight, and sitting next to me. I never even asked her name. The anonymity of a city far from home made me bold and adventurous. How many men had thought that, and come to grief because of it? I didn’t care. The bulge in my pants was almost certainly sending a message all by itself. I wanted this woman, and I would be damned if I would let the opportunity pass.

I went to push her fresh cocktail a little closer to her at the same time as she reached out for it. Our hands touched. I swear an electric current passed between us.

“You’re very beautiful—probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. But I guess you hear this all the time.”

She smiled, but didn’t reply. Instead she placed her hand on my thigh. I nearly shot off the stool, not expecting her to respond quite so keenly. My body was throbbing with need. She knew exactly the effect she was having on me.

I had three hours before my flight—enough time for dinner and…I dared to hope.

“Would you like dinner?”

After a brief pause, she spoke, in a soft, dusky voice that primed me even more. Would I be able to sit comfortably during dinner?

“I wish I could. But I have to leave for the airport very soon. I don’t suppose you would consider skipping dinner and going straight for the fuck, would you?”

I nearly fell off the bar stool, but recovered my composure and found my voice.

“What did you…where could we…?” I couldn’t seem to complete a sentence.

She smiled—a soft, seductive, smile. The way I was feeling I could almost take her here on the bar. She picked up her purse and took my hand.


I followed obediently. The devil himself might have tried to drag me back, but he wouldn’t have succeeded. My mind was totally consumed with this exotic woman and what she was offering. She led the way to the women’s powder room. It was empty. Inside she turned the key in the lock. We were in the section with mirrors, a counter, and stools in front, where women go to repair their makeup.

Our bodies crashed together, lips parted, tongues entwined. I held her in a tight bear hug, my hands roaming over her body like a drowning man seeking something, anything, to hold on to. I pushed her backwards towards the counter. I needed to be inside her before I exploded.

She groaned. It seemed her need was great too. I reached down her grey pencil skirt and pulled it up from the bottom until it was bunched around her waist. Underneath she had stay up stockings and dainty, black, lace panties. This time she assisted by pulling them down and stepping out of them, not even removing her black, strappy, heeled shoes to do so.

I pushed her on to the counter, my fingers reaching for her pussy. She was soaked. Just a few strokes of the fingers were sufficient to release a series of quiet groans. I could wait no longer. Pushing her thighs apart I released my rigid cock and plunged into her. If I had been religious I would have said a prayer of thanks right then. Instead I concentrated on not coming too soon.

As if she wanted deeper penetration she raised her legs from the counter and lifted them on to my shoulders. I plunged as far as I could reach into that hot little pussy. All the stress and tiredness of the last two days drained away like the tide receding from a pebbly beach. I felt at that moment that I was king of the world. Nothing was beyond me. We fucked as though this was the last time either of us would fuck on this earth. At least it felt like that.

I reached down, and with my thumb I massaged her clit. Her groans became louder and she dug her nails into my shoulders. It seemed she was nearly there. A few more thrusts and she began to tremble.

“Oh God, oh fuck…” I felt her pussy clamp around my cock as she reached her climax. Thrusting a few more times I exploded inside her. I groaned, a deep groan that seemed to travel from my groin to my mouth. I felt drained, but intensely satisfied. It was the kind of fuck I hadn’t had for a long, long time. I leaned forward and kissed her intensely.

We straightened ourselves up, and she applied some fresh make up.

“You go out first. I’ll follow in a moment. See you back at the bar.”

I unlocked the door and strolled back to the bar, waiting for her to appear. Then waited some more. She didn’t come. I returned to the ladies powder room, but there was no sign of her. To the right of the door was the emergency fire exit, leading out onto the street. I noticed the door slightly ajar. She was gone.

I returned to the bar and ordered another whisky, sorry that I hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye, or even ask her name. She was a woman I wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

It was about ten minutes later that my phone buzzed with a message. I took a look. One of my meetings today had been with a man whose wife had left him and he was desperate for me to track her down. His message included some relevant information about her, plus a recent photograph. My heart speeded up. There, on my screen, was the woman I had just fucked. I couldn’t believe it.

Had I been set up? I didn’t know. Of course I would now withdraw from the case, but I wouldn’t cite the real reason. I’d probably lose my licence if the guy were to discover what had happened, even though I was entirely innocent in this case. At least I now knew the woman’s name. Would I try and track her down? Or would I file her face in the ‘Fucks to Remember’ file in my head? I had no idea right now.

Free Copy of SONGBIRD – an erotic romance

Her voice was sultry, throaty and reeked of cigarettes, whisky and dirty sex


If you haven’t read my erotic romance book, SONGBIRD, now is the chance to get yourself a FREE copy through Instafreebie. Just click on the link below.


Harry is a successful 36-year-old Dom who has had many transient relationships with submissive women, and is not looking for a permanent relationship – until he sees and hears a beautiful young woman singing in a club in London.  The woman sang with a throaty and angst-filled voice that suggested a dissolute lifestyle, but had the face of an angel and a body made for sin.  Harry fell head over heels for Pascale, the beautiful songbird, and was determined that she would be his.  Pascale, however, has had a difficult childhood with her mother’s brutal lover, Gaston, and escaped his clutches with the aid of Louis, her old pianist, and when Harry meets her she is traumatised by her experiences.  Eventually he begins to break through the barrier that Pascale has erected around herself, but is wary about dominating her, even though she seems to him to have submissive tendencies.  He is afraid of digging up disturbing and distressing images from her past.

His friend, Jake, the owner of the nightclub, is locked into a sterile and dead marriage, but cannot escape due to the financial hold of his wife and her father, who could bankrupt him if they so wished.  He has a fun-filled, kinky relationship with a young woman who works at the club, but is terrified of his wife finding out about it and depriving him of access to his darling daughter, April, as well as bankrupting him.

Harry and Jake share Dom tendencies, but they also share seemingly insurmountable problems to be with the women they wish to make their own.

Here’s the first page of the book:

The voice coming from over by the piano was sultry, throaty and reeked of cigarettes, whisky and dirty sex. I looked up from my glass of single malt and swivelled around on the bar stool to see if the reality matched the image now placed firmly in my brain. I expected to see a train wreck of a woman, whose dissolute appearance matched her voice, but the woman before me was no more than mid twenties, with long, sleek, dark brown hair and the face of an angel. I did a double take, unable to believe that the voice and the woman I saw before me belonged with each other.  Perhaps she was miming? If she was, she was damned good at lip-synching. She was singing the Billie Holiday song, Solitude, with all the angst of the original, accompanied only by a piano; played by an elderly black man.

The woman leaned casually on the piano, with one arm resting on its lid, and the other holding the microphone. She was wearing a simple red shift dress that clung to a lusciously curved body, and which ended mid-thigh to reveal long, elegant legs, and she had her eyes closed as she sang. Her hypnotic singing and with a body that every red blooded male in the club that night would love to touch, meant that, by mid song, all talking in the place had been stopped.

Reviews on Amazon:

“De Vine has a unique way with words, she knows how to draw you in and keep you reading until the very end. The beautiful cover captured my attention and I couldn’t put this down once I started it. In parts of this story I could feel Pascale’s emotions as she tries not to let Harry into her past. This is definitely one of my favorite stories. I cannot wait to see what De Vine comes up with next.”

“This story kept me captivated and on the edge of my seat as the life of Pascale unfolds.”

“Not your run of the mill D/s or BDSM book. The descriptive dialogue is the classic word painting, and this author does it brilliantly.”

“This was a wonderful love story that delved deeply into the characters feelings and emotions. I liked the way each character had their own chapter with their point of view. Pascale, the songbird was closed and fearfull but with love and support became stronger and more self confident. The secondary characters had their own story. This touching story was drew me in and didn’t let go until the conclusion.”

“Songbird was amazing and I adored it! It is a fun sexy story that will really have you on the edge of your seat wanting more!”

the face of an angel and a body made for sin

For your FREE copy, go to:

News about my next book…



Sorry I’ve been absent for a while. I wasn’t well, but am now becoming better with each day. I’ve written an erotic romance, which has been accepted by Blushing Books, and I hope it will be published in the near future. I don’t have a cover picture yet, so I have used the rather saucy picture above. The new book is likely to be called Remembering Roxy, (although there’s always a small chance it will be changed before publication date) and here is the blurb and a couple of snippets from the book. (Warning: This is a BDSM book, between a loving couple, and contains references to spanking as well as some explicit language.)


Roxy is a modern, independent, kick-ass woman, who hides a secret desire—she likes to be spanked. Will she ever meet a man who can satisfy her desires, without expecting her full submission?

Oliver is a man who loves some kink in his life, but doesn’t want to be tied down by a possessive woman. He also has a secret life that doesn’t bode well for a long-term relationship.

When they meet the attraction between them is immediate and electrifying. But Oliver’s secret other life stops their relationship in its tracks. Can they find each other again? Or will their relationship be doomed to failure?


He fastened a silk scarf around my eyes, before spinning me so I was disorientated. I heard his voice from behind me. “Take everything off—except the heels. Leave those on,” he growled. Soon my clothes littered the floor. “Now dance,” he commanded.

The music was a slow jazz number, very mellow. I ground my hips to the sound of a sensual sax, bending and swaying to the gentle rhythm. I had a slight smile on my lips as I anticipated what was to come. I delighted in winding him up very slowly.

I couldn’t see him, but I knew he would be sitting in the leather chair, probably sipping on a glass of whisky. He liked these little displays of mine. He liked choreographing them and controlling my movements. He liked his power over me and I handed it to him voluntarily.

“Move that sexy little arse of yours. Show me what you can do. Be my private dancer. Make me want to fuck you without mercy.” I swayed and undulated my hips, running my hands up and down my body, knowing his excitement would be mounting until he could resist me no longer. How I loved to torment him. And how he made me pay, deliciously, for it.

“Enough.” I stopped immediately. He reached out and ran his palm down the curve of my back and over my bottom. “Bend over.” I did as he asked and was rewarded by his hand slipping between my thighs and stroking my pussy. “You’re so wet already. So sexy. You’re my little slut, aren’t you?” From him that was a term of endearment. The more I was his slut the more he loved it. His touch made me groan with need. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me down, over his lap. As my feet left the floor the shoes fell off with a clatter and lay at his feet. They wouldn’t be needed further tonight. My behind would be lathered and then I would be fucked – hard – just as I loved it.


As I walked along the corridor to my desk in the open part of the office, I received a couple of strange smiles and looks from co-workers, as I smiled and said good morning. Then I saw my desk. In the middle was a basket of white roses—about thirty blooms in all. It was enormous. I stopped dead and the men who occupied cubicles on either side of mine stood and applauded.

“Well you must have impressed someone over the weekend,” said Ben Short.

I coloured up and looked on the basket for a card. There was nothing.

“You mean you don’t know who sent them?” That was from Graham Jones on my other side.

I decided to play it cool. “Well it could be one of many of my admirers. I really couldn’t say.”

There was no way I could work with my desk almost entirely covered in flowers, so I retrieved a small vase from my bottom drawer, cut off a few blooms to place on my desk, and put the basket containing the rest on the floor, in the corner of the cubicle, out of the way, so they wouldn’t trip me up each time I got up.

Pretty soon the office filled up, meetings went ahead, and documents were studied. The novelty of my flowers dropped from the discussion topics. Of course they must have been from Oliver. Who else could they be from? But why no message with them? Obviously he wanted to keep our date a secret, which didn’t bother me in the slightest. But he could have put an enigmatic message that wouldn’t have identified himself to anyone but me. Still, message or no message, it was a very sweet, if slightly over the top gesture.

I passed the morning with the delicious perfume of the roses in my nostrils. Engrossed in checking a contract, I almost missed a text flashing on my mobile, sitting on top of my desk in silent mode. When I glanced over I saw Oliver’s name on the screen. I picked it up immediately.


Oliver: Hope the roses arrived this morning.

Me:       Oh, they were from you? There was no note.

Oliver: So who did you think they were from?

Me:       I made up a short-list of about three.

Oliver: And was I at the top of that list?

Me:       Well you were pretty near the top.

Oliver: I see. Perhaps I didn’t tan that hide of yours enough on Friday?

Me:       I’m sitting quite comfortably this morning, so perhaps not.

Oliver: I’m wearing a rather nice black leather belt with my suit today. Do

I need to come down at lunchtime and remind you a little more

severely, and ensure you have to stand up all afternoon?

Me:       On reflection, you are definitely at the top of the list. In fact, you

were the only one on the list for last weekend. So I guess I should

thank you for the roses. Did you buy up the shop’s entire stock?

Oliver: You’re welcome, and no. But I do like to make grand gestures.

Me:       Of course the whole legal department is agog and wants to know

which director I’m fucking. They know no one on this

floor could afford such an extravagant gesture.

Oliver: And did you satisfy their curiosity?

Me:       No. I don’t kiss and tell.

Oliver: Good girl. Well I have work to do in order to pay for those roses.

Me:       Me too. Thanks again.

Oliver: Bye then.

Me:       Bye.

I will post more details when publication date is known. In the meantime, Issue Number Two of my magazine-style newsletter, Rachel’s Retreat, is now available. Lots of interesting snippets to read, plus some humour and a decadent recipe. Don’t miss it. Simply send your email address to I only bring them out quarterly, so your Inbox won’t be swamped.

Rachel's Retreat-3

Rachel’s Retreat

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Hello readers, friends and fellow writers,

 I decided that I wanted to launch a newsletter, but I didn’t want an ordinary newsletter. I decided that what I should produce would be something between a newsletter and a magazine. So I have produced a 6 page pdf called Rachel’s Retreat. It’s a restful, relaxing place, where you can read snippets of work I am currently writing, the odd recipe (the one in the first issue is the positively orgasmic recipe for gin and blackberry cupcakes! What a fabulous combination. If I could I would make some and send you one each! Along with a suitable cocktail of course.)

 Then I have some fascinating facts about writers. Now which writer do you think collected male blue butterfly genetalia? Plus a short snippet from a Work in Progress. There’s some poetry from R.B. O’Brien’s about to be released poetry book, called, enticingly, Ruin My Lipstick. And to add to the mix, a few sizzlingly sexy pictures.

 I only intend to send out the newsletter four times a year, and promise that anyone signing up will not have to fear spam or the email address being passed on to anyone else. I intend to keep the list for Rachel’s Retreat entirely separate from other lists. I will only send the newsletter to anyone who specifically requests it, and if you find you don’t like it, let me know and I will remove you from the list immediately, so no one need fear becoming bogged down with unwanted spam and messages.

 I want Rachel’s Retreat to be a fun, light-hearted way of communicating with people, a little bit of a different type of newsletter. The response so far has been amazing, with people already signing up for the next issue, which will be in the spring. So if you want to see Issue 1, with absolutely no obligation to continue with it, simply send an email to me at

 and I will send you the first issue. Thank you for reading this, and I hope you will request the first issue of my newsletter.

Love Rachel x


PS Sorry I’ve been rather absent lately, but I am still writing and hope to have more material to post before too long.

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