Her erotica has been published with Xcite Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats Press and Scarlet Magazine.
I’m very excited to be on blissekiss. Not only is it one of my favourite sites run by two of my favourite people, but because I’m here, I get to talk about one of my very favourite topics, the kiss! As a writer of erotic romance, I’m no stranger to writing about intimate acts, and I’ve pushed the envelope more than a few times. But I have to admit, the most intimate act, to me, is still the kiss. I believe that a kiss is far bolder than any other intimate act a couple can share because it’s done face to face, eye to eye, breath to breath, mouth to mouth.
I can’t consider the kiss without considering the context of the mouth itself. The mouth is the taking-in point of breath, the oxygen we need to live. A kiss can take our breath away. A kiss allows us to take into ourselves the breath of our beloved. How powerful is that? The mouth is the place by which sustenance is ingested. The taste the texture, the temperature of food, are all experienced through the mouth. Food is one of the greatest sources of human pleasure. Full engagement with the pleasure of food involves the tongue the teeth, the lips the palate, the jaw, the cheeks. A kiss can also involve all that anatomy, as though we are eating our lover.
In addition to breath and ingesting sustenance — the very necessities for survival of our bodies — the mouth is also our main tool for communication. Tongue, teeth, lips, palate, all essential for human speech, all essential for communicating not only what we want, what we fear, what we know, but also communicating who we are, or even hiding who we are if we feel insecure. And not all the communication that takes place with the mouth is verbal. Think of how much can be communicated with a smile or a frown.
The mouth is not only the gateway to sustained life, but it’s also the gateway to community with other people. We’ve all had the experience of chatting into the wee hours with kindred spirits and coming away feeling richer for it. We’ve all been encouraged or astounded or intrigued or moved or put off by what someone else has said. The written word is only the spoken word once-removed, and the distance between the mind and the mouth can be less than a breath or more than a lifetime.
The mouth is the gateway to connecting in a way no other part of the human anatomy is. When the mouth is put into its proper context, I think it’s not surprising at all that one of the most powerful acts of the mouth, one of the most moving, possibly life-changing, most definitely intimate acts of the mouth is the kiss.
Sex can be impersonal and often is. It doesn’t have to happen face to face. It can be done with minimal contact. A kiss, on the other hand, will always be an intimate act. When I kiss my beloved, for a brief moment, I hold captive his breath, his face, his look, his means of communication, and I draw all of that into myself while I offer my own mouth as a willing, enthusiastic hostage in return. A kiss is an act of conquest as well as an act of surrender, and a joining at the point of pleasure in between.
DANIEL ALEXANDER III takes his marriage vows seriously.
Until he gets the balls to ask his wife, BEL, for a divorce, watching each other masturbate is all he can offer his beautiful gardener, FRANCIE CARTER. But when Dan’s friend, SIMON PARIS, agrees to be his surrogate, affairs of the heart get complicated.
I’d like to share with you a kiss from my new novella, Surrogates, in which conquest, surrender, pleasure, and so much more happens with the meeting of the mouths.
There, you see? Good as new.’ He placed the tray of seedlings onto the table next to the basket of veg.
‘Lovely veg, by the way,’ he added. ‘The courgettes are exquisite. Did you grow them?’ He picked up the one that had been shoved up her cunt only minutes before and she burst into tears again. A courgette! She had actually been reduced to fucking a courgette.
‘Oh dear. Oh God. I’m so sorry.’
She scrabbled off the stool to make a run for it, anywhere but here, someplace where she could hide her humiliation. ‘Wait! Don’t run off like that.’ He slipped an arm around her and caught her before she could flee. ‘I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. Please at least give me a chance to apologize.’
‘No, no. It’s not you.’ She sobbed against his shoulder. ‘You have nothing to apologize for. You’re doing great, wonderful, actually. It’s me. I’m so stupid. So absolutely stupid.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I know stupid when I see it, and you’re not it.’ He tightened his arms around her and she felt good, solid muscle in the embrace. God, how long had it been since she felt good solid male muscle? She slipped her arms around his neck. He was tall, and as he tightened his embrace, he practically lifted off her feet. Tall and strong, she thought, as the muscles low in her belly gave a little quiver.
One large hand began to stroke her mussed hair. She hadn’t worn it back today because Dan liked it lose, but Dan never touched it, this bloke was touching it, gently, tenderly the same way he’d touched her seedlings. Her nipples beaded to a tight, nearly painful, press against the rise and fall of his chest. She could feel the heat of his breath against the top of her ear, breath which seemed to have accelerated a bit. He continued. ‘In fact, if that veg garden I walked past is your doing, then I’d say you’re anything but stupid. You’re an artist. I’m in awe.’
Then she did the unthinkable. She curled her fingers in his thick brown hair and pulled his face down to hers. A little sigh of surprise escaped his throat, but he didn’t resist. Still standing on tiptoe, she brushed her lips across his. Not only did he not resist, but he returned the favour, cupping her cheek in his large hand and lifting her off her feet with the arm that now encircled her waist. The brush of lips became a full-fledge assault, tongues sparring, lips crushing, breath coming it harsh little gasps. And it wasn’t just the mouth. It was the over-all effect of a real body, a real live male body barely able to contain the erection she could now clearly feel through his jeans. And just from the rub up, it made the courgette seem rather inadequate.
‘I don’t know you nearly well enough for this,’ he said when he finally came up for air. But before she could apologize for her unacceptable behaviour, his mouth was up for round two. This time, he lifted her bodily onto the staging table, her legs falling open on either side of him, her dress scrunching until rough denim raked the moist satin gusset of her knickers.
‘You’ve rescued my seedlings and fondled my courgette. That’s good enough for me,’ she breathed against his mouth.