Monday, 9 November 2015

Blue Monday: Victoria Blisse guests

Every Monday I post a naughty episode for your enjoyment!

Today my guest is the incredible ever-busy smut entrepreneur Victoria Blisse, with an excerpt from her new book Good Manors, which promises "a glimpse behind the scenes of the aristocracy including its seedier side", and "a novel with twists, turns, secrets and steaming hot erotic encounters."

India Grace, a respected journalist, is assigned to the estate for a behind the scenes look at how it runs. It is the last place in the world she wants to be. Back when she was young and naïve she took a photo of old Lord Mallard, which led to her success and his downfall. She carries the guilt with her to the location and it’s constantly in the back of her mind when she meets the hall’s latest owner, Xander Patrick.

Xander’s father died when he was only thirteen, and he doesn’t hold many good memories of him. He helped his mum build Mallard Hall back up, and since her death struggles to keep it going single-handedly. The last thing he needs is a meddling journalist poking into estate business, especially when the meagre profits are mysteriously disappearing.

The two try to keep their distance but find themselves drawn together in many unexpected ways. A meal leads to an investigation of secret passageways and from that India and Xander explore their attraction, using different rooms of the hall for their kinky games.

In the end India’s secret will have to come out, but will it bring the couple closer together or tear them apart?

 I kissed with gentle purpose, the curls tickling my lips and nose. Her thighs fell wider the farther I journeyed over her skin. I didn’t know if it was a conscious move but it encouraged me lower, faster. Her warm fragrance made my senses reel with desire. She smelled of soft, warm bread and honey. I wanted to dive in and eat her up, to savor those flavors.

It was all about teasing her, showing her who was boss without restraint or punishment, and I wasn’t going to rush. Darting my tongue down between her lips, I felt the bump of her clit then pulled back. She wriggled and gasped then lifted her hips to encourage me to do the same thing again. I didn’t.

I ran my hands up the backs of her thighs and gently encouraged her to settle her legs over my shoulders. She was wide open to me and I peppered kisses along one of her lips, careful not to graze her clit but to keep to the plump, juicy lip until it tapered out, then I kissed up the opposite one.

I continued this game until she arched her back and groaned with frustration. It was a test of my patience too. I wanted to properly eat her, bury my face and get lost in the scent and the taste of her, but it wasn’t about my satisfaction, it was about driving her wild with lust.

I blew across her wetness.

“Oh, please,” she groaned.

“Please what?” I asked, then blew again, directing the breeze across her clit.

“Please, Sir.”

“What do you want?” I asked, lifting my head and looking along her body, taking in the tortured look on her face. She shook her head from side to side, battling with herself about voicing her desires.
“Tell me, India, what do you want?”

She opened her eyes and held my gaze for a few seconds. It was only when she closed them that she spoke.

“Please make me come, Sir.”

“Good girl.” I stroked her thigh as I praised her. “How shall I make you come?”

“Any way you like, Sir.” She gasped and shuddered under my touch.

“That’s a good answer, India, but how would you like me to make you come? What do you want me to use?”

“Oh God, Sir.” She shook her head and scrunched up her eyes. “Your mouth, please, I want to come on your lips, your tongue. Please, Sir.”

“That’s better.” I smiled and bent once again, giving her exactly what she wanted, exactly what I  wanted. Her heat overwhelmed my senses, she burned my lips in the most erotic way, her intimate folds pulling against my mouth, rubbing, creating friction and yet more heat.

I made sure to lap at her clit, teasing the soft, silky protrusion with gentle licks. With each lash of my tongue it hardened further. India strained against me, her flesh pressing against my ears. I could still hear her moans and gasps, though, and felt her muscles tensing, her buttocks lifting off the table to push more of her into my mouth.

I pulled back from her clit and lapped at her slit. She tasted sublime—chocolate, fresh bread and apples. She was the tastiest, most satisfying meal. I wanted to eat her forever. India keened with frustration as I left her clit—well, I’d say high and dry but it wasn’t, she was soaked—and I continued to focus lower down. I teased her lips, her sweet entrance, and reveled in her frustrated gasps and the fevered pumping of her hips.

Eventually I took pity, mostly because I wanted her orgasm, I craved it. Teasing her had been fun but I needed her pleasure. I returned my mouth to focus over her clit, sucking lightly and undulating my tongue over and around it. Her hips shot up and she ground her pussy against my face, pushing my nose into her flesh, surrounding me with her wet muskiness.

She was loud, so loud that I could hear her chants through the soft flesh of her clinging thighs. I kept the same rhythm with my tongue, letting her climb and shudder. I knew she was so very close and to deny her would be catastrophic.

She clamped around my head and she roared her completion, her wetness enveloping me. I clung on for dear life, lapping gently until she relaxed, her thighs dropping away, letting me up for air. I pulled away from the heat of her cunt and licked my lips. I was so hard I couldn’t think of anything else but fucking her.

Victoria Blisse is a mother, wife, Christian, Manchester United fan and award winning erotica author. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, and the co-editor of the fabulous Smut Alfresco, Smut in the City and Smut by the Sea Anthologies.

Victoria is also one of the brains behind the fabulous Smut events, days and nights dedicated to erotica, fun and prizes.
She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories. Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

You can find often find Victoria procrastinating on Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest 
To find out more check out her website 

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