Erotica

Excerpt: Flash Photography*

*Title subject to change

Hello lovely readers! It’s been a while since I’ve published a book and it’s probably going to be another two or three days before this new erotica is up. I do hope it’ll be worth the wait. In the meantime, enjoy this sexy excerpt.

If you’re interested in obtaining an ARC when the full manuscript is finished, I recommend signing up for my newsletter, following me on Booksprout, or contacting me via the contact page.

Enjoy! – Sara

 

Excerpt: Flash Photography

Some time later, Chelsea stretched languidly on the bed, having just woken from a delightfully cozy nap. She’d been thrilled to discover that Derek had made sure that his guest bed was as luxurious as the attached bathroom; she’d sunk blissfully into the down pillows and snuggled under the lighter-than-air comforter, and fallen sleep within minutes. If she’d had her phone, she would have happily spent the entire weekend in bed.

Maybe Derek had a book she could read. He had turned out to be far more cultured than she’d believed possible. It wouldn’t surprise her at this point if he had a fucking library full of highbrow literature.

Reluctantly, she slipped out of the warm covers and headed out the door, feet silent on the thick carpeting. She began to wander, peeking into rooms to look for books. So far she had discovered a room filled with exercise equipment, a linen closet, another spare room, and an entertainment room containing the largest flat-screen she’d ever seen outside a movie theater.

When she came to the end of the hallway, she turned and headed in the direction of the kitchen. Along the way, she looked more closely at the walls. There were framed photographs here and there, which she now realized must be Derek’s work. Some were of landscapes, others portraits, usually of waif-like women who were semi- or fully nude. She paused in front of a particularly striking photo: an elegant crane about to take flight, wings spread, against the backdrop of a lake. It was breathtaking, taken at precisely the right time.

Continuing on, she found the kitchen and living room. To her surprise, Derek wasn’t there. She saw another staircase leading out of the living room and headed that way.

Here, the walls were nearly covered with large, blown up photos. A few she recognized, though she didn’t remember from where. They became increasingly sexual the further she got; women fully naked and in sensual positions, beckoning the viewer to come closer. A few were of couples: women with women, men with women, and one man with a man, one biting the other’s lip and tugging it down.

At the top, there was another hallway similar to the one where her room had been, though with fewer doors. It was much darker here. Peering into the first room, she realized that heavy white curtains were drawn. The room was empty, with stark white walls except for one covered with a floor-to-ceiling mirror. She exited and walked towards the second door.

When she looked in, she nearly gasped. This cavernous room, without question, was Derek’s room. She could tell by looking out the curtain-less windows and seeing straight into her own home. And also by the mirror installed in the ceiling directly above the bed.

But here, finally, she saw bookshelves. That, she told herself, was the only reason she stepped inside.

Once in, though, she looked around curiously. Here, only a few black and white photos decorated the walls. If the other photos had been sensual, these were downright erotic. One was of a woman lying across someone’s lap, gagged and blindfolded with arms bound behind her. The other person, presumably a man, was raising his hand, clearly about to land a stinging blow on the woman’s pert ass. The next one Sara looked at depicted a woman on her back, holding her legs straight up and out, while an off-camera person kept two fingers inserted into her pussy.

On the opposite wall, there was one with a woman on her hands and knees, backside curved up so the viewer could see the lips of her pussy, with a string of her wetness dripping down, while the person next to her pulled at one ass cheek to reveal her crinkled star.

Stepping around his king-sized bed, she stared at the one that captivated her the most. It showed a woman bound and gagged, possibly the same subject as the first photo. From the angle, she appeared to be kneeling in front of the photographer. This time she had ropes tied around her breasts as well, and wore nipple clamps on elongated nipples. Her back was arched and head was thrown back and eyes closed, with an expression of sublime pleasure clearly evident on her face. Her expression was what had mesmerized Chelsea; despite the painful-appearing binds, clamps, and position, the subject was clearly in ecstasy.

Chelsea had never tried anything remotely kinky in bed before and was convinced she’d never wanted it, although sometimes she wished her partners would ride her a little rougher, or slap her ass a little harder. But that was as far as either Chelsea or her partners wanted to take it. The idea of being tied up with a ball-gag would have made her shudder, but seeing this woman in front of her, Chelsea felt a shiver of pleasure and a longing that she’d never experienced before.

“How do you like it?”

She spun around upon hearing Derek’s soft, husky voice behind her. The plush carpeting had hidden his footsteps, and she’d had no idea he was standing there. He lounged against the doorjamb with his arms crossed, emphasizing the hard lines of his biceps. In the shadows, she couldn’t quite read his expression, just that he was looking at her with an almost wolfish gleam in his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to come into your bedroom,” she began to apologize. “I was just looking for a book.”

He didn’t move. “I keep my books over there.” He nodded at the tall bookshelf, on the other side of the bed from Chelsea, filled with books of varying sizes. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question? How do I like what? The house?” She realized her voice was higher pitched than usual. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “It’s lovely.”

No chuckle from him; in fact he seemed deadly serious. His harsh gaze intensified, provoking a strange swirling feeling in the pit of her stomach again. He finally stepped into the room, prowling towards Chelsea in a way that made her heart beat frantically in her chest. Whether she was excited or frightened, she had no idea — possibly both. “No, Chelsea. Not the house. I mean the photograph. How do you like it?”

“Your photos are lovely,” she squeaked, frozen as he stalked towards her at a slow, deliberate pace. “Such, um, interesting subjects. I loved the one of the bird in the water.”

He was nearly in front of her now. “And this photograph? How does this photo make you feel?” Reaching her, he put two hands on her shoulders, making her breath catch in her throat; he was so close. Between his smell, his proximity, and the look on his face, Chelsea was alarmingly aware of how very male he was.

Whatever she had expected him to do, she was wrong. He gently spun her around so she was facing the picture again. Although he removed his hands from her body, she still felt engulfed by him: the heat radiating off his body against her back, his steady breathing in sharp contrast to her own, ragged breathing, coming from above her head to remind her that while he was somewhat slim, he was much larger and stronger than she was. “Answer the question,” he commanded, so softly that if she’d breathed as he spoke, she wouldn’t have heard him.

“It makes me feel…curious,” she said, struggling to form a sentence as her entire nervous system was focused on the man behind her and the explicit image in front of her.

“Curious,” he repeated approvingly. “What else?”

While Chelsea tried to think of how to answer, she jumped as he began to run his fingers down her arm, light as a feather. Unconsciously, she leaned slightly backwards towards him. “Um…it makes me feel…hot,” she breathed, as she felt his warm breath tickle the back of her neck. Derek had driven all rational thought from her brain; all she knew was that she didn’t want him to stop touching her.

“Hot, temperature, or hot, aroused?”

Her panties started to feel wet. “Both,” she whispered.

“Good answer. What else, Chelsea?”

At this point, she barely even registered the photograph anymore; fuck, she could barely even remember her name. The whole world had suddenly boiled down to Derek, and how he was making her feel. As if he knew, he whispered, “Let me tell you how I feel, watching you watch this photograph.” His hand stilled, but then he moved closer so that he was pressed against her back. One hand came down to rest on her hip, pulling her even closer towards him, while the other wrapped around her waist. “I feel pleased. I feel proud. And I feel very, very turned on.” The evidence of this last statement was pressed against her ass. “But most of all, Chelsea, I feel like I have to have you, right now.”

 

©2018 Sara Bee. All rights reserved.

Flash Photography will be available for purchase for Kindle and Kindle Unlimited in January 2018

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