Gwen Masters is one of the most prolific writers I know. She honored the Erotic Literary Salon this past June by reading a few of her well known short stories. The evening included a burlesque performance by The Infamous Miss Mae, as part of the pre-release party for Gwen’s, romantic novel, “A Week in the Snow.”
Below is an excerpt from “The Green Room” one of her latest releases, and according to Gwen, “…one of my favorites of all the books I have written.”
If you enjoy and wish to read the entire book visit her website for link to purchase. http://gwenmasters.blogspot.com/
The Green Room is one of my latest releases, and one of my favorites of all the books I have written. Here’s the short and sweet, teasing blurb:
The glare of the spotlight, the paparazzi cameras, the tabloid snickers and the bad influence that flows as fast as a river through it all — can love really survive the rigors of fame?
You can read a bit more about that here. But now, on to a sexy excerpt!
The concert that night was nothing compared to the sex.
Anthony’s hands were everywhere. He played me like a fine guitar, finding all the chords to strike deep within my most forbidden places. On my hands and knees, I braced myself on the rumpled bed. He slipped deep and I hissed in a breath of satisfaction.
“Is this what you want?” he moaned.
The motion was steady and unbroken. We were both dead tired, but that didn’t seem to matter. Nothing seemed to matter, not even when his cell phone rang from somewhere on the nightstand. My fingers searched the polished top until I found it. Feeling entirely inappropriate and loving every second of it, I flipped the phone open and handed it to him.
“Yes…yes, I’m here in the hotel room…”
It was his wife.
I bit my lip and thrust back hard. I was determined that he would not forget who he was fucking, who had got him here, who had led the way to that recording contract he would sign in a few days. I swivelled my hips, reminding him who was really fucking whom. My lack of shame would bother me later, but right now I was too far gone with illicit pleasure to care.
“I miss you too, honey…”
He dipped one finger into the cleft of my ass. I pushed my hips up, inviting.
“No…no, I’m not sure…”
He thrust harder, and I reached under us to touch his balls. He struggled to control his breathing. He pinched my hip viciously, as if to warn me against acts that were far too indecent to carry on during a phone conversation. I squeezed with my inner muscles hard enough to make him stifle a moan.
It was a battle of wills, and I wasn’t the one holding the cell phone.
I picked up the pace, merciless.
“The show went well…I’m going to be in Alabama tomorrow…”
I looked at him over my shoulder. “Sodomy is illegal in Alabama,” I mouthed.
Anthony slipped out of me. He pressed hard against the tighter hole, the one that he hadn’t sampled yet. I pushed back and felt the delightful sting as my body began to open under his. I swivelled my hips, trying to make it easier.
“The show was great. Lots of fans…the place was packed…”
He held perfectly still. I thrust back slowly. I would pay for my little ingenuity in the morning, but I didn’t give a damn. I wanted to be as dirty and naughty as I could be while his wife listened to what she didn’t know was happening. If I had stopped to think about it, I might have been appalled by my actions.
Lucky for me, I was too busy fucking to think.
I thrust back harder, and Anthony’s cock slowly impaled me. I opened under the pressure with a burn and a moan. Anthony quickly covered my mouth.
“I’ll call you in the morning, honey…”
We suddenly found the right angle, the perfect fit. He slid all the way home, his balls pressing hard against me, every inch of my body throbbing with heat.
“I love you, too,” Anthony said to the Mrs Keenan as he began to move back and forth in earnest. He said goodbye, hung up the phone and tossed it to the floor. He grabbed a handful of my hair and thrust hard. Pain and pleasure shot through every pore of my body.
“Who’s doing the fucking now?” he growled in my ear.
I looked over at the mirror on the wall. I watched everything—our bodies, his thrusts, and my own face, flushed and wild with passion. I watched as he pushed my shoulders down on the bed, the better for my fingers to reach beneath me.
“Touch yourself. Make yourself come when I do,” Anthony demanded. I found my clit and began to play myself with the rhythm of his thrusts. The orgasm built from somewhere so deep it was almost frightening. I watched in the mirror until the pleasure of it made my eyes heavy, and I cried out into the comforter as I came.
Anthony followed right behind me, emptying himself with a harsh groan. For long moments there was no sound in the room, save our unsteady breathing.
“Oh, God,” I whimpered when I could finally catch my breath.
He slid out of me. I collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.
“Is sodomy really illegal in Alabama?”
I laughed weakly. “Sodomy is illegal in lots of places. Especially in the south.”
“What’s the penalty if you get caught?”
I slowly climbed off the bed. Anthony came with me, one hand on my belly to make sure I didn’t fall. My shaky legs came through admirably, and I wobbled towards the bathroom. Anthony watched me as I stepped into the shower.
“Is adultery illegal or just immoral?” he asked.
“It depends on how good your divorce attorney is.”