Thanks so much to those who hopped by and commented during the Caliente Blog Hop, and thanks to Four Seduced Muses for inviting me to take part. Blog Hops are a blast ~ I enjoyed visiting a few other authors’ blogs and seeing what they were writing, too. Blog hops are like chatty little cocktail parties with racy books for a bonus, don’t you think?
My randomly chosen winner is Meghan Stith – woo hoo, Meghan! I’ll be sending a copy of my paranormal erotic romance, A Ghost on Two Wheels, your way. 🙂
Here’s an adults-only excerpt from Ghost:
Thank God we filmed ourselves fucking. I select a recording from just a month before his accident and turn on the television. I crank the sound up so that Michael will hear it from the kitchen. He bursts into our bedroom and stands in front of the screen. His form is much clearer now. I can even make out his features a bit. The aquiline curve of his nose, the slight cleft in his chin, the lump of his Adam’s apple. Oddly, his hair seems longer than it did when he died. Now it’s a few inches long, rumpled and dishevelled. I’ve heard that ghosts revert to their mental pictures of themselves, so I suppose that Michael prefers himself with longer hair. Interesting.
He starts to reach for the power button on the television. Is he going to turn it off? “No!” I yell and grab for his hand. He pauses, his fingertip inches from the button. My solid hands wrap around his translucent phantom one, gripping it as best I can. He pulls his hand back and slumps onto the upholstered armchair beside our bed.
He leans back and watches the television. I kneel beside him on the thick wool carpet, watching our taped lovemaking unfold in high definition. On-screen, I’m stretched on our bed. I’m wearing the white lace thong and push-up bra he gave me for Valentine’s Day this year. Michael is standing by the bed next to me, naked, and holding his thickened shaft in his hand. “Come on, Ivy,” he urges in a husky voice. “Touch yourself for me.”
I remember hesitating, feeling that childhood shame at touching my pussy, but knowing that it must be okay if Michael wanted it so much. I watch myself kneel on the television screen, gyrating on the fluffy down comforter, and bring my hands between my thighs.
“That’s good,” Michael urges on-screen. He slides his fist over his erection as he watches me run my fingers inside my panties. Next to me in the chair, Michael’s ghostly form unzips his jeans and pulls out his own vaporous shaft. It appears more solid than the rest of him. It even has a tinge of ruddy colour. Michael’s ghostly hand begins to move over his cock in the same rhythm as the videoed Michael jerks off on-screen. Fleetingly, I think how ironic it is that I have two versions of my lover in the room with me and neither one is technically alive…
I hope each and every one of you is having a fabulous Monday. As for me, the sun is shining, my wiener dog is curled up next to me, and I’ve got the final line edits for book two of my Prescott Woods series waiting on me to wrap them up. With all the frilly flowers and singing birds in my yard, love is clearly in the air.
The perfect time to write, read, and live romance. Happy Spring!
Bebe Balocca 