It's my pleasure today to bring news of this new book...
There's an appetite whetter at the bottom - and it's hawt!
The Pearl Necklace
A short erotic story by Geraldine O'Hara
26 pages/13K
Blurb:
After I’d tapped out a response
in the comments section of an online newspaper article regarding slimming pills,
I was swept from my life as a lonely wedding planner to be named The Pink Pill
Diet Woman. Once the pills had worked their magic, I earned the name of Glamour
Girl, and my life became an endless round of TV, radio and newspaper
appearances, with stretches of boredom that led to me fantasising about my
hunky security guard.
He was sexy as sin and out of my
league, but a girl could dream, couldn’t she? And dream I did, any chance I
got. I longed for him to slide into bed with me and treat me to a night of passion
I’d never forget, but how the devil would I get him there? Management had
forbidden us to interact as anything other than what we were—Glamour Girl and
her bodyguard. But as well as dreaming, I had a naughty streak. Rules be damned,
I was going to break them. He had a pearl necklace I wanted draped around my
neck—and I was going to get it.
Excerpt:
He stood in
my bedroom doorway and stared behind me at the window. “Curtains. Close them.”
I loved the
way he’d commanded me, how he was trying to shirk off his shyness. It made my
knees weak and my cunt ache even more. I turned and went to do as he’d asked,
then stopped and said over my shoulder, “Only if you’ll tell me your name.”
“You were
right earlier. It’s Henry. Now close the curtains.”
I smiled and,
taking a moment once I’d shut out the night, sucked in a deep breath and fought
off the urge to pinch myself that my bloody God, this was finally happening. I
turned to face him, the bed between us, a huge, huge barrier, and glanced at it
then back to him.
“Get on,” he
said, jerking his head at the bed. “Get your clothes off and get on.”
I hadn’t
undressed for a man in a long time.
Before tonight it had been when I was larger—and under the cover of darkness,
beneath the sheets. I just had to hope this newfound courage that was surging
inside was enough to carry me through.
I popped the
buttons on my skinny jeans then pushed them down my legs, sliding one foot
under them once they were off and flicking them away. I watched him carefully
for his reaction, and all I got was a glimpse of desire darkening his eyes
before he quickly masked it. I lifted my vest top off, tossing it to the floor,
and stood there in my black bra and knickers, hoping that he’d give me some
idea—any idea—of what he was thinking.
“Jesus
Christ, you’re so lovely,” he said. “So bloody lovely.”
He skirted
the bed, and I stepped back a bit so he could stand in front of me. He raised
his hands, and I held my breath, waiting for him to cup them to my breasts. He
didn’t, just let them hover there, and stared down at my chest.
“Touch
them,” I encouraged, sensing he was too much of a gentleman to do it without
asking, even though his intent had been clear. “You don’t need my permission.
Do whatever you want.”
I looked up
at him, and he shifted his gaze to my face, then, maintaining eye contact, laid
his hands where I so wanted them to be. His palms were deliciously warm, their
heat seeping through my bra, my skin. I felt every individual finger, his
thumbs, a brand that I would always remember and crave more of when we were
apart. I could only hope that tonight wasn’t the only one we’d share like this,
but I had to treat this time as if that were the case. Revel in every touch,
caress, kiss. Enjoy each second and hope they didn’t speed by too fast.
He kneaded,
and oh my God, the sensation from my nipples rasping on his palms went straight
to my cunt. I wanted him to fill it with his cock, give me a fuck that I’d
never forget, so lifted my hips to push my needy slit against his groin. He was
hard, so deliciously hard, and the pressure of him on my clit had tendrils of
pleasure radiating down there. I clenched my muscles in an attempt to stave off
an orgasm that would rage through me if I let myself go now. I didn’t want to
come too soon, but excitement and the sheer brilliance of being here with him
in this way might prove difficult. That first burst of release was going to be
heady, shocking, I imagined, and I needed to steel myself for the onslaught.
“You feel
just as I thought you would,” he said, then bit his bottom lip and slid one
hand up to my collarbone, the other still massaging my breast.
His
fingertips on my skin, right beside the strap of my top, brought on goose bumps
and a shiver so violent I worried he might think he’d repulsed me.
“You feel better than I thought you would,” I
said, a little breathless, my lungs straining as though they were fit to burst.
A buzz brought on by anticipation set up home in my ears, and I went
lightheaded for a second or two. Bloody hell, he affected me in a way I hadn’t
fully predicted. Yes, I’d known I’d go like liquid for him, my bones and heart
melting at the same time, but this…this all-consuming fire? No, I hadn’t
expected it to be so searing just from the simplest of touches.
Fancy a bit more...?
She could feel
him smiling now as they slowed their pace. Deborah twisted her hips and brought
her knees up over his kneeling thighs and straddled him. They broke free for a
second to stare into each other’s eyes. He was smiling from within his very
being and it shone out over his face. Deborah’s excitement started to bubble as
she moved around on him, feeling the heat rising and penetrating her. She could
feel another rising too and tipped her pelvis to brush herself against the
hardening under his trousers. 
Later,
I searched though my college things and found the books I’d quietly stolen from
Francesca’s mother. I spent the rest of the afternoon sprawled across my bed understanding
all the things I’d missed those years before. 
I live in the UK, have been writing erotic romance and erotica for about five years now. Before I started writing I worked in a busy hospital in London which is where I met Mr. Harlem. I loved it, the adrenaline rush, the job satisfaction, the huge number of people I came into contact with from all walks of life and of course, the team work.
Self-publishing is something I also enjoy doing. I have continued with my love of writing about sport by combining erotic romance with my passion for football (soccer to you US folk). Scored 
His
fingertips on my skin, right beside the strap of my top, brought on goose bumps
and a shiver so violent I worried he might think he’d repulsed me.