Please join me in welcoming the irrepressible Alysha Ellis to my blog. Alysha writes wonderful, sexy tales that you do not want to miss. TRUST ME. I adore her, and I know you will too. (oh, and prepare to laugh).
Inspiration isn’t always divine.
I observed an on-line conversation recently about the writer’s source of inspiration. People spoke seriously and sincerely about the nobility and purity of their calling. I didn’t contribute a thing. How could I? I don’t have a gracious lady wafting grand ideas into my sub-conscious mind. I have a bimbo in red stiletto heeled boots whispering smutty suggestions into my ear. Others have a muse…I have an inner tart.
My inner tart is prepared to use anything for inspiration…and I do mean anything, including the weirdness of some internet users. A little while ago I received an email from a fan. This is a big deal for me. Fans are golden and must be treated as such. I was a little confused when he (and yes, that was surprising in itself) said he loved how beautiful I was.
At first I thought he meant I was a beautiful person, which is an odd conclusion to come to from reading my books. A wicked person, a depraved woman, an irreverent trouble-maker: that would be understandable – but beautiful? It turned out he thought the cover model on Ghostly Ménage was me and he had fallen in love. Actually, that would be lust, because he sent me a detailed and somewhat icky description of exactly what he felt when he looked at the cover…and I mean felt quite literally. Felt, stroked, squeezed…you get the picture.
Before I pressed the block user button, I sat back and had a think. What kind of person is so inexperienced, so naive that they think the authors of books are the cover models? What else could they be unaware of? Because I am not a nice girl I naturally started to apply this idea to sex. What if there was someone who was an adult, quite intelligent, but who had never experienced any form of sexual excitement. How would it feel, especially if it was a male where the changes are…ahem out there in a very real way? How could that happen?
I had written a story about the Devil so I thought of an angel this time. What if an angel came to earth specifically to find out what sex was? What would his first experience be? My inner tart poked me in the ribs and reminded me I’d just been told. After all, men do carry their favourite toy with them. So here is the first scene I wrote. All the rest came from that and became Send Me an Angel.
SEND ME AN ANGEL: A very hot excerpt
(Please do not read if you are under 18!!!)
Ellie walked back into the room.
And stopped dead. She could not have moved if her life depended on it.
Her angel was still exactly where she’d left him, on the couch, but he was leaning back, the covering blanket slipped once more from his shoulders. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open. The bulging pads of his chest muscles stood out, and she could see the faint sprinkling of golden blond hair flowing in a thin line down the groove between the hills and valleys of a perfect six-pack.
After that, words failed her, because, oh-m-my-g-god. His fist clutched the base of the most delicious, most enormous, eye-popping, mouth-watering cock to ever grace the earth.
His hand moved. Just an exploratory stroke. Up and down. He groaned. Ellie felt her skin burn. Felt the hot clenching in her own groin. Felt the moisture pool.
He tightened his fist, and his cock leaped in his hand. His other hand reached down between his legs, cupping his balls. He groaned again. Louder, more desperate. His breath huffed out in short, sharp bursts. The hand gripping his cock moved faster and faster, up and down, squeezing rhythmically. The other hand stroked his balls.
It was the most wildly erotic thing Ellie had ever seen. She leaned up against the door jamb. Her own hand crept to touch her clit through her clothes.
The more his back arched up off the couch, the harder she rubbed herself.
A drop of pre-cum glistened and tantalized at the tip of his cock. Her mouth went dry with longing to lick it off, but nothing on earth could have made her legs support her long enough to get her there.
His balls contracted. He moaned once, as if his soul was being torn from his body, and his cock pulsed in a series of spasmodic jerks. Creamy-white cum erupted in spurts. It splashed over his chest, decorating his awesome six-pack like whipped cream.
Ellie’s fingers pushed hard against her clit. She felt waves of orgasm surge over her, beating and pulsing. Her legs sagged, and she slid onto the floor.
The lust-induced fog cleared when he sighed. Loudly.
Ellie rolled shakily onto her knees and crawled over to him.
She knew her face was bright red. She could feel the flames heating her cheeks.
It didn’t stop the throb between her legs. It didn’t stop the almost unconquerable desire to straddle his body and lick him clean.
What did stop her was the look of stunned satisfaction on his face.
He turned dazed eyes to her. “That was sex?” His face glowed with the power of his smile. “That was the most wonderful thing. It was worth my fall to earth.”
He suddenly leaned over and studied Ellie’s face closely. He touched her cheeks and then lifted his fingers to his own, where the red flags of sexual excitement still flew. “Did you do sex too?” He thought for a moment. “I would like to see that. Is it possible to perhaps do it together, do you think?”
Ellie almost laughed, but it came out as a queer little moan. “That was a part of sex. A type of sex. But most people prefer it when it’s done together. It’s, um, generally held to enhance the experience.”
“Make it better?” His incredulity was obvious. If it were possible for that deep, harmonious voice to squeak, it would have. “It can get better than that? How? Show me?”
“I don’t think anyone needs to show you anything. For a man who, ten minutes ago, was afraid of his own hard-on, how did you come, if you’ll pardon the expression, to do that?” She licked her lips and pointed to the droplets of semen still clinging to the light golden hairs on his chest.
He looked down, his face a mixture of bemusement and satisfaction. He trailed one finger through a little blob of cum. “My penis felt funny, and I thought rubbing it might make it feel better.” The perfect smile gleamed out again. “And it did. Much better. Although not in the way I had intended.” He raised his finger to his nose and sniffed. A frown creased his perfect brow. “Is it dangerous that I have leaked like this?”
So as you can see, there is nothing noble or pure in what I write. There is, I hope, a lot of fun, quite a bit of sexiness and a genuine surprise at the end of the book. Others can have their muses. Me and my inner tart are having the best time being bad…because bad girls have all the fun.
If you would like a free copy of an erotic paranormal short ebook, Passion’s Wings. Just email me at firstname.lastname@example.org and I’ll send it to you.