Hot Stories for Cold Nights

by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

Putting the letter to one side on her desk, she booted up her computer and brought up one of the sections in question. Rereading, she knew she had to add something really hot. The characters were begging for it and readers would feel let down if they didn’t “do it.”

  She opened a new document, and after staring at her blank screen for several minutes, she pushed her wheeled desk chair away from her computer and leaned back. Why was she unable to write the needed lovemaking scenes? Obvious. What the hell did she know about hot, kinky sex, especially between people who were little more than strangers at that point in the story?

  She wasn’t totally without a sexual past, of course. She was over thirty and she’d had boyfriends. Two had been live-ins, if only for a few months each. But the sex with each had been traditional, missionary position. Even her fantasies were pretty plain vanilla.

  She went onto the Web, searched for erotic stories, and found plenty. She considered rewriting one or two of those, adapting them to the situation in her manuscript, but the tales all seemed so phony. She wanted to be able to write warm, loving sex between people who cared about each other, even if they weren’t in a relationship—not just folks getting it on to scratch an itch.

  She had to admit that, in her book, the people who would be involved in the scene didn’t know much about each other. The first two encounters were actually little more than one-night stands. Could people have meaningful sex without any kind of relationship?

  She sighed. Okay, in the twenty-first century people did that sort of thing. She knew that. She just couldn’t write about it, couldn’t feel it. And if she couldn’t feel it, she couldn’t commit it to paper—or to her word processor.

  “It’s not that difficult,” a male voice said from behind her.

  She whirled around and saw a man standing by the door, leaning casually against the jamb. He was sexy as hell, with shoulder-length deep brown hair caught at the nape of his neck with a black cord and a Kirk Douglas cleft in his chin. He was tall and lean; his body well displayed in a tight black shirt, skintight black jeans, and cowboy boots. And he had the most brooding bedroom eyes above a devilish, wrong-side-of-the-tracks grin. He looked like a bad-boy hero from one of the romance novels she enjoyed reading so much.

  She stared, unable to say a word, committing him to memory. Next time I need a magnetic, erotic, totally sexy guy for one of my books, he’s it. She placed a hand over her pounding heart and tried to calm her racing pulse. She wasn’t afraid, however, even though a strange man was standing in her office in her condo. She felt that he belonged.

  Finally able to breathe, she said, “Who are you?”

  “I have no idea,” he said, “but you can call me . . .” He seemed puzzled and tilted his head to one side. “Jared. That sounds like a good name.”

  Jared was the name of the hero of her current novel. “Okay, Jared. What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I’m here for you,” he said, his smile revealing white, even teeth in the middle of his deeply tanned face.

  Here for me? A strangler? A rapist? But as quickly as those thoughts flitted through her brain, she dismissed them. She didn’t know why, but she felt no malice from him and had no fear. “Here for me? What the hell does that mean?”

  “Again, I have no idea. I just know that I was summoned in some way, so here I am. What did you do to summon me?”

  “I didn’t summon you in any way.”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course you did. Think. What were you doing when I showed up?”

  The book. The sex scenes. She was thinking . . . She couldn’t go any further. “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, Mandy, stop fooling yourself. You certainly do know, and now that you do, I do, too. You’ve written a book. A good book. But it’s missing hot sex. I would bet that’s what I’m here for, and it’s what I do best. I’m really good at hot, wicked sex.” Again that charming, enticing grin, this time accompanied by a slow, sexy wink.

  “Arrogant, too,” she said, glaring at him. She wasn’t going to have sex with him just so she could create spicy scenes for her novel.

  “True, but I was only telling you the truth. And yes, you’re going to have sex with me just so you can improve your book.”

  “Dream on.” She tried for mad, suppressing the urge to smile at him. He was almost irresistible.

  “Not me, you. I’m your dream. And your reality.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Do you have any better explanation? I’m here because you wanted me here.” He looked down. “No one really looks like this.” He walked over to a full-length mirror that hung on the door of the closet in the bedroom she’d turned into her office. “I look like the cover of a romance novel. I can’t be real. If I were a woman, I’d turn me on. Admit it. I’m a hunk.”

  “Okay. You’re sexy as hell. But so what?”

  “Sexy as hell. How sexy is hell?” There was a chuckle in his voice, then he lowered it until it flowed like honey. “Hmm. Sexy enough to have your nipples all tight and your pussy twitching and wet?”

  He was right, but . . . “Now cut that out and leave me alone.”

  He moved behind her, lifted her short hair from the back of her neck, and kissed her there. Then his tongue swirled, making a small wet pattern above the back of her T-shirt. His mouth slid to the tendon that extended from her neck to her shoulder and he bit her.

  She felt a flush fill her, further swelling the flesh in her groin. “Cut that out!”

  “You don’t really want that, now do you? I’m here for your pleasure, so accept it. Accept me.”

  He placed one hand on each shoulder and turned her swivel chair until she faced him. “You want this, and you know you do. Stop lying about it.”

  She was speechless. He was right and she knew it. She did want to go along with everything he had in mind. He was only a figment of her imagination, after all, so what was the harm? Nothing could really happen.

  “Good.” He crouched between her knees and looked up to her. She could smell his spicy cologne in the heat that radiated from his body. “From what I read in your mind, and in that letter, of course,” he said, tapping the note from her agent, “you need two things. You need a good fuck, and you need to be able to write about it. I can help with both, and I will.”

  He was almost hypnotic. Her pulse sped and her hands trembled, this time not from surprise but from arousal. He grinned, then reached out and whipped her shirt off over her head. “Okay. Now, about the writing . . .” He tweaked one nipple through the fabric of her cotton bra. “In the book, women should never wear cotton undies. Silk, lace, satin. Black or red. Maybe palest blue if they want to appear untouched.” He pulled her forward and unhooked her bra and she let him, unable to resist.

  “Mmm,” he purred. “Nice dark nipples against very white flesh. I like that. Actually, that’s a good phrase. ‘Dark nipples against white flesh.’ Remember it for your writing.”

  He touched the point of her chin with the tips of his fingers and pulled her face toward him. “Kissing. Very important. Tongue stabbing into your mouth. Teeth nipping at your lower lip.” He demonstrated and heat stabbed through her. After several long minutes, he settled back on his haunches. “Swollen lips afterward from hot, hard kissing. Driving her wild. More good phrases.”

  His slightly clinical talk and his actions were driving her crazy. He was a stranger yet she wanted him. Apparently hungry, erotic sex between people who hardly knew one another was possible.

  “His mouth reached for her erect nubbins.” His tongue lapped at her flesh as his fingers swirled over her. “His teeth scraped.” He nibbled at her nipples, drew first one, then the other into his mouth. Her hips wanted to move so much that she could barely sit still. While his mouth sucked at one nipple, his fingers pinched and pulled at the other.

  He settled back. “Flushed skin. Breathing ragged. Using the flat of his tongue to lave her flesh.” He grinned. “You getting all this? No? Probably not, heat of passion and all that. Okay, I�
��ll see to it that there’s a list of good words, phrases, and ideas on your computer later. For now, just feel.”

  He picked her up, Rhett Butler-style, and carried her into her bedroom, then stood her beside her bed. Her knees would hardly hold her, so he supported her with one arm and used the other hand to unfasten her jeans and pull them off along with her socks and panties. He dropped everything on the floor. “You exude the scent of sex,” he said, “and you’re so hot now you feel like you’re going to explode. Not yet, Mandy. You’ve got a lot more to learn.”

  He was right. She burned for him.

  He lifted her onto the bed. “You will be frantic for release before this day is over,” he said. “For now, feel the hunger spiral through you.”

  She shuddered, knowing she was eager to experience everything he could give her. Imagination? Not very likely. This was altogether too real.

  He spread her legs and crawled between. “Pussies are so beautiful,” he said, “lips all swollen, skin slick with juices.” He parted her with his thumbs. “You’re deep pink with arousal, sizzling with need.”

  He licked the length of her slit with the flat of his tongue. “You taste salty and my tongue slides over you so easily.” He tightened the tip of his tongue and thrust it into her opening. He pushed, then released, pushed, then released until she was wild, the pressure building low in her belly.

  Then he lapped at her clit, tongue swirling around it, then flicking the tip. She arched her back and her hips thrashed. Her breath caught in her lungs until she thought she’d expire. The storm built.

  When he sucked her swollen clit and bit lightly, her climax finally crashed over her and she heard her own keening wail of pleasure. She couldn’t control her body, but despite her thrashing, he managed to keep his mouth fastened on her, sucking, drawing the last bit of pleasure from her.

  Eventually he rested his head on her belly as she slept. When she awoke from her doze she was briefly afraid he’d be gone, but she felt the weight of his head on her shoulder, arm across her ribs. “Mmm,” she purred.

  “That was a good start,” he said, his voice like lava flowing through her. “And there’s so much more I can show you. I’ll teach you how to use your mouth on me, along with all the accompanying hot words. We’ll do rear entry, anal sex, maybe even spend a little time with a whip or a paddle.” She was a little doubtful about that last stuff. However . . . “And all the words will be in your head and in a document called ‘Sizzlers’ on your computer.”

  She knew she could write some things now, but who cared. Doing it for real was much more fun than writing about it.

  Creating a Bestseller: The Next Chapter

  JARED HAD DISAPPEARED LATE THE PREVIOUS EVENING, but he reappeared that afternoon. When Mandy saw him, she yelled, “He loved the scene I wrote.”

  “Who loved it?”

  “My agent. Norman. I emailed him several rewritten pages and he was ecstatic. He called me a little while ago. ‘A few more scenes like this and the book’s a shoo-in,’ he said.” Mandy jumped up and threw her arms around Jared’s neck.

  “Did you create a scene based on what we did yesterday?”

  “I did,” Mandy said, suddenly embarrassed. Jared had arrived the previous day to help her with the erotic sections of her book, and as a result, they’d had the most explosive sex Mandy had ever had.

  “Don’t chicken out,” Jared said, his voice still sensual and compelling. “I assume you haven’t got any ideas for the next one.”

  “I can do it,” she said. “I looked over the document you created on my computer, and there are a lot of words and phrases I can use.” How he’d created that file, or even who or what he was, remained a mystery.

  Still awake sometime around three a.m., she’d decided that he was a figment of her imagination. The entire Jared thing had happened only in her mind. But when her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she’d booted up her computer, sure enough, the file called “Sizzlers” was there, right where he’d said it would be. She’d read it, written a scene involving her characters at a feverish pace, then back in bed, lapsed into dreamless slumber.

  Imagination. Not!

  Now Jared was here, in her office once more, looking just as sexy as he had the previous evening. She hadn’t dreamed or imagined him. Had she?

  “No, you didn’t imagine me,” he said, “but that’s not really the point. You say you can write another scene on your own. Have you tried?”

  She hesitated a bit too long. “I would guess that you have and it didn’t work.”

  She let out a long sigh. “Well, I have the words, but I can’t get into her feelings.”

  “I don’t wonder. Just yesterday you thought that two people who weren’t in a long-term relationship couldn’t have meaningful, enjoyable sex. I think you’ve gotten over that part. We had the equivalent of a one-night stand and it was explosive. Right?” He hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans and leaned his hip against her desk.

  “I have to admit that you were right about that,” she said. “You cared about my pleasure and, to be honest, I cared about you, too, even though I hardly know you. I guess that was enough, and it was enough for the characters in my book.”

  “Good. Step one. But now you need a few more activities. You need to know how it feels to be fucked in the ass, and what it’s like to share the joy of toys. Hey, that’s a good phrase. The joy of toys. I’ll write that down.”

  Mandy couldn’t reply. She was totally incapable of talking about kinky stuff the way Jared did, although she’d have to, at least for the book.

  “Okay, let’s create a scene. Tell me about the one you need to write.”

  Mandy swallowed hard and twisted her fingers in her lap. “Well,” she said softly, “my couple is in the backyard of a friend’s house. There’s a pool and, well . . .”

  Jared waved his hand and they were there. The house was swathed in fog, but the backyard was relatively clear. Sunlight streamed through the branches of several large trees. Gardens were a riot of color with spring and fall flowers, all blooming simultaneously. The pool was tremendous, with mist hanging over it. A blanket was spread on the carefully manicured grass, and a champagne bucket, filled with ice and an open bottle, lay beside two tulip glasses.

  “How did you do that?” Mandy asked, shocked to her toes.

  “I have no idea,” Jared said, wiggling his bare toes in the grass.

  Then she sighed. “It’s lovely.”

  “I hope you like it.” He removed his shirt. “So, you know that you need more descriptive words for the male body. I thought I’d help.” He pulled off his jeans and stood in the middle of the blanket wearing only his briefs. “Okay, I don’t mean to be egotistical, but I am built as you wanted me to be.” He ran his palms down his sides. “Washboard abs, wide shoulders, narrow hips. I’ve got well-developed thighs and even great feet.” He wiggled his toes again then winked at her. “I hope you like looking at me.”

  She certainly did. She wasn’t a stranger to male bodies, but his exuded sex, causing a flush to spread over her body. She felt fluids begin to leak from her . . .

  “Cunt,” Jared said. “Fluids leak from your cunt.” He laughed. “You have to learn to think those words, too, so you can write them. Cunt. Pussy. Snatch. Like that.”

  “I know those words.”

  “Right,” he said, unbelieving. “So say them. Say cunt.”

  She had to clear her throat. “Okay, cunt.”

  “Good girl. Now add pussy and snatch.”

  After a long exhalation, she added, “Pussy and snatch,” almost stuttering.

  He reached out and squeezed her shoulders while placing a light kiss on her lips. “You’re wonderful.” He stepped back. “Now for the male body. You need cock, dick, rod—member, if you must.”

  “I know those words, too, and I’ve even written a few, but it’s just hard to say them.”

  “Hard. That’s a great word. And really true.” He pulle
d down his shorts and wiggled his hips. “Raging hard-on, rigid staff. You’ve read all the words and now you know what they mean.”

  She gazed at him. Sure, he lacked humility, but he was certainly right about the hard part. He was magnificent. “You’re playing with me,” she said, smiling.

  “Right you are. Lighten up, Mandy. Relax.”

  She tried, but with Jared standing on a red plaid blanket in a yard in the middle of nowhere, it was difficult. She just stared.

  “I love the way you look at me,” he said. “How about, moves like a feral creature, sleek, a stalking panther.”

  “God, yes,” she said, almost drooling. She couldn’t decide whether he was narcissistic or charming or both, but he certainly turned her on. She stared at his erection.

  “Say something,” he said, lightly stroking himself.

  She coughed. “Okay. Rigid rod.”

  “Better. Describe what you see.”

  In for a penny . . . “Your cock is beautiful, hard, and long. There’s fluid leaking from the head, and you look like you’re ready for action.”

  “Great. And I am. You turn me on, you know.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. She was partly responsible for that wonderful part of him. She couldn’t suppress her grin. “And you turn me on,” she said.

  He approached her and slowly unbuttoned her blouse and removed it and her bra, kissing and licking each part as it was revealed. “So beautiful,” he purred, and she felt beautiful. He knelt at her feet and undressed the rest of her. Standing, he said, “Touch me. Get to know what a hard cock feels like. The phrase ‘velvet over steel’ is cliché but it describes a hard-on as well as any other.” He held her hands and placed her palms against his erection. “I hope that feels as good to you as it does to me.” Still holding her hands against him, he slowly moved his hips, thrusting between her fingers.

  He suddenly pulled away. “Not yet. Let’s take a swim.”

  “Swim?” she said, wanting him to make love to her again.

  “Water’s so much fun to play in.” He grabbed her wrist. “Last one in . . .”