Overview

An Xcite Books collection of five lesbian erotic stories with mixed themes including f/f, contemporary, fem dom, fetish and cougars.

In Pearls by Giselle Renarde

When Davina moves in, Greer expects the delicious diva to help with household chores. No such luck! Davina doesn’t do windows or dishes or anything else. One day Greer’s frustration comes to a head, and she realises the only way Davina will ever contribute is if she gets to ...

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In Pearls: A collection of five erotic stories

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Overview

An Xcite Books collection of five lesbian erotic stories with mixed themes including f/f, contemporary, fem dom, fetish and cougars.

In Pearls by Giselle Renarde

When Davina moves in, Greer expects the delicious diva to help with household chores. No such luck! Davina doesn’t do windows or dishes or anything else. One day Greer’s frustration comes to a head, and she realises the only way Davina will ever contribute is if she gets to put on a show. Greer is more than happy to watch her woman vacuum, as long as it’s in pearls, high heels, and vintage lingerie!

The Wedding Singer by Anna Sansom

You’ve been to one wedding; you’ve been to them all. And when you’re a wedding singer these events get pretty boring and forgettable. But then something happened that took her completely by surprise. And, as long as her dress didn’t get crushed and no one came looking for them, their clandestine encounter was going to make this one wedding she would never forget.

The Senator’s Daughter by Valerie Alexander

The senator’s daughters are always embarrassing him, vying with each other to see whose behaviour can be the most scandalous. When Summer is hired to paint the library at the senator’s house, she finds herself alone with Mica – the eldest of the daughters and one who knows just what to do to make another woman feel scandalously good… 

Sealed by Elise Hepner

Someone’s been writing naughty love notes to Marta’s boss, Emily, in the campus mail room. Erotic, steamy notes that have been driving Emily up a wall. Sick of Emily’s complaining and the relentless abuse the staff has had to endure as a result, Marta decides to woman up and take the blame. With one little white lie, their relationship alters for ever. And Marta relives her deepest, darkest fantasies for the first time outside of her own mind. One woman taking on another’s erotic rage makes for the dirtiest after-hour sex – especially when Emily catches on to Marta’s not so hidden secret.

Rehearsing with Katarina by Elizabeth Coldwell

Understudying Katarina, the star of Le Salon D’Or’s exotic revue, is a dream come true for Jodie. Only gradually does she realise how much of a perfectionist the gorgeous Russian former ballerina actually is – not just when it comes to dancing …

These stories have also been published in Lipstick Lovers.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781909335509
  • Publisher: Xcite Books
  • Publication date: 1/17/2013
  • Series: Lipstick Lovers , #4
  • Sold by: Barnes & Noble
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 51
  • Sales rank: 1,312,847
  • File size: 200 KB

Meet the Author

Giselle Renarde is an award-winning author of erotica and LGBT fiction. This queer Canadian writer has contributed short stories to more than 100 anthologies and authored dozens of books, including Anonymous, Nanny State, and the Wedding Heat series.

Her transgender lesbian romance The Red Satin Collection took top prize in the 2012 Rainbow Awards, in the category of Best Transgender Romance/Erotic Romance. Giselle's single-author anthology of transgender fiction and poetry, My Mistress' Thighs, received an honourable mention in the same category the previous year. Her work also appears in Tristan Taormino's Lambda Award-winning anthology Take Me There: Trans and Genderqueer Erotica.

Ms Renarde loves a geeky girl and lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head. When she's not writing, she's usually up to something good... or up to no good.

Find her at:

Her website: donutsdesires.blogspot.com

About her: about.me/gisellerenarde

Her Twitter: twitter.com/GiselleRenarde

Anna Sansom first started writing erotica to create her own seduction superpower. Lacking the swagger to chat up women in bars, she slipped them her bespoken stories instead. It was a successful technique and, now that she’s wedded to her favourite muse, she's stopped trawling the bars and writes for a wider audience instead.

She writes lesbian erotica, often with a BDSM edge, and sometimes with a dose of romance.

Anna’s passion is exploring and celebrating women’s sexuality and you can find her playing with lots of creative ideas about how to do this at her website and blog ‘The Ladygarden Project’. She also writes fiction and articles for DIVA - the UK’s lesbian life and style magazine.

Find Anna at:

Her website: ladygardenproject.com/

Her Twitter: @ladygarden69

Elise Hepner writes smutty goodness for Ellora's Cave, Xcite, Secret Cravings Publishing, and Excessica. She's appeared in several Cleis anthologies including 69 Stories of Sudden Sex and Best Bondage Erotica 2012. She lives with her husband and two clingy kitties in Maryland.

Find Elise on:

Her Website: ehwriting.com

Her Blog: celise91writer.blogspot.com/

Her Facebook: facebook.com/pages/Elise-Hepner-Writing/311925106401

Her Twitter:  twitter.com/EHepner

Elizabeth Coldwell joined Xcite Books in 2011. Formerly the editor of the UK edition of Forum magazine and co-founder of the Guild of Erotic Writers, she has been writing erotic fiction for over twenty years and her work has been widely published in the UK and US. She enjoys writing across the spectrum of erotica genres, from m/m space opera to girl/girl messy fun, vanilla to BDSM, paranormal to contemporary.

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Read an Excerpt

The day Davina moved in with me, I carried her across the threshold and brought her all the way to the couch. Kneeling before her, I said, ‘This is our home now, yours and mine.’

‘That’s fine,’ she said with a flick of the wrist. ‘But I don’t do windows.’

It turned out that she didn’t do dishes either, or carpets or floors, or laundry. She didn’t make beds, she didn’t make dinners. She didn’t scrub tubs or plant flowers or dust bookshelves. Household chores were not her style.

And my Davina had style, that was for damn sure. She was a fame-hungry femme if ever there was one. She wanted a taste of celebrity, and though she probably knew in her heart of hearts she’d never reach that particular pinnacle, she didn’t mind acting as if. That’s not to say she didn’t have her own successes. Davina was much loved at the talent agency where she worked as receptionist, but she was obviously waiting for the break that would never come.

My girl was a butterfly beauty: stunning, but fragile.

So I laughed along when she went on her little “imaginings” about us as the next lesbian power couple. She’d joke about unleashing a sex tape (at least, I hope that was a joke) or she’d host a house tour for make-believe talk show cameras.

‘You never know where the paparazzi’s going to find you,’ she’d say as she pulled me into the shower. Her perfect, perky breasts would bounce as she rustled her hair beneath the spray. ‘That’s why I need to look my best at all times.’

‘You always look incredible,’ I’d tell her, cupping her mound and squeezing. ‘All the time.’

I’d kiss her under the stream of shower water, and she’d pull away, laughing. ‘You really think so?’

‘God, yes.’ I’d crush her fine form to my hefty body, kissing her until the wetness between her pussy lips let me glide right in. Her body devoured me finger by finger.

I’ve probably made my girl out to sound like a total nutbar, but everybody has a fantasy life, right? Davina just daydreams out loud. If you knew her as deeply as I do, you’d understand that the flashy colours and designer flair are all a mask. Davina lived through horrors she wouldn’t want mentioned here, and if she needs to paint the world a little brighter to make it through the day, all power to her.

That said, every relationship reaches its points of frustration, and ours is no exception. I love Davina, but love and everyday practicalities don’t always go hand in hand. When one partner doesn’t contribute to the household, when she racks up credit card debt buying clothes but refuses to help with the rent, when she’s never washed a dish in her whole damn life, the other partner’s bound to get a little testy.

One day, it came to a head.

‘Just pick up after yourself for once! You’re not a poodle, princess.’

‘But I am a princess,’ she shot back, hands on hips. ‘You’re supposed to take care of me, Greer. I’m yours, to have and to hold!’

‘You are not mine, Davina.’ How could I make her understand? ‘You’re not just a trophy that sits on my shelf. You’re a person in your own right, and this is a partnership, not ownership. This is our house that we need to maintain.’

She perched precariously at the edge of the couch. When her lip started quivering, that did me in. I was a sucker for Davina’s tears, crocodile or otherwise. She brought out the hero in me, the nurturing rescuer of damsels in distress.

Still, I had a point to make. I got on my knees and softened my tone to ask, ‘Do you really want me to see you as just another finicky houseplant? You’re so much more, honey.’

Gazing down at me, she batted her glistening lashes and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. She was so precious, so beautiful, so delicate.

‘I’m sorry,’ Davina said. Her voice cracked, and that’s how I knew the tears were real. ‘You’re right. I haven’t been much of a partner. No excuses this time.’

The pity I felt for her made me want to clean the whole damn castle for my queen, but I wouldn’t let our weaknesses win. ‘You might enjoy a taste of domesticity if you gave it a try.’

She laughed, scrunching up her nose. ‘Like is a strong word.’

Something about the straightness of her spine gave me a brilliant idea, and I ran up the stairs, shouting, ‘Wait right there!’ I riffled through her drawers, pulled things from the closet. When I’d laid out the absolute perfect homemaker outfit, I called Davina up to take a look.

She gasped, then giggled. ‘Oh Greer! You naughty thing. You expect me to clean the house wearing this?’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ll be waiting downstairs with the vacuum.’

Davina was still chuckling in the bedroom when I skidded down the stairs. I grabbed the vacuum from the broom closet and set myself down on the couch. As usual, she made me wait, but the waiting only got me so hot and wet and ready that the second I heard the click of her heels on the stairs I just about soaked my shorts.

‘Fuck, woman.’ I tried to whistle, but I’d never quite mastered that particular art form. Instead, I clapped my hands. ‘You look like a million bucks.’

Most red-blooded dykes would probably have laid out a French maid’s outfit for their sweetie, but not me. I wanted something altogether different, something to fulfil a fetish I never knew I had.

I wanted my woman to vacuum in pearls.

Not just pearls, mind. High heels too, and fine silk stockings with garters, an A-line skirt, a minty green sweater set. She was a ghost of the mid-century modern mom. I almost couldn’t keep it in my pants when she grabbed hold of the vacuum like she knew just how to handle it.

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