Torrid, intense, passionate – a ménage à trois that is truly inescapable. When Lily Howard agrees to meet the man she is having a powerfully erotic online affair with, she subsequently walks into a crime scene. Sexy police officer Seth Jones takes her into witness protection together with her online lover, Adrian Walsh, a man with crucial evidence for a court case. Deep in the heart of the Welsh countryside and locked up in a secluded hideaway with these two men — one alpha dominant policeman, and a wry, ...
Torrid, intense, passionate – a ménage à trois that is truly inescapable. When Lily Howard agrees to meet the man she is having a powerfully erotic online affair with, she subsequently walks into a crime scene. Sexy police officer Seth Jones takes her into witness protection together with her online lover, Adrian Walsh, a man with crucial evidence for a court case. Deep in the heart of the Welsh countryside and locked up in a secluded hideaway with these two men — one alpha dominant policeman, and a wry, sensitive accountant who knows her every secret erotic desire — Lily soon becomes embroiled in a torrid ménage à trois that surpasses her every fantasy. Lily is wildly empowered by living her innermost desires in the safety of the hideaway. Adrian is the key that unlocks her sexuality, and Seth is the master who sets them both free. As danger stalks ever closer and the three lovers are torn apart, they each find that deep emotional bonds have also been forged. Can Lily ever forget what they shared? Does she even want to?
Award winning British author Saskia Walker first dreamed of writing her own stories when she discovered a handful of romance novels stashed away in her school library. An avid reader, she lapped up the fun, the adventures, and the life-affirming emotion of these stories, but always felt dismay when the bedroom door closed the reader out. She vowed that if she ever had the chance to pursue her dream, all the passion would be right there on the page. Saskia finally began writing seriously in the late 1990s. By that time she'd traveled the world, got herself a BA in Art History, a Masters in Literature and the Visual Arts, and she'd worked in all manner of diverse careers—but the stories in her head simply had to be written. Her first erotic short story was signed in '97 and since then she has had several single title novel and novella publications, and her work has appeared in over fifty anthologies including Best Women’s Erotica, The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, and the Black lace Wicked Words series. She writes across genres, but always with the passion right there on the page! Her novel, DOUBLE DARE, received the Passionate Plume award for the Best Contemporary Erotic Romance of 2006. Saskia lives in the north of England—close to the beautiful, windswept landscape of the Yorkshire moors—with her real life hero, Mark. Mark supports her work through all its ups and downs, and somehow manages to keep her sane and grounded when fiction threatens to take over.
How badly do you want it? How badly do you want to come? When those words appeared on her computer screen Lily’s pulse raced erratically, anticipation gathering inside her. In that moment nothing else existed—not her day job or the bills or these cold winter nights—because Lily Howard was having an intense virtual affair with a man she only knew as A.W. If I were there with you now I would ask you to pull your skirt up for me, and I’d ask you to do it nice and slow… Lily exhaled. Her hands automatically went to the hem of her skirt, fingers teasing along the edge of it, ready to pull it up. She savoured the anticipation for a moment, her thoughts entirely in tune with the mystery online lover who had set her libido on fire. Then she shuffled her skirt up her thighs and rocked her hips back and forth as she eased it up. Stroking her hands over her bare thighs, she sighed aloud, before quickly touching the keyboard again, her right hand moving over the mouse sensuously, as if she could maintain contact with her virtual lover through that action alone. …and then I’d put my hands between your knees and push your legs apart. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I think I know you well enough now, L. “Oh yes, you certainly do,” she murmured, spellbound by the connection they had developed. Trembling as she traced her fingertips over the keyboard, she wished it were him that she were touching—wished that she could rest her hand over his as he caressed her body. Slowly, she typed her response. Yes, I would like that. As his reply appeared on her screen, her clothes began to feel tight and restrictive, her breath trapped in her lungs. I’m thinking about what you told me last night…I’d like to see you do that. A shiver ran down her spine, her entire skin kindling. She rested her elbows on the desk, briefly covering her eyes with her hands. She’d let go the night before—she’d confessed fantasies she hadn’t even consciously admitted to herself before then. It had made her feel so good, sharing her secrets with someone who wanted to know, a man who told her he got hard in response to her deepest fantasies and cravings. The only man she’d ever actually confessed these things to in person had laughed at her. Not A.W., and she’d felt validated by his reaction. Oblivious to the encroaching evening outside her bedroom window, her hips rocked back and forth on her chair, her pussy on fire, her core clenching with need. When she looked back at the screen, she saw that he was typing again. She was wound up tight, ready to let loose, and he seemed determined to tease her. Usually there was more back and forth in their chat, but he seemed particularly focused tonight. I want you to touch yourself now, touch yourself and make yourself come. Do it for me. “Oh, please,” she muttered aloud. Physical need had her firmly in its grip. With restless fingers she swiped away the damp heat gathering in her cleavage. This is how it had been every evening since they’d hooked up. A.W. had invited her to join him in a private chat room, two faceless strangers confessing their most erotic fantasies in torrid exchanges that ended in mutual climax. Resistance only heightened her awareness of how much she wanted it, the interactions revealing how lewd she could really get, given any encouragement. Pushing back, she rested one stacked heel up against the edge of the desk. With the light from the screen falling over her open legs, it felt almost as if he was right there standing between her thighs, telling her to touch herself and watching her as she masturbated for him. Her head dropped back, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment before she looked back at her PC. With her shirt open, she already had her bra cups pulled down so that she could touch her breasts, her skirt up around her hips. Running one needy hand over her up-tilted breasts, the other moved between her thighs and under her G-string, where she was hot and damp. With one hand locked over her pussy, her face heated as she pushed one finger inside. Keeping her eyes fixed on the computer screen she watched as his next message appeared. How close are you to coming? Tell me, so that I can picture it. Moaning softly, she swung from side to side in her swivel chair. Or are you too close to type…? “Tease,” she whispered, a breathless laugh escaping her. Her hand was slick and she was totally unable to break away to respond. Her silence was admittance though, and it made her outrageously horny. Wired, she squirmed on her hand, her face heating. His next message came fast. He liked to push her over the edge, to be the one who made her climax. I would so like to be there, watching you while you make yourself come. The suggestion of being watched by him—being told what to do by him—pushed her ever closer to orgasm. He knew it would, it was one of the things that she had confessed to him. Squirming on the hand wedged between her thighs, her clit throbbed as she rubbed her palm over it, wave after wave of pleasure emanating from that point. Dropping back in her chair, she pictured him watching her, right now, a dark mystery man who pushed her to her limits. Her body writhed and she spasmed, clenched, then released, a lighting strike of pleasure spearing out across every nerve ending in her groin, spiralling out as far as her nipples and her throat, where she burned. A cry of release escaped her open mouth. Even as she let out that cry and the tension in her body slowly ebbed away, a new message appeared on the screen. I want to meet you, L. I want to meet you for real. At first she thought she’d imagined it. She stared at the screen in disbelief, her chest rising and falling in the aftermath of her climax, her breath catching in her throat. Rereading the words, she took it in. Her virtual lover had typed something he had never typed before, not in all the time they had been meeting in the private chat room and getting each other off via this virtual relationship. Thoughts crowded her mind. To meet him, for real? Unsettling, and yet… Every nerve ending in her body was telling her to say yes, but at the very same time caution was foremost in her mind. She knew nothing about this man, not even his full name. At first she’d liked that ambiguity. The only thing she did know was that he worked in the city. That could mean anything, but she revelled in the mystery surrounding her virtual lover. He could be any man she saw in the street, and yet he was there at the end of the line, for her. She stood up and walked away, suddenly needing space to think. In the bathroom she turned on the tap and quickly splashed her face with cold water. She pushed back her hair and peered at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bright and strangely luminous, the colour in her cheeks high. Her thick, dark hair was fuzzed where she had mussed it. She looked as if she’d had sex, real sex. Her virtual lover had been so direct today, so insistent, like he was fired up even more than usual by their exchanges. Then he’d issued the invitation to make it real. Glancing back through the open door, she could see the computer screen. She had her doubts, but could she resist? It beckoned to her, even now. If it was just the immediate thrill, why did she want to know what he said next? She had to face it, she did want more. Grabbing the towel, she dried her hands and then walked back to her room, closing the door behind her. Sitting down, she wheeled her chair back towards the desk, quickly reading the words that had appeared on the screen while she’d been gone. It’s been three months now, aren’t you curious? I am. She touched the edge of the keyboard with trembling fingers, her pulse racing as she considered what to reply. When they’d met in an online dating forum he’d been direct about chatting privately, and the needs they shared. He hadn’t forced the issue of who and what she was. Instead he had suggested they take it to a private chat room, which made her think it was just about this, the sexual kick of an online affair, not a real meet. After that, he’d quickly keyed into her sexuality, and her secret desire to be sexually mastered, and watched. Sitting at the small desk in her tiny bedroom every evening, illuminated only by the computer screen, she thrilled at the secret sexual connection. The medium allowed her to abandon her inhibitions, to say things about her desires and her fantasies that she had never said before. She’d also learnt a lot about the male sexual psyche from A.W., as he teasingly informed her about his responses to her confessions. It was the perfect mutual pleasure exchange. No strings, no complications, and a whole heap of physical rewards. She’d thought about meeting him, alone in her bed, in her fantasies. But to really meet him—to go on a blind date with a man she’d never seen, but who knew her every sexual fantasy? That was a whole new situation, one weighted with implication, one that she wasn’t quite sure she was ready for. It was risky. Even so, a question echoed at the back of Lily’s mind, one that always appeared when she was indecisive: would I regret it if I didn’t do it? That kind of regret was something she never wanted to live with, regret for not having done something. Regret for messing up was somehow easier to accept, but the ‘what ifs?’ of this life really got to Lily Howard, and she knew this situation would, too, if she didn’t take the chance. Trembling, she began to type. Hell, yes, I’m curious. But we risk losing this relationship if we meet. This is so good. What if we didn’t have the same sort of connection if we met, like…in the flesh? A smiling icon appeared. In the flesh…sounds good… She smiled to herself. He was making her warm and fuzzy again. Was that a good thing? They had chatted about more than sex, and they seemed to click. They knew they shared the same favourite pizza topping, and they both preferred action movies over art house. She typed her response quickly, still amused. Stick with the question that you asked! She sat back in her chair, more settled as she waited for his response, her mind whirring quickly over the prospect of an actual meet. Okay, yes, it is a risk, but life is short. Consider this…it might be even better, “in the flesh”, as you so enticingly put it. The man had something. She was about to respond when she sensed that he was going to say more. She was right. She clasped her hands together, feeling both nervous and eager, and then she saw his chat icon flashing again. Look, I have a confession. My secretary told me I should get out more, meet more women. It made me think, but what it made me think about was you. Lily gave a soft laugh as she typed her response. Maybe your secretary has a crush on you. She could have been hinting. I don’t think so. She’s married and has five grandchildren. Besides, she’s not my type, whereas you are. How can you know that for sure? As she waited and watched, she thought about the fact that he had a secretary who was a grandmother. She didn’t know that about him. What else didn’t she know about this man? A lot. The only thing she did know was that they clicked in some way. Sexually, and maybe even a bit emotionally, too. She felt somehow attuned to him. Was it possible to do that, to feel that way about someone without knowing what they looked like or what they were like to be around? After a lot of thought, she’d decided it was. L, every time I even see a computer it’s you that I think about. It’s you who gives me a hard-on at the most inappropriate of times. She shook her head. His sense of humour had drawn her to him. That and his directness when it came to chatting about sex. He made her feel naughty and sexualised in all the right ways. She typed.