Charity has a highly developed secret sex life. In her rich and varied fantasies, she’s always in charge. Always in control of the exquisite pleasures her imaginary lovers inflict on her.
Until the night a fascinating stranger walks into her dreams. A man with ideas of his own, whose initiative and imagination go way over the top, considering he’s just a figment of her imagination.
Or is he?
My creative heroine uses works of art as settings for her highly imaginative adventures in fantasy, so I had a lot of fun exploring the art world, looking for just the right landscapes for her escapes from reality.
And I had even more fun selecting some of my best photographs to use in the trailer.
Read an excerpt....
It’s going to be a good night.
I can tell right from the start, from the moment the wayward breeze kisses my nipples and teases the hair at the apex of my legs. A gentle breeze, but with the promise of things to come.
Reclining Woman. She is nearly double life size, lying back on her elbows, shoulders raised. Knees bent, legs apart. Inviting.
I’m another reclining woman, draped across the unrelenting surface of this bronze sculpture.
She is all clean surfaces and curving contours, smooth and cold as ice. I lie in the gentle valley of her stomach and thighs, a posture that holds me secure, while thrusting my hips forward, as though offering myself to any passing stranger who might wander through the gallery’s open air central courtyard after hours.
My restraints tonight are a variation on the usual harsh ropes. Silk scarves link my wrists to those of the bronze woman, with enough leeway for me to move but not to get free. More scarves hold my ankles in place. A nice, edgy deviation.
Through the open roof of the courtyard, I can see the outline of evergreens, dark against dark, and directly overhead, a sky filled with stars. A mythical voyeur could see me spread out, naked, a human sacrifice. They could watch while a stranger ravishes my helpless body, gives me pleasure beyond imagining.
There—the click of a door opening on one of the four sides of the courtyard, behind me. I choose not to look around, but lie still and wait for him.
Footsteps approach. They stop at the head of the sculpture and a half shadow falls across my eyes.
I can barely make out his face above me, his eyes hidden in the deeper shadows of his facial contours. But I can tell he’s a stranger.
A man who has no right to be here, any more than I do. Both of us trespassing.
A man who will trespass on me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demands.
“Waiting for you…”
Ew. That was weak.
“What the hell are you doing here?” His lazy drawl suggests he doesn’t much care what answer I give.
“I got locked in, and the summer night is so hot. I thought I was alone.”
“You were wrong. And now you’re going to pay the price.”
Oh please… Try again.
Without a word, he steps into my line of sight. I twitch with nervous excitement, taking in his muscular build, his scruffy clothes, no, his impeccable suit—no…
Forget that. Who cares what he’s wearing, or who he is. The only thing that matters is what he will do to me.
His face remains in the shadows, his clothes indistinct. As though—ah. A burglar. A notorious international art thief.
He has his burglar tools with him, of course. Intriguing little devices for breaking into forbidden places.
For breaking into me.
I shiver with anticipation as he develops before my eyes. I don’t even have to make an effort tonight. He’s very young, thirty—no, twenty-eight, slim and lithe, his über-fit body outlined by tight-fitting leather, down to his soft-soled shoes.
Black leather gloves fitting like skin.
The thought of those gloves exploring my body…
His short dark hair spiky around his head, and his features blackened with face paint.
But that slow smile shows a hint of perfect white teeth, and a stray bit of light reflects in his eyes.
He’s looking forward to what will happen next. The considerable bulge of his erection straining at his leather pants tells me all I need to know.
I’m lying naked and helpless in the courtyard of the Laurentian Bay Art Gallery, in the middle of the night—in the middle of a security guards’ strike—alone with a highly sexually charged burglar. A man who wants nothing more than to take utter and complete advantage of me in every way imaginable.
Let the games begin.
copyright © 2014 Susanna Stone