Hi, there – it's great to be here on Outrageous!
I'm here to tell you about the end of an era for me – the publication of the final instalment in my Food of Love trilogy. Close Harmony brings the story of orchestral violinist Lydia and her tangled, torrid love life to a grand finale. It's been a real treat to write and I'm going to miss the characters (and their music) very much.
Here's a blurb for you, then a little taster, just in case you're in the mood.
How do you choose between two perfect men? It’s like choosing your favourite music—certain pieces suit certain moods. Which mood is Lydia feeling the most?
The autumn season of the Westminster Symphony Orchestra finds Lydia unable to choose between passionate Milan and dominant Karl-Heinz—so she decides to give them both a chance. She hops from one bed to the other, trying to weigh up her options. Milan has a hold on her heart, but has never been reliable. Karl-Heinz is a good man, but what is the secret behind his strange repression? Old rivalries and new jealousies are kindled while Lydia works hard at having the time of her sex life.
No trio has ever practised quite as hard as this…But there is trouble in paradise for Ben and Vanessa, too, as a face from Vanessa’s past makes an unwelcome appearance and all seems impossible to resolve.
Amid turbulent emotions and orchestra rehearsals, the musicians work hard to negotiate a path to happiness. Will music prove to be the food of love, or a poison, infecting the future?
Reader Advisory: This book contains BDSM, MMF ménage and MM, as well as references to rape and sexual assault.
And from chapter one…
"I'm going to fall through the gap."
"I'm sure the brochure said there was a double bed."
"Yeah, well, the brochure lied…oh Christ. That's it."
Vanessa squealed with laughter as her lover's body forced the two jammed-together single beds apart and fell between them, with her on top.
"Shit!" she whispered, hearing him groan. "Are you okay? No bones broken?"
He lay motionless for a heart-stopping few seconds.
"Ness," he said weakly. "Oh God, Ness, I can't move."
She knelt up and looked wildly around her, as if expecting to find emergency medical equipment instead of whitewashed walls and shuttered windows.
"Don't panic, darling. I can speak a little Spanish. What's Spanish for 999?"
"I think it's nueve, nueve, nueve," he said, just as weakly.
She frowned down at him.
"You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"
"Would I? About a thing like this?"
Already his hands were wrapped around her waist, bringing her down on to his chest, against which she beat outraged fists.
"I don't know why I ever believe you." She tried to pull herself aloft, but he held her in a tight bear-hug and growled into her ear.
"Get back on that bed, woman. We have unfinished business."
Vanessa Robertson, still delighted and enthralled to be taking a summer holiday with her twenty seven year old lover, pretended to slap his face before throwing herself back on to one of the beds. Ben rose from the gap like a foppish sea monster, all floppy hair and loose linen shirt, ready to pounce.
"What was it you had in mind again?" he asked, rolling smoothly beside her after shoving the beds back together. "Oh yeah." He looked down at the hem of his shirt, underneath which the outline of a cock in full erection was clearly visible. "I had some dessert for you."
"I don't know if you deserve it now," grumbled Vanessa.
"No, I have some dessert for you. You get cream. I just get the pleasure of giving. It is more blessed to give than to receive, after all. Don't feel bad."
Vanessa snorted. "You've got a bloody cheek. Trying to make me feel guilty about giving you a blow job. That's spin doctoring on a grand scale."
"I'm sorry you feel guilty, Ness. Perhaps you can make it up to me afterwards."
"Shut up or these lips are sealed." She drew an imaginary zip across her scarlet-lipsticked mouth.
He put one of his fingers to his own lips and nodded, then he knelt up and took off his shirt, revealing a tanned torso with a bit more definition than it had had when Vanessa first met him.
His cock, though, was no different and just as mouthwatering as ever.
Vanessa had worn a bikini and sarong for supper, but now only the bikini remained, a red and white polka-dotted number that showed off her trim curves to perfection.
Kneeling opposite Ben, smiling wickedly, she reached behind to unclip the bikini top.
"Ooh," he said, when her breasts bounced out. "Want to touch."
"No. No touching. Just kneel up where you are and let me work you."
She bent her spine and let her breasts dangle either side of his upright shaft, then she pushed them together and gripped him tight. Slowly she rubbed him up and down in that generous cleft, sometimes bobbing to kiss and lick his uncovered tip.
"Fuck, that looks hot," he breathed. He reached a hand underneath to cup his balls and give them a squeeze. "I'm so tight. I'm going to burst."
"Impatient," she said, flicking her glance up at his pained face. "There's lots and lots of things I want to do to you first. If you come before I'm ready, I'll have to do even dirtier things to you."
His urgent whisper drifted over her head and she increased her pace.
"Never you mind. I'm not going to encourage you. You've a filthy enough mind as it is."
"It's your fault. I used to be such a nice boy. You've made me this way."
She laughed throatily, then released him from the breast-clamp, batted his hand off his balls and took a firm hold of the base of his shaft.
"Ready to go deep?" she asked. "And remember – don't be too hasty."
"I'll do my best but I'm not making any promises."
She held up an admonitory finger then she crouched low, the tip of her tongue circling its way down his cock as an introductory move before she sucked him all the way inside her mouth, from the swollen head to the rigid base, inch by inch.
"Oh, you're good," he whispered. "So good."
She held his balls and squeezed them as if telling him to be quiet.
He was more than content to moan his way through the rest of the performance.
It was funny how much she loved the feel of him in her mouth, given that she'd never been drawn to brass or woodwind – the instruments that required oral input. This nice fat hard girth was better than a reed, though, and this warm salty flavour beat any metal mouthpiece. It was like holding his heart in your hand, a pulsing, elemental part of him, entirely at your mercy.
She kept it up until her cheekbones threatened to collapse and then she gave him the signal, reaching around his buttocks and parting them wide, which had become their code for 'you can come now' when her mouth was full.
Immediately he began to buck and jerk with abandon. She loved to feel his gluteal muscles shifting and rippling under her hands while his cock thrust. She gagged a little but she didn't mind, eagerly focused on what was to come.
Ah, there it was, the pay-off, the reward. The little salty hit on the roof of her mouth, dripping down her throat. His fingers in her hair. Those sweet, pathetic little noises he made.
She swallowed determinedly and released him, after sliding her tongue all the way up his inner shaft on the way out.
"Mmm, good dessert," she said.
"Get on your back, Robertson." There might have been a twinkle in Ben's eye, but she knew better than to defy him.
She lay down, smiling up at him, feeling every inch the seductress. Her turn now.
The bikini bottoms were off in a jiffy and Ben's face appeared between her thighs, grinning like the Joker until she had to slap the top of his head and urge him to get on with it.
He didn't need telling twice. He had a long and flexible tongue and he knew how to use it, probing its tip into every fold and crevice before lapping over the swollen pearl of her clit. He scooped up great mouthfuls of her juices, licking his lips, sighing in appreciation of her unique flavour.
When she came, he held her bottom cheeks and squeezed them, as if wanting to coax a stronger orgasm from her by any means available.
She wriggled and jammed her pussy right into his face until the tremors wore off and she was left, sweetly exhausted and at peace, her legs lacking the capacity to move. Ben lay beside her, pressed tight into her side to avoid the gap, and kissed her scented dew back into her mouth.
"Good dessert," he said, nuzzling her with his nose. "Better than that ice-cream."
"I don't think that was ice-cream, Ben."
"No? What was it then?"
"Crema Catalana. But I don't think it was meant to be like that. I think it was put in the freezer by accident."
"Oh, I didn't realise. It tasted nice, though. Not as nice as you but…sweet."
They lay back and listened to the sounds of evening on the Majorcan coast. Crashing waves, voices from the beach, distant music from a restaurant a few yards down the lane.
If you're tempted to read on, it's available from Total E-Bound:
Thanks for having me.