Roustabout and Other Stories , livre ebook

Andrews UK - Caro Buckley

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16 pages

English

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Description

From the sharp and experienced pen of Caro Buckley comes this anthology of four hand-picked erotic stories.If stories of dominance and sensual lovemaking excite you, Roustabout and Other Stories is guaranteed to grab your attention. These short stories explore the more painful delights of sexuality; arousing accounts and unabashed tales of bondage await!

Sujets

Erotic literature

Informations

Publié par	Andrews UK
Date de parution	28 mai 2013
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781782348252
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0100€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Title Page
ROUSTABOUT
And Other Stories

By
Caro Buckley

Publisher Information
Roustabout and Other Stories published in 2013
by Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
Roustabout © Kay Sexton 2009, 2013
Self-Improvement © Kay Sexton 2013
She Said © Kay Sexton 2013
The Shower © Kay Sexton 2013
The right of Caro Buckley to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Self-Improvement
Shelly wasn’t enjoying her French Conversation evening class as much as she’d expected. Walking home from the bus-stop, she faced the truth: she’d really been hoping for some debonair man to be part of the class - even if he wasn’t interested in her it would give her something to lust over because right now her life was totally lacking in lust interest.
She headed for the short-cut along a row of back gardens, wondering why she’d even bothered to put on her new red boots when she’d already known that the only people to see them would be eight middle-class women with second homes in the Dordogne, and two elderly men who came to class just to have somewhere warm to sleep.
It wasn’t that she didn’t have a plan, because she did. For a single mum who’d made the mistake of falling for a two-legged rat she was doing pretty well. Her job was secure, even if health centre administration wasn’t exciting, and her Mum babysat three-year-old Lucy two nights a week so she could go out: one night a week for fun - usually bingo with the girls, and one night for self-improvement, hence the New Year’s Resolution French Class. Really though, she’d hoped for something that would add some excitement to her life - being sensible was all very well, but what she craved was some danger, some pleasure, something reckless and romantic and insanely sexy.
French Conversation wasn’t it, it turned out.
She picked her way along the path, being careful not to scuff her boots. It was dark and she’d forgotten to bring a torch. Off to her right was a square of bright light, somebody working late in their garden shed, she supposed. The light was blocked, then shone brightly again, blocked and bright, blocked and bright. It was like some weird kind of Morse code. She glanced over and stopped in her tracks, her French folder banging against her breasts as she gasped.
Silhouetted against the light of the shed was a god. A young man, naked as far as she could see, with long blond hair flying around his head as he danced. In his hand he had a paintbrush and he appeared to be singing to it.