Possessing Wilde

books

Hello beautiful readers, Possessing Wilde is now available to download and read! This is Book Two of a Wilde Series (there are three books total).

After proclaiming their love for one another in the Big Apple on Christmas Day, then consummating shortly after (of course), Adele Vega and Clarence Wilde have a new hurdle that is no longer the previous student-teacher issue … distance.

Not to worry, three hours one way is nothing in the name of love.

But what of the rich, young, model good-looking, intelligent, French speaking Celine? And what will happen when Clarence moves in with Celine and her family to learn the ropes of the book selling industry? Or when Adele realizes it is she who Celine is after?

Click HERE if you’d like to read!! As always, let me know what you think on Amazon, or feel free to send me an email through HERE.

xo Elizabeth

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XXX from Possessing Wilde

books, Writing

Clarence

A sliver of light streams out as the door begins to open. I push through the opening and lock the door behind me. 

“What do you think you’re—”

I maneuver Adele against the wall, my hips pinning her there. She tries to move me away, but I push my weight harder against her.

“I don’t even know you,” she says in a quiet, almost mistrusting tone, just as a lone hitchhiker would sound like when sliding onto the passenger seat next to a stranger in a truck. 

Initially I was afraid that she would either scold me on my stupid attempt at this game of pretend, admit that she didn’t understand what I was doing, or declare that I was shit crazy; but as I secretly watched her watching me from behind the bookcases, I knew that she wanted to play. 

“All the better.” 

I lift her light body off the floor and slide her along the white tiled wall in-between the toilet and sink. 

She bites at my lips before we have a chance to kiss. I allow her to nibble and taste the skin, devouring my lower lip as if it were a succulent fruit. She sucks on it just the way she uses her mouth on my cock. 

Now it is time I have my way with her: I crush my lips onto hers and thrust my tongue into her mouth. She moves her head to the side so that her teeth sink into my neck.

La putain,” I say into her ear. She moans in response, though I know she doesn’t know what I said; she moans for my accent. “Whore.” 

“Fuck you.” Her hand lightly slaps my face, but hard enough so that I feel a burning sensation. It is thrilling to feel the pain in contrast to the pleasure of holding her and kissing. 

Va te faire foutre? Basie moi.”

Her hands dig in my hair. I pull the ends of hers lightly at first, then a harder tug after she commands for me to keep speaking. 

Je vais te baiser si fort que tu crieras dans cette salle de bain.”

I lift her dress from the hem, and spank one of the sides of her bare buttocks. Her skin is hot and sweaty; I’d want it no other way. 

Pas de culotte? Le scandale.”

Her fingers attempt to unzip me while she grinds her hips against mine. I take her trembling hand and place it inside my pants so that she can feel for herself how big and firm I am; how only she can make me this way. 

Sens moi.” 

Her hand automatically strokes it—but ah! I am more than ready to come. I must hold on. 

Je suis ton élève—apprends moi.” 

My sexual hunger rises, blinding me. I am unable to wait for more strokes and more kisses. I must feel the inside of her sex, to consume her inside and out.

She kisses me as if drinking my mouth, my tongue, my throat—drinking me alive! My hands press marks into the tops of her thighs and the sides of her buttocks, mauling them, mimicking what my mouth would be doing if she were sitting on top of my face. 

I scramble to get my cock out from the top of my undone pants. I lead it to Adele’s wet yearning pussy, which drips onto the tip, enveloping like honey. I push the entirety of my member inside, and a tiny yelp of pain escapes from her parted lips. She hugs herself closer into my body, forcing my cock to brush against her womb. I look down at the light tan color of my cock pulling out of her snow white pussy. Her breath hastens as I push back in; I pull out right away, only to hear her little pleas and cries for it to come back. Tiny sucking sounds expel between my cock and her pussy as I pump. The little hard button of her clit rubs into my pubic hair and against my skin.

A rapping on the door. 

WHAPWHAP—WHAP!

“Fuck,” Adele breathes out. “Someone’s out there.” 

“Be out,” I start saying, then quickly becoming distracted as I pound Adele’s pussy much harder than before, “… in a minute.” 

I push Adele’s wrists above her head, pinning them to the wall while holding on to one side of her hip. 

“Moan for me, Adele,” I say in a hoarse, crazed manner that is unlike my normal voice. 

“But they—”

“Never mind them. Come on me.”

She closes her eyes and I quicken my thrusting.

The sound that I’ve come to love and need—her moaning—fills the room as I feel her pussy spasming on my cock. Her orgasm is surely heard by all standing outside of this tiny bathroom, and quite possibly by all in the bookshop.  

My orgasm is so very strong that I feel as though I’ll go insane—that I will crumple to the floor any second now. I continue pumping my cum into her long after we’ve both finished. 

Finally, but most unfortunately, my softened, spent cock slides out from her. My hand lightly touches her slick pussy—the wettest I have ever felt—which I never knew until now that there could be such a state of being. 

I take her body away from the wall, and she remains attached to my hips. We melt as our tongues meet for the ending of this overture.

what makes my panties wet

books, Thoughts, Writing

Don’t get me wrong, I hold great respect for romance writers, and needless to say, all writers no matter the genre–especially self-published (how many hats do we take on?) I love the passion of readers, and I also know how difficult it is to publish prolifically like many authors I’ve seen consistently pull off week after week, month after month, year after year. You (author) are SO inspiring to me! You help me to aspire to work even harder at my craft (alongside the inspiration and genius of the literary greats, but that’s another blog post).

Specifically in the romance/erotic romance genre, I’ve noticed a trend that I don’t exactly understand what the mass appeal of it is (and I can only assume it started with books featuring Fabio on the cover, and a certain number of Shades of you know which color) …

The trend is: alpha male (dominant man who knows how to get what he wants, is outspoken, confident, generally non-emotional, usually is a CEO with a billion dollars, and after much contention with his machismo inner turmoil, only melts at the knees of the woman he has conquered), and his submissive female counterpart (there’s never a female billionaire CEO, usually she isn’t that interesting, and if she isn’t completely submissive, it is made clear that she is definitely more meek in comparison to the man, made most apparently by her following his lead).

I get it. Write for your audience, right? Why change what works, especially in such a defined genre? I understand that a large number of readers of this genre read this particular genre to ESCAPE (I mean, why else is a HEA even a thing?) And that’s fine–again, I get it. Hey! I like happy endings. I also like endings that make sense, be it happy or not. I also understand that sometimes The Sound and the Fury just isn’t good airplane or bedtime reading material.

But as writers, why can’t we occasionally–if not usually–challenge ourselves and our readers by defying stereotypes in order to pave a path for new stories, characters, and tropes?

Here’s a question: am I the only one who gets wet over a sensitive, intelligent, shy, and physically imperfect (not made of muscles and/or no perfectly sculpted mountain man beard), yet cute, man? Or how about a confident, smart, headstrong, beautiful (still not physically perfect), well-read woman who has a potty mouth and enjoys a good fuck?

When I wrote Taking Wilde, my goal was to satisfy what romance/erotic romance readers expect, while also (hopefully) defying expectations and transcending what it means to escape into a world of relationships, love, work, drama, and sex (within the context of a slightly absurd premise). I wrote a novella that I would be interested in reading; I love reading about SEX, I love LOVE, and I really enjoy REAL PEOPLE.

Cara Delevigne and David Kross were my muses for the two main characters in Taking Wilde. Delevingne and Kross are hot in my opinion, but not for the most obvious reason (physicality). There’s something strong, witty, and zero-fucks-given in Delevigne that is a turn on. And what isn’t adorable about Kross? His humble and seemingly shy demeanor alone makes me melt. Oh, do tell me you’ve seen/read The Reader.

Why can’t we all try it? Something new. Who knows … maybe one of these days I’ll take on the alpha male-submissive female challenge. Perhaps I was on my way to doing so with 40-Love.