Struggling writer, Kelly Blake has a secret life as a sex
tutor. Celebrated sculptor and recluse, Alexander ‘Lex’ Valentine, can’t stand
to be touched. When he seeks out Kelly’s advice incognito, the results are too
hot to handle. When Kelly terminates their sessions due to what she considers
her unprofessional behavior, Lex takes a huge risk, revealing his identity to
her at a gala exhibition, his first ever public appearance. When Kelly helps
the severely haphephobic Lex escape the grope of reporters and paparazzi,
rumors fly that the two are engaged, rumors encouraged by well-meaning friends
and colleagues.
The
press feeding frenzy forces Kelly into hiding at Lex’s mansion where he
convinces her to be his private tutor just until the press loses interest, and
she can go back home. They discover quickly that touch is not essential for
sizzling, pulse-pounding intimacy. But intimacy must survive the secrets
uncovered as their sessions become more and more personal.
Amazon US / Amazon UK / B & N / Totally Bound
“Was this your idea or Dillon’s? Kelly asked, hoping to
relax him.
“It was mine, after Andy told
Dillon and he told me. I thought it was something that I …” The muscles along
Lex’s jaw looked as though they were made out of iron, and a fine blush crawled
up his neck tinting his ears bright pink. “I’ve never touched a woman … in that
way.” He forced a laugh. “Obviously. I’ve …” the blush deepened and he avoided
her gaze. “I’ve put lube on some of the sculptures – you know — down there, but
I … well it isn’t the same.”
“The pears won’t be either,”
she said, her heart suddenly aching at the physical isolation this man endured
on a daily basis, and it wasn’t just her heart that ached, she felt his lack
deep in her core. It had been easier with Andy. She had been almost flippant
with him. She was sorry for that now. She spread one of the towels on the Queen
Anne chair across from him and settled herself onto it so they were facing each
other. “The texture will be different and with the pear there’ll be less give.”
She dipped her fingers in the bowl and rubbed the heavy juice between her index
finger and her thumb. “If you touch a woman, she’ll be much warmer.” She gave
him a conspiratorial smile. “You’ll be amazed at how warm and how soft she’ll
be down there when she’s ready to be touched. With Andy, this,” she nodded down
to the pears, “was improvisation, this was the best I could do under the
circumstances, but a woman, well a woman feels like nothing you’ve ever touched
before.”
He was no longer avoiding her
gaze. His eyes were locked on her, and he was struggling to keep them on her
face, she knew that; she understood the urge for him to drop his eyes to the
place of which she spoke, the place with which she was so intimate, the place
that couldn’t help but respond to the topic, to the situation, to the strange
intimacy they had shared almost since the moment they’d met. “You can look, if
you want,” she opened her legs so that he could see the place in between
clothed in black denim, completely disguised and yet so very obvious. “And I’ll
look at you too,” she nodded down to his own jeans straining to contain him
already. “It’s what men and woman are naturally inclined to do when there’s a
sexual attraction.”
With her heart hammering in her
throat, she took one of the pear halves into the cupped palm of her left hand,
then she brought it down between her spread thighs, feeling the juice of it run
over her fingers and drip onto the towel as she spread her legs a little
farther and held her pam to mimic the position of her vulva. “Touch it like a
woman would touch it, and you’ll always get it right.” She drug her index and
middle finger up from the bottom of the pear to the center and felt her own
body respond in empathy. “The pear has no folds, no secret valleys, no swollen
flesh to be teased open, so you’ll have to use your imagination with that.”
Lex gave a little moan soft and
deep in his chest as he shifted to make himself more comfortable. “I know the
anatomy,” he said. “I’ve watched porn and I’ve studied drawings. I know how it
looks like it might feel. I know the response it elicits.” His tongue flicked
nervously over his upper lip. “Of course that’s just acting, isn’t it?”
“Porn is about fantasy, about
voyeurism, and it doesn’t matter if it’s real if it gets you off. But when it
is real,” she spread her index and middle finger up the sides of the pear’s
central opening, “if you’re good, if your sensitive, you’ll feel the spasms of
your lover’s orgasm, even see them if you’re using your tongue; and you can
feel them gripping at your cock when your inside her. If you’re paying attention.
“The clitoris,” she laughed
softly, “Well with Andy I used a Ticktack, but he’s a chemistry major. He likes
charts and graphs and periodic tables. You’re an artist, you live in your
imagination, so you don’t need a Ticktack. Some women like the thumb stroking
and circling while the other fingers work inside. Some women like to use their
fingers.” She demonstrated on the pear, and Lex groaned. “It’s always best to
ask and be sure.”
“What do you like?” His words
were a labored rasp against the back of his throat, and Kelly found herself
stunned by the question, and way more aroused than she wanted to be. He
shouldn’t have asked. She should have answered. But she did.
“I like it this way.” She
shifted her hips and opened a little further so he could see her thrust and
scissor, circle and probe technique, and her body responded with the tight grip
and release of muscle memory.
“Jesus,” he whispered moving
forward on the sofa and leaning closer for a better look. “And when someone
uses their tongue?”
She caught her breath in a
giddy laugh. “Afraid I can’t tell you what I do since, sadly I’m not that
flexible.”
“But you can tell me what you
like.” His voice had gone rough.
“I like the flat of the tongue
to part me and then probe me, circle my clit and then kiss and suck.” She
closed her eyes, finding it difficult to meet his gaze when she spoke about
something so intimate, so secret. Come to think of it, she’d never had a man
actually ask her how she liked it. The few who had given a rat’s ass about her
pleasure had been happy enough to let her order them about, but never quite got
the hang of it.
It was the loud schussing sound
that caused her to open her eyes. Lex had moved the coffee table out of the way
paying no attention to the slosh of pear juice all over the towel V had spread.
His eyes were locked on Kelly as he fished out his own pear half and fell to
his knees in front of her. When she realized what the man was about to do she
dropped the pear she’d been holding with a little gasp of surprise and scooted
as far back in the chair as she could. He knelt low, holding the pear in the
cup of his hand, as she had, placing it against the edge of the chair between
her legs! She gave a little yelp and scrambled back in the chair still further,
spreading her thighs over the rise of the chair arms to keep from touching him.
He moved forward, the back of his hand so close to her crotch that she could
feel the heat of it, and he lowered himself still further until his hair nearly
brushed the insides of her thighs. Then, still looking up at her from his
position on the floor, he began at the bottom of the open pear half and ran his
tongue flat and undulating all the way up, flicking in just slightly in a
little circle at the top end before he closed his lips around the apex and she
could hear the slurp and suck of the sweet syrup.
“Oh! Lex! Ah!” And then she
went non-verbal, holding her breath, tightening muscles deep inside her body,
the only muscles she dared to move if she were to keep from touching him. She
raised both arms and fisted her hands in a suicide grip around the back of the
chair to keep from curling them in his hair. Her thighs trembled from her
efforts to keep her legs on the chair arms and not throw them over his
shoulders for leverage. She didn’t move. She didn’t breath as he licked and
nuzzled and suckled until pear juice ran down his chin and onto his tee-shirt,
until his face was damp and sticky, until his forehead was sheened with
perspiration, and still he held her gaze as though they were locked together in
each other’s orbit neither able to move without the other’s consent.
“Oh God, I’m gonna come.” She
barely managed a warning when his own convulsion brought him dangerously near
her body. He had stopped breathing, she was sure of it. She practically climbed
the back of the chair to keep from touching him as he lost control. Then with a
tremendous gasp of oxygen, he straightened, let the pear fall from his hand
onto the Aubusson carpet and looked up at her.
“I’m
going to pass out.” And he did.
We have five senses. We use them all without
thinking, but as a writer, I’ve always been intrigued by what it would be like
to live without one – one that we use most often. If you’ve read The Initiation of Ms. Holly, then you
know the story hinges on not being able to see the face of a lover. In To Rome with Lust, I concentrated on
bringing the sense of smell to the forefront to the point of it being nearly a
curse.
In The
Tutor, I take away the one sense that we never lose, the one we most
rely on in our everyday life. I take away the sense of touch. Sculptor, Lex
Valentine is severely haphephobic -- not being able to touch anyone else or
allow himself to be touched. Within that context, I wanted to explore intimacy
and how it would develop – if it even could develop – without the aid of human
contact.
To promote pre-orders for The Tutor, I’m giving away a $30/£20 Amazon gift
voucher. Enter via the Rafflecopter for a chance to win! Pre-order your copy of The Tutor for
a chance to make the author VERY happy. :)
Enjoyed the Excerpt.
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