for the day: an emerald-green silk pantsuit. To add that little hint of sex appeal our guests have grown accustomed to, I forgo a blouse and button up the coat to form a plunging neckline. Pairing the ensemble with some four-inch spiked heels puts me a little closer to Rafe’s six-foot-two frame.
Speak of the devil, the scrumptious man himself walks out of the bathroom without even a towel on. The tight muscles of his upper body all seem to angle in a slight v-pattern, drawing my eyes down to the glorious perfection I worshipped so lovingly last night. Saliva fills my mouth at the mere thought of the acrobatics my tongue performed on certain parts of my husband’s anatomy.
“Dria? Darling? My eyes are up here, love.”
I break my stare from his nakedness and sure enough, there are his bright blue eyes.
“You look at me like that for too long and my pants will fit me funny when we meet the others.”
I glance longingly at the bed. “I’d much rather skip it all and stay in bed with you today.”
Rafe laughs, “And miss the crazies showing up for this circus? Not on your life.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
C.J. Ellisson lives in northern Virginia with her husband, two children, two Staffordshire Bull Terriers and a cat she’s newly allergic to. Vampire Vacation is her first novel. Her second novel, The Hunt, Book Two of The V V Inn, will be released in 2011. If you’d like to learn more about C.J., please go to her website (www.cjellisson.com) or visit her on Facebook at:
If you cared for the sex scenes in this book and would like to try C.J.’s erotica, please keep reading. Two chapter excerpts from the eight-chapter novellas, Johnny Living Dangerously and More Than Tolerable, follow.
Book Description:
Johnny is lead singer in an all-girl, hot-pants-wearing band. Experience the sexy young man's conquests one summer as he sets out to bang each gorgeous band member.
Juanita, the hot-blooded drummer; Rachelle, the base guitarist with a secret; Ginger, the redheaded lead guitarist; and quiet Kimmie, the keyboardist who prefers girls.
Will he met his goal or will one or more of the ladies find out about his plans?
WARNING: This novella contains very explicit sex. For mature 18 and over readers only.
Erotica Categories: m/f/f, m/f, f/f, anal play, anal sex, sex toy use, masturbation, oral sex, light description of a m/m2f transsexual scene. Pretty much sex every few pages.
Johnny Living Dangerously
Chapter One
Johnny
Smoke and tired country music snake their way to me as I push open the back door of the bar. The dim light makes the hallway appear in twilight, even though it’s mid afternoon.
“Johnny, honey? Is that you?”
A cigarette-roughened voice calls to me from the manager’s open office door. Before I have a chance to respond, a bleached-blond head sticks out and a heavily made up woman scans me from head to toe.
“Hey, Carla.” I answer. “Yeah, I’m checking to make sure the equipment is set up right before our gig tonight.”
“Come on back and see me when you’re done, ‘kay?” She bats her black spiky eyelashes at me.
“Sure thing.” I walk past the owner and sure enough, her hand comes out to give me a light pat on the ass.
“Looking good, Johnny.”
There’s really nothing I can say to that which won’t make me sound arrogant, so I give her a smile over my shoulder and a mumbled thanks as I continue into the main bar area. The stage is off to the left, set only a foot or so higher than the main floor.
The drum set with the band’s name, Butt Boy and the Receptacles, painted in orange on the largest drum facing out, looks good. As does the wiring, cords, and connections to the two guitars and keyboard. Lead singer for an all-girl band wearing hot pants may sound like a joke, but I’m having the time of my life and hope the string of paying gigs doesn’t dry up anytime soon this summer. And since I don’t wear the hot pants, I’m cool with it.
By nine p.m. tonight, this run-down place will be hopping before the customers know what hit them. I wind my way through the tables, nodding to one or two die-hard afternoon drinkers on the way. Back to the narrow hallway and in a few steps, I’m next to the small office. There’s a beat-up leather couch, and a tired-looking desk with an armless chair in front for visitors. A tap on the doorframe brings Carla’s attention to me. I lean against