A Steamy Slice of 'Dirty Little Rich Girl'

Cover of Dirty Little Rich Girl
by C. L. Knight

Her lips remained parted, but she exhaled a long breath, before allowing any words to pass through them. “That’s how we play the game, isn’t it?” she eventually asked, her voice low.

“What?”

“You think I’m some spoilt bitch,” she explained, lifting both hands and pushing back the hair that had fallen across her face. “And that turns you on,” she added. “You also think I’m nothing more than a cheap whore,” she smiled, tilting her head to one side, as she gazed at me. “And that really turns you on.”

“So, what? You’re teasing me?” I snapped, my eyes narrowing slightly.

Her lower lip stuck out in a thoughtful pout, as she shook her head. “It’s only a tease if I don’t have any intention of following through,” she calmly stated, taking a step towards me.

I let forth a quick burst of humorless laughter, as she continued to approach me. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I told her.

“Are you telling me you don’t want it just as badly now as you did before?” she challenged, one eyebrow arching as though daring me to contradict her.

I wanted to simply say, ‘yes’. I wanted, so badly, to tell her that I was no longer interested; that she was an itch and she’d been scratched. I wanted that to be true just as much for my own peace of mind as I wanted to wipe that smug look off her face. However, I couldn’t make the words come. And, as the seconds passed, I realized I didn’t have to say anything. My silence was speaking for itself.

“Clayton’s going away for the weekend,” she smiled. “This weekend,” she emphasized.

“Look,” I sighed, my eyes dropping to the leafy ground at me feet. “It’s not going to happen again.”

“Why?”

“Because your husband won’t just fire me if he finds out,” I snapped, annoyed that she couldn’t connect the dots on her own.

“I know,” she replied simply. “He’d probably kill you, but what a way to go, huh?” As she spoke, she stepped nearer until she was no more than a few inches from me. She was so close that I could feel her breath on my cheek.

“You’re insane,” I responded, my gaze meeting hers for the first time in several minutes, and suddenly noticing how dark her brown eyes had become. “Why?” I whispered.

“Why what?”

“Why do you want to risk everything you have?”

“Like I said,” she breathed, her face drawing ever closer to mine. “What a way to go.” As if in slow motion, she brushed her lips gently against mine in something that was not even quite a kiss.

The scent of massage oils and whatever else she’d be covered with at the spa suddenly seemed overpowering. And, as my lips claimed hers, in what definitely was a kiss, I pushed her back against the car door.

My tongue raced over hers, diving in and out of her mouth as I felt the familiar rush of heat at my groin. My lips continued to press roughly against hers, as my hands grasped the hem, of her skirt and began pushing it upwards.

Her fingers moved rapidly over my chest, grabbing handfuls of my white dress shirt and tugging me closer. Until they hurriedly moved on again, searching out the muscles across my chest.

As my fingers found a pair of lacy panties, I was aware of the garment’s very damp crotch. And I found myself confronted with the image of Stockwell between her thighs just a few hours earlier. My tongue slipping from the warmth of her mouth, I instantly released her. Stepping back, as though I had been belted by an electric shock, I lifted my hand to my head and agitatedly ran it through my hair.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, utter confusion creasing her brow, as her kiss reddened mouth fell open in shock.

“I…umm,” I mumbled. It was ridiculous. I knew it was ridiculous, but somehow, I just couldn’t bring myself to slide into her on Stockwell’s old seed.

“Wait a minute,” she breathed, rising her left hand and pointing an index finger at me. “Clayton,” she mumbled. “Is that what’s bothering you, that he banged me this morning?” she asked, a slight smile quirking at her lips.

“No,” I lied. “I just….It’s just that I…” The movement of my hand as it ruffled through my hair became more frantic. “I mean, for God’s sake, the guy’s come is-”

“It’s all right,” she suddenly blurted, the smile not wavering as her hands disappeared up her skirt and remerged tugging a pair of black panties. “Actually,” she hummed. “As it happens, I had something else in mind.”

I simply watched her, as she kicked the underwear aside and her lithe body moved from the side of the car to the trunk.

“Come here,” she grinned, jerking her head.

When I tried to swallow, I realized my mouth had gone dry. My feet however, were following her command without any conscious prompting from my brain. As I reached her, she grasped my hand and tugged me in front of her, while she pressed her back against the trunk.

With both hands, she gripping her skirt and pulled the hem until it reached her waist.

My eyes immediately darted down to her pussy; the soft pink lips and small strip of hair glistening with her arousal. Once it was right there in front of me, what had happened earlier that morning mattered much less and my hands found themselves unclasping my pants.

“I had something else in mind,” she repeated, murmuring before leaning forward and running her tongue along my lower lip. “I want you,” she whispered, “where my husband’s never been.”

My mouth fell open when she turned in a half circle, her butt pressing against my groin, as she leaned forward over the trunk of the limo.

She glanced over her shoulder, blonde hair covering part of her face. She shifted her hips, rubbing the soft skin of her ass across the front of my pants and prompting my cock to twitch beneath the pressure.

If you like what you've read here, then you'll love the rest of Dirty Little Rich Girl, which is available right now on Smashwords.

A Nugget of Naughty Little Rich Girl

Cover image for
Naughty Little Rich Girl

Naughty Litte Rich Girl is my first crack at an erotic short story intended for men. It is, of course, also suitable for woman who like it hot and hard.

One evening, I was driving the pair home from the Met. At the time, they had been married less than two months and she, obviously, still felt the need to put in her best work. From the back of the limo, I heard her giggles; high-pitched screeches that belonged to a five-year-old. Flicking my eyes to the rearview mirror, I watched her manicured hand with long, bright red finger nails, rub its way up his thigh before cupping his groin.

“Ooh,” she crooned. “Nice.”

He gave a soft groan in return. “Do you want it, baby?”

“Oh, yeah,” she replied, her voice even higher than before. “Baby wants it bad.”

His hand, which had been out of view, somewhere at the small of her back, slipped up to her neck and I watched, as he pushed her head towards his groin.

She didn’t resist. In fact, she glanced at him with an impish grin, until she could no longer see his face. All the while, her fingers were sliding down the zipper of his pants, reaching between the fabric and slipping the wrinkled, dark, but surprisingly rigid cock from its confines.

The image of her young, plump, red lips, slowing closing around that old dick was arousing and grotesque all at once. It was beyond captivating. I tried to keep my mind on the road, I even contemplated bringing up the panel that closed the rear of the limo off from view. However, if I did that, there was a chance they would both realize that I’d already seen more than I should have done.

So I sat there, shifting uncomfortable as the swell in my pants became more pronounced. Occasionally, I looked at the empty street ahead, but mostly my eyes were fixed to the rearview, watching the hypnotic sight of her head enthusiastically bobbing up and down, her face completely curtained by her long, blonde hair.

My right hand left the steering wheel and unconsciously dropped to my groin, rubbing through the material of my black dress pants, while the sound of her eager slurping and screeches of pleasure filled my senses. The screeches were too loud, too pornography 101, to be genuine, but that didn’t matter.

“Oh yes, baby,” Stockwell moaned, his head tipped back and his eyes squeezed shut. “Daddy’s going to come!”

The motion of her head became faster, the nails, which clung to his thighs, gripped harder and the her mouth sucked more energetically.

“Yes, baby, yes!” he cried, his hips jerking upwards and his face contorting in that unmistakable mix of agony and ecstasy.

Her head remained at his crotch for a few seconds, as she continued to lap loudly at what, by that point, must have been a flaccid shaft.

His fingers stroked her hair, while his eyes remained closed. “Good girl,” he mumbled. “Such a good girl.”

“Hmm,” she hummed contentedly, finally lifting her face from his lap and sliding the zip closed as she did. “You know I’ll do anything for you, Daddy,” she said in that baby voice, I knew she only used when he was around him. Righting herself, she sat back in her seat, her left hand wiping daintily at the corners of her mouth, while her eyes locked onto the rearview mirror and the eyes she found staring back at her.

I wanted to look away, but I could not. Besides, there was no point pretending I hadn’t seen what I’d just seen. So I waited, heart pounding and cock still straining at my pants, for her to turn to the man beside her and begin an outraged diatribe on the perversity of his driver.

But her head never turned, her eyes didn’t even move. She simply continued to stare into my eyes, until a half grin quirked her lips.

If you enjoyed these teaser, check out Naughty Little Rich Girl by clicking here.

Careful What You Wish For | A Teaser

Cover of Careful What You Wish For

The following is an excerpt from my new release, Careful What You Wish For. It's contemporary erotica about a husband and wife who decide to spice things up. The following contains content suitable for readers 18 or over. If you're under 18, please shield your eyes and click away. If you're over 18, enjoy and please feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below.

No longer was the kiss patient or seductive. It had turned possessive, hungry and demanding. And it was not the only part of his body to do so. His hands eagerly clamped both of my buttocks and he tugged me roughly to him.

My eyes shot open, as our bodies sharply came together and his semi-erect manhood prodded my hip. Throwing both arms around his neck, I pulled him close, as my tongue battled with his, claiming possession of his mouth.

Just as quickly as they had grabbed me, his hands left my ass, moving swiftly up my back and pulling on the zipper of my dress.

Untangling my arms from him I shimmied the spaghetti straps from my shoulders and lifted my arms out of both loops. The top of the dress slipped down, pooling at my waist, while he grappled with the clasp of the strapless black bra.

Wrenching his face away from mine, he tilted his upper body backwards, pausing before slowly peeling the lacy underwear from my breasts. As they were gradually revealed to him, a soft smile twitched at his lips. It was there for just the briefest of seconds, before his head swept forwards. His tongue licked fiercely at my right nipple, before sucking it into his mouth.

My fingers swept up to his hair, desperately trying to grip a handful, but it was too short. Instead, I ran them restlessly over the back of his head and arched my back, partly in enjoyment and partly in encouragement.

I whimpered weakly when the silent request went unheeded and he pulled his face away.

As his warm mouth left my body, his thumb rolled slowly of the wet areola and flicked teasingly over the rigid peak, causing me to pull my bottom lip between my teeth and bite down hard.

His lips meanwhile, alternately kissed and sucked their way down my abdomen, as he slowly sank to his knees. When he reached my naval, his hands grasped the dress that clung to my hips, as his tongue gently probed my belly button.

With only slight resistance, the dress fell to the carpet, forming a circle around my feet. If Alex was surprised or amused by my lack of underwear, he didn’t show it. His lips simply continued their journey south, while he placed his left hand gently at the back of my nylon-covered right knee and coaxed me into lifting the leg.

My body felt so limp, I was unable to do anything but acquiesce to his direction. Everything felt surreal, as though I were watching myself, as I glanced down to see him toss my leg over his shoulder. Then, in slow motion, his hand stroked its way up my thigh as his mouth drew closer to my body.

The warmth of his breath, teased at my damp outer lips and, squeezing my eyes closed, I bit down on my lip once more.

His tongue moved in one long, slow stroke, starting at my perineum and tasting me all the way up to my clit.

“Yes,” I hissed, as my body shivered violently. His large, strong hands quickly moved to my lower back to steady me. However, I got the distinct feeling that his hands would be no good if he continued to graze his teeth over my clitoris. Not that I was going to ask him to stop. Even if I ended up collapsing in a heap, I wouldn’t have cared.

Shifting his focus lower, his movements became more rapid, as he eagerly lapped at the fluid that coated the whole of my sex. And then, suddenly, his tongue was thrust inside.

“Fuck,” I gasped, my hands roaming wildly over his hair, as he dove in and out of me at a speed I wouldn’t have believed possible.

The orgasm was so close, every muscle in my body had become tense, my breath was coming in sharp, shallow pants. And then, the deafening sound of a zipper being pulled down filled my head.

Darting open, my eyes drifted down to the blonde head between my legs, which rhythmically shifted back and forth. No, he hadn’t unfastened his flies. My gaze snapped to Steve, whose hand was slipping between the gap in his pants.

“Are you okay?”

Wrenching my eyes from my husband’s erect cock, as he eased it out of his pants, I found Alex’s concerned eyes peering up at me.

“Yeah,” I whispered hoarsely, attempting a smile.

If this teaser has whet your appetite, Careful What You Wish For is currently available from Smashwords.com.

Snippet of Better Off Forgotten

Cover Image for Better Off Forgotten

Better Off Forgotten is an erotic suspense novella, which follows Faith Toulson’s attempts to come to terms with a tragic event in her past. The only problem is, thanks to a bout of trauma induced amnesia, she only has fragmented and disturbing dreams to go on.

In an attempt to escape the nightmares, she spends an evening drinking and is more than a little tipsy by the time her boyfriend, Ben, gets home.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he stated quickly, taking the glass from my fingers. “You’ve had enough.”

“Well, I think you need to unwind a little yourself, Benny,” I suggested, reaching out my bare foot and rubbing it against his ankle, before sliding it up the outside of his calf all the way to the knee.

This caused him to smile, but I could see he was trying to fight his wayward lips, as they quirked. “You can’t get round me like that, you know?”

“Oh, really?” I asked softly, leaning forward and grasping his belt in my left hand.

He immediately, placed his hand over mine and began to remove it from his waistband. “You need to get some rest,” he said, seriously. “You’re going to feel this in the morning.”

“I want to feel something right now.” I told him, while my right hand moved to grope at his crotch. Unfortunately, my reactions were a little sluggish and he took a step back before my hand reached its goal. “Ben,” I whined in frustration.

“You are very drunk,” he stated, keeping a firm hold on the glass that still contained the last of the wine.

“So what if I am?” I moved around to his side of the table, but he matched each step with one of his own, keeping the small obstacle between us.

“I’m not making love to you when you’re too drunk to remember it,” he said, keeping his eyes on my face.

I quickly realized that I wasn't going to win this way, chasing him around the table was undignified and it was making me dizzy. So I stopped and stood motionless. “Oh, come on, Ben,” I began. “It’s not as though you’re taking advantage of me.”
“That’s exactly what I’d be doing,” he spoke in a tone that suggested he couldn’t understand why I didn’t see this the same way he did. “Just because we’re in a relationship, just because we’ve made love before, that doesn’t make it all right.”

It was at that point, I glanced down and noticed that his body was far from disinterested. His head may not have been willing to succumb to it yet, but there were parts of his anatomy that were definitely not taking the moral high ground. All I had to do was tip the balance of power, until his brain had no choice but to follow the demands of his body.

Lifting my hands to my blouse, I began to slowly unbutton it, while I spoke. “If you came home and I was passed out drunk, I’d agree with you,” I told him softly. “But I am still very much aware of what’s going on and what I’m doing.” By the time I’d finished speaking, the blouse was completely open. I pulled at the edges, yanking it down my arms and throwing it to the floor.

“Faith,” he said, finding it difficult to swallow.

A Little Taste of First Blush

Cover of 'First Blush'

The following is a small excerpt from my latest release, First Blush, it was my first crack at a Regency erotic story and was both challenging and fun to write. Please feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below. Enjoy!

“Maria,” he called. “I asked you to turn around,” his smooth voice gently reminded. Even though I had my back to him, I could tell he was smiling.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I braced myself. This was not simply about facing him, it was about facing my future. A future that would require me to become an obedient, dutiful wife. A future in which Thomas would have possession of me, of my body. Tearing my eyes from the bedclothes, I twisted my head towards him, as if in slow motion.

He smiled, as he lent against the closed door. “Have I told you how beautiful you look?” he asked, pushing his weight onto his feet and taking a step towards me. “Well,” he continued, not waiting for a reply. “You are incredibly beautiful.”

For reasons I could not explain, I was unable to hold his gaze and my eyes darted to the floor. It was not as though I had never heard those words from him before. Now, however, they were imbued with something more; these words were an opening gambit in a game I was unfamiliar with. Oh, I understood the mechanics of what was about to happen. My sister, who had married two years previously, shared the secrets of her own wedding night when my marriage to Thomas was announced. She warned me that the first time he entered me would be painful, but assured me that it would be over quickly.

What troubled me, was not the fear of discomfort, but the fact that the act was clearly an indication of dominance; a man claiming his wife as his property. Elizabeth did not articulate this, but it seemed implicit to me, by the very fact that a woman is quite literally impaled by her husband. Every rebellious instinct indicated that I should be disgusted by the notion of being dominated and possessed by any man. However, the thought of Thomas doing so, created a quivering sensation between my legs that belied my desire to reject accepting him as my lord and master.
“It is going to be all right,” his calm voice nudged, as I continued to examine the patterned carpet at my feet. “Tell me something,” he said, suddenly changing his tone from the soft, lover’
s voice to a lighter, conversational quality. “Is this the Maria I am going to be married to for the rest of my days?”

My eyes lifted to see him unbuttoning the black tailcoat he wore and shrugging it from his shoulders.

“What do you mean?” I asked, raising my left eyebrow quizzically, a habit my mother had been unable to deter me from.

“I thought I had married a headstrong, passionate, insatiably curious, fiercely wilful woman,” he explained, throwing the tailcoat over the back of a nearby armchair. “Suddenly, she has turned into a shy, introverted mute.” His eyes sparkled, as they met mine and his lips rose into a broad beam. “It is perfectly natural to be nervous,” he added.

“I am not nervous,” I snapped, scowling in response to his grin.