June 1st officially kicked off the Sizzling Summer Reads Party, hosted by the good folks at theromancereviews.com. There are literally hundreds of authors participating in Sizzling Summer and they are fabulous. Every day, a handful of books are spotlighted with a quick quiz. You can find the answers by clicking on the helpful hint links, but if you’re anything like me, you’ll forget the question once you start exploring those sites. There’s fun and prizes and cake and lots of authors you can’t wait to read yet. (The cake is a lie.) So tell your friends and be sure to check back with them every day to explore some fresh sizzle and share your favorites! Just click their button in the sidebar and have fun!
In the meantime, every Monday and Thursday in June, I will celebrate the summer of sizzle with some sizzling samples from each of my books. If you leave a comment for any post tagged with Sizzling Summer Reads and tell me you want in, you will be entered in a drawing to win one of my books, of the title of your choice, including the upcoming The Last Hour of Gann! Because my books contain explicit elements of violence and graphic sexual content, YOU MUST TELL ME YOU WANT TO ENTER. Oh, and leave me a viable email address so I can contact you if you win. Good luck to everyone!
Today’s sizzle comes from my latest published book, Cottonwood, and is easily the weirdest sizzle of the set. In this excerpt, my human heroine and alien hero are about to enjoy some alone time. I warn you, when I say “alien” this time, I don’t want you to imagine the essentially human-like aliens of Heat. Sanford is more of a…oh…more of a giant preying mantis.
Sanford was out of the shower already, at the end of a neat row of wet footprints, studying the tired landscape hung between the two beds. He was naked, chitin dripping and shiny in patches, dulling where it had begun to dry. There was such a relaxed and easy expectation in that posture—waiting for her—and it would have raised her eyebrows except, of course, why else had she gotten two rooms? It was as good as announcing to both of them that she was in the mood, so take your toy, kid, and don’t mind any loud noises.
He glanced around at her giggles, but seemed satisfied it wasn’t at his expense when she came smiling over and slid her fingers along his side-seam. “Are you tired?” she asked.
“Exhausted,” he replied seriously. “I will sleep very well after we have copulated.”
Gosh, she loved this guy.
“You need to tell me what to do,” she said, undressing. “Because last night was mine and it was wonderful, but I want to make you happy tonight and I don’t know how. Tell me how to touch you.”
“It does not matter how I am touched,” he told her, pulling her blouse over her head. He dropped it indifferently on the pile of shoes, socks and jeans, and then ran his hands over her breasts. “Only who I am with. And I am with you.”
His claspers darted out, tickling at her belly and thighs as he cupped her elbows and brought her half a step towards him. Only that far, no closer. He held her lightly in his hands, very still, gazing at her. His palps were spread. Every breath they took was shared. Apart from his claspers tickling at her thighs and some small twitches of his antennae, he was motionless, serene. Enjoying her nearness, as foreplay.
And it was enough, bizarrely. She wasn’t in the least impatient as she rested her arms on his and looked up into his eyes. Quite the contrary, her excitement seemed to be spinning up in a slow and lazy way, not a tension so much as a peaceful anticipation. She remembered with sudden and almost painful clarity the end of That Talk with her mom at the insufferable age of fourteen, when her mother had concluded the facts portion of the program by telling Sarah that sex was more than just mechanics and feeling good, it was an emotional and spiritual thing. “And that’s why you should wait until you are married,” she’d said, cementing firmly in young Sarah’s mind the idea that her mother could not be any lamer if she’d been born without legs. “Because it’s all candles when it’s for thrills, but when it’s with the one you love for all time, it’s the sun.”
Sex with this particular man was never going to be normal or comfortable or completely free of that awkward “you’re stabbing me with your shell” whisper, but it was still amazing, mind-expanding, world-defining sex. Not because of what he did, but because of who he was, and knowing that anything he did do was solely because he wanted to please her.
“I am ready,” he said at last, emotion as a tight timbre under his words. “Please turn around.”