Happy Tuesday, folks! I'm off work today (extending that bank holiday weekend as far as possible), and although my main plan is writing, I'm also looking for a new book to read. I just finished a great one (The Castle of Earth and Embers), and I'm ready for something else. So it's perfect that Katherine Wyvern is here today with her latest release, SPICE AND VANILLA!
Dear Naomi,
Thanks for having me
here today to talk about my new book!
When I began to
write this story Raphael/Lucie was pretty well formed in my mind, but
I was not very sure where the other two were going. They seemed to be
accessory to Raphael’s complexity rather than fully fleshed out
people. But the more I wrote of them, the more they came to life,
sprouting their own personalities and opinions and back stories… it
was surprising and slightly alarming, as I found myself dragged into
a far bigger project than I had originally envisioned.
What is left of the
original concept is that Di is vanilla and Hugh is the spice (oh
dear, is he ever), and that these different flavors provide two very
different, and equally necessary romances in Raphael’s life. I
really wanted to write a story where three (four?) characters form a
complex polyamorous relationship without closing the triangle, so to
say, since Hugh and Di remain only friends. This is strangely unusual
in Romance stories, but it seems a realistic and intriguing dynamic,
worthy of exploring in fiction, as the negotiations and challenges
involved are so much different and more delicate.
Blurb
Time was, when Di
could dance all night. Time was, when she could ride any horse in the
stable. Time was when she had a fiancée, a future and a home she
loved. Until a silver SUV came out of nowhere and broke her life in
half.
Well concealed under
a sarcastic, spiny hide, Hugh has a darkly romantic, passionate soul.
Torn between love and terror, he’s held the talented, elegant,
magnetic Raphael carefully at arm’s length since the day they met.
Male or female, men
or women, kinky or sweet, top or bottom? Angel or devil? Raphael’s
life is a string of unanswered questions. And Lucie, his long-hidden
female self, may bring it all together or destroy everything he has.
Be warned:
cross-dressing, gender-queer, explicit M/M and M/F sex, anal sex,
spanking, flogging, bondage, forced orgasm, sex toys
Excerpt
Hugh watched him
stroking away with great contentment. He was totally worn out after a
crazy day at work, and it was not always easy to find the energy to
satisfy such an enthusiastic masochist. There were days when he
wished Raphael were a bit less fond of being spanked and whipped, but
he always did his best to oblige him. The thought of his
Raphael going out there looking for release from God-only-knows-whom,
and getting hurt for real by some less scrupulous or talented Dom was
just unbearable. Still, tonight he would lie back and relax. Mostly.
I
will have to help him eventually,
he thought with a slightly evil grin, but
I can take a breather first.
Raphael stroked in
perfect tempo. He was one of the most technically exact musicians
Hugh had ever played with, after all. Too exact, in fact.
It would do him
so much good to let go a bit, to just go with the flow, be wild and
imprecise and purely passionate. Then he would not need so much of
this.
Tick—tock—tick—tock—tick—tock,
went the metronome, and Raphael stroked and stroked. It was a good
while before Hugh could tell, from a small furrow between those blond
eyebrows, that the unchanging, slow rhythm was beginning to frustrate
him. He smiled a bit wider and said nothing, devouring his beautiful
quarry with his eyes. He watched, entranced the fluid play of flesh
and skin as Raphael’s long pale cock, a nice ruddy purple by now,
sank and reemerged into and from his fist, the velvet-like foreskin
lapping beautifully over the shinier, silky glans, the testicles
bouncing softly to the rhythm as the scrotum was pulled up and
released. It was hard to resist the temptation to throw the whole
scene to the devil and just take that cock in his mouth and suck it
empty.
This is without
exception the best use a metronome was ever put to.
Raphael’s body was
developing a number of small, charming tics and twitches. He briefly
lifted his left knee from the mattress then relaxed again. His right
wrist was pulling on the strap from time to time, and his breath was
coming in slightly ragged bursts.
Still it took a long
time. Too
much control,
thought Hugh, smiling. Tsk-tsk.
Tick—tock—tick—tock.
He slowly unfolded
his hands and moved to sit between Raphael’s legs. He spit on his
middle finger and watched Raphael’s face, half hopeful, half
anxious, as he slowly approached his anus. He didn’t hurry. He let
Raphael wait for it. He would beg, in time, Hugh knew, but there was
no need for that, not yet. He finally pressed his fingertip to the
twitching, tight, live rose of flesh and felt it jolt and spasm. He
massaged it in circles, with relish, and didn’t even try to
penetrate it. Raphael was shaking all over, trying to press down on
his finger, but there was just so far he could stretch, tied as he
was. His belly muscles went taut. They were contracting in random,
jerky convulsions. Hugh had never seen anything so beautiful.
Then Raphael missed
a beat. His hand had picked up pace, ignoring all orders. Raphael
whimpered, trying to compensate to get back in the right tempo. The
double change of pace made him squirm all over. He swallowed twice
and missed the beat again. This time Hugh slapped the inside of his
thigh, very hard. Raphael could take a long regular series of
well-spaced blows with relative ease, but a single hard slap coming
down out of the blue like that drew a ragged cry from him.
“You do know what
tempo means, I asked?” Hugh said, in a plain chatty voice. He had
never had any taste whatsoever for histrionics. He was not, he had
never been, a theatrical Dom. He wasn’t in it for setting up a
show. He just got the job done.
“Yes. Yes!” said
Raphael, a bit frantic. He managed to stick to the rhythm for a
minute longer, until Hugh gently stuck his finger just within the
ring of his anus. All of Raphael’s body twisted, and he lost all
track of the cold, mechanical rhythm of the metronome.
And that is
exactly what you need, my love . Too much playing by the rules, too
much fucking control. You need to find your own tempo, and just let
go.
Five or six fast
hard strokes followed. Hugh slapped him twice, on his thigh, and,
when he turned suddenly, on his butt. And then Raphael came, on the
third slap, as he flopped flat on his back again, crying out in
pleasure or pain, or both. It was hard to tell. Semen spurted out in
beautiful, long, arched white streamers, splattering over Raphael’s
belly, chest, and even his face.
It is difficult to
aim while being spanked hard.
Hugh watched him
coming, avidly.
He was so naked. So
vulnerable, so unguarded. Hugh, who felt, every day, that he might
shatter like glass, on Raphael’s unearthly, impossibly graceful,
self-possessed beauty, lived for these moments, to watch him released
of all self-consciousness and all bonds. Strange, how it took a bunch
of leather straps to get him to do that.
“Ah, oh, shit.
That hurt,” Raphael whispered after a minute. “Not complaining,
mind,” he added, with a small edgy laugh, wiping some drops of
sperm from his lips and eyebrow.
“Good,” said
Hugh, quite composed, despite the erection straining in his pants.
Watching Raphael twitching and jolting while covered in glistening
semen was not a sight to leave him unmoved. He reached out for the
metronome, stopped it and lowered the weight a tad, then started it
again.
This was a faster,
business-like tempo.
“There you go, hot
lips,” he said to Raphael, who was still breathing hard from his
orgasm.
“What? Wh—but…”
Hugh gave him a
small devilish smile. Raphael was perfectly capable of coming two or
three times in one night, but, like most men, he needed a while to
recuperate in between. Well, tonight, he wasn’t getting it.
“You didn’t
think it would be that easy, did you?”
You
can also find an exclusive
excerpt on my website, here:
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