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Saturday, October 3, 2015

Braid of Tongues by: Monica David


Title: Braid of Tongues
Author: Monica David
Series: Braids Series (#1)
Genre: Erotic Romance
Publisher: Self-Published
Release Date: May 27 2015
Edition/Formats: eBook & Print
Blurb/Synopsis:
What if your perfectly contented life was suddenly turned upside down and you were forced to face a decision you never imagined you’d have to?
Ariane Reis has a husband who loves her, a young son and a cosy family routine.
When she starts a new job in the heart of London, she has no idea she is about to embark on a scorching sensory journey of eroticism and self-discovery that will irrevocably alter her life.
Luka Volkov is a smart and unnervingly intense Russian on her team. He is young, sharp and insatiable. He doesn’t just seduce her body. He seduces her mind and the very essence of her being.
Despite the emotional angst she finds herself in, Ariane must fight to get through the impossible task of untangling love from lust, or risk losing everything she holds dear. The problem is - not everything is black and white. 
A story both delightful and heartbreaking about regular people in unanticipated circumstances. 



I hear voices approaching and freeze, but Luka doesn’t stop.
“Shhhh ... Forget them ... just feel ...” His voice is so thick with arousal, I close my eyes and continue stroking him.
As the voices draw near, two long, exquisite fingers slip between my folds and sink inside of me.
“Luka ... oh God ...”
“I know baby, I know.”
I feel the heat in my cheeks intensify at the word ‘baby’. Oh dear, wonderful lord...
The voices trail off. I’m nearly mindless with need. His fingers pump steadily inside me as his palm presses against my clit. I’m dripping for him, so lost in sensations I wouldn’t have the strength to stop even if someone came down the passageway.
“Please ...”
“It doesn’t have to go any further if you don’t want it to, Ariane ...” But hunger pours out of his words. “I can make you come like this ...”
Wow ... he can make me come ... I’ve never had an orgasm without touching myself, and yet I believe him. I believe he could make me come a hundred times if he wanted to. I believe there are a hundred orgasms lurking in my womb, ready to burst at his will. But that’s not what I need. I know, every cell in my body knows, it’s too late to stop ... I need him.
I lean into his touch in a kind of supplication, whimpers falling out of my mouth. “Luka ...”
“Shhhh ... It’s OK, baby ... just tell me ... Is that what you want?”
I’m building fast, I need him now.
“I need ... please ...”
“What do you need, baby?”
“I ... Luka ...”
He tugs at my hair, forcing my head back as he towers over me, his hand continuing its steady assault, his mouth hovering over mine.
“What do you need, Ariane?”
“You ... I need you ...”
He moves so quickly all I can do is make myself pliable. He grabs me by the hips and spins me around, my hands hitting the stone wall in front of me to protect my face. He pulls my coat up to my waist and shoves my trousers and knickers down to my knees. I stand very still, panting for air, and he repositions me, forcing my hips out and my back to arch, my hands splayed against the wall for support.
Standing behind me, with a hand on the small of my back to keep me in place, he rubs his swollen head against the lips of my pussy, getting it soaked. I’m breathless, overheated, and when he tightens his hold on me, I brace myself.
Luka drives himself slowly into me, in one long, heart-stopping movement, stretching my walls with unbelievable restraint, giving me time to adjust to him, time to fully recognise his presence inside me, inch by delirious inch. Then he pulls half way out and stills himself till I whimper in a series of pleas, my hands practically clawing at the wall, and finally, with a pained grunt he slams deep into me. My mind deserts me with the intensity of our connection. He holds on to my hips and begins thrusting, the sounds coming out of his mouth filled with fervour, like he has no control over himself anymore, and I love it so much I can’t stand it. I sink onto my forearms against the wall for balance, his body overpowering mine, pounding into me over and over with long, punishing strokes that have me arching my back further to give him all the access he needs. And then his hands slap against the wall above me, and he growls, like this is too much for him too.






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Monica David was born in Zimbabwe but she grew up in Portugal, by the sea. She has been living in London for nearly two decades, initially on and off in between travels and now permanently with her family. In addition to writing, Monica loves to read, photograph and travel. She values kindness, honesty and a good sense of humour.











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