Anders starts to pull my shirt up and I think he’s undressing me, but he’s not. He pulls my shirt up, and, because I am always wearing black shirts, I can’t see through it. A little makeshift blindfold. Very clever!
I feel hands on my body and I don’t know who they belong to. A thrill shoots through me. I love not knowing which of my men are touching me, or knowing what they are going to do. I trust them completely not just with my heart, and with so much more than my body. I trust them to satisfy me.
No, that’s not me being gimmicky. They totally understand what turns me on, what I want, and more than anything what I need.
“You know the stories that you want to tell within you. That’s not the problem.” Anders says, close enough to me that his lips graze my neck. “You just need to get out of your head.” “Pretty sure you type in your sleep, so yeah, that’s not going to be an issue.” Logan laughs and I feel my panties coming down. Yeah, I don’t generally work in pants, so there wasn’t much barrier between lust and opportunity, and my panties hold my thighs together but no longer cover my ass and pussy. “So we’re going to help because we love you and that’s what we do.”
“Yes, because you’re ours.” Anders practically purrs at me.
Fingers graze over my clit, and two palms are cupping my ass cheeks.
THWACK!
A loud smacking sound at the spanking hits me before the sensation of my clit getting spanked -- yes, my clit -- rushes through my body. I cry out and shudder, but I work to keep myself in place.
“You’re so wet already, Lana,” Anders says, and I can almost hear the smile in his voice.
“You’re always so wet for us,” Logan says.
“Yes!” My moan comes off as a desperate yelp as I feel fingers from two different hands -- two different men -- finger my pussy and start to pump fast.
I can’t think, I can’t breath, the sensation of them both touching me like this sending me into sensory overload.
And when the orgasm hits, I’m gone. I think of nothing and just feel the waves of pleasure corrupting every frustration and washing it over with pure bliss.
It is when the shivers come down that I commit that writer flaw. I collapse -- into the arms of one of my men though it was something of a trust fall because I thought the couch would catch me or something. But that’s okay.
My shirt is pulled off my head and I lie between them, and they’re cuddling me close...but ideas are already flowing.
I’m so spoiled! I’ve got two gorgeous men I’m sandwiched between.
But I know exactly what I need to write in Buyer’s Market. And like the characters I write, I have to go after what I want.
But I do still need things like inspiration and motivation.
“If my shirt’s off, so are yours,” I say with a giggle. I get a little giddy around them still. I totally blame love, my favorite thing ever.
“Sure thing,” they both say in unison.
So...yeah this may not be the first time that I ask my cover model men to take off their shirts while I write.
You’ve seen the covers though...you’d do the same.
I mean, those eight pack abs and the promise of those 24 inches make you buy the book.
Well, they inspire me to write them.
I can’t think of a better happily ever after than that.
Lana’s Gamble
I put my hands on my hips. I’m going to be taken seriously! Funny how your romance novel cover men don’t let you get away with anything, even though you’re an author...because they totally understand the business. Not a lot of guys do and normally I’m lucky, but right now I’m putting my foot down. “Seriously, I mean it, it is dark but sweet...you know how all those authors are doing cowboy books now? An alcoholic gambler who buys a virgin can totally be sweet!”
Anders is trying to keep his face straight, but Logan?
Logan just bursts into laughter. “You do realize everything we went through, you included, to get you writing dark.” There’s a kind look in his eyes that tells me I shouldn’t throttle him for this. Everything we went through was worth it, no matter what. After all, it brought us together. But he continues. “Now you’re telling us your next book is dark and sweet?”
“Babe,” Anders says, and he gets off the couch and walks toward me. I instinctively start to walk towards him, but then shake my head and walk back, keeping my hands on my hips. “Your idea of sweet and other people’s? Not really the same thing.”