I need a “sexcation.”
That’s right. It’s not a typo. It’s like a vacation, but way better. You know? With sex. Lots of it. It’s the vacation where you get the sex you want, not the sex (or lack of) that you’re stuck with.
This all started on Facebook (just goes to show you—you never know what I might toss up on my facebook account). Imagine that. I was amazed at how many actually felt like I did and the reasoning behind it. I mean, is it just to have that vacation with perfect sex? Is it a need to reach sheer exhaustion so that you can rest? Is it because you aren’t getting any at all and some is better than none? Is it because you are unhappy with the sex you’re getting? Is it maybe a combination of several factors?
As much as I’ve read erotic romance, I find that I’d love to pull the heroine out of the book, kick her ass and jump into the story and take her place. A strong man, generally bent on protecting family and his woman (who is more than likely fighting him every step of the way), who’s always got a huge cock and is great in bed. Damn! Where do I sign up?
Think he’ll take me if I promise no drama, like he’s getting from the woman he’s trying to make his? I’m very independent and stubborn. But for something like that? My own “knight in shining armour” (so to speak) – damn right I’d play the obedient female. Hell, I might even enjoy it.
Oh right, back on point. You’d get all that and more on my sexcation, of course. You see, each vacation would have to be a custom fit. Take your favorite steamy erotic romance man (or hell, it’s your vacation, combine a few attributes from certain ones and get your perfect mega-man) and make it your dream vacation. Do you dream of the Highlander who will fuck you until you beg him to stop? Perhaps it’s the man who enjoys a good meal right between your legs? The one that gets you off with his tongue, then his tongue and fingers and then finally, when you can’t wait any longer, with his cock. Maybe you prefer the English gentleman who respects you, wouldn’t dream of saying the word fuck around you, and treats you with extra care. Or maybe it’s the hot Native American that can ride bare back and take you by a stream.
Your vacation. You choose. And the news breaker in this? And you get to hear it first, right here on this blog. It’s not even up on any of mine. Sexcation is going to be a new short series. Where men and women get to make their own rules and have the perfect vacation that fills their own unique fantasy. Want your fantasy to appear in one with mention of your name in the dedication? Email me your fantasy ( KharismaRhayne (at) gmail (dot) com )
Now, next – thanks so much to Laura for letting me hijack the blog for a little bit today. :D
I’d love it if you all came to hang out with me too. I can be found at: My Blog – Kharisma Rhayne Books – Twitter and on Facebook HERE & HERE
Finally, if you have a few more minutes, take a peek below for some details on my latest release from Rebel Ink. It’s Bound by Seduction Book: Jarvick & Arabelle.
Arabelle finds herself at the gym on a Friday night and ends up working on more than her cardio with oh so hot stranger, Jarvick when he guides her to his truck for some cuffed experimentation. Just how well will these two fit together?
He was the most impressive man I had ever seen. Huge and obviously strong, he was simply magnificent. I continued to watch him bench press what had to be hundreds and hundreds of pounds over and over again.
This is what I get for going to the gym on a day I'm not usually here. There goes my train of thought for at least a week.
I caught myself gawking and checked the treadmill I occupied for any drool that might’ve escaped my mouth. I really should stop staring. But it was too late. I'd been caught.
His buddies were looking over at me. I mean, looking at me. Really. Shouldn't they be spotting him so the barbell didn't fall on him and crush his neck or chest or whatever body part it landed on?
I bet he had more than a couple really impressive ones. How tall was he anyway? He had to be at least two hundred and fifty pounds of thick, solid muscle. What would it feel like to be under all that sweating mass?
I tripped on the treadmill. My fall, like those videos on America’s Funniest Home Videos, flashed through my mind a second before someone grabbed me around the waist, picking me up and setting me on the floor next to the treadmill.
"Arabelle, perhaps you should pay more attention when you're on the equipment," Keith said, giving me a knowing look.
Darn it. Of course it would be Keith. Not only was he a personal trainer at the gym but he was also my best friend’s fiancé.
"Sorry, Keith. I was just thinking. It's been a long week and I have a lot on my mind."
"Of course you do. Like, for instance, Jarvick over there."
"Jarvick. The big dude you were staring at. Go say hello or something before you kill yourself."
Keith reached over and turned off the treadmill I’d left run while we talked.
I rolled my eyes at Keith, grabbed my water bottle and towel, and walked off. I might as well give up on the gym today. Not like I'd get much done, other than stare at Jarvick and possibly, as Keith mentioned, kill myself on one piece of gym equipment or another.
I took a quick shower and dressed--yoga pants, gym shoes and a T-shirt being high fashion for me this evening. Thankfully, it was Friday.
Arabelle walked to her car digging around in her gym bag for her keys and came up empty. She must’ve managed to leave her keys in the ladies’ locker room. She wondered how not adult it would be for her to stamp her feet and scream right then. With a heavy, and loud, sigh she turned on her heel and stalked back into the gym.
Where she promptly slammed into a wall of muscle. The man Keith called Jarvick. Damn. He was larger than she thought. And hotter, if that were even possible. She looked down at his hands resting on her shoulders and raised an eyebrow.
"You were going to fall. I caught you." Jarvick reeked of raw confidence, arrogance, and strength. And he had the best smile ever. Beautiful dark eyes, perfect teeth, long, dark hair…
She shook her head, giving herself a mental head slap. Say something intelligent ran through her mind like a mantra.
"Th-thank you." What? She never stuttered.
They stood in silence, staring at one another. She swallowed. Damn, why couldn’t she walk away? Why couldn’t she break Jarvick’s unrelenting gaze?
"Are you going to stare at me all day, doll?" Jarvick’s cocky grin spread across his face. And God, she loved it. "Or are you going to let me know how I can please you?"
"What?" Arabelle croaked. "Please me?" Her voice sounded so odd.
With a laugh, Jarvick continued. "You’re going to play dumb, I see." He shrugged. "I prefer women who are well able to tell me exactly what they want from me." He lightly traced a finger down the side of her face. "However, since you won’t speak your mind, I’ll be kind this time and tell you what you want."
Stunned, Arabelle didn’t know what to say. What the heck was he talking about? She should just walk away, but, for one reason or another, her feet simply wouldn’t move.