Purple Prosaic :: Say It With a Strap-On


Cover © Alessia Brio	SAY IT WITH A STRAP-ON PP-008, PURPLE PROSAIC, OCTOBER 2009 What happens after you've seduced your best friend? Join Carly and Jenna as they deal with the awkward aftermath of BOILING POINT. WARNING: Contains a little angst, a little spanking, and a lot of kinky white hot girl sex. After reading this book, you will never again look at chocolate-covered cherries in the same way. Say It with a Strap-On was first published as part of Alessia Brio's debut collection, fine flickering hungers. [EROTICA, LESBIAN, EROTIC ROMANCE, CONTEMPORARY, SPANKING, TOYS]		BUY DIRECT USING GOOGLE CHECKOUT* OR PAYPAL* PAYPAL ORDERS ARE FULFILLED AUTOMATICALLY GOOGLE CHECKOUT ORDERS ARE FILLED MANUALLY DELIVERY MAY REQUIRE UP TO 48 HRS
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	She let her mind dance with vivid memories of that singular incredible night with Jenna, feeling the familiar rush of arousal even as the hot tears coursed down her cheeks. The intensity of that first time, perhaps, could never be recaptured. Her overwhelming desire had taken control—enabling her to push in ways she'd never dared push before—and the results had been nothing short of spectacular. Jenna couldn't possibly deny that fact, although Carly certainly got the impression she tried. The question nagged: why? In the days since, the gulf between them seemed to grow. Sure, they talked, but the conversation steered clear of sex—both in general and in relation to their 'encounter.' Jenna apparently adopted her typical ignore-it-and-it'll-go-away attitude. Carly, however, knew it impossible—for either of them. Something as deep and as powerful as their attraction to one another did not simply go away through an exercise of will. Knowing now, rather than merely hoping, that she and Jenna were sexually compatible made the magnetism even stronger. Please don't push me away! Carly wept in silence. Her facial expression didn't change—no chin quivering, no lip puckering, no ugly sobbing—just tears and lots of them. They rapidly wet her cheeks, dripped from her jaw, and soaked her T-shirt. It was one of those things which always baffled Carly's mother. "How can you cry so hard without giving any other sign that you're crying?" she would ask on those rare occasions when Carly allowed her tears to be seen. Practice, she now responded to the echoed question. I get way too much practice. These days, Carly seldom let anyone see her cry. It scared the kids and worried her husband. It made others uncomfortable, which she found more hassle than it was worth. She worked hard to maintain a tight reign on her deepest feelings—controlling when, where, and how they surfaced. And now, the one person who could potentially alleviate her distress was the very source of it: Jenna.