It's all about the Naughty!
What did you do that was Naughty in 2012?
Eat a second piece of cake?
Get it on in the rain? Or in the bathroom during a party?
What? Nothing that you've done is even remotely closet that?
Well, then maybe that's what your New Year's resolution should be:
Do at least one Naughty thing this year.
(And I'm not talking about eating an extra piece of cake kind of naughty either!)
Need some Inspiration?
How about trying a little Kitchen Play like
Anna Pratt and Agent T. Ryker do in Satisfying The Curse?
“Place your palms on the counter.” His warm breath brought life to the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck.
“Wh-what?” She stuttered, shaking. “Why?” With her heart thundering and her core tightening, she watched him in the mirror as he leaned in toward her ear.
“You said I have a chance in a million, so I'm taking my one chance,” he rasped, his breath no longer warm but searing. “Now be a good girl, drop the knife, and put your palms on the counter.”
Ana couldn’t resist the tone of his voice. It was the same one he used in the bedroom and in the shower—a voice full of promises, very gratifying, blissful, sexual promises. She pushed the knife across the counter a safe distance away and placed her palms on the counter, suddenly feeling very naked in her humble long cotton nightshirt.
He drew back a lock of her hair and whispered, “There's my good girl.” He nibbled her ear. “Now look straight ahead.”
“But I want to—”
“You can only look at me when I give you permission, Princess.” He bit her neck, and his hands trailed down her sides to the edge of her shirt. “Lift up your arms.”
Ana obeyed his every command until she was standing in nothing but her slinky G-string. Realizing how exposed she was right there in the kitchen, she started to fidget.
“Palms back on the counter,” he sternly said.
She welcomed his control and obeyed again. The heat from his body retracted, and Ana became nervous.
“Move your ass back and spread your legs.”
Searching for him, for his touch, she did as she was instructed.
“That's it, Princess,” he grunted as she felt his hand cover her bare ass. “Offer yourself to me.”
Ana swayed her hips, not so much offering but begging. Her skimpy lingerie tightened around her waist before she heard the rip, and she gasped just before it was stripped from her body. She desperately wanted to look at the mirror, but instead she squeezed her eyes shut as she felt Ryker's fingers slide from behind between her legs to her swollen and pulsating clitoris.
Stroking her, he huskily ordered, “Lift your hips.”
She arched to meet his touch, standing almost on her tiptoes like a ballerina.
He drove a finger inside her, plunged, and vacated. “Higher,” he said, somewhere between a grunt and a groan. “Oh yeah.” He squeezed her ass cheek as he tunneled his finger deeper. “My sexy princess, you are so fucking hot.”
The hiss of his zipper snapped her eyes open and forced her head to turn to the left.
“Uh-uh,” Ryker gruffly warned.
She cringed, not only between her legs, as she stared straight ahead. The sound of denim falling on the tile twisted that cringe into an unbearable ache. The extremely provocative position was new to her, but sexy as hell. Ryker had never taken her from behind, and when his hands fisted her ass cheeks and when he spread her open, Ana realized she wanted him to go ahead with it. That she wanted to feel him this way...
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