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Excessica Publishing
Tempting the Hot Navy SEAL (online exhibitionist erotic romance)
Tempting the Hot Navy SEAL (online exhibitionist erotic romance)
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After having sexual relations with ten men in her barn, Mika Jamison is now severely grounded. A prisoner in her room, she chances upon someone who calls himself ‘HOT NAVY SEAL 21’ on an adult dating website.
The hot navy SEAL turns out to be a supremely, achingly hot guy stationed in Iraq, and Mika finds herself sex-mailing and showing off her body to him over Skype. But all too soon, he gets his walking papers and catches a flight to meet Mika.
Is he everything Mika has hoped for? And is she prepared to handle more?
This erotic romance novelette (11,500 words) is Volume FOUR of the NAUGHTY NYMPHOMANIAC series. It’s written in Mika’s witty, tongue-in-cheek and savagely funny voice.
Excerpt:
Now it’s my time to be bold. He’s not going to get to the really interesting parts, being probably afraid to scare me off, so I’ll make the first move.
I’m going to do something I’ve never done before.
“Do you want to see my tits?” I ask daringly.
I’m not going to flush. I swear it. I’m not the easily embarrassed sort anyway. And I’ve never shown my tits to any man over a computer before, so I’m kind of turned on.
In fact, I’m majorly turned on.
He gives me an incredulous look. “You shittin’ me?”
“No.” I’m wearing a cream-colored sweater with a boat-shaped neck. I haven’t brought any tight clothes with me because my foster folks are such prudes.
I’m not wearing a bra.
He seems paralyzed. His eyes are still in that ‘you’ve gotta be kidding me’ mode.
“Uh, OK. If you’re gonna show me your titties, I’m all eyes.” He visibly swallows, the Adam’s apple moving deliciously down his throat. “I mightn’t be able to handle it though.”
I haven’t stopped smiling through all this.
“OK, here goes,” I announce.
He sort of braces himself and leans back as I slowly peel off my sweater. I start at the hem, of course, and inch the cotton fabric bit by bit over my chest, pausing there with the sweater enveloping my head. It’s an incredibly hot pose, I know. I’ve practiced it many a time on Jake.
There comes the sound of labored breathing over the Internet.
“Oh God, what are you doing to me?” he rasps, his voice husky.
I shrug off the rest of the sweater, revealing my breasts in all their naked glory. His face has taken on a flush and he’s leaning back in his chair, breathing heavily and visibly. The rise and fall of his chest only serves to accentuate his musculature, and I find myself mentally undressing him.
I can’t see his hands.
He tries to speak, but shakes his head wildly instead.
With both palms, I push my humungous breasts up and offer them invitingly to the screen. My red, red nipples are erect and they point right at him like teasing fingers. I know my breasts are impressive. It is (they are) a fact. They are shapely and titanic and totally squeezable – my darling mounds and mounds of sweet, tan-colored, very tasty flesh.
An unzipping sound cuts right through time and space on my audio. I can see Ben’s arms moving on the screen, obviously working on something down there. He licks his lower lip. His brow, unhampered by hair, glistens slightly.
“Oh baby, you’re making me so hard I think I’m going to come right now.” His voice is so hoarse that I can scarcely make out his words.
A familiar excitement sends an electric tingle through me. I revel in making men come.
I say in a low, seductive voice, “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got down there?”
He flashes me that ‘Are you fucking around with me?’ look again.
“Y-you want to see it?” .
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I want to see it?” I’m trying to sound coy, but I’m getting rather breathless myself. It’s been so long. “Take off your shirt. I want to see those tats as well.”
He hesitates. But only for a moment.
With a hurried gesture – he digs into something below screen level (I’m thinking it’s his jeans) and tears his black T-shirt off. No long-drawn peel-the-damned-thing-off-his-torso-Chippendales stuff here. He’s a man with a mission, and that mission is to get his shirt off.
I hiss softly through my clenched teeth as he reveals his body.
The hot navy SEAL turns out to be a supremely, achingly hot guy stationed in Iraq, and Mika finds herself sex-mailing and showing off her body to him over Skype. But all too soon, he gets his walking papers and catches a flight to meet Mika.
Is he everything Mika has hoped for? And is she prepared to handle more?
This erotic romance novelette (11,500 words) is Volume FOUR of the NAUGHTY NYMPHOMANIAC series. It’s written in Mika’s witty, tongue-in-cheek and savagely funny voice.
Excerpt:
Now it’s my time to be bold. He’s not going to get to the really interesting parts, being probably afraid to scare me off, so I’ll make the first move.
I’m going to do something I’ve never done before.
“Do you want to see my tits?” I ask daringly.
I’m not going to flush. I swear it. I’m not the easily embarrassed sort anyway. And I’ve never shown my tits to any man over a computer before, so I’m kind of turned on.
In fact, I’m majorly turned on.
He gives me an incredulous look. “You shittin’ me?”
“No.” I’m wearing a cream-colored sweater with a boat-shaped neck. I haven’t brought any tight clothes with me because my foster folks are such prudes.
I’m not wearing a bra.
He seems paralyzed. His eyes are still in that ‘you’ve gotta be kidding me’ mode.
“Uh, OK. If you’re gonna show me your titties, I’m all eyes.” He visibly swallows, the Adam’s apple moving deliciously down his throat. “I mightn’t be able to handle it though.”
I haven’t stopped smiling through all this.
“OK, here goes,” I announce.
He sort of braces himself and leans back as I slowly peel off my sweater. I start at the hem, of course, and inch the cotton fabric bit by bit over my chest, pausing there with the sweater enveloping my head. It’s an incredibly hot pose, I know. I’ve practiced it many a time on Jake.
There comes the sound of labored breathing over the Internet.
“Oh God, what are you doing to me?” he rasps, his voice husky.
I shrug off the rest of the sweater, revealing my breasts in all their naked glory. His face has taken on a flush and he’s leaning back in his chair, breathing heavily and visibly. The rise and fall of his chest only serves to accentuate his musculature, and I find myself mentally undressing him.
I can’t see his hands.
He tries to speak, but shakes his head wildly instead.
With both palms, I push my humungous breasts up and offer them invitingly to the screen. My red, red nipples are erect and they point right at him like teasing fingers. I know my breasts are impressive. It is (they are) a fact. They are shapely and titanic and totally squeezable – my darling mounds and mounds of sweet, tan-colored, very tasty flesh.
An unzipping sound cuts right through time and space on my audio. I can see Ben’s arms moving on the screen, obviously working on something down there. He licks his lower lip. His brow, unhampered by hair, glistens slightly.
“Oh baby, you’re making me so hard I think I’m going to come right now.” His voice is so hoarse that I can scarcely make out his words.
A familiar excitement sends an electric tingle through me. I revel in making men come.
I say in a low, seductive voice, “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got down there?”
He flashes me that ‘Are you fucking around with me?’ look again.
“Y-you want to see it?” .
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I want to see it?” I’m trying to sound coy, but I’m getting rather breathless myself. It’s been so long. “Take off your shirt. I want to see those tats as well.”
He hesitates. But only for a moment.
With a hurried gesture – he digs into something below screen level (I’m thinking it’s his jeans) and tears his black T-shirt off. No long-drawn peel-the-damned-thing-off-his-torso-Chippendales stuff here. He’s a man with a mission, and that mission is to get his shirt off.
I hiss softly through my clenched teeth as he reveals his body.
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