— NSFW (Not Safe For Work), 18+, mature content, sexually explicit —
In chapter 30 of my debut lesfic erotica novel, The Bartender’s Pride, Madison spies on Emilia and Harry and discovers Emilia’s ultimate fantasy. Read on for the moment when Emilia first discloses this particular fantasy to Harry!
Scorpion vodka, double-ended dildos, and lots of dirty talk! Intrigued?
I grinned as Harry placed another pint of cider and a shot of tequila down in front of me. The two of us were in her nightclub, drowning our sorrows. Well, I was drowning mine and Harry was being the supportive shoulder, listening intently as I vented my frustrations.
“And then, would you believe it …” I took another swig of cider. “The prick said he was teaching him how to defend himself!” I grit my teeth again. I’d repeated the story more than once already, but Harry hadn’t interrupted me. She just nodded between sips of her beer, cursing the man’s audacity before shaking her head and agreeing with whatever new proposal I’d come up with to remedy the situation.
I sighed, necking back the shot of tequila, grimacing as I swallowed.
“You forgot the salt again,” Harry said, rolling her eyes.
I grunted, screwing my face up and taking another gulp. I watched Harry lick a line of salt from her hand and swallow her shot before placing the lime wedge in her mouth. I surveyed her lips as she sucked, the citrus scent lingering and a lone drop of juice trickling over her bottom lip.
She disposed of the lime into the empty shot glass, pushed it aside, and licked the juice away. I realised I’d been staring when a silence fell over the table.
I looked up and met her gaze. “Sorry, what did you say?”
Harry laughed. “You need to ban the guy,” she repeated. “There isn’t a gym as sophisticated as yours anywhere within a fifty-mile radius. He’ll come crawling back.”
“I’ll deck him if he tries,” I growled, my core clenching. I felt the anger and rage swirling in the pit of my stomach, like hot magma in the inner chamber of a volcano. I exhaled slowly.
I would need to find a punching bag or a willing opponent to go a few rounds in the boxing ring with me. Ironic for Wrath, but I had to be careful. I couldn’t allow my volcano to erupt, or I’d lose any semblance of control and leave a trail of carnage in my wake. Exercise helped to ease the discomfort, but sex was a stronger cure. I would have asked Harry to indulge me, but she was exhausted, having just spent the last hour with Althea before I interrupted them in an irritated frenzy.
If you want to continue reading, as well as check out the #nsfw sketch that goes alongside, check out my erotica anthology, A Shot of Absinthe!
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