Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Author/Book Spotlight: Elle Dawson The Re-Connections Series

ELLE DAWSON 
The Re - Connections Series 


With her tenth wedding anniversary barely two weeks away, the only gift Kate wants is to spend a week alone. After all, life with Ethan has become so cold and distant, it’s a strain just being together.

But Ethan wants just the opposite and his indecent proposal at dinner is a shock that rocks Kate’s world off its axis and into a sensual world of possibility. 

Will Kate fulfill Ethan’s fantasy? Is their relationship even worth saving? Just how far is she willing to go to save her marriage?

The Anniversary Gift is a story of two people struggling to rekindle the love and passion that brought them together to begin with. 

*This book contains adult situations and explicit content. 18+*

“I love you, I miss you, I crave you, I need you,” he repeats softly over and over as he holds me wrapped in his arms.
When he steps away, the loss of his warmth leaves me shaking. Concerned, he wraps me in a towel as if I am a baby. He begins to pat me dry, one body part at a time and then turns me around to dry my hair.
When it is no longer dripping, he closes in tight behind me. His erection presses against the small of my back. Knowing I’ve turned him on so completely brazens me and I push back against his length. He hands find my breasts, his fingers rolling my nipples and then gently pulling and tugging them rhythmically. His hands move down from my breasts, over my stomach and down to the juncture of my thighs. His hand cups my sex, startling a gasp from my throat.
“I want you … now,” he moans against my ear and begins to walk me toward the bathroom vanity. Still standing behind me, he lifts my hands and places them on the mirror, his eyes intently reflecting into mine. With me now leaning over the counter, he runs his hands down my back, over my bottom and around to my thighs. His eyes meet mine in the mirror again, and I watch as eyes shift from tender, to passion and then harden into something else that I don’t recognize.  Before my own eyes he changes, his look is so intent that a trace of fear runs up my spine.
As if he feels the fear, he grins and whispers in my ear, “Good, be afraid, fear is good, wakes you up, makes you feel more.”
Oh yes, it does. Every part of my body is singing, completely alive. He pushes me hard against the mirror, bending me over. His hands grip the cheeks of my bottom, kneading them as he had my breasts, spreading them apart. He licks his thumb, and I hold my breath as he touches a place he’s never before touched. I jump and begin to protest and he hushes me again, this time a little bit more harshly.

This strange sensation feels so wrong, he’s never shown a desire to play with me this way.  I close my eyes.  It’s also amazing … naughty … forbidden.  I wonder what he’ll do next.




Married by the thinnest of definitions, Melanie has fallen into a deep well of despair, having given up on her marriage ... and herself ... struggling to keep it all together for the sake of her two children.

Then, she bumps into a new world of sensual possibilities and teeters on the tightrope of love and betrayal, of yearning and re-discovery.

Warning: The Birthday Gift is a story of a broken marriage, an affair and a women's tortured choice. The book explores the complexities of love, betrayal, guilt and forgiveness. If you are searching for a fairytale, don't read this book. If you are searching for a real life, raw but beautiful love story, I invite you to join Melanie on this journey.

This book includes adult situations and explicit content. 18+

Amazonhttp://www.amazon.com/The-Birthday-Gift-Re-Connections-ebook/dp/B00FAP3CB4


Excerpt
“I love you. I hate you,” he says and I completely understand. “I need you. I want you. I’m desperate for you,” he continues as his teeth bite into the soft flesh of my shoulder.
I melt back against him, leaning my head over, giving his mouth full access to my neck. His hands slide up my chest, my throat and to the sides of my face, twisting my head so that he can fully kiss my lips.
I lift my hands to cover his. Our fingers entwine and he turns me fully into his embrace. His lips find mine and, with our eyes wide open, our mouths move into a deeper, more sensual kiss.
I find myself smiling against his mouth and can feel him smile in return, the corners of his eyes crinkling as we sink into each other’s embrace.
“Stay with me tonight,” he asks against my mouth. I nod in agreement, once again reminding myself to live in the moment.
With my nod, he deepens the kiss, exploring my mouth with his tongue while his hands move up and down my back. Minutes, hours, days go by as we stand this way, kissing and caressing each other. No rush. No concerns.
 “I hate thinking about you with him,” he groans. Closing my eyes, I allow him this moment to say what needs to be said. “I wonder if he held you like this, kissed you like this, breathed in your fragrance like this,” he continues as his nose buries into my hair.
“I wonder how you responded to him when he laid you down on the bed,” he goes on as he lifts me up and sinks with me onto the covers. “I imagine his weight pressing down on you and wonder if you loved his weight the way you once seemed to love mine.” He is fully on top of me now, lips on my neck, taking gentle bites of my skin.
“I find myself needing to know if he knew this is your special spot, the one guaranteed to send goose bumps across your skin.” He sinks his teeth into the nape of my neck. I tremble and my flesh prickles in response.
“Did he take his time with you, enjoy every inch of your skin?” His lips trail down my neck, across my chest and he shifts to sit across me, his legs straddling my body.
He gently opens the V of my gown’s neckline, exposing my breasts to his intent gaze. He palms them, caressing them fully and then softly pinches the erect nipples, rolling them between finger and thumb.
“Did he know that you love the undersides of your breasts to be sucked? Did he learn that you want a full massage like this?” I close my eyes as his hands press into my breasts, massaging the soft tissue, making me wiggle in response.
“Did your body move for him like that? Were you unable to control how your body shifts? Did your back arch when he told you how much he wanted to fuck you?”
My back arches involuntarily, and I open my eyes to see him watching me intently.
He begins to move down my body, pushing the skirt of my gown up my thighs. Separating my legs, he kneels between them, slowing and gently feathering the tips of his fingers up the insides of my legs and then up and over my panties.
“Did he know you love to be licked through your panties? To prolong the moment when his tongue touches your clit?” He lowered himself and runs his nose and face across the silky material before opening his mouth and rasping his teeth over my entire mound.
I gasp in pleasure, grasping the sheets, twisting the cloth in my hands. How can this interrogation be so erotic, so sensual? I don’t respond, only listen, instinctively knowing that he needs to get these questions out of his system. No matter how excruciating, this excision of the wound needs to happen to allow the painful infection in his mind to heal.
“In the moment that he pushed your panties to the side, did he blow you on like this?” He exhales cools air up and down my sex. “Did he go straight for your clitoris or did he sweep his tongue up you, the way that makes you moan?”
He raises up to slide my panties down my legs and then tosses them on the floor. Moving back up my body, he places his hands under my thighs, raising my legs up and back, and lowers his head past my vagina, past my perineum, lower still until his tongue caresses the puckering flesh of my anus. He then sweeps his tongue achingly slowly up … up … dipping inside of me momentarily before finishing his stroking attention up and around my clitoris.
I’m wild with desire. My entire body is on fire, and I feel everything. I feel his touch but I also feel his hurt, his lust, his love and his rage. I feel everything and the overwhelming combination assaulting my senses make me feel vulnerable and exposed more intimately than ever before.
“Did he love how you taste?” He questions as he continues to lick me up and down from clitoris to ass and back again.
“Did he fuck you with his tongue, like this?” His tongue moves in and out, dipping into and out of me with slow deliciousness.
“How many fingers did he use to penetrate you?” He inserts one, then two, then three, moving them in a stroking motion, in and out, while his tongues swirls around my clitoris.
“Did he know how much you like this?” He removes one finger and then turns his hand, allowing his pinky finger to enter my ass, continuing to stroke in and out of me, filling me up everywhere.
I groan and twist my body, building, climbing, racing towards a climax that is going to tear me in two.
“Did he know the moment you were going to come? Did the feel of your body tightening around him make him feel like he was being given a gift?”
He continues to stroke me and lick me and push me onward until my entire body clenches and I cry out in desperate release, ejecting a flood of fluid onto his hand and arm.
“Could he make you do that?” he asks. “Make you squirt out your passion? Make you come so hard that you lose your breath and try to curl up in order to withstand the sensation?”
I’m gasping, barely hearing his words as my legs tremble and my entire body tightens and twists on the bed. I feel him rubbing the released fluid of my orgasm into my sex, belly and legs.
“Did he make you come like that? Will any other man make you explode this way? I don’t think so.”
He begins to lick me again, up and down, in and out, swirling his tongue around my sensitive and hyper exposed flesh.
“I’m the only man you’ll ever respond to this way, the only man you’ll ever connect to this deeply, the only man you’ll feel safe enough with to be this vulnerable.”
He begins to move up my body, pushing my gown up higher up my waist, trailing kissing over my stomach. He settles on top of me and lowers his head to mine, licking my lips the way he had just licked my sex. I taste myself on his tongue.
In one thrust, he’s inside of me.
“You are mine,” he says. “I love your face when I enter you like that, how surprised you look.”
He thrusts again and grins. “That face,” he continues. “I’m the only one who can ever make you look like that, because I’m the only one who fills you like this, fits inside you so completely, so perfectly.”
Tears begin leaking out of the corner of my eyes. I can’t stop them. What he says is true. And not true. My mind starts to flash to another and I halt that painful pursuit.
My heart constricts with grief as I know love may not be enough for us to stay together. The past hurts, betrayal, the compatibility issues that we haven’t addressed are still significant obstacles to a mutual future. But I have right now, I have tonight with my husband, and I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him more deeply inside of me. I fist my hands in his hair, kissing him passionately, while he continues to move in and out.
Our eyes are still open, watching each other, connecting our souls as well as our bodies. My body quickens, tightens, pull in on itself and I know another climax is inevitable. I come, powerfully and with an explosion even stronger than the last.
He gazes down at me and grins. “I can feel your juices running down my balls,” he laughs and I blush, feeling it too. He picks up his pace, thrusting inside of me, pushing me, taking me with him on this ride of love and joy. “I’m going to come,” he groans out and stiffens while he pours himself into me. Another orgasm shoots through me too, and we come together, locked intimately, holding on for dear life.
Eventually, when his breathing calms, he kisses me again and pulls out leaving me empty and alone. On his feet, he looks down at me, and his face falls.

As he turns to walk into the bathroom, I wonder if this was our goodbye and the tears slip down my face again.





Sharing ones thoughts on paper is an intimate experience, and should not be taken lightly. Some days I fear this process, as my mind can be a scary place to dwell. Other days I realize I'm not alone in this journey, and although the very action of expelling ones deepest thoughts onto paper is intensely personal, it is deeply healing. Funny how that works.

I'm a mom, an animal lover, and adore lightening storms and fireplaces. I recycle, hug trees and sit on the grass whenever possible. I'm grateful for my parents for giving me life, and for my children for making it all worthwhile. I believe in showing kindness to others...just because.

The ideas for this book, and the ones that will follow, came at a time when I was hurting, and needed a release that only writing can bring. As a romance lover, I couldn't make myself write of new love, when it is easy to be in love, easy to be mad for each other, easy to have sex every night. Instead, I found a need inside me to re-connect couples, to shine a light of inspiration into a bedroom that has grown cold.

So I will continue to write, and be a mom, sister, daughter and friend. And read books that take me away or speed up my heart.
Email me: elle@elledawson.com




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