Thursday, December 21, 2017

Kinky Tale #69

I am so thrilled to bring you an excerpt from Submissive-in-Chief, my new short story which just released in The Big Book of Submission Volume 2 this past Tuesday!




An Excerpt from
SUBMISSIVE-IN-CHIEF
by Kristi Hancock

I raise the zipper on the inside of my black thigh high patent leather boots. The pair I keep in my locker at the club. A trophy for pleasing myself. I don the matching bustier that pushes my nipples to peek from the top. They pucker in anticipation. My Master awaits. The memory of his blond spiked hair and indigo eyes scorches my mind. I know what I want tonight, but I don’t know what he wants for me.
I step through the doors, strut forward on my stiletto heels, and drop before him. My eyes go to the polished cement floor between my knees. It grinds against my bones. His fingers on my head tell me that my endurance of the pain pleases him. Hopefully tonight he will see to my pleasure in return.


You can find it at the following locations:



Sunday, November 5, 2017

Radish: Reading App or Root Vegetable?

So. There's this vegetable, I mean new reading app where you can find some of my books. It's called Radish Fiction, and it's based on a popular reading program that's been hot in some other countries for years. Now some super-cool professionals have brought this technology to romance fiction. The app is in English and is meant to be used with your smartphone or tablet (available for Apple and Android).

Right about now, you're asking yourself, "Why do I want to put another app on my phone and learn how to use the damn thing?"

I've got three reasons for you:
  1. Access to exclusive content from your favorite authors (like Tamara Lush's Constant Craving -- did I mention that made Buzzfeed's Steamy Reads list? --and my new novella Prove Me Wrong).
  2. The first three chapters are always free. That means you can try books on for size without paying for them. Some books are entirely free, others you unlock with coins (we're talking pocket change per chapter, well, back when we had pocket change).
  3. You can subscribe to stories and receive notifications when new chapters are released. No more finding time to read because you can read on the run one chapter at a time.
Am I doing a lousy job explaining? Check out this video.




Cool, eh? How do you do this, you ask.


Go to the App Store on your smartphone or tablet.

Search for "Radish Fiction".

The icon looks like this:


Oh - look! You found it!




Click "GET", and it will download.

When that's done, click "OPEN".

Set up your account, and you're off and running!

TA-DA! Aren't you proud of yourself?

Now you can access exclusive stories by moi (that's French for "Kristi Hancock"), A.C. Rose, Dr. J, and other favorites -- plus discover some new ones!


In this case I think we can say, "Read your vegetables!"
(Yeah, that was super-corny. Send me a better closing line.)

Wednesday, October 4, 2017

So I Fell Off the Planet

I live in Florida. First we had to evacuate due to Hurricane Irma. No house damage -- YAY! No power for five days -- BOO! We evacuated to north Georgia where we were hit by the remnants of Irma, which were strong enough to be a tropical storm. Trees fell. House okay. The sound of wood splintering turned out to be the tree that fell partially against the house. Tree across power line at end of driveway. No power for two days -- BOO! Friends had generator which we used to power phones and make coffee -- YAY!

Got to come home after power company cut down tree and Big C notified me that power was on.

Then family from south Georgia whose house flooded spent a couple of nights with us.

Then, lots of people died. Specifically...
The stepdaughter (age thirty-nine) of one of my besties had a heart attack and died in her sleep. My bestie is now guardian of her seventh grader.
The daughter (age forty-nine) of a dear family friend bled out due to complications from an issue with her esophagus.
My husband's uncle (age eighty-two) passed away while fighting pneumonia.
My thoughts and prayers continue to be with their families and loved ones, including my own husband.

Last Thursday, I drove to Atlanta for Georgia Romance Writers' annual Moonlight and Magnolias conference. I might have considered cancelling, but I was leading a workshop. I arrived exhausted and left enthused.

I got back home late Monday afternoon to surprises from Big C, including a spaghetti dinner. Yesterday I was a zombie and was afraid might be coming down with the flu. Today, after finally getting a decent night of sleep, I feel human. I am thrilled to have a light calendar this week.

I will now stay on top of Prove Me Wrong, my current Naughty by Nature serialized story in process on the Radish app. I will soon be adding A Gentleman's Offer to the app, as well. Woot! So hang in there with me. I'm baaaaack!

Sunday, September 17, 2017

Attitude of Gratitude

We live on a street that borders on water along the coast. We consistently evacuate during potential disasters. It's what we're comfortable with. We trade personal safety for the risk of losing all of our stuff. We're good with that. After all, if it floods or a tree falls on the house during the storm, what are we going to do about it?

During last year's Hurricane Matthew, we lost fourteen trees, none of which hit our house. It felt like a miracle. No, it still feels like a miracle.

During this year's Hurricane Irma, we had almost no damage. Again, it feels like a miracle. For us.

Unfortunately, some of our family did not fare as well. My in-laws (mother, father, brother, sister, and our niece) live on a tidal creek that overflowed its banks and left water in both of their houses. Also, a tree fell on one of their houses. When it did, my sister-in-law fell of the sofa onto the tile floor and broke her elbow. She's now in a cast from her fingers to her almost her shoulder. She's right-handed, and it's her right arm. She, my brother-in-law, and our niece -- whose sixth birthday was Wednesday -- spent two nights with us here. We celebrated with a purple buttercream vanilla birthday cake with pink roses. I count that as a win.

Big C is looking into RV's for our next hurricane evacuation. This year our "safe spot" was in Irma's path. Even though it was only a tropical storm by that point, our friends lost multiple trees. Part of one hit the house on its' way down and scared us all to death. Another landed on power lines which left us without electricity for forty-eight hours.

I've found silver lining after silver lining through all of this as it affected me, but having family as victims of flooding? Even though they have a "glass half full" attitude, I'm hurting for them.

You know what? This world needs as many "Happily Ever After" story endings as it can get. That's something I can offer. I guess I'd better get writing.


Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Lost and Found

I love stumbling across old favorite romance novels that have been packed away somewhere and randomly turn up. We moved to Florida a year and a half ago, and Big C (my husband) just found my paperback copy of The Heartbreaker by Carly Phillips while unpacking a few leftover boxes in his office this morning. Woot! It's book three in her Chandler Brothers series, which is so incredibly fun!While it's not erotica, I enjoyed the series immensely.


Now that I have this back in my hands, it makes me want to reread the whole series. But it got me thinking, how many of you reread books? Do you have favorite parts? I reread sex scenes all the time just because I enjoy them. Do you ever do that? I'd love to hear about it either way.

Friday, August 18, 2017

The Winner: A (Very) Short Story

This very short, very hot story is a little gift to my readers -- and a tiny preview of what I write.
Yes, it's itty-bitty. It was originally going to go to a magazine, but now it's all yours!
Enjoy this visit to a bar that's maybe not so far away from you. ;)
 
 


 
His hips bump the back of my ass in my size thirty-four stonewash Levi’s when I bend over the billiards table. I'd called a three to the corner pocket, and he almost makes my experienced hands miss the shot. The pub is crowded but not so much that he had to make contact to pass me. In a straight bar, this can mean only one thing, and it makes my balls tighten.

 
He stands to my left with the onlookers. His sleek hair appears burnished where the light hits his firm jaw and sensuous mouth and leaves the rest in shadow. He keeps his hand on his beer bottle as it rests on the edge of the table next to the bills my opponent and I staked on the game. His other hand reaches across his muscular chest to scratch his bicep. He's Michelangelo’s "David" in motion.

 
My eight ball to the side pocket closes the game, and I pass off my pool stick to the next in line. I'm more concerned about losing my handsome prey than I am about collecting my winnings. I need not worry about either. He turns and places the folded bills in my calloused palm that itches to abuse his cock.

 
"Nice shot." His voice is rusty. He clears his throat, and I imagine it swallowing the head of my dick.

 
My hormones scream to dominate him. I shove the cash in my front pocket, take his beer from his hand, and down a long swig.

 
"Yes," he says.

 
A petite redhead reaches for my arm. "You play so well." Her fingers find their way to my fly.

 
I grab her wrist, bite her earlobe, and whisper, "Thanks, sweetheart, but not tonight."

 
I wonder if she knows I'm batting for both teams.

 
I arch a brow at my new buddy, and he nods. I've never picked up a guy here, but his forest green eyes wipe any doubts from my mind. It's not like I can be the only former frat boy here who was straight until the lights went out.

 
I cut a path past the crowd at the bar, and it swallows our trail. Past the bathrooms and swinging kitchen door, I push out the exit to a dank alley. It smells of grit and rain and brick.

 
I free my mental reins and allow my penis to swell in girth and length. I wonder if he knows what he's in for. Most don't.

 
He's a couple of inches shorter than I am and makes to grab the nape of my neck. He bites my lip. "God, your black hair is hot against your blue eyes."

 
I fist my hand in his gray V-neck T-shirt and take his mouth without apology. He tastes of beer and smells of expensive cologne.

 
Our tongues tangle as we fight each other’s belts and flies to access the packages hidden beneath. He's commando, his cock average and uncut. He gasps as he hooks my boxer briefs beneath my balls.

 
"Fuck. You're huge."

 
"And you're taking all of it," I say.

 
I fumble through my wallet for a condom while the stranger pumps his dick.

After an eternity, I have the extra-large latex on me and spin him around to the wall. I spit twice in my hand then rub the barbaric lubrication around his hungry anus.

 
His legs are braced apart, his fingers clench the mortar, and he tilts his ass at my cock. I hold his cheeks and let my penis guide itself to his hole. I lean in to let the head pop through then slide my shaft down his channel. Jesus, he feels tight. I begin to pump thinking it would be even better if—

 
The redhead from earlier slips out the door. We freeze. Will she scream? Bust us? Call security?

 
Instead she smiles. "May I join you?"

 
My dick is still in his ass as he turns to catch my reaction. When I shrug, his eyebrow goes up again.

 
"You ever been with a woman?" I ask him.

 
"Not since I tried to be straight."

 
"Then pretend she's a guy."

 
Red pulls a strawberry condom from her purse, lays her jacket beneath her, and kneels before the stranger.

 
I can't help chuckling to myself. He backs into me on a cringe so I reach around him to hold the base of his throbbing prick for the condom. She puts it on with her mouth so enthusiastically her saliva drowns my fingers and drizzles down his balls. Her soft palm passes over my own pair, and she squeezes.

 
The tight heat of the man's body. The pleasure of his dick in my hands. The soft warmth of a woman's fingers on my nuts. The threat of discovery. It's too much for my brain to manage, and my body takes over. Furiously I pump into the stranger's ass. The cacophony of sensations batter my soul which screams for release.

 
I find it in a haze of light behind my tightly shut eyelids. I release the stranger's prick as my come fills the condom. He throws his head back over my shoulder with a groan.

 
"She bet me she would have sex with me before the night was over." He pants. "I lost."

 
I laugh. "Nope. Fucked and sucked? I'd say you won."


 
<<<<< >>>>>


It's All in the Details

I am swamped, buried in technical nomenclature and schematics of guidelines and sample plans of details to be submitted to our new "community association" here at what I fondly refer to as the HGTV Dream Home we paid for (though it's not nearly as fancy or glamourous as those). Cexy and I are slogging through paperwork muck that makes a trek through the marsh across the street seem like a casual stroll. I sit down to write only to discover another document to review, another form to complete, another contract to sign. Buried in minutiae, it feels as though I've barely written a word.
I realize that these are totally First World problems. I now have a handsome young pool boy (and a pool to go with him) on a sizeable chunk of land in a preserve. Our neighbors like to keep to themselves, as do we. It's why we chose to live here. That even extends to inside our home. Our bedroom is on one side of the house while guest rooms are on the other--with an expanse of living room separating the two. Like I said, this is our HGTV Dream Home only we paid for it. So why can't I write?
Because we're still surrounded with boxes from the move? Because we're still giving away furniture to make room for the stuff in the boxes? Because we're planning to retire here in 20 years and only leave if we have to go to a nursing home so I want everything to be perfect? Because we want a fenced area for the dog?
There aren't enough "becauses". I don't believe in writers block. I've just got to get my butt in some chair and my hands on my laptop's keyboard and go. Ready, set...