Here it is….. my first novel of 2021! I’m very excited to share this with you, not least because I enjoyed writing it so much. Below are the first two chapters to whet your appetite. I hope you enjoy Flynn and Isobel as much as I have 🙂
Attraction. Passion. Love.
High-flying business woman in her mid-forties. Driven. Confident. Always puts her shining career before a non-existent sex life. She knows exactly what she wants, but has never found a man capable of playing out her most secret erotic desires.
Professional business man. Emotionally distant. Somewhat intimidating. Extremely skilled with his hands, mouth and body. Five years younger than Isobel, but light years ahead sexually. A formidable opponent, both across the boardroom and in bed. Finally starting to accept that his ideal woman probably doesn’t exist.
Isobel recognises the risk of their desire from the start. Determined and passionate, Flynn refuses to give up so easily. Two strong-minded and very different people, but they both agree on one thing; relationships with work colleagues must be avoided at all costs.
But what if your passions are unleashed before becoming co-workers? That you realise, on the first day of your new job, that you’ve already inadvertently screwed your boss?
Buckle in. This journey is destined to be bumpy.
Things are about to get messy.
Available as a pre-order from Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk, Amazon.ca and Amazon.com.au Released in late January.
Right Hand Man
The first two chapters
Flynn inhaled sharply the instant her plump, cherry-red lips wrapped around his swollen, throbbing head and her mouth set to work. With a guiding hand, he cradled the back of the woman’s skull and assisted in providing a suitable rhythm, encouraging her to sink further and further down his hardened length. Unfortunately, Flynn’s focus was broken when she started to do something very unusual with her tongue, which was incredibly off-putting. Why did some women think they had to attempt anything exotic when giving oral sex? As far as he was concerned, the simple application of a firm hand used in conjunction with a rocking mouth, was perfectly adequate. More than adequate, in fact. All this random tongue-twirling around his shaft simply broke the rhythm and distracted one from the main event; sex and relationship articles in women’s magazines had a lot to answer for these days. Just so long as she didn’t consider incorporating her teeth. That was a big no-no in Flynn’s opinion, which would result in their coupling concluding faster than you could say “Reverse Boner”.
Unfortunately, although she had hinted at great promise when he’d picked her up in the bar earlier that evening, his current companion really wasn’t doing it for him. Which was a shame because when he’d gone down on her earlier, causing her to experience some extremely pleasurable-sounding orgasms, Flynn’s hopes had been high. But no matter. He was a man who knew how to get what he wanted, whether that be in bed, business, or life in general. Taking charge was a natural response to ensuring his requirements were adequately fulfilled.
‘On your knees,’ he instructed gruffly. ‘Ass high in the air.’
Her mouth might not be doing it for him, but he’d thoroughly explored her tight, wet pussy earlier, and that would be perfect for his needs. With a smirk, she obeyed, repositioning herself on the bed, whilst Flynn grabbed a condom.
‘You like to be in charge, huh?’ she groaned, glancing backwards to observe this incredibly sexy guy lining up behind her in the optimum position.
‘What other alternative is there?’ he shrugged, a questioning look fleetingly passing across his handsome face.
‘I could take the lead?’ Unfortunately, she sounded less than convincing, for at that precise moment, Flynn started to sink inside her, causing the second half of her statement to become pitchy and strained.
‘Yeah. Sure you could,’ he smirked, driving himself to the hilt and revelling in her breathy, desperate cry. Immediately, he pulled out completely, before powering inside once more. There was something about that first thrust which he simply yearned to experience over and over again. ‘How about you just concentrate on being a good girl and taking exactly what you’re given?’
Unsurprisingly, she submitted to this suggestion, just like they always did. Flynn wouldn’t label himself as a lothario, but he did tend to pick up at least one different woman each week from a bar. There was no great art in it; indeed, he wasn’t entirely sure what all the fuss was about when it came to sex. All one needed was a rudimentary knowledge of biology and psychology. At the end of the day, women are turned off by mentally weak men; the survival instinct, locked deep down, demands that their partner be confident. A protector. Someone who knows their own mind, is capable of taking charge and, if the situation requires it, dominating. And that was practically Flynn’s M.O.
Within minutes, the woman collapsed into a breathtaking, extremely vocal orgasm. It wasn’t surprising, for Flynn was undeniably a formidable opponent in bed. Not only was he tall and muscular, but he was also fit and athletic, with impressive staying power. In his opinion, sex was all about physical sensation and subsequent release, more akin to playing a contact sport than a union of hearts and minds. As a result, he fucked without hesitation, distraction or apology. But be in no doubt; Flynn fucked. Making love was an entirely alien concept to him and one which he had certainly never sought out.
Glancing sideways, Flynn watched the two of them in the mirror as he built her pleasure back up again. In an unexpected moment of self-reflection, he caught sight of a man who had been shut down emotionally for far too long, at least where women were concerned. Was it a little depressing to realise that this very scenario could well be the template for the remainder of his life? Vacuous, meaningless sex with women he was ashamed to admit that he sometimes couldn’t remember the name of, both after the deed, but occasionally during it. Friends and relatives in his life managed to find contentment with a single partner, creating a magical family unit, the glue of which would cradle them for eternity. It was a life which Flynn assumed he simply wasn’t destined to experience. Everyone was different after all. That’s what made life interesting, right?
Flynn forced his concentration back towards the mirror which was displaying an erotic scene most men would surely be happy to partake in. His attention was caught by an amazing pair of breasts swinging pendulum-like, to and fro; evidence of her body accepting the full impact of his powerful, rhythmical thrusts. Besides, thought Flynn, his mind guilty of wandering once again. This was what satisfied him. The sport, the tussle, the physical and mental challenge of a confident woman. The battle of wills, which he ultimately always won.
It was true. Flynn had occasionally flirted with the idea of one day finding his genuine equal, both in and out of bed. A woman who dared to challenge him, stand up to him, play with him on level terms. But she’d be a unicorn; an imaginary creature that simply didn’t exist. And yet, if their paths did ever meet, Flynn’s attempts to make her submit would be all the more pleasurable, all the more satisfying, when he eventually tasted success. Except then, of course, the challenge would be over. He would have won again, necessitating a return to his eternal search for a truly worthy partner. It was the story of his life and he must accept his fate. At the ripe old age of thirty-nine, he was in enough of a rut to appreciate that very little would change for him now.
By the time Flynn’s attention had fully returned to the job in hand, he was disappointed to discover his partner’s energy failing, despite all the grand claims she’d made on the way to his house earlier. Several times, her hips collapsed upon the bed in exhaustion, causing Flynn to lift them back into position, pulling her firmly backwards to meet his forward thrusts. Eventually, he gave up trying to reposition her, instead choosing to vigorously fuck her exhausted body down into the mattress, causing the springs to squeak alarmingly. He really must buy a new bed; he’d definitely got his money’s worth out of this one.
‘My God!’ she grunted, as she gasped for breath between climaxes. ‘You’re something else!’
‘I’m gonna come,’ he murmured in response, his aching cock reaching the point of no return. Instantaneously, he increased the power and speed of his thrusts, making the outcome inevitable. As she climaxed one final time, clamping firmly around him, so Flynn roared out his release into the otherwise still room. For a few seconds, he remained inside her, chest expanding rapidly as he retrieved full possession of his senses. Then, holding the base of the condom, he gently withdrew and discarded it over the side of the bed, before collapsing onto his back.
‘Oh my God! That was fucking amazing!’ exclaimed the woman, her voice sounding croaky and low from the vocal workout it had been subjected to.
‘Mmmm,’ grunted Flynn noncommittally. ‘Good.’
Shuffling across to him, as best as her shattered body could manage, the woman was somewhat surprised when he failed to return her attempts at snuggling. No matter, she snaked a hand around his shoulder and attempted to kiss his hairy cheek, only to find him subtly moving away.
‘It’s getting late,’ Flynn observed, rolling out of bed and pulling on a pair of Levi jeans. ‘Let me drive you home.’
‘You don’t want me to stay?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘But…we’ll hook up again?’ Flynn visibly saw her jaw drop, as he failed to respond to the question she’d posed. His expression, however, probably told her all she needed to know.
‘Seriously?’ she demanded, her voice ringing with an unmistakable tone of incredulity.
‘Seriously,’ he confirmed. His manner was gentle yet assertive, attempting to hide the sinking feeling that was already spreading through him. Such a reaction was rare these days because whenever he met a woman, he purposefully made his position abundantly clear. He was not looking for a relationship; he was looking for sex. Over the years, Flynn had become pretty good at identifying the type of woman who saw things in the same light as he did, but this one must have slipped through the net.
‘You wanna leave some money on the bedside table too?’ she demanded, cheeks flushing not from intense pleasure any longer, but from anger at being discarded in such an apparently redundant way. Flynn studied her carefully; she had an awfully high opinion of herself which was totally unjustified, as it happened. He just managed to silence his natural retort, which was to tell her the experience hadn’t been good enough to pay for. Age must be mellowing him. As a younger man he wouldn’t have been so kind, but he’d eventually learnt to bite his tongue.
‘Don’t be like that.’
‘I’ll be exactly how I want to be, if you’re going to treat me like a prostitute! Get out!’ she snarled, aware that he was hovering nearby, waiting for her to move. ‘I’m not getting dressed in front of you!’
Flynn glanced around the room to observe his phone, wallet and various highly confidential work documents. Leaving a relatively angry woman, potentially looking for some kind of revenge, in this room and on her own was simply not going to happen. He’d almost made the mistake of trusting a “hook-up”, as she’d so eloquently described it, once before and could have lost his job over it. Never again.
‘Then kindly do so in the bathroom,’ requested Flynn, dropping a bathrobe onto the mattress beside her and turning his back to provide a degree of privacy.
‘Bastard,’ she hissed. Wriggling into the robe, the woman scooped up her clothes from various locations around the room, marched into the bathroom and slammed the door behind herself.
Flynn began to pull on the rest of his own clothing, brow furrowed in a modicum of confusion. They’d only met that evening. I mean, what exactly did she expect? White lace and a lifetime of empty promises? If he didn’t enjoy sex so much, he might be tempted to give it up altogether, considering the angst it had caused him over the years. But at least some women were on the same wavelength as he was; sex was simply a physical release. A form of exercise. Flynn loved to play tennis with his best mate Joel, but it was natural to want to play a variety of opponents, wasn’t it? To be challenged and ultimately strive to make your own game better. For a moment, the thought of Joel stomping off the tennis court if he dared to suggest they play a match with a different opponent, caused Flynn some amusement. He quickly reset his facial expression, upon hearing the bathroom door open.
‘Genuinely,’ said Flynn, attempting civility for a second time. She might not have been the best fuck in the world, but the least he could do was ensure she got home safely. ‘I’m happy to drive you home, Zoe.’
‘My name’s Chloe, asshole!’ she snarled. Grabbing her handbag, she stalked out of the room, slamming the door so hard behind herself that the entire door frame shook in her wake.
With a long groan that seemed to originate from the very depths of her throat, Isobel exhaled with enormous satisfaction as the hotel masseuse left the room. Revelling in the tingling pleasure which continued to race through her, she had to admit there was nothing quite like the sensation of human touch. Indeed, it was a commodity she found herself appreciating so much more these days, in the absence of a sexual partner in her life. Sadly, Isobel had grown to accept that the men she found attractive simply didn’t desire powerful women; at least, that had always been her experience.
At forty-four years of age, Isobel had enjoyed a steady career, working her way up the ranks within a number of large businesses in Central London, spending the last decade excelling within upper management roles. In a perverse twist of fate, tomorrow she was being interviewed for the position of CEO at a large technology firm. If she landed the job, it would mark the zenith of her professional ambitions, whilst apparently hammering the final nail in the coffin of her personal happiness, ensuring she remained a singleton for the rest of eternity. It was hardly an incentive to give it her best shot.
Wandering back to her hotel suite, Isobel collapsed onto the huge bed and closed her eyes for just a few seconds. Still feeling relaxed and happy, her mind briefly drifted towards her vibrator which was neatly packed in her overnight suitcase. Would an orgasm round her whole afternoon off nicely, before she made her way to the restaurant for an evening meal? Alas, it all felt like a little bit too much effort; she just wasn’t quite feeling in the mood. Instead, she plumped for a warm shower, before heading downstairs for a pre-dinner aperitif.
Having ordered a newspaper and early breakfast for the following morning at reception, Isobel strolled confidently into the hotel bar. It was surprisingly busy, filled with chattering work colleagues whom she assumed had only recently escaped from the confines of their offices. Being situated close to two out-of-town business parks, the hotel was obviously the watering hole of choice. Unlike all her previous jobs, the company she was being interviewed at tomorrow was not based in London, but rather here in leafy Surrey; one of England’s more prosperous home counties and, in recent decades, a growing hub for technology.
Drifting across the room, she dropped gratefully onto a bar stool, surprised by quite how relaxed the massage had made her feel. Smiling serenely at the bartender, Isobel placed her order before glancing subtly around the room, feeling happy with her choice of clothing. A short black dress and heels was always a safe option in circumstances such as these, particularly when there was a chance you might unsuspectingly bump into a member of your interviewing panel. She’d made relatively little effort with her hair though; that was simply piled up on the top of her head, a few long, blonde tendrils resting lazily on her shoulders.
Gratefully accepting a Jack Daniels and coke from the bartender and providing her room number against which the item should be billed, Isobel allowed herself to relax and people watch. It was undoubtedly one of her favourite occupations. Opposite sat a group of twenty-something women, throwing interested looks towards a table of suited guys. On her immediate left, an extremely nervous-looking woman fiddled with her bracelet. Subtly making eye contact, Isobel sent a supportive smile in her direction, only to find herself completely ignored for her troubles. Charming! And she’d thought only people in London were brusque and unapproachable.
Isobel turned to look in the opposite direction, her attention landing instead on the guy seated on her other side. Tall with dark hair, he possessed what looked like a powerful, well-built body beneath his expensive suit. Only able to see his face in silhouette, his imperfect nose suggested that at some point in his past, he’d broken it. Isobel’s money was on a contact sport being responsible; probably rugby. Either that, or a wronged husband. He held a mobile phone to his ear whilst the other hand rubbed across his forehead in a gesture which either reflected tiredness, frustration or perhaps a mixture of both.
‘Yeah, will do,’ he growled in a tone which instantly lifted the hairs on the back of Isobel’s neck. His cut glass English accent suggested he was well versed in money, opportunity and privilege. Having cut the call, he dropped his phone carelessly onto the bar with a sigh. ‘Fuck’s sake…’ he muttered.
Isobel was well aware that was a cue to avert her eyes in another direction, lest she be caught staring at him like a schoolgirl when he inevitably looked up. But in all honesty, at that moment, she couldn’t move, incapable of ceasing the utmost satisfaction of drinking him in. In an effortless gesture, he unfastened his top shirt button and loosened off his tie, causing her to swallow hard. Embarrassed at the heat building within her, Isobel’s eyes automatically dropped down, only to observe the sculpted outline of his suited leg; the guy obviously had thighs to die for.
‘Been stood up?’ she asked, the question as much of a surprise to Isobel as him. Throughout her life, she’d taught herself to speak up whenever she felt out of her depth; to portray a sense of confidence, even if it was the last thing in the world which she felt. It was a strategy that had served her well in business, but Isobel reflected that she could probably do without her brain automatically engaging that mode in her personal life. It wasn’t always appropriate and, at some point, was likely to get her into trouble.
Turning slowly, the man’s focus gradually rose to meet her gaze full on. The very first thing Isobel noticed were his eyes. Not only were they incredibly intense, but it was almost impossible to work out whether they were blue, or grey, or something else. The longer she looked, the less confident she was in her decision.
Knowing they’d been staring at each other for way longer than acceptable, Isobel tried to break the connection, only to find that she was completely trapped. She literally couldn’t tear her gaze away. It was a reaction she’d never encountered before in her life. And all the while, bolts of pleasure started leaping throughout her body, each one apparently programmed to terminate directly over her clit.
Held in the power of his stare, Isobel recognised that she was entirely under his control. It was a most unusual and uncomfortable feeling. She was quite content to command the attention of a roomful of people, so why was she suddenly finding herself completely tongue-tied and hideously out of her comfort zone, in the company of just one guy? A long pause ensued, the man continuing to weigh her up, making no attempt to relieve her obvious embarrassment. Isobel shuffled and fidgeted slightly on the bar stool, hoping that he wouldn’t notice the physical effects he was already imposing on her.
‘Something like that,’ the brooding, mysterious stranger eventually replied. ‘Can I get you another drink?’ he asked, nodding towards the half-empty glass that Isobel was continually swirling in her slightly trembling hands.
‘I’m fine thanks,’ she replied, consciously attempting to sound more confident than she felt. Her plight wasn’t being assisted by her hardened nipples, of which she was now acutely aware. They must surely be obvious to him, through her dress? ‘But let me get you one.’
Managing to break their powerful connection at long last, Isobel turned and lifted a finger in the air to catch the bartender’s attention, before her companion had even had a chance to react. Having placed the order, Isobel turned back to the man, only to find him observing her curiously. Damn, was she being too assertive again? Undermining his masculinity? Unconsciously, she did that a lot.
‘Cheers,’ he said gruffly, accepting the replacement the barman had just provided and raising the glass to his lips.
‘Cheers,’ she replied, without thinking. ‘I’m Isobel, by the way.’
‘Flynn. Flynn Henderson,’ he nodded, his face unsmiling. Isobel was struggling to work out his personality; he was giving almost nothing away. ‘So Isobel, what brings you here, to our little corner of paradise?’
‘I’m in town for business. I’d rather not get into specifics,’ she replied, quickly batting away his request for personal information. This time, she couldn’t fail to observe an expression cross his face, suggesting he was slightly taken aback by her forthright response. Isobel got the distinct impression that Flynn wasn’t used to women refusing him anything, be it information or sexual favours. An impish sense of delight quickly took hold of her. Boy, could she give him a run for his money. Not that Isobel had observed any firm signals that he was attracted to her, but she fancied him like hell. Yet she had to be sensible. Flynn could be associated with the firm she was being interviewed at tomorrow. He could represent one of their business partners, suppliers or competitors. The whole situation was a potential minefield which she knew far better than to step foot inside.
Ignoring their shaky start, the two acquaintances started to chat about safe, platonic subjects and once they’d started, found they couldn’t stop. Time simply seemed to pass, particularly after a further round of drinks were ordered, along with a snack at the bar for dinner. Slowly, Flynn thawed out, whilst Isobel became less intimidated by his presence and their rapport grew in strength. Yet, regardless of the progress made, she was never confident that Flynn let his guard down once, not even by the slightest amount.
‘Well,’ Isobel said at last, sounding slightly regretful, even though she worked hard to remain upbeat. ‘I’ve got a big day tomorrow, so I’m off to bed.’ In Isobel’s mind, it was definitely time to leave. The more they chatted, the more she realised just how much she wanted him. Like, badly wanted him. Despite their conversation being very proper, his voice had been responsible for sending flutterings across her body at regular intervals, leaving her pussy tingling with desire. Isobel had no question just how wet her panties were. She felt unbearably horny, meaning it was the perfect time to exit. Career before personal life. Career before personal life. The mantra she lived her entire existence by. Which was a shame because she could tell, just from his persona, confidence and the way he carried himself that Flynn Henderson would be a revelation in bed.
‘Let me walk you to your room,’ Flynn offered. Rising to his feet, Isobel became aware of his sheer physicality, as his six foot three frame towered over her.
‘Thanks, but I think I know where to find it,’ Isobel smiled cheekily. ‘And I can always ask for directions if I get lost. Good night,’ she added with a brief nod.
Turning to leave, Isobel was astonished when Flynn reached out and grabbed her elbow, preventing her planned departure. This was not behaviour she was used to experiencing from men. Gasping, she turned back around to face him, eyes darting across his face, silently demanding an explanation. And yet this represented the first time their bodies had touched, even though they’d sat so close together for several hours. The warm caress of Flynn’s hand immediately caused a rush of pleasurable sensation to scuttle through an increasingly wired Isobel.
‘Actually,’ he drawled, leaning in towards her ear, lest their conversation be overheard by others. ‘My interest was much less concerned with the act of finding your room and far more interested in the acts which would take place, once we’re inside it.’ As he spoke, Isobel could feel his warm breath bouncing across her neck and through her hair. His tone was steady, his demeanour relaxed and confident. Seriously, could nothing rattle this man?
‘But if you’re sure,’ he continued, when Isobel, who was apparently stunned into silence, demonstrated an inability to respond. ‘Then I’ll say goodnight to you.’
As he leaned in towards her, Isobel feared she would pass out with longing, utterly subsumed by his sexual confidence. It was entirely foreign to her personality to want to be submissive but with this man, she had an urge to fall to her knees right there in the bar, and use her mouth and hands to provide the most intense pleasure he had ever known.
With the lightest of touches, his soft lips grazed her cheek. Indeed, as he pulled away and released her elbow, Isobel wondered whether he had actually made contact at all. Yet still the action sent hot, powerful shockwaves through her, confirming that he’d achieved whatever it was he’d been planning to. In silent frustration, she watched him stride confidently away, not once turning to look back at her. And that, as they say, was that.
Regaining her composure, Isobel made her way swiftly towards her bedroom, trying not to imagine what kind of indulgent bliss she could be enjoying, had she taken Flynn up on his wicked offer. But as the door of her hotel room slammed shut behind her, a slow elation started to spread across Isobel’s face. Hurrying to her overnight suitcase, she quickly rummaged through it to locate her faithful vibrator. Flynn Henderson might not be there in person to provide the release that he was doubtless extremely capable of, but he had certainly managed to inspire Isobel into discovering orgasmic bliss alone.
I hope you have enjoyed this excerpt. The full novel can be purchased from Amazon, or read on Kindle Unlimited from Tuesday 26th January 2021.
Fenella Ashworth is a British author of contemporary erotic fiction. All of her stories are available from Amazon and free for those with Kindle Unlimited access. Her bestselling novels are ‘To Love, Honour and Oh Pay’, ‘Three Times Moor Pleasure’, ‘One Hot Wynter’s Night’ and the Daniel Lawson series.
Fenella also releases stories on BooksieSilk, Booksie, Lush Stories and Literotica, and is often visible in the Literotica ‘Erotic Couplings’ Hall of Fame (Top Rated).
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