Wesley and the Sex Zombies (3 page)

And he felt even better at the sound of something heavy and papery dropping through the letterbox downstairs.

The post!

He stretched luxuriously and debated whether he should climb out of his cozy bed to fetch it; or just languish in the soft, erotic heat and play with his newly-hardened cock. Hearing nimble footsteps racing down the stairs, he relaxed back amongst passion-rumpled sheets and succumbed to a renewed rush of pleasure.

"It's here, you guys!" cried a gleeful voice.

As if in response -- although its occupant could not have heard the shout -- the shower in the next room ceased its relentless downpour.

Clad in nothing but his smooth, gleaming skin, Maxi bounded into the room carrying a magazine that he had torn from its wrappings -- a most prestigious and literary journal. Throwing himself down on the bed, he first punched Wesley playfully on the chest, and then reached down casually to fondle his now impressive erection. "Success, old friend," he murmured, running his fingers over both Wesley's rearing flesh and the magazine's high-gloss pages, "and only the beginning!"

"Here, boys, let me see!" said a creamy, husky and utterly female voice. In seconds, Luciferia, fresh and glowing from her shower, had sidled across to the bed. She too wore only her perfect, unblemished body, and as she draped it, slim and exotic, across those of both of her lovers, she took a sound, lively cock in each hand.

Wesley kissed his beautiful mistress, stroked Maxi's velvety scalp affectionately, and then opened the magazine and turned straight to a prize-winning story. "Are we sitting comfortably, people?" He paused half a second for effect -- then began to read, in voice full of triumph and ceremony.

"'Wesley and the Sex Zombies' by W. L. M. Greensward. It was nearly midnight and Wesley was a disappointed man...'"

###

About the Author

Portia Da Costa is a best-selling British author of romance, erotic romance and erotica, who's been published since the dinosaurs roamed. Well, since the early 1990s. She loves writing about sexy, likeable people in steamy, scandalous situations, and has penned novels, novellas and novelettes for Spice Briefs, Black Lace, Samhain Publishing and a bunch of other houses, plus a zillion stories for magazines and anthologies. Best known for writing contemporary settings, she's also now launched herself back in time to write Victorian erotic romance for Harlequin Spice. 

When Portia isn't writing she's usually being creatively lazy, rather like her beloved cats but unlike her long suffering, hard working husband.

Connect with Portia Online

Twitter:
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Website:
http://www.portiadacosta.com

Blog:
http://wendyportia.blogspot.com

Erotic romance from Portia Da Costa

THE EFFICIENCY EXPERT

an erotic short story

Still stinging from a stringent management review at her workplace, office girl Susie encounters the very last man she wants to meet when she hits her favorite bar to relax and unwind. Gorgeous Noah Stevens is the ruthless company troubleshooter who's been making her life hell for the past three weeks, but after hours, he soon proves that his dedication to "efficiency" can work wonders in the bedroom.

Excerpt

Oh no,
he's
here. The efficiency expert. He's in my favorite bar on my favorite stool, just when I thought we'd got rid of him.

I'm supposed to be here celebrating. The company's efficiency review is finally over, and I've kept my job by the skin of my teeth. I thought that hyena of a consultant or troubleshooter or whatever the hell he is would be long gone by now, and good riddance. But what do I find? He's still here and drinking in the very place where I'm about to toast his departure.

Noah Stevens, that self-same efficiency troubleshooter stroke corporate carnivore. The very monster everybody's so glad to see the back of, even if he is unbearably cute and sexy in his stern, almost machine-like sort of way.

He doesn't look stern tonight though. Or even remotely mechanical. In fact he looks as weary as hell, almost shattered somehow, as if he's been punched in the gut by fate. Could this be a pang of unexpected sympathy I'm feeling? Work-wise, he's been beyond a nightmare, but somehow with shoulders slumped, his blond hair a bit ruffled, and a slightly rubbed-out look about his eyes, not to mention what looks like a quadruple vodka in front of him, he looks strangely vulnerable. Kind of tender and touchable. Definitely in need of a hug.

Shall I run for it? Get discreetly out of here, and join the festivities with the other survivors? I'm tempted, but something about the line of his body intrigues and stirs me. I must admit, I have a few types, and as a Mr. Sharp Suit Corporate, he's not really one of them. And yet, even though he's made my life a hell of uncertainty these past few weeks, I do -- reluctantly -- fancy him something rotten.

He turns from the bar and makes my decision for me.

"Hi, Susie. Are you drinking?" He taps the stool next to the one where I usually sit, "Have one on me. I think I owe you one, if not three or four."

Well, ain't that the truth!

Visit
http://www.portiadacosta.com/passion.html
for more information

*** *** ***

Also from Portia Da Costa

- for Walk on the Wild Side Books

GLINT

an erotic short story

While enjoying a lazy day at the beach, sexy holidaymakers Suzy and Gavin see a sudden glint of light flash from the headland overlooking their patch of sand, and realize that somebody's watching them through a pair of binoculars! Far from being alarmed, hedonistic Suzy finds the forbidden scrutiny deliciously exciting, and turned on by her own latent exhibitionism, she and Gavin decide to put on a titillating performance… and really give the distant voyeur something to watch!

Excerpt

He's quite a hunk, my Gavin. Tall, big-built, and yet almost beautiful despite his size, with his sexy boyish face, those seductive eyes, and his crisp, dark hair. When he not obsessed with football, he's really quite a catch. Caring. Attentive. Thoughtful. As well as being intelligent, well informed and lots of fun.

Yeah, you up in the cottage. Take a look at me in my tiny bikini and at my fabulous boyfriend with his smashing body and his great big cock inside his swim trunks.

The more I think about this, the hotter I get, and not just from the sun. Kneeling down on the rug, I snag my bottle of high protection sun lotion and spin off the top. I slop far more than I need into the palms of my hands and then begin to smooth it slowly and luxuriantly over my face, my shoulders and my arms.

I close my eyes and imagine the person up in the cottage watching me, eyes wide open. Whoever they are, they're watching with longing as I caress myself or maybe as Gavin wakes up and starts to help me slather on the sun lotion. As he gets bolder, and slips off my bra top, there's a sigh of approval from the watcher.

It's all so real to me that I suddenly realize I'm wet inside my bikini bottoms and my nipples are standing out like little wine corks and rubbing the inside of the bra cups of my top.

"Oh, to hell with it! I'm going topless."

The towel flies off again. "What about the bloke in the cottage up there?"

The football is forgotten. Or it's half time or something. To my surprise, Gavin's switched off the radio.

"Fuck him! If there
is
a him." I unclip my top and fling it away across our beach rug.

"You'd better get some lotion on those," announces Gavin cheerfully, coming up on his knees and reaching for the sun lotion bottle, "Don't want to burn your gorgeous titties, do we?"

As he straightens again, I notice something else has come up too.

Visit
http://www.portiadacosta.com/glint.html
for more information