Writing Harita's sexy fictional adventures is my closely guarded secret, but when her antics become a reality in my bedroom, can I handle my new husband and his fondness for dominant, copy-cat role play?
No one knows it is I, Kamini Singh who writes The Unwholesome Adventures of Harita.
The weekly column in Ichchha Magazine has been my secret for many years and penning Harita's wild sexual experiences has been a wonderful release for my frustrated emotions as I've waited for my parents to find me a suitable husband.
Now they have — the delectable Damon, and I can barely contain my excitement as our wedding, and wedding night, approaches. Handing myself over to him body and soul is going to be such a treat.
So imagine my delighted surprise when my new husband asks for even more than I ever dared hope? And imagine my shock when I realised that Damon had secrets of his own which could please me, satisfy me, and take me on ecstatic journeys which got more and more daring with each adventure Harita enjoyed.
Reader Advisory: This book contains ménage and dominance/submission.
General Release Date: 5th September 2011
—episode 166:
It has been an eventful weekend in my nocturnal world. Saturday night was my first pole performance at Talin’s. The club was overflowing and the air thick with cigarette smoke and the bellow of men’s chatter. During my first steps I was nervous, but practicing paid off, my routine went well and I was pleased with the new black suspender belt. It was sexy and risquè when I spun around the pole then belly danced for the front row of the audience.
Madan was, of course, there, sipping a drink chock full of ice, and his seductive, brown eyes never left my body as I danced and writhed, swung and twirled. He’d been keen to see this new craze, this new sizzling dance the girls had been talking about in hushed whispers and rehearsing in secret. I’d been even keener to show him, to perform for him. Just one look from Madan is like a thousand caresses from any other man.
When my erotic performance came to an end, he stood, slammed his drink on the table and stalked to the exit. My heart fluttered, and a lump grew in my belly. Had he not enjoyed watching me coil around the cool, hard steel? I’d caressed it like a lover and been shameless in the way I’d flashed the gusset of my panties to the entire room. I’d even considered doing the routine topless next time, it felt so good, so liberating, to be spinning through the air while everyone watched adoringly.
I headed into the backstage corridor, keen to get to my dressing room. Just as I wrapped my fingers around the door handle to my room, I heard my name called sharply.
“Harita.”
I turned, clutching my chest. “Madan! You took me by surprise.”
He took three ground-eating paces towards me, his jaw set and his eyes flashing. I couldn’t tell if he were beyond furious or consumed with desire. There was a rise of colour on his cheeks and his fists were balled.
“What is it?” I asked, pushing open the door and taking a backwards step inside.
“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said in a voice that was more like a growl than human speech. “Ever.”
“You liked it?”
“Oh, yes.” He moved into the small room with me and kicked the door shut. “And I’m going to show you just how much I liked it.”
His fine-tailored jacket hit the floor with a quiet whump and he tore off his shirt. Between one breath and the next, he’d shifted the contents of my dressing table, bunching them to one side, and lifted my bum onto the cool wood.
“Madan,” I gasped, gripping his hot, hard shoulders for purchase. “We can’t, not here.”
“You will do as I say.” He ripped at my thong panties, tearing them from my body. “Especially when you have me about to combust, my sexy little Janu.”
His eyes were stormy with desire, and lust coiled in my belly. I needed Madan the way I needed my next breath.
“Unzip me,” he growled. “Take my lavDa into your sweet mouth. Don’t stop sucking until I tell you to.”
As his kiss threatened to consume me, I dragged at the zip on his pants and released his big, pulsing...
“Kamini, would you get off that laptop? You have a fitting in less than an hour.”
“Yes, Mother,” I shouted, quickly hitting ‘save’ and closing down the screen. I would have to finish Harita’s sex scene later. Right now, there were essential wedding plans to organise.
Award-winning, bestselling author Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is a complete floozy when it comes to genres and pairings, writing from male/female contemporary to gay paranormal and everything in between.
One thing you can be sure of when you pick up a Lily book is heat will rise from the pages and you'll be reading late into the night! Enjoy!
Reviewed by Miz Love Loves Books
A very funny read that had me roaring. I also got rather heated at some points, as the sex scenes are some of the hottest I've read. A really great book that I can't recommend enough
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