The first time I saw her, I knew. She would get the job. Not because of the delicious wide hips and thick thighs. Not the red lipstick or pink tongue that slid across them when she thought of the right answer. — But her ability to look me in the eye and hold my gaze as I spoke. For someone half my age, it was disconcertingly confident, defiant, and sexy as fuck. My outgoing PA had held the first round of interviews. She was moving to live off grid with a husband…

I watched him peel off his waistcoat, then his shirt. He revealed a skin tight vest. A vest! Who wears a vest nowadays? Well, I guess, my boss. It actually suits him too. His shirts are gorgeous soft silk, he has them hand made to order from overseas. The cuffs monogrammed. — The memory of stroking the tiny silk lettering still fresh in my mind. His tanned shoulders wide, accentuated by the thin white fabric. He did that thing with his watch strap. It’s his tell. His neat square nails flick the buckle.

I sat cross-legged at his feet. He has great feet. If only men realised how attractive good feet are. Women notice these things. — I could tear onto some guys who show their gross toes and yukky nails at holidays and airports. Guys, if your feet are disgusting, wear socks. Better still, make them not disgusting! I lifted one foot and pressed my fingers on the soles of his feet, manipulate the arches, his…

This is a ‘stand alone’ bonus scene, a sequel to my sizzling book, Mrs Jackson and her Yoga Teacher. My newsletter community get early access to all these bonus scenes. — Spoiler Alert You might want to read the book first, I’ll drop the link at the end of the post for you too. The sound of the sea in the dark is hypnotic. It makes you feel connected to the world, but also insignificant. …

I’d fallen out with his daughter when we left school. They moved away, I went to college. I hadn’t seen him again, until today. — To see him ordering coffee in my favourite coffee shop was a real shock to the system. At first I thought I was imagining it. He just looked familiar. Someone I’d once known. He had always been a good-looking guy, married to a great-looking wife, with the expected beautiful kids.

What I love about her is her confidence. Or maybe it’s her lips, with that delicious pale pink lip gloss. Or it could be her deep, lush, wobbly cleavage. — Mostly, I adore how she loves herself. I still remember seeing her on that first day in the office. I’d come in as CEO, a takeover which hadn’t gone down well. She was the only person not to turn their back, frown, or ignore me. I walked the hallway of…

The one thing I love about him, well, there are a few things, but this is the first one that I thought of when I woke up this morning. — How he makes love. Not the step-by-step moves. I don’t mean I love that. Well, I do, but that’s another story. What I mean is the generous-hearted way he makes love. How he gives all of himself and takes nothing unless I offer it. He can be demanding, but his…

His body is delicious. He dresses so well, immaculately tailored suits, crisp white shirts with monogrammed cuffs. Even an old school waistcoat on days when gravitas is needed. Or disguise. — No one would guess he has large red scratches down his back. Or that I put them there. I’m curvy, my butt wobbles, my tits bounce and I am not built for running, but he loves that. He loves to dig his hands into the soft flesh on my hips…

I slid my hand down his length. The diamond heavy on my left hand. — My cheek full of cock and my tongue swirling around his bell-end sucking off the drips of saltiness. Purring with pleasure as his fingers tangled in my hair. He’d known from the start. I hadn’t. My knees sunk into the luxurious thick rug at the side of our bed. He…