Guest: Cari Silverwood

Blurb for 31 Flavors – a contemporary BDSM romance, based on a true story:
There are some things in life you have to try before you know how they will affect you. After 5 years of awful sex, I was ready. Bondage and spanking had always featured in my fantasies, and one day, I convinced my husband to try them. That day was a turning point.
Ice cream comes in many flavors and that’s us too — not vanilla, maybe not Rocky Road either. We can be a combination or make up our own and no one has the right to judge us.
But there will always be one question that tears at my soul: Will my husband, Nick, ever be happy with what I crave?


His body is heavy on mine, pushing me into the floor. The carpet is soft against my cheek.
There’s laughter in his voice when he says, “Did you say ‘lady parts’?”
“A few minutes ago, did you refer to your pussy as lady parts?”
He’s bringing this up now? “Yeah, I guess.” He shoves his hand under my body and finds my clit. His finger lightly strokes it. “Ahh!” I dissolve into the floor.
“You can do better than lady parts. We’re getting down and dirty now. Say a dirty word for it.”
Mmm. Is he talking? Why is he talking?
Abruptly, he stops moving and holds his finger on the tip of my clit. “Say it.”
Sweat beads on my brow. “Say, what? The p-word?”
He removes his hand. “Then I’ll stop right now.”
I snort. “You can’t. I know you.”
“Do you really want to test me?”
Do I? One thing about Nick – he means what he says. And he doesn’t threaten idly. My lower body wants more. I ache and try to wriggle my crotch into the carpet though his weight means I can’t do much. My heart beats a smidgeon faster when I feel his erection pressing along the divide of my backside. I sigh. “No.”
“Then say it.” His hand strokes down my side and across my ass. My eyes drift shut as my muscles relax under his warm hand. “The dreaded p-word. What do you think will happen? God will smite you?”
“Haven’t you heard, every time you say the p-word, a fairy dies?”
“Say it,” he growls. He lowers his mouth to my ear and bites it.
The jolt of pain makes me blurt, “Pussy.” Then the word and the bite somehow intertwine and run a streak of warmth straight down to my…yes, my pussy.
“Good.” He shoves my thighs open and finds my slick center with his hand, cruises along, his finger just a tiny thrust away from entering. “And what do you want me to do to it?”
His fingers circle my clit, slipping in my moisture and spreading it…around and around. This is so not fair. The answer slips through my lips, “Fuck it.”
He gasps in mock horror. “Dirty girl!”

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