Review of Reawakening by Charlotte Stein

I was lucky enough to get this as a review copy from Charlotte herself, but you can buy it here, and probably various other outlets. You can find more about Charlotte Stein on her website (and it's well worth reading, cos she's really funny.)

I loved this book. I mean, really LOVED this book. I'm hard pushed to think of a book I have enjoyed more in the last number of months, especially in the erotica genre, and doubly so for paranormal erotica.

Reawakening is about June, who, having spent two-odd years on the run with her now zombiefied (and dead) best friend, finds herself suddenly in safety with two attractive men. Slowly, she begins to realise what it's like to feel again, to not live in constant fear, and the two attractive men cause all kinds of interesting feelings...

The book is written in a very conversational tone, which I struggled with a little at first (being a fan of very “fluffy” language) but which made the reactions and feelings of the characters very accessible. I got very immersed in June's story and the post-apocalyptic setting of the book and often found myself reading until the wee hours of the morning, unable to put the flipping thing down. Charlotte Stein has a wicked sense of humour – the intensity of the predicament of the characters is often broken up by bouts of the ridiculous and I for one have never found being turned on and then laughing my ass off to be such a strange and enjoyable combination. Its a very joyous book, which seems odd given its setting but which works well.

What's especially beautiful about the story is that attraction and sex are not commonplace in a zombie apocalypse and all the characters seem slightly nervous about the whole thing. There's a real sense of wonder and surprise in June's response to her emotions, not to mention a much more hyped up response to her sexual urges than you'd get from other settings. I sometimes teared up feeling pleased for her and other times felt very jealous that I have become complacent about sex and do not feel the same rollercoaster thrill that June does about it. The balance between the really hot sex and the emotional reactions of two men working out how to share the woman they love is carefully done, and it all comes off as very believable. Which as far as I'm concerned is pretty awesome, considering there's a zombie apocalypse going on and the practicalities of threesomes have always seemed to me to be rather less fulfilling than the idea. All in all, it's very well executed.

So in summary: The story is brilliant, the guys are very hot, the girl is lovable and the sex is epic. If I could give this book six out of five stars, then I would do.

Verdict: 5 out of 5 stars. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

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An Odd Pair

This isn't completed, but I didn't want to miss out on all the Wank Wednesday goodness! I'll finish this off when I get back from the Lakes on Friday. The prompt this week was conference.

~~~

We are an odd combination. I have often thought it. We are from different times, different places, different morals and experiences and ideas. We have so little in common. And yet it is there, in our differences, that we find the conference of our souls. You are so delightfully uncomplicated when I am thinking far too much. You are one of few people around whom my endless torrent of babble comes to an end and I am content to say nothing, to just be. You are a river, lazy and quiet, swallowing the harrowed waves of my stream and bringing them to rest.

It is the conference of our souls which draws me to you, and despite what I may think about the suitability of our match, here I am in your arms. Nobody kisses like you. When I kiss you I never want to come up for air. We just kiss, hard and fast, tongues hot and intertwined, mouths connected, your hands pulling in my hair in a way that I find deliciously satisfying, and I never want you to stop. I often suspect that you have no idea quite what you're doing, you're just feeling everything out and seeing what works. This experimentation is somehow awkward and yet somehow right.

Your hands are greedy, not content with the curves of my body until you have found the skin beneath my shirt. My skin flushes at the prospect of your touch, tingles and flames when your fingertips make contact. You drink my body in with wandering hands, urgent and hungry, consuming rather than touching me, not asking for permission before taking whatever you want from me. I am drowning in my lust for you, unable to think coherently, just wanting more and more. I want skin on skin, and swiftly remove your shirt, pulling you in towards me and wrapping my legs around you until I feel the swell of your cock against my panties. I want you to fuck me but you are a tease, pulling away when I try to touch you. I drag my nails down your back to get a rise out of you, but you are stoically silent, your own lust evident only in the hardness of your sex pressing into me.

Marking your control over my desire-drenched body, you sink your fingers between the folds of my cunt, taking satisfaction in my moans of frustration and pleasure. I wrap myself around your body and hold you close, digging my fingers into your skin to stifle my urge to cry out. You dip into my wetness and smear my juices on my clit, rubbing in slow, sweeping circles that make me bite my lip and bury my head in your shoulder. I yearn for more contact, and kiss along your collar bone, up the side of your neck, nibble your ear, anything to illicit a reaction from you. I need to know you want me as much as I want you, crave your approval of my body, which I wilfully place at your mercy.

Your fingers have quickened in pace and I rock backwards and forwards on your hand, frustrated at how you tease my clit, around and around, only to knock me breathless with a simple upwards swipe of my sensitive button.

“I want to make you come,” you whisper, and they are the first words you have uttered since your lips first crushed mine at the beginning of our frenetic encounter. So rare are your words during these encounters that I am almost overwhelmed by them, and my body responds like you had just set fire to me, aching and burning to satisfy you....

To be continued.....

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A Sneak Peek at "The Inititiation"

So because I've (more or less) reached 100 followers on Twitter, I want to share something fun with you. I've been holding back on various stories that I'm working on so that I can (eventually) submit them. Please appreciate this is a work in progress, and not polished yet, but here is a sneak peek of the second story from "Tales of the Fun House," entitled "The Initiation."

~~~

Sonia shivered. The basement was cold. She was kneeling in the middle of the large stone floor wearing nothing but her underwear. Her hands were cuffed behind her, the red sash wrapped around her eyes obscuring all but a shallow crack of vision which peeped around the bridge of her nose. She could see nothing but floor, small lights from the candles around the room flickering to and fro like tiny dancers, piercing the darkness. With each minute that passed she grew more tense, straining for the tiniest of sounds, struggling to fight the growing chill, waiting for something to happen. She'd been here for... a while. She couldn't place quite how long, but she had been brought down here, blindfolded, stripped of her clothing and left. At first it had been exciting, not knowing what was going to happen, waiting to see what initiation could mean, but now she was growing bored.

“What's going on?” she said loudly, hoping her annoyance showed. She'd tried calling out a few times, but there had been no response. She was beginning to think she must be alone.

"Patience,” came the half-whispered response, a throaty, feminine growl, full of suspense and amusement and lust. Sonia shivered again, this time nothing to do with the cold. She didn't want that voice anywhere near her, that much she knew. Something in that voice and the way it carried around the room frightened her.

The thud of footsteps coming down the steps into the basement startled her. She had grown used to the silence and her heightened senses were bombarded by the sound. She heard a swish of cloth, a creak of leather, and a solid thump as the feet reached the floor, mere metres from her helpless form.

“We can begin,” said a voice.

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Domain Issues

I'd like to apologise for the issues I've been having this week with my domain name - I bought the name elenyalewis.co.uk but for some reason cannot convince Blogger to redirect to this address, and even the domain forwarding I've set up doesn't seem to work all the time.

Looks like a move to Wordpress may still be on the cards, even though I spent most of last weekend revamping my website to look better on Blogger!

If anyone out there can help me with my domain woes, I'd love to hear from you.

Thanks,

E! xx

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Review of A Bit of Rough by Lucy Felthouse

I bought this from Kindle UK, but you can get it from a whole bunch of other places, and you can find more information about Lucy Felthouse at her website.

I don't really want to start on a bum note, but since it's at the beginning I guess I have to: I don't like this title. I put off buying and reading this story because I think that the title “A Bit of Rough” sounds... well, naff, honestly. I'm aware what it means, and that it can be aptly applied to the situation at hand, but it somehow comes off as cheesy and forced, in my opinion. Which is a shame really, because once I got past that it's really a great piece of writing.

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Establishing the Connection

I wrote this post a while back, and I was slightly disappointed I didn't get any responses, as I'm genuinely interested in finding out what people think about what makes a good sex scene.

As I read more published erotica, I am finding that as often as not, I do not find the writing sexy or arousing - characters that I cannot identify with, settings which are quite frankly unbelievable, descriptions which are brilliantly written but do little to tickle my imagination. I understand that erotica is all about delving into fantasy and finding heat in people and places that do not necessarily exist, but there has to be an element of realism or I simply do not connect - I am an outsider, looking in but left out of the action. In this respect, erotica is no different to any other kind of fiction.

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Losing Me

A Wank Wednesday post, under the prompt Utensil.

~~~

Inside the circle of your arms, I beat my fists against your chest. I am upset and angry with you. I have sworn and yelled and called you names. I fucking hate you right now. I have every right to be angry with you, and yet somehow I know that you are going to win this fight.

Yet you say nothing. Why won't you react? Why won't you say something? You hold me silently, taking my frustration and hurt and absorbing it. You do not defend yourself, you do not pander to my temper tantrum. You simply wait until I am spent, sobbing and broken.

You pull me closer to kiss me and I feebly try to stay angry. I melt against you, swinging wildly between frustration that you could hurt me so much, and relief that you are now here, that the hurt is over, even though I know it won't last. My body betrays me by tingling for your touch.

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Erotic Meet, 29th May

Better late than never!

It's already Wednesday, I realise, but I've only just found two minutes to myself to write about my experiences of the Erotic Meet I attended on Sunday in London. Please excuse me if I ramble...

I began this blog as an experiment with a friend in order to write more but as I hide behind this pen name I get a bit nervous about giving away too much about myself. I'm starting to realise that this is totally ridiculous, nobody is going to find me here if I don't want them to, so I'm making a decision to be more open. I feel (and various friends have encouraged me) that my writing is reaching publishable quality, and I'm starting to look at publishers and how to submit things and what to submit etc.

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