It’s out! My newest erotica eBook is available: A Drink of Champagne: An Interracial Story.
Check out the summary:
It’s not cheating if your husband knows.
Demi wants a man other than her husband, and that man is Mitchell Shaw. A friend of theirs for years, Mitchell can’t deny wanting Demi, but he hasn’t crossed that line. That is, until tonight.
Mitchell dresses up in full attire for the event recognizing Demi’s husband, Richard, for his work in clinical research, wearing a black tux matching his dark, rich skin tone. After the event is over, Demi invites Mitchell up to her and Richard’s hotel room.
Demi orders Richard to sit in a chair on the far side of the bedroom, and because he’s been so good, he can watch. Once Mitchell arrives, Demi has both men in the palm of her hand.
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If you’d like, read below for a sample of the story.
A Drink of Champagne: An Interracial Story
A hush fell over the room. Mitchell Shaw, looking dashing in his tuxedo and bow tie, placed the knife down but kept hold of his champagne glass as he cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s so good to see everyone here to celebrate the achievement of our most esteemed colleague, Doctor Richard Butterfield.”
The applause was genuinely enthusiastic, and some of the five hundred attendees stood up and continued their clapping while on their feet, so much so that Mitchell had to wait several minutes before he could talk again.
“It’s not everyday that discoveries are made that can change people’s lives,” he continued. “But Doctor Butterfield’s work has been vital to the preservation of life, no matter how far into that life someone may be. Due to his research and his unfailing dedication to the cause, we can now slow down the advancement of Alzheimer’s disease, and in some cases stopping it altogether.”
He paused as applause broke out again and laughed once he was able to be heard. “I’ve taken enough of your time. Everyone wants to hear from the man of the evening, himself. It gives me great honor to stand beside such an incredible man tonight, and I for one am thrilled to watch him receive his fully-deserved award.”
He lifted his champagne glass. “Please, everyone, raise your glass to Doctor Richard Butterfield.”
With that, a tall man with blond hair stood from his seat and acknowledged the applause. He began his own speech of thanks, and the crowd listened intently. People would remember that night for years.
After the speeches had finished and the wait staff bustled to clear away the dishes and glasses, the guests got up from their chairs to mingle. Women floated around the room in beautiful dresses, bought or rented for the occasion, and men in sharp suits stood and talked with each other, some greeting friends and colleagues they hadn’t seen for a long time.
In the center of the activity was, of course, Richard Butterfield. He stood with one hand in his pocket and the other around the waist of his beautiful wife, Demi. He didn’t even realize he was doing it, but Richard played with the strap of his wife’s bra underneath the fabric of her dress while they talked to others.
Demi had never been prouder. She beamed as she held onto her husband’s shoulder and laughed along with all their friends and long-time colleagues as they congratulated him, ribbed him a little, and swapped stories she’d heard a thousand times. It didn’t bother her. Tonight was his night, of course.
And he looked so handsome. The barber had sculpted his short, blond hair earlier that afternoon, and she spotted a few gray hairs at his temples. Rather than making him look old, though, they simply added gravitas and dignity to him, making him look more refined.
Being a few years behind him, she hadn’t noticed the same effects herself. Thanks to her skincare regimen, she didn’t look her age. She was determined to never look it, in fact. On her slim wrist, she wore a matching bracelet, but her neck was bare. She was a firm believer in the less is more philosophy.
Besides, she wasn’t about to allow anything to detract from her cleavage. It was one of her best assets, after all, and she rarely missed an opportunity to give people a glimpse of them. She was fully aware of the admiring glances that came from all corners of the room.
It was while she and Richard were making small talk with a boring, old professor, rebelliously clad in a tweed suit jacket and gray pants, that Demi felt a playful tap on her ass.
She turned around and grinned as she gazed into Mitchell’s deep brown eyes, who whistled with appreciation as he took her in from head to toe.
“Damn, Mrs. Butterfield,” he said, his dark skin glowing in the light of the reception hall. “You’re looking better with age.”
(end of sample)
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