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Lucky 13
by Sommer Marsden

Category: Erotica
Description: Couples, three ways, hook-ups, masturbation that might end in death - today's sex scene is anything but boring. From a man who meets his fantasy woman for some "light bondage" to the escapades of a sex toy selling sexpert. It's all here and then some. Sommer Marsden has assembled some of her finest. A three way with the boss from hell, a hook up that's only supposed to last one night but turns into so much more. Featuring some of the author's favorites such as: She Looked Good In Ribbons, Underpass and Pause - Lucky 13 brings you a baker's dozen of filthy tales to satisfy every naughty urge.
eBook Publisher: Excessica Publishing,
eBookwise Release Date: April 2009


5 Reader Ratings:
Great Good OK Poor
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [218 KB]
Words: 46984
Reading time: 134-187 min.

"Baby, this one is hot, hot, hot?(a) sizzling collection of stories?filled with all the wholesome goodness that erotica has to offer. There are ample descriptions of emotions and sensations that make the graphic sex scenes more vivid for the best vicarious joyride. There are also some unexpectedly tender and even heartwarming moments in the more romantic stories. All in all, this one is too much of a good thing and I'm giving this one two thumbs up." -MRS. GIGGLES. 90/100!!

"Sommer Marsden's skill as an author is in her ability to depict living breathing human beings and make them interesting, exciting and entertaining. The fact that she chooses to write in the erotic genre means that we lucky readers get to see these vibrant individuals enjoying the complexities of a passionate and carnal existence. If you enjoy well written erotica, and you want to get lucky with your choice of reading material, it's a safe bet to pick Lucky 13." -Ashley Lister, Erotica Revealed

"Lucky 13: Thirteen Tales of Getting Lucky Author Sommer Marsden is a writer I consider to be one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre, and she's just getting started. She is one I'm watching closely. This collection is 13 of her hits, and highly recommended" -Violet Blue,author

"Soft bondage," he whispered. Then he put them away. He turned left for 213 and prayed he wasn't fucking up his whole life.

* * * *

She opened the door, looking twice as nervous as he felt. It didn't effect what he saw when he looked at her. Nothing like he imagined. Then again, he wasn't so sure what he imagined.

Her blond hair was the color of sunlight on water. It was cut into a short bob that reminded him of a flapper. Strands brushed her jaw line as she bowed her head and peered at him from behind the shield of her hair. Her eyes were what stopped his breath, though. She was tall, so he was looking dead into them and for just a second he fought for air as if he were drowning. They were the color of a sky right before the storm comes, flecked with a true blue. Around the pupils, a fairy ring of green accented the shades of blue.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked, looking more nervous under his gaze. He realized she probably thought he was disappointed or having second thoughts when in fact he was simply stunned.

"I'm married," he said. A hell of an introduction, West thought. Stupid. She already knew that.

"Me, too," she sighed but then stepped back for him to enter. So he entered.

She sat on the bed and smiled. "I feel like I should shake your hand or something. Hug you? Would that be weird?"

"It's all weird," he sighed but smiled.

When she offered her hand, he took it. Shook it. Turned it in his larger hand and studied her palm. The creases there. The paint stains on her fingers. Long, thin fingers with perfectly shaped nails. He loved her hands and what they were capable of. He had seen her work but had never expected her to be as breathtaking as the images she created.

"We don't have to do anything," she said. Her head was still bowed but her hand twisted in his.

"We can pretend that we came here to meet and network. We can pretend that we had no intention of living out any of the things we discussed..."

When she said that, his skin felt two sizes too small and his lungs refused to draw air. Her confirmation of their intentions, the fact that she had thought the same things despite the fact that neither had put the words down on the screen, was intensely arousing. West sucked in a breath and held it, stabilizing his heart rate. He steeled himself for denial and then spoke, "I want to tie you up, Alyssa."

For just a second the words hung there, suspended in the air, not fading or falling to earth. They hovered. And he watched her.

Her eyes grew wide and it was if he had touched her. Her cheeks flushed to a deep pink, her full lips parted and she actually shifted on the bed. Squirmed. It was if his words had made her wet. Just the thought was enough to make his cock jerk to life and his heart beat wildly.

West had his answer. The one he had obsessed over for countless hours. Lost sleep over. Daydreamed about. The answer he wanted more than he wanted to breathe at the moment. He took in the room. The headboard was a solid hunk of wood, carved and trimmed in gold. No good. His eyes roamed.

She must have been reading his mind because she caught his gaze and said softly, "In the sitting room. It's perfect."

West left her on the bed. He took a moment and touched his jacket pocket, hearing the reassuring and suddenly erotic sound of the cellophane bag. He walked through the doorway and surveyed the tiny room. Alyssa was right, it was perfect. A bent-wood rocker. It was a beautiful piece of furniture but it was the many curves and elaborate scrollwork that drew his attention.

He went back to get Alyssa.

* * * *

He didn't say anything as he undressed her. He liked hearing the soft little sounds that escaped her when his hands brushed her naked belly. Naked thighs. Breasts. When he tweaked one dusky nipple and it beaded under his fingers, he started doing math in his head to tame his urge to simply sink into her heat without preamble. Her responses, how much she clearly wanted him had him half insane.

Alyssa remained quiet but he felt her studying him. Felt her gaze skitter over his skin, warming him she as she watched. She watched everything he did. Even when he closed his eyes to steady himself, he felt her staring.

"I want you to sit now. You're ready? No second thoughts?"

She shook her head, sat, smiled. Ready, her actions practically screamed in the silent room. West felt a giant weight fly from him. She understood him. It was something that he was missing so severely lately. He was tired of the arguments with his wife about his work. Tired of hearing about the time it stole from "them." Tired of the insinuations that he was simply a pervert and nothing more. Your porn paintings is what she called his work. Sometimes, West, just wanted to grab her and shake her and shout in her face. You said you understood me. Now I think you lied. But he didn't and he wouldn't.


He snapped back to her, drank her in. How open her face was. Kind, understanding, patient, excited. It was all there and he felt himself grow harder than he thought he could. So he took the bag from his pocket and he pulled the ribbons out one by one. Her eyes followed them. Tracked the slide of each brightly colored ribbon as he tugged it.

"Oh," she sighed.

"Soft bondage," he said, reminding her in case she had forgotten. He knew she hadn't.

Without him asking, she parted her thighs, placing each delicate ankle by the shaped curves of wood near the bottom of the rocker. He started with turquoise. Blue like her eyes. He kissed her knees and then slid the ribbon around her ankles, through the scrollwork, over the wood. Tied the ribbon slowly. He pulled out the green one, looped it under one curvy thigh and slid it through the side of the rocker. Took his time and tied it. The pink cradled her other thigh and secured her. The yellow ribbon he draped across the back of her neck. He let it hang down between her breasts, the slightly frayed ends brushing the very tops of her thighs.

"Put your hands out," he said, running the wide red ribbon through his fingers.

They sprang out instantly and her chest rose and fell swiftly with frenzied breath. West heard himself moan softly. He wasn't sure he'd actually have to touch her to get off. She was that perfect. That here. Right here with him and nothing was occupying her mind but what they were doing. He wound the ribbon around her wrists several times, pulling it tight enough that she gasped just a little. He wanted to make sure that Alyssa got what she wanted--what she needed--from him. West wanted to give her everything, anything she wanted.

He stared at the red encircling her wrists, binding them together. How her hands looked as if folded in prayer. It was the most erotic image he had ever seen. It embodied everything he wanted from her: trust, obedience, attention ... love?

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