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As if Alison’s Wonderland wasn’t pretty enough, now there’s With This Ring, I Thee Bed, a new collection of erotic wedding shorts, also edited by Alison Tyler, also by Spice. I’m loving these cut-out looking covers and the blue and white. Such a unique, eye-catching and sensual look. I don’t have the complete table of contents yet, but I know it features awesome writers like Nikki Magennis, Kate Pierce, Kristina Wright and more.

My own sweet, funny, sexy, BDSM-inspired story, “Something Blue,” is included as well. Here’s a wee excerpt that begins with Bella’s mom attempting to get her all dolled up pre-wedding (note: it jumps into the sexy pretty fast, since I cut this out of the middle, so yeah. You’ve been warned):

By then my mom was already going full torrent onto the next phase of her project, having abandoned the perfume bottle on the dresser for a mascara wand, which was bearing right down on my left eye.

I caught her wrist just before the wand made its way to cornea-scratching distance.

“Mah,” I said. “I’ll do it. I’d like to have both eyes to see as I walk down the aisle.”

Her Italian came out at most weddings anyway. Now that it was her daughter’s big day, the accent and the worry were visible in full-force. “Bella…,” she said. “I just want it to be perfect. And, you…” She threatened my eye with the mascara wand again. “…to be perfect.”

I gently wrestled the black-tipped dagger from her perfectly pinked nails. “I am perfect, Mah. Thad thinks so. That’s what matters, right?”

She tugged on the corner of my panties with two pinched fingers—the oddest sensation ever, I have to admit, having your mother’s fingers on your underwear—pulling them down too far off my hip just so she could pull them back up.

She gave another little tsk of her tongue at my words, but this time her reaction was fake. The Italian equivalent of warding demons away from a beautiful baby girl by naming her Ugly One That No One Wants. My mom liked Thad, she had since the day he met her, when he sat his tall, wide-shouldered frame at her dining room table, put his napkin in his lap, and ate four helpings of her sausage-packed lasagna. Never having to say a word—his actions, and those baby blue eyes of his beneath his pale bangs–melting my mom easy as butter. “You know, if you dump this one, I’m going to keep him in the family and disown you,” she’d told me on the phone the next day. I had no doubt she meant it.

Of course, she didn’t know Thad like I did. Which meant that she didn’t know his vision of me as perfection had nothing to do with white dresses or lilies or whether I’d let her attack me with makeup implements. Thad liked me dirty, the messier the better. In leather, not lace. Trussed up in black, lipstick smeared, and kneeling at his feet. He didn’t care about dresses or cakes or flower girls. He’d said so to me once; in the middle of another endless discussion with my mother about cake colors, he’d pulled me into the hallway, tucked me hard against the wall so that my back thudded to the wood loud enough that I was afraid my mother could hear two rooms over. Whispering his lips along the curl of my ear in that way that made his short whiskers rub sharp against his my cheek, each word punctuated with a drag of his hardening cock along the fabric between my thighs. “Lil, let me marry you all trussed up… Cuffs. Collar. My fists in your hair. Your cock in my throat. No one else has to come…”

I’d had to moan before I could answer—that kind of moan the arises out of nowhere, just as much from his words as from his action, low and aching in my throat, trying to swallow it back even as it rose, unbidden, into the air between us. I could follow it with a laugh, a shake of my head, a whispered tease. “If we got married like that, I’d hope we’d be the only ones who’d come.”

God, that wicked, wicked grin of his. The way it starts at the edges of his cheekbones instead of his lips, spreads inward to his mouth, knife-sharp in its knowledge of what I want. A hand burying itself in my dark curls to tug my head sideways. “Oh, yes,” he said, digging forward so that his hard cock dug into me, seemed to bruise my very center. “We both would. More than once… Lil, let’s just skip all this. I’ll wrap your wrists in leather, fuck you ‘til you scream ‘I do.’ That’s good enough for me. Please…”

***

Kiss kiss bang bang (wed and bed?), s.

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