erotica

Reading Update: Ours to Love by Shayla Black

Do you continue reading books with annoying cliches and characters?

Book Description

Between two brothers…

Xander Santiago spent years living it up as a billionaire playboy. Never given a chance to lead his family business in the boardroom, he became a master in the bedroom instead. His older brother, Javier, inherited the company and worked tirelessly to make it an empire. But while cutthroat corporate espionage took its toll on Javier, nothing was as devastating as the seemingly senseless murder of his wife. It propelled him into a year of punishing rage and guilt…until Xander came to his rescue.

Comes an irresistible woman…

Eager to rejuvenate Javier’s life, Xander shanghais him to Louisiana, where they meet beautiful London McLane. After a decade of tragedy and struggle, London is determined to make a fresh start—and these sexy billionaire brothers are more than willing to help. In every way. London is stunned to find herself open to every heated suggestion…and desperately hoping that her love will heal them.

And inescapable danger.

But at last a killer is watching, on a single-minded mission to destroy everything the Santiago brothers hold dear, especially London. As fear and desire collide, every passionate beat of her heart could be her last.

My Thoughts so far…

I have decided to stop reading ‘Ours to Love’ by Shayla Black. It’s been a while I’ve read an erotic book that has pissed me off. Honestly, I enjoy kinky erotic books eg. Exit to Eden by Anna Rice. I understand the power play that goes with BDSM narratives, the sexual adventures and character development. But this book uhn uhn I’ve suffered through but no more! Reading some chapters and muttering yuck is a sign this book should be off my CR.

Hoping the sex scenes would make up for the lousy cliches isn’t working for me. “Dom-male” who is attracted to the “inexperienced-natural sub” but all his thoughts are about changing her (eg. her demeanor and clothing to those of his past sexual partners which his thoughts slut shame). DISGUSTING.

I hoped it’d change but nope. I’m not waiting to find out. I also don’t appreciate narratives that shame casual, consensual sexual relationships. Especially when it wants to show a character is ready for serious commitments. It was a part of your life, own it without shame.

Oddly enough, I enjoyed the comical competition between Xander and his brother Javier over our heroine London. There is an unsolved murder being privately investigated by widower Javier who is drowning in grief and vodka.
A small community of great friends. A heroine trying to live without allowing her disability weigh her down. A pulsing sexual attraction between the main characters. All these make the book interesting. But I’m here to read kinky erotica not a surburbian romance.

This book is disappointing. Unlike Mine to Hold by Shayla Black which was an enjoyable erotic read in March.

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All I wanted you to ask was, ‘forgive me?’ Tell me you’ve missed me unimaginably. Beg me to come back home.

I would say, I’ve missed you so much. Yes, I forgive you. We’ll negotiate me coming back home. But I’m tired of waiting for you. Can’t you see its breaking my heart making this point.

Do you even understand that it’s you I need?

I almost dialled you when I saw purple agbalumo today. It reminded me that I can’t share the news. I got the promotion! If we were together, I’d boil golden pineapple peels in zobo. But I ate the pineapple I bought alone in my cosy, cream, staff apartment watching the peachy sunset.

My body wants you to say, I miss your skin, its silky feel. My mouth wants to chuckle when you grumble I won’t be home for you to lick, kiss and nibble me.

I’ll stare at the ceiling then close my eyes and imagine. Imagine the feel of grape juice bursting from chewed grapes while reading through my bookclub pick. Immerse myself in the sound of you dropping your grey gym bag and jeep keys. The mouth watering view of you under the steaming shower. And sigh when your palm my wine lace covered breast. I open my brown, eyes and stare at the suspended silver disco ball from the Wuse II pop up sale last week. Silver beams dance across the darkening room and I think of all the things you couldn’t do for me, for us.

Sweet Satiate

Today

At the river of longing.

It’s cool laps of sweetness didn’t satiate

Me

My lust.

I want you, i want to laugh against your brown back.

My small palms miss cupping your breasts. Fingers rubbing the letters of my name in between the space called your chest.

So I took a walk away from sweet longing.

I needed more than memories.

I need passion. More than what I now only get from arguments.

My ears want to hear your rhythmic voice

Whisper my name when my soft lips nibble yours.

And scream..yes. I crave for you screaming. As trickles of pleasure are pumped out your legs.

Spicy fluids

my tongue salivate

I think of sipping, licking, nibbling, kissing and sucking.

Gosh. I want sucking. You

My breasts. Fondling, Erect brown moons eclipsing into your warm lips.

I want swirling. Our tongues, thighs and thankful laughter.

Today at the river of longing

I stared at a reflection of our love.

A reflection shivering cold from lack of intimacy.

Instead of sipping more ‘I miss yous’.

I inserted my index finger and twirled it like I’d dip into your cocktails. I licked the sweet droplets like I do at restaurants as you grin. Then I imagined I licked your spicy fluids. My nostrils inhaled your orgasmic scent.

I insert another finger and sighed. You know how i lean my honey clit on your rotating thumb when you insert two,

three delicate extensions of you in me.

Four. Fuck.

Me.

My hips miss straddling yours, rocking then gyrating.

My vagina thirsts to squirt perfumed potions on your dimpled chin, Ankara throw pillow and you.

When was the last time my butt got smacked?

That soft smack followed by your firm grab which makes me blush.

Or the last time I pulled my thong on the curve of my butt, leaned on my cool kitchen counter sultrily saying

‘I want you now’. ‘Be gentle’. ‘Don’t rip my expensive lace o’.

Whispered, ‘yass’.

Whimpered, ‘love me’.

Today at the river of longing.

I left with a pool of aching lust.