Please welcome Doris O’Connor to The Eclectic Zaftig Chick. Not only is she a kick-ass mom with a brood of kids, she’s one hot mama on the keys too.
Thanks so much for having me here today. 🙂
Trust me, the pleasure’s all mine. 😀 Spill, Doris. I want to know how you created your hunk of burning love!
I do love a tortured hero, and Sven, the hero in The Housewife and the Film Star is very tortured indeed. On the face of it he has it all, fame, fortune, good looks, and he gives the impression that he doesn’t give a hoot about what others think.
The public sees an arrogant playboy, too busy partying and chasing the latest bit of skirt to even act recently. Kiss and tell stories a-plenty tell the story of a man hell bent on seeking his own pleasure, whichever way he may get that, and as such his reputation in the business is in tatters.
The real story is, of course, very different. Sven keeps his private, and his public life completely separate and not many people get to see this private, broken Sven, because he doesn’t let anyone close enough to see behind the mask—until he encounters Sylvia.
This ordinary mum of three is like a breath of fresh air, and she marches under his defences with dizzying speed. Not at all impressed by his status and even less impressed by his womanizing reputation, she fights her own attraction for him every step of the way, but Sven is a hard man to resist when he decides to pursue you.
With single minded determination Sven seeks to get her out of his system, in the only way he knows how—by screwing her senseless.
They agree on one weekend of hot sex away from the glaring eyes of the media.
Great plan, in theory, but a man like Sven attracts attention wherever he goes, and the more he gets to know Sylvia, the more he realizes that one weekend is never going to be enough… not when she raises every one of his protective instincts. The Dom in him cannot resist a sub in need.
When international movie star Sven Larsson meets young widowed mom of three, Sylvia, the sexual chemistry between them is instant and explosive—and plastered all over the papers. Sven needs to repair his damaged reputation. The last thing he needs is another scandal, but the Dom in him can’t resist the challenge Sylvia represents.
Having survived an abusive marriage, Sylvia is not looking for another relationship, let alone a kinky one with a man of Sven’s reputation. Her submissive side can’t help but be drawn to him, especially once she gets to know the man behind the public image. She can’t help but fall in love with the private, broken Sven—even if he doesn’t do love.
With the paparazzi breathing down their necks at every turn, and past demons raising their ugly heads, will they ever be able to find happiness?
Be Warned: BDSM, anal sex, sex toys, spanking
George finally stopped the car, and before Sylvia could determine where they were, Sven produced a blindfold out of nowhere. He tied the thing over her head, and forestalled any protest she might have uttered with a heart-stopping kiss.
“No peeking now.” Sven’s low voice in her ear, one arm ‘round her waist, was the strongest aphrodisiac ever. Sylvia was sure she would simply dissolve into a puddle of drool were he not holding her up. The cool night air skittered across her heated skin, and the gentle sounds of lapping water made her wonder where they were.
Her heart leapt in her throat, not from fear but anticipation. She could never be afraid when Sven was holding her so carefully. The whispered conversation with George in Swedish was interspersed with laughter, whilst she leaned against the Jag, desperately trying to control her breathing and telling the sensible side of her brain to fuck off. She was done with being sensible, and, whatever happened over this weekend, she was going to meet it head on.
“Bye, Sylvia.” George’s laughter made her wave her hand in the general direction of his voice, and then she was back in Sven’s arms. His by now familiar scent wrapped itself round all her female senses.
She couldn’t stop the squeaky protest of her last remaining sensible brain cells escaping, and his answering amused chuckle in her ear had heat rising in her cheeks.
Did she trust him? Now that was one hell of a question. The tenseness of his arms matched the tremor in his voice.
“Baby? We won’t do anything you don’t want to do, I can promise you that. I can call George back right now if you’ve changed your mind.”
The heat of his body surrounded her like a physical caress and stoked the fire in her belly to flashpoint as he waited for her answer. Everything seemed to be heightened in those few moments. The sounds of the water, the creak of ropes, the breeze that lifted the hem of her skirt, and Sven’s heavy breathing, as his hands skimmed across her back and up to her neck to tilt her head up. Feather light kisses whispered across her face, and his warmth surrounded her. The only place their bodies touched was his hands and his lips on her skin as he murmured in Swedish in-between kisses, and she couldn’t help the sigh of delicious anticipation as her body relaxed into the sensations assaulting her.
“I should warn you, though. I have every intention of convincing you that you need to stay with me, and, once I get inside you, I shall not let you go. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be hoarse from screaming my name.”
The growled words zeroed straight to her core and left a trail of fire in their place. Not caring where they were anymore, she groped blindly until her fingertips connected with the cotton of his shirt. Bunching the thin material in her fists, she pulled him toward her until her breasts were pressed flat against his shirt, and she could feel his thundering heartbeat match her own.
“I haven’t changed my mind, Sven. Please I want you inside me now.”
“Thank fuck for that, baby, and hold onto me.”
Before she could draw another breath, he lifted Sylvia against him. Her dress rose up high as she automatically locked her legs around his hips. One shoe clattered to the ground, and the cool breeze on her exposed backside hitched her own arousal even higher. Sven rushed to carry her indoors. Every bounce against him brought her wet and aching pussy in direct contact with the rock-hard erection straining through his jeans. The friction his movements created against her clit brought her closer and closer to another release, and her hips moved against him of their own accord, whilst she whimpered her need into his shoulder.
A door banged shut behind them, and Sven’s vicious curse rumbled through her. He pinned her against a wall, and his body held her up, his hands stilling her hips.
“Don’t you dare go without me, Sylvia, not until my cock is in you, filling you, making you mine. I want that tight cunt of yours squeezing my cock this time.”
Sylvia almost screamed as his hand found her slick folds and ripped her knickers clean off. Her need to get herself closer to those clever fingers overwhelmed her completely. Her needful whimpers hung in the air between them as Sven probed her entrance. He stretched her, and his mouth found hers. His tongue mimicked his fingers as she once again hovered on that painful edge.
A nip of teeth on her lips made her groan in frustration at the loss of his fingers.
“Sven, please, I need…”
“What, lady, what do you need … this?”
A hard thrust of his still-clothed cock had her bite in his shoulder, helpless with the need to have him inside of her. God, what was happening to her? This wild creature begging him to fill her wasn’t her, was it? But she was going to explode if he didn’t do something, anything.
“Give me a minute to get out of these fucking trousers.”
The loss of his body felt like a physical ache. Every atom in her body craved his touch, his scent, fuck, just him, and she helplessly squeezed her thighs together, intensifying the ache only he could fill. Time went agonizingly slowly as she listened to the rustle of clothing, accentuated by their heavy breathing until the rip of foil raised her anticipation to fever pitch again.
Yes, please yes…
He gripped her thighs with his strong hands, and spread her wide. With Sven’s agonized growl in her ear he lifted her against the blessed wall again, and his cock nudged her entrance.
“God, you’re so wet, so ready, baby. I wanted to take this slow, but I can’t. Fuck, I want you so much.”
Glutton for punishment would be a good description for Doris… at least that’s what she hears on an almost daily basis when people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess she is not.
There is always something better to do after all, like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.
She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.