Today I welcome the wonderful Shyla Colt to The Eclectic Zaftig Chick. Just one of the many authors of Evernight Publishing I am honored to know.
Conventions, Cosplay, and Larping … oh my
I’m sure most of you are wondering what the things mentioned above have to do with my story. Everything ! It’s the very foundation, Kansas, and Jett’s story was built upon. For those who don’t know I’m going to do a quick run through of what those three things are.
LARP – Live action Role play… think Dungeons and Dragons for the future. Fans dress up like their favorite characters, attend get-togethers on a large scale.
Which leads me into Cos play territory, which is literally when you dress up as a character and pretend to “be them”. I’ve seen some amazing pictures taken. How many times have you wished you could be one of your favorite characters? Doctor Who, a companion, Wonder woman? Well now you can, and best part you’ll be among friends.
Conventions…. An indoor carnival for people with special interests. It could be Sci-fi, Comic con, or one of the smaller event’s like Dragoncon. Here you’ll have a varied mix of cosplayers, movie stars, and comic artists, to name a few. Some of the bigger conventions do amazing panels, movie and tv-show premiers. Imagine being able to ask the stars of you favorite shows questions.
Now that you’re up to snuff on the jargon, I’ll gab about the show. In need of a break from the insanity that is a the Paranormal Investigation she’s attending with her best friend, May. Kansas Collins slips off to the local bar Cornerstone for a beer, and a little piece and quiet. When she finds herself seated next to a Larper who does a damned good impression of the lead actor, Jett Walker, sparks fly, and passion makes her lose her inhibitions.
Woken by an unexpected visitor, Aidan Archer, co-star of Paranormal Conventions, the bottom drops out of her world. “Jay” isn’t a Larper, he’s the real deal, and everything she thought she felt was based on a lie. A straight shooter by nature, the horrible state of her parents’ marriage over the years has convinced he true love and marriage aren’t up her ally. Sex is to scratch and itch. The instant connection they had made her think soul mates. Knowing this was all based on a lie starts their road of rocky.
Calling off the wedding to his high school sweetheart has sitcom star, Jett Walker, struggling with a deep depression. Exhausted from feigning happiness for convention goers, he escapes to a dive bar. An unexpected encounter leads him to his salvation in the form of Kansas Collins. A curvaceous beauty with lips that beg to be kissed and a body made for loving. Smitten, he allows the assumption that he’s a larper to stand.
Scarred by the tug-of-war her dysfunctional parents place her in, relationships are a four letter word to Kansas. Then a charming southern man, sweeps her off her feet, and delivers sex that transcends a simple exchange of pleasure. Her mind screams soul mate, but when his lies surface their fairytale goes south. Uncertain what’s real or ruse Kansas is torn.
Can Jett convince her it’s a once in a lifetime love?
She pushed the cool metal handle down. The door opened with a pop. He nudged it with their bodies and entered the massive suite, kicking the door shut behind them with his booted foot. He turned on the light switch with his elbow. A part of her registered the gigantic California King bed, on the far side of the room, and the elegant navy blue couch with a screen television to their right. A distinctive click broke the silence, and the rest of the details were lost.
That simple sound acted like a buzzer signaling the start of a round. She surged forward, slipped her tongue between his lips and began a tango of tongues. He tasted sweet and fiery, like his drink. Tilting her head to get a better taste, she buried her fingers into the soft, short, dirty-blond hair. In return he fisted her hair. Tension formed at her scalp. A pleasurable pain swept through her like a forest fire. The back of his legs hit the bed, and he fell back with her on top of him.
With him she was an Amazon woman. There was no self consciousness or awkward pauses. His rigid length and the need in his eyes left no doubt he liked her as is. She placed her legs on either side of him, lined up their pelvises and pulled back to meet his gaze. The power was heady. Bending over his body, her dark hair fell around them like a dark curtain.
“We can do it however you want it, Kansas.”
This is crazy. She swiveled her hips. His body jerked in response. Gripping the bottom of his t-shirt she tugged upward. “This has to go. I want to see you.”
“Only if I can see you.”
She smirked. “You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.” Sitting up she tried not to drool as he revealed golden skin stretched taut over a chest that would rival a Greek god’s. The heat in his eyes scalded her. Her hands shook as she removed her shirt before she lost the nerve.
“You are so beautiful, Kansas.” He caressed her sides, worked his way up her soft belly to the underside of her bra. There was no rush inside the tiny bubble they’d created.
“So are you.” She ran her hands down his chest. His muscles contracted, and he grew impossibly hard beneath her.
“I can feel you through your jeans Kansas, and you’re so damn hot. Are you wet for me?”
“I want to feel it.” Grasping her hips with his large hands, he moved her in his lap.
She gasped. The tension built inside her. “Oh God.” She whimpered.
“Do you like that?”
He ground harder. Her heart raced, and her breath caught.
“I-I’m going to come if you don’t stop.”
“Do it.” His voice was lower, husky. “I want to know I can make you come without even touching you.”
The words took her higher, and the rough material pressed into her clit did the rest. She screamed, spiraling over the edge fast and hard. Her body convulsed, and she clutched the sheets beneath her for purchase.
“Damn, you are even sexier when you’re screaming my name while you come.” His voice wasn’t arrogant. It was reverent, and full of pride and pleasure. She gave him a shy smile. Impossible to be bashful when he looks at me like that. He sat up and unbuckled the back of her bra helping her slide it down her arms. Her nipples stood at attention under his intense stare.
“I think we’re both wearing too much clothing, darling,” he whispered.
He rolled her onto her back. “I want to undress you.” Unbuttoning the top of her jeans, he and slid his fingers beneath her waist band into her underwear.
“So hot.” He swirled his thumb around her clit. “And wet.” Sparks of pleasure shot through her core, and he slid a finger in and she bucked.
“That’s it, Sas. Let me see you come again.”
He circled her entrance, pulled out, and pushed back inside.
“You’re so tight, Kansas. Imagine how you’ll grip my cock.”
“You like it when I talk dirty, don’t you?” He added another finger and pumped harder, stretching her walls. Blood rushed back to her core. Her muscles quivered, and she lifted her hips in time with his hand.
“That’s it, Sas, fuck my fingers, I want you to come apart for me.”
Unable to stave off the explosion she clamped down on his fingers. A bright blaze of white light detonated behind her lids. For a moment she held her breath, caught up in the intensity of an orgasm she didn’t want to end. Her lungs burned, and she took a breath of air scented with musk, as she floated in the white space of pleasure. When she could refocus they were both nude and he was fisting his swollen dick in his hand. A fresh gush of juices flowed. He was beautiful, flushed, thick, and long with a steady stream of pre-cum pouring from his slit, and running down his hands. His breath rattled in his chest and his hips pumped. The masculine grunts and moans were music to her ear.
“Don’t you dare come.”
He smirked. “I-I wasn’t planning on it, Beauty.”
“Good.” She gathered her strength, rolled onto her belly, and rose to her knees. “I think it’s my turn to have a little fun.” Crawling to the center of the bed, she paused to lick the sticky, white substance from his hands, careful to trace the knuckles and the sensitive hollows between each finger before she moved on to flick her tongue over the head. His hands stilled.
She glanced up. “Don’t stop. I like watching you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He resumed his strokes, and she dipped the tip of her tongue into his slit, tangy, saltiness danced along her taste buds. Opening her mouth she sucked his head into her mouth.
He growled. “If you don’t stop that soon it’s going to be over before it really starts.”
She removed her lips and sighed. “Later?”
“On the night stand.”
She arched a brow. Had he been trolling around looking for an able body?
“I did it when you blanked on me.”
“Ahh, I like a man who thinks on his feet.” She winked, rolled over to the nightstand, grabbed the square foil, and came back. Her sure movements had the rubber on and in place in moments. He twitched in her hand and she squeezed him gently.
“Lay back, I owe you a ride.” She placed a hand on his chest and pushed him down.
“Saddle up, little filly.” He exaggerated his accent and wiggled his eyes.
The humor swept away the nervousness edging in, and she chuckled.
“There’s the smile.” His lips twitched upward.
She climbed onto him, guided him inside her achy entrance, and sank down onto his swollen cock.
Told once ‘You have to be an author, then you’re craziness becomes eccentrics’, Shyla Colt has always been in love with the written word and possessed a desire to write. Named after Super Girl in the comics, she often mistakes her mortality for super hero status. So, she holds many hats, Mother, Marine Wife, and writer are her top three. Writing allows her to explore new venues, face her demons, and touch others. A huge practitioner of paying it forward, and putting in what you want to get out, she hopes to inspire, enlighten, move, and entertain you with her work. Mixing humor, drama, and strong women, often with a paranormal element, she continues to soldier ahead in the writing field from her Socal home. One of her favorite things is talking to fans
You can find Shyla here
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/authorshyla.colt