G Is For Games

Welcome back to the Fleshbot Book Club-your chance to get a sneak peek at some of the hottest erotic literature out now. Today's selection comes from Cleis Press's G is for Games, edited by Alison Tyler.

The following excerpt is from "No Limits" by Madelynne Ellis.

"GREEN, RIGHT FOOT."

I edged my foot across the tacky plastic.

"No limits."

No limits? It was the first thing he said to me. Our arms were cunningly entwined at the time, my nose pressed up against his arse, and his lips level with my right knee. Colored plastic, stuck to our palms and feet, squeaked and sighed with our every move. We were the final pair in a Twister death match, and I for one was going for broke.

"No limits to what exactly?" I asked. How much strain my calf muscles could take in order to make this a victory for the girls? The naughty look in his shocking blue eyes suggested not. I suspected he had something far more risqué in mind. So possibly what he meant was that there were no limits to how big a spectacle he was prepared to make of us. Not that I was worried on that score. You don't play Twister in a short skirt and fishnets without weighing up the consequences first. I knew exactly how much I had on display, and he couldn't strip me naked with his eyes.

"Left hand, red."

His palm slithered down my inner thigh, wakening hungry nerve endings, en route to its destination, the colored circle by my foot.

Okay, make that no limits to how much of a conniving bastard he was prepared to be in order to win. Slapping his wandering hands away would mean taking my own off the mat. Bingo!-instant victory to him, as if I'd fall for that.

"Mind your paws," I hissed, instead.

He stuck out his little finger in response and traced it along the sensitive bit on the side of my foot just below the ankle. He couldn't know it was a sweet spot, but I shivered all the same and felt a spark leap right up my leg and into my groin. He did it again. This time my clit tingled with need, and heat seeped into my cheeks.

"Stop that!"

He grinned.

I contemplated taking a bite out of his behind. It was rather attractive, now that I considered it. Firm, squeezable, and just perfect for scoring tiger stripes on with my fingernails.

"Right foot, blue."

Ah, payback time. Now let's see how good your balance is, I thought wickedly.

Instead of taking the easy option and giving myself some breathing space, I moved in closer and slid a stocking-covered thigh beneath his chest. My skirt slid up my leg leaving him staring at the smooth pale expanse of skin between the fishnet and my thong.

Gratified, I watched him wobble in response. He puffed a breath upward across his face, which lifted his feathery blond fringe. Not bad. I'd managed to get a reaction without resorting to touch.

"Red. Left foot."

He swiveled on his right foot, turned, hit the circle-and suddenly we were face-to-face.

He stared into my eyes, with his Cupid's bow lips slightly parted, plump, soft, and ready to kiss. I watched entranced as he slowly licked his lips.

"Left foot, green."

I brought my other leg forward, locked my arms against their protests as they took most of my weight, and somehow managed to keep my bum aloft.

"Right hand, green."

The spinner was on speed dial.

He leaned forward over me. "Think you can hold it steady?" he asked.

"No sweat. Do your worst."

He laughed, dipped his head, and licked a bead of perspiration from my breast.

I swallowed as his tongue tip lit sparks inside my chest: my nipples steepled in response, distorting the stretch fabric of my top. I wanted more and strained upward, eager to feel the brush of his tongue against those sensitive peaks. I no longer cared that he was resorting to touch. I wanted more and I wanted it fast. I stretched upward, but he liftedhimself higher, out of reach. He was trembling, too, and when I gazed along the length of his supple body, there was no missing the pleasing bulge beneath his fly.

My body seemed to liquefy at the sight, leaving a damp patch on my black lace panties. I wondered if he could smell my heat, my lust. I wondered if he guessed how much I ached to touch him.

"Yellow. Left hand."

"No limits," I whispered as I moved. "When are you going to fuck me?"

He flicked his fringe out of his eyes with a shake of his head. "Once I've won."

I arched a plucked eyebrow. "You won't win."

"Left hand, blue."

He shifted his weight to one arm and cupped his hand behind my head. His lips brushed mine. They teased, promising so much, fluttering over the surface in a gentle caress. He sucked at my lower lip, holding me captive when what I wanted was something deeper, hotter, and more intrusive. This tease was only exaggerating my need. Then his hips descended and the delicious bulge beneath his zipper brushed against my stocking top. I teetered.

"Nearly," he whispered, lowering his hand.

Somehow, I managed to regain my balance.

"Right hand, blue."

Damn it! I was cornered. My only option was to place my hand on the circle he already occupied. That's not strictly legal, but I wasn't beyond bending the odd rule.

I stretched my fingers toward him and interlocked mine with his.

He clasped me tight in response. We'd progressed from combatants to symbionts.

Suddenly, the crowd surged forward, screaming incentives and put-downs, encouragement and outrage. One drunken fool barreled into us.

I wobbled…my hand slipped. But even as I tumbled, he held on to me and we collapsed together, to the thunder of applause.

On the mat, still tangled, he slipped his hand between my thighs to cup my mons. A single finger wriggled beneath the lace of my pants and into my wet heat. But the touch was fleeting, lasting only moments, before he pulled me to my feet. Hand in hand, we bowed. As the crowd applauded our efforts, he brought his stealthy finger to his mouth and sucked. He was tasting me, and there was no mistaking the pleasure in
his eyes as a result.

I tweaked the Twister dial with my toes and watched it spin. The colors blurred. I smiled. Our bout was declared void. But I knew that we were both winners and that there would be more than just hands and feet moving between us tonight.

Excerpted from G is for Games an anthology edited by Alison Tyler and published by Cleis Press.

The book is also on sale at Amazon.

Copyright (c) 2010 by Cleis Press.

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