Free Smut in the City (Absolute Erotica) by Sommer Marsden, Victoria Blisse, Viva Jones, Lucy Felthouse, Giselle Renarde, Cassandra Dean, Tamsin Flowers, Geoffrey Chaucer, Wendi Zwaduk, Lexie Bay Page A

care that her hair was dripping coffee down her breasts and the grey waist of her skirt was wet and tawny. She placed her hand over her heart and said, “You would really do that for me?”
    “Of course.” Leaving the soiled towels and bits of broken mug on the floor, Gemma stood and came close. “I didn’t plan this, Liddy, but I care about you. I will do everything in my power to help you succeed.”
    Liddy wrapped her arms around Gemma, pressing her naked, wet breasts against Gemma’s chest. If they kissed in that moment, Gemma knew the future was theirs. And thank goodness they did. Despite the strong city lawyer front she put on every day, Gemma was desperate for love everlasting.

Glory Box
    By Cassandra Dean
    Light blinded Elena.
    Keeping her stride, she blinked and the red haze disappeared, the stage forming before her once more. Dim light from the bar outlined the audience before her, seated behind tiny tables, and weak red candlelight wavered over their faces, highlighting their cheekbones, glinting in their eyes. The cold of a Melbourne winter had tousled their hair, and she could imagine them battling the wind and the wet in their rush to the club.
    The path was an open secret, a negotiation through the labyrinth of alleys and back streets that made up the heart of Melbourne. They would have come down the alley nestled amongst the restaurants of Chinatown, past the discards of rice and cardboard sprayed across the asphalt. As they turned the corner, darkness would consume and the isolation would whisper run, run, for anything could happen. Such misgivings would be ignored, and they would follow the graffiti winding along the brick walls down another alley, this one darker than the first. Their hearts in their throats and a delicious thrill of fear through their blood, they would scamper and hurry until they saw the nondescript sign lit with only one bulb buzzing at the end of yet another alley and breathe a sigh of relief as they pushed inside.
    Reaching the microphone, Elena curled her hand around the stand and looked over the crowd, the corner of her mouth lifting into a half-smile. They waited, each and every one breathless with anticipation. Some were still garbed in the suits and skirts of their office, and some had taken the time to change into clothes made for sin, but all had come to see her. She loved this power, this hold she had on them. She loved that she was the one they came to see, that she commanded their attention and their love, even if it was from a distance.
    A gust of cold wrapped around her and a strange kind of hollowness started beneath her breast. Curling her fingers tighter, she widened her smile. Someone must have entered the club, bringing the hint of winter with them, but the hollowness had no explanation. This feeling had annoyed her these last six months, but it would pass. It always had before.
    Slowly, seductively, she swayed her hips as the band started to play. Music snaked around her - slow, heavy drums, the pound and thrum of the bass, and a melody made of guitars tripped over her skin. Allowing her head to loll, she looked over the crowd, and then she saw him.
    Her heart stopped. Silence rushed to surround her, and it was only she and him in all the room, the rest of the audience forgotten as she met his gaze with hers.
    Excitement filled her. He had come.
    Just as quick, she severed the feeling. Of course he had come. Not an evening had passed when he wasn’t at his table, an amber kind of alcohol in his hand and his legs sprawled before him. He wore his usual clothing - black suit, black tie, suspenders holding his trousers rather than a belt - but his shoulders glistened, the cold and wet of Melbourne lingering upon him. Dark hair fell over his forehead, and as she always did, she wished she knew the colour of the eyes that watched her from under dark, slashing brows. His fingers held his glass loosely as he propped his elbow on the back of the chair, the red light of