Read Portia Da Costa's Favourite Scene from In Too Deep
Librarian Gwendolynne is involved with not one, but two men: a mysterious correspondent, Nemesis, who leaves explicit erotic messages for her in the library's suggestion box, and Professor Daniel Brewster, a celebrity academic who's visiting the library to research a new book.
"There's an immediate spark between Gwen and 'Professor Hottie McHotstuff', and even before they get around to doing the wild thing, they're involved in series of sexual challenges, based the notes she's received from Nemesis.
As she spends more time in the company of the handsome historian, Gwen quickly realises she's falling for him, and when they eventually do get together, for her it's far more than simply a crazy stolen sex romp amongst the library's basement book stacks.
Guest post by Portia Da Costa
Extract from In Too Deep
‘Who was that woman?’
I can’t believe I just spoke. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m drowning in the most sumptuous sensations, yet still my stupid jealous brain is screwing things up.
Daniel’s eyes fly open, and for a moment, they’re unfocused and hazy. He blinks as if he’s not quite sure who he’s seeing - but I see red. Maybe he’s even fantasising about her? ‘You know, the one with the suit who you were snogging in the lobby.’
He frowns, still scrunching up his eyes, then seems to focus. Letting out an exaggerated sigh, he grips me hard around the waist, bucks up his hips, and jams me down yet more firmly on his erection.
I let out an ‘Oh God!’ and feel as if steam is coming out of my ears. My body is stretched around him, the tension tugging hard on my clit. I forget that any other woman on the earth even exists. There’s only me sitting on Daniel, full of his cock. He thrusts up again, and pulls me down, and it’s not just the decrepit settee that creaks and groans.
‘That woman…’ His voice is low and thrilling. His grip still hard. ‘That woman is my cousin Annie, and she’s the co-owner of the Waverley Hotel. Which is why I’m staying there.’ Consolidating his grip with one hand, he swivels his wrist and slips his other between our bodies, finding my clit and flicking it. My pussy ripples around him and I see stars, my own eyes closing. He flicks me again and I start to come, still confused, still angry.
'Satisfied?’ he growls, and taking my clitoris neatly between finger and thumb, he squeezes. When he gives my bottom a little slap, I am satisfied… and I come.
A scream bubbles in my throat, but at the last second, I jam my fist in my mouth. Waves and waves of pleasure radiate from my clit where he grips it, holding on delicately even though I’m jerking and writhing all over the place.
He slaps me again, my orgasm surges… I half black out.
I slump forward and for a few minutes, I just crouch over him, draped against his body, my chest heaving, my entire sex fizzing with aftershocks. His arms fold around me, cradling me, exquisitely gentle and tender where before he was domineering. It’s like I’ve been shot into space and now I’m floating down gently on my parachute.
Sex was never like this before.
Maybe I’ve never even had sex before, just some pale and ineffectual simulation of it?
Eventually, I haul in a deep breath. I’ve touched down again. And the most pressing matter I have to deal with right at this moment is the fierce erection that’s still hot and hard inside me.
How on earth can this be? Does the man have superhuman powers? My ex or indeed any of my previous boyfriends would have been finished long since. No way they could have withstood such an exciting ride, because surely it must have been just as hectic for him as it was for me.
And yet here he is, like a rock inside me, but a warm, blood-filled rock that pulsates with the force of his life.
I straighten a little, and look down at him.
His smile is a picture. There is the tenderness, I wasn’t mistaken - but shining through that is an infuriating male smugness. A ‘look at me… look at my powers of endurance… you’ll never beat me’ expression, which makes me want to do just that, beat him. I want to overwhelm him into shooting inside me, my helpless slave.
I shove back on his chest, bracing myself, adjusting my position. Then I lift, and crash down again, taking him deeper. My pussy flickers dangerously again, another orgasm only a whisker away, but I get the satisfaction of Daniel’s eyes flying wide open. And when I do it again, he lets out a curse that’s more appropriate for a merchant seaman than a highly educated and sophisticated academic.
‘Shush!’ I command him, leaning a little forward again and covering his mouth with my hand.
Then I ride him, I really ride him, lifting up and pounding down on him again and again. Within seconds I’m coming, in a sudden, violent encore, but I work on through it, my body moving on auto while my mind sails among the stars.
And still he resists me.
Enough already. I hunker down, squat down really hard on him and clench my glowing sex around his cock. It makes me see those stars again, but I grit my teeth and grip him and work him like I’ve never gripped and worked a man before.
His hands grip my hips, digging into the too, too abundant flesh there, and I feel the tips of his nails threatening my skin. He’s still holding out on me! His beautiful face is an icon of strain and stubbornness, the line of his jaw hard as iron, his teeth clenched.
Still tight on him, I rise up and crash down again.
And two things happen simultaneously. No, three things. No, actually, four…
Daniel snarls another seafaring oath. He comes, his hips pistoning crazily. I come again, the pleasure wrung from me almost as if it were pain.
The ancient settee finally succumbs to the punishment we’ve inflicted on it… and the whole thing collapses under us with an almighty crash!
About Portia Da Costa
Portia Da Costa is a best-selling British author of romance, erotic romance and erotica, who's been published since the early 1990s. She loves writing about sexy, likeable people in steamy, scandalous situations, and has penned novels, novellas and novelettes for Black Lace, Harlequin, Samhain Publishing, Carina Press and a number of other houses, plus over a hundred short stories for magazines and anthologies. Best known for writing BDSM themed stories with a contemporary setting, she's also written Victorian erotic romance for HQN.
When Portia isn't writing or reading she loves to chill out and watch the television, or spend time online, chatting with friends on Twitter, and on message boards and elsewhere. She lives in the heart of West Yorkshire with her husband and her adorable cat Alice.