Bianca Sommerland is one of those authors who writes on the edge of the dark, nasty and naughty. But if you're in love with that style of writing she'll keep you squirming the whole story through. Don't expect flowers and love letters in this short story. Come prepared to gasp and to get so hot and bothered the air conditioning in the bus will be laboring to keep you cool...because that's where you are in "The Trip" -- on a long slow bus trip with a dark, and exquisitely evil man who can't wait to get his hands on Shawna. 'Evil' in the best and sexiest possible way of course. By the end Shawna won't be just squirming, she'll be begging for more.
Blurb for "The Trip"
On the long trip back to Toronto from an art show in Detroit, Shawna’s bus makes an unexpected stop in the middle of nowhere. When the bus is evacuated, she ends up alone with a man who’s just as dark and dominant as the heroes in her favorite books. Her desires tempt her to let her guard down—to take a chance that he might be everything she needs—but how far is she willing to go? She’s afraid to find out . . . and even more afraid not to.
Insane, but part of her wondered how far this little game of his would go. What would he do when he figured out she didn't want to play?
Gritting her teeth, she sneered at him. "Fuck you."
Letting out a feral snarl, he slapped her. Her eyes burned as the sting spread, becoming hot little spikes of pure sensation, traveling down her nerves.
"Don't test me, you little bitch." He bit her throat, and her back arched. More spikes stabbed into her, and she moaned.
No, no! I can't give in!
Yet the words left her before she could stop them. "Don't test you? Or what? If you're going to rape me, get it over with."
“Really?” He laughed, sounding as insane as she probably did. Then he pushed her thighs open and hooked her calves over his shoulders. “You think that’s the worst I can do to you?”
Yes! Something inside her cried, but a remote part of her wanted more. Wanted something wild, something extreme. She wanted nothing more than to have control ripped away so thoroughly that she would never have to face it again. But he couldn’t give her that. No one could.
“Like I said.” Her muscles went slack and she rested her head on the hand fisted against her scalp. “Get it over with.”
Letting go of her hair, he rose up on his knees, lifting her ass high off the ground.
“If you insist.” He put one hand on her knee and shoved the other in the pocket of his black jeans. Tearing a small packet open with his teeth, he bent down and spread her ass cheeks apart. “Try to relax.”
Something with sharp edges pressed against her anus and cold, slick fluid filled her. Then something big and hard pressed into her, stretching her, feeling like it would tear her open. Her asshole wasn’t meant to stretch like that. And the burning, oh god, it was too much! The tip of whatever he was shoving inside her felt small, but got bigger and bigger as he worked it in. She whimpered and shifted her hips.
“Relax.” He bared her stomach and kissed above her navel. “If you force me to tear you, I won’t be able to fuck your ass later.”
Later? As though she’d let him near her again. He pushed harder and she felt his hand slip. The hard object nearly slid out of her. Her insides rippled as though missing the intrusion. So wrong, yet...yet she didn’t want him to stop!
“No!” Her hips shot up as the emptiness tore at her more fiercely than what he had done possibly could. “Please...”
“That’s what I like to hear.” And with that he slammed the thing that felt like a chunk of stone deep inside her ass. Before she could adapt to being full from behind, he stuffed fingers inside her pussy—two...no three—and started pumping so hard it felt like he was punching her swollen, wet folds.
Every muscle, from her abs to her thighs, clenched as climax threatened, feeling much like she’d exposed her most vulnerable parts to an open flame. She tossed her head from side to side and gouged her tongue with her teeth to keep from screaming.
He let her legs drop from his shoulders and bent over her. “There we go. I think we can head back now.”
“You son of a bitch!” She ground the back of her head into the dirt. Damp earth coated her scalp as she writhed and bucked her hips. “Finish it!”
“’No.” He circled her clit with his thumb, around and around, never close enough to stimulate, just close enough to keep her aroused. “You’re not getting off until you’re ready to beg. Get back on the bus and read more of your book. I think I’ll take the empty seat next to you—you’ve been looking a little lonely.”
His fingers were still inside her, but he wouldn’t move them, damn him! They were seated deep like the thing in her ass, simply...there. The juices of her body seeped out and quickly turned cold, as though to remind her she’d get nothing until he decided to give it to her.