Pride and Politics: Limousine Sex and Other Perks of the
Ruling Class
A visit with Guest author Daisy Harris
First off, I’d like to thank Kathy for having me on the blog
today. Also, thanks all of you for reading.
Giveaway: Today, I’ll be giving away a Holsum College book of your
choice to one lucky commenter. To be eligible, you need to do two
things—comment below, and add Pride and Politics to your To-Be-Read shelf on
Goodreads.
Good luck!
On with the blog…
As an erotic romance writer, I’m always looking for new and
ingenious ways and places for my characters to have sex. I’ve written sex on
boats, underwater, in college dorm rooms, outdoors, and yes—even in a car. But
I’m always on the lookout for new and exciting places for my characters to do
the nasty.
In Pride and Politics (Men of Holsum College 6), my
characters spent a lot of time riding around in limos. The story takes place on
a campaign trail, and limos and private jets are the most typical mode of
transportation for politicians and their families.
Now, I know you’re all saying, “Why didn’t they bang on the
private jet?” Well, I’ve thought several times about writing airplane sex, and
I just can’t bring myself to do it. Airplanes smell weird, and the only place
to really get freaky is in the bathroom. And it’s not even the bathroom that
grosses me out (I do believe I’ve written sex in the bathroom before), but it’s
that airplane air. It’s too thin and too dry and smells like disinfectant. I’m
a very olfactory person. And nothing about airplane smell is hot.
But limousines… Ah. Now there’s a place I’d love to have
sex. Why? Well, I thought you’d ask…
1.
Limos often have a tinted window you can close
between the driver’s seat and the back of the car. Close that, and you have the
illusion of privacy while knowing some dude (or chick) is sitting only a couple
feet away.
2.
There’s something really wicked about drinking
alcohol while riding in a car. Now, I’m sure only certain types of limousines
provide alcohol in the back seat. But I know some do. And how cool is that? Those
who live in Louisiana, with your drive-through liquor stores, might not find
this concept so taboo. But where I live in Washington, you can’t have an open
container anywhere in the car. Not even in the trunk, as far as I know. So—drinking
while being driven around? Decadent!
3. Tinted
windows. You can see out, but people on the road, can’t see you. …or maybe they
can? That hint of exhibitionism adds yet another layer of naughty.
4.
Leather seats. Okay, fine—leather anything. But
while some people drool over chaps and saddles and cowboy boots, I whimper for
suits and ties and expensive Italian shoes.
5.
Power. Even if you’re only renting a limo for
prom, there’s a sense of power that comes along with a limo ride. You’re on top
of the world, on your own private island. Plus, you’re driving around a damn
city while you’re at it. What could be hotter?
Here’s a snippet from my limo sex scene
from Pride and Politics. Enjoy!
* * * * *
The
limousine was waiting for them at the door. Hunter waved Steve to go in first.
And by the time Hunter climbed in and the door was shut behind him by a helpful
parking attendant, Steve was sitting across from him, his lips wet and his
cheeks flushed. He looked horny as hell and completely fuckable.
“Where
should I tell him we’re going?” Steve asked.
Hunter
normally let Steve give the driver directions.
“He
knows the way,” Hunter said. “Don’t you, Eduardo?”
“Yes,
sir,” the driver said. He had a deep, rich voice, and Hunter knew he had a face
and body to match, since he’d handpicked the man to be their driver. “Right
away.” There was a sexy laugh in Eduardo’s voice, and Hunter could tell that
Steve was affected by it, because he shifted in his seat as if he were getting
hard.
Hunter
pressed the button to raise the window that divided the driver from the back
section of the limousine. When it was done buzzing closed, he pulled the bottle
of champagne out of the bucket of ice set into the armrest. There were two
champagne glasses positioned in the cupholders by his seat, and he poured a
glass for himself and one for Steve.
“Here.”
He held out Steve’s drink, but didn’t lean forward.
Steve
didn’t move. Instead, he remained in his seat, his chest rising and falling as
he breathed. “You want me to come over to get it?”
There
was about four feet of space between where Steve was sitting, facing the back
of the car, and Hunter was seated facing front. But that distance seemed too
much for Steve to cross. So Hunter helped him. “Don’t you want to?”
Steve
looked away. His cheeks went even darker, as if maybe he was angry in addition
to being turned on. “I will if you want me to.”
Then he
darted Hunter a look so open and vulnerable if made Hunter’s chest ache. “You
know I’ll do anything you like.”
Hunter
set down Steve’s glass in the cupholder and leaned back in his seat. He crossed
one ankle over the opposite knee and took a sip of his champagne. He let the
moment take all the time it needed. And when he felt Steve was ready for him to
ask, Hunter said, “What do you want?”
“Um…”
Steve rubbed at his chin. He was smooth there, Hunter knew. He’d shaved right
before they left.
Hunter
wanted to touch that soft skin. Feel those little sandpaper spots he always
missed at the corners of his jaw. “Do you want me to bring you your drink?”
Hunter loosened his tie, shrugged off his jacket. He opened the top button of
his shirt, so Steve knew what he was getting at. “To undress you slowly and
suck your cock while we drive around the city?”
Steve
blinked, but he couldn’t seem to look away. This time, when he shifted, there
was an unmistakable crease marring the front of his designer pants. “Maybe,” he
said. He gripped the seat. “What are my options?”
Hunter
thought about that. He took another sip of his drink, feeling the bubbles pop
in his mouth and listening to the sound of Steve’s breathing, audible even over
the noise of the street outside.
He
lifted his chin, and gave Steve that look he knew Steve liked. The one where
his lip was twisted into almost a scowl and his eyes were narrowed. “Or you can
come fetch your drink and do what I tell you like a good boy.”
* * * * *
Blurb:
Aloof
and arrogant, Holsum College Junior Hunter Ford has enjoyed all the perks of
being from one of America's most prominent families. Hunter can have anything
he wants--except time away from his family's political spotlight and the image
consultant hired to keep him there.
Steve’s job is simple—make Hunter toe the line
for the duration of his uncle’s vice-presidential campaign. This is the break
Steve's been waiting for and a chance to provide a better life for his deaf
sister. But he didn't count on an attraction to the broken scion—one that
rearranges everything Steve thought he knew about himself.
As Steve melts Hunter's icy exterior, the heat
between them threatens more than just their hearts. Then a ghost from Hunter’s
past shows up on the campaign, challenging Hunter’s stability, and straining
Steve’s ability to defend and protect the man he’s growing to love.
* * * * *
Bio:
Birkenstock-wearing glamour girl and mother
of two by immaculate conception, Daisy Harris still isn't sure if she writes
erotica. Her romances start out innocently enough. However, her characters
behave like complete sluts. Much to Miss Harris's dismay the sex tends to get
completely out of hand.
She writes about fantastical creatures and
about young men getting their freak on, and she's never missed an episode of
The Walking Dead.
Pride and Politics available at:
Bushkill Falls in the Poconos
Cape Cod National Seashore
