Chloe Thurlow is sharing an excerpt from her latest release, Katie In Love today!
Katie Boyd has nothing in common with Tom Bridge, the volunteer doctor she meets at a party – except in bed she finds a passion to match her own. Tom is intense, puzzling, a man who cares about others and compels Katie to question her own life drifting through the hip clubs and London party scene.
When Tom returns to his post in a Sri Lanka orphanage, Katie isn’t sure if their passion was lit by its brevity, or if love, unexpected and not entirely wanted, has edged its way into her life. Should she go back to being who she always was? Or follow Tom into the unknown?
Katie in Love is a compelling erotic-romance that will grip readers as they follow Katie’s journey to an ending they may have expected – but not in the way they expected it.
Brilliantly written and coolly self-aware, Chloe Thurlow was described by KM Dylan on Amazon as “…the Anaïs Nin of our times.” With Katie in Love – her sixth novel – Thurlow reveals a writer at the height of her powers.
Katie takes the Stranger she meets at the New Years Eve Ball back to her apartment -
His hands rested on the back of my head and he rocked slightly on his heels. I went back to sucking the soft cap of his penis. I ran my tongue down the shaft and up again, wetting the column.
Many times I have found a boy's cock in my mouth and in the back of my mind a sense that this was so unfair, so one-sided, that true passion is give and take and this was a lot of give without a lot of get.
Sometimes, this time, it was different. His cock was a friendly creature massaging my gums, the inside of my cheeks, the bells of my tonsils. His pulsing cock vibrated over the membranes and tissues of my throat, touching my taste buds with its sultry perfume, the slap of flesh against flesh like the sound of the tree branch that tapped at night against my window.
I was drunk on whisky, mesmerized, meditative. I sucked and kissed and nibbled and teased and he groaned and sighed and quivered and gasped. His cock was a wonderful toy, a drawbridge that sprang up when I pulled it down, that shook like a dancer when I teased the groove with the tip of my wet tongue. It was a magnet like the magnets beneath my mattress connecting the polar points of our passion and fusing them in an aura of completion.
I could feel his pleasure mounting. He was going to fill my mouth with his syrupy essence, spray his sperm across my face, my eyes, my nose. I imagined the taste of nougat and almonds as I took him deep into my throat, sucking hard, waiting for that moment, that sudden jerk, that first hint of pre-come.
But just as the adventurer hesitates before claiming the prize, before the true king pulls the sword from the rock, he stopped himself and withdrew. I was ready for his orgasm, my throat gaping. I felt let down yet, instantly, immediately relieved.
He took my elbows and pulled me up so he could kiss me again, so he could taste himself on my lips. The way he expertly undid the buttons on my white blouse made me wonder where he could have acquired such skill. Did he take bad girls home every night? Was this handsome stranger Lothario, Don Juan, Patrick Bateman from American Psycho; so good, I read it twice.