
Blurb: In Asia, the lines blur: between body and spirit, fantasy and reality, male and female, lust and love. Explore the erotic frontiers of the Orient in these arousing and moving tales from an author who has made the East her home.
Citadel of Women
When her lover dumps her, just before a long-planned trip to Angkor Wat, Doa stubbornly decides to travel alone. The marvelous sights of the ancient Khmer empire do little to heal the rift in her heart. Che, the mercurial young tour guide, senses her loneliness. But how can two people from such different worlds share a future?
Singapore Fling
Jason Chow is a brilliant engineer, a successful businessman and a bit of a rebel. He’s attracted to Ploy from the moment he sets eyes on her, but he doesn’t dare respond to her advances, for fear she’ll discover his secret vice. Ploy figures she’ll have to content herself with the cold comfort of a signed contract—unless the strength of Jason’s desire overwhelms his shame.
Lust in Dalat
The woman in the window seat to my right had more flesh than I’d usually find attractive, and most of it was on display. But she wasn’t trying to tease. She was simply at home in her own skin. And me? Traveling outside of the U.S. for the first time in my life, I was nervous, inexperienced, awkward and excited. Especially excited. With Helen next to me, who wouldn’t be?
Vows
Travel brings out a strange recklessness in my wife, a hunger for extremes that I don’t see when we’re in New York. Now, she wants us to seduce the achingly beautiful Buddhist monk we’ve met in Luang Prabang. I try to reject her suggestions, to resist temptation. But I yearn for his body—and his serenity.
Dragon Boat Blues
I booked the dragon boat cruise on Ha Long Bay figuring my disability wouldn’t be a problem on the luxurious junk. I wasn’t looking for companionship, just a bit of peace. But when Stan and Phil welcomed me into their circle of love, I discovered how much healing I still needed.
Butterfly
When Lek stepped onto the stage at the Butterfly Bar and began to dance, I fell for her hard. The weekend we spent together in Bangkok was pure heaven. How could I know our love would drag me through hell?
R-rated excerpt from Citadel of Women--
Angkor Wat was a testament to male power. Banteay Srei, I discovered, was a meditation on female beauty. The temple, nicknamed the “Citadel of Women,” was fashioned of roseate sandstone, far warmer than the gray stone used for most of the Khmer monuments. Banteay Srei was built to a woman's scale, the courtyards a few yards across, the doorways barely tall enough for me to pass without ducking my head. Instead of phallic towers, it offered intricately carved walls and pediments. Graceful, voluptuous devatas served as guardians to the shrine, their smiling faces eloquent and serene.
I stood gazing at one of these figures, admiring her round, naked breasts with their eternally rigid nipples. I thought about Laurel and her refined little tits, so different from this sandstone goddess. My old lover seemed very far away.
Silently, Che came up behind me. “She reminds me of you,” he murmured, bringing his hands up to cradle my breasts. He tweaked the tips, sending currents of electricity racing for my pussy.
“Che! Please! Someone will see.”
“Everyone's out in front, having a cold drink and recovering from the heat.” His hands slipped to my thighs. His thumbs sought the crevice between them.
“Che...” He turned me to face him, silencing my protests with a ferocious kiss. “We shouldn't,” I murmured, my knees already weak.
“Why not?” He cupped my buttocks in his palms and pulled me against the swelling in his groin.
“I'm old enough to be your mother. Or at least your older sister.”
“Nonsense.” He rubbed his cock against my jeans, making me squirm.
“What would your people think? Your family? You getting it on with a big Black American woman ten years older than you?”
His face darkened. “I don't have a family. They all died in the killing fields.”
“Oh, Che! I didn't know...” I took him in my arms, stroked his hair. “I'm so sorry.” At last I understood the cynicism I sometimes saw in his face. “How did you escape?”
“A monk smuggled me over the border. I was just a baby. I grew up in a monastery in Ubon, in Thailand. The American soldiers taught me English.” He sighed and moved away from me. “I didn't come back until I was seventeen.”
“And that was what year?”
“Nineteen ninety five... I doubt that you're forty-two, Doa.”
“No, I'm only thirty...” The world shifted. What did I know, with my prejudices, my assumptions? My superiority and my self-pity?
All at once I wanted him. I grabbed him and fastened my mouth on his, grinding my pelvis against his hardness. He opened to me, held me tight as if he was afraid I would evaporate. “Where can we go?” I panted when we broke for breath.
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Buy links: Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08XW69V2R
Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08XW69V2R
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About Lisabet
Lisabet Sarai has been addicted to words all her life. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter. Sign up for her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh