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  Escape to Pleasure: Lesbian Travel Erotica

  Have you ever fantasized about dipping into sensual waters? Tasting exotic fruit? Watching forbidden pleasures? Ever dreamed about the erotic games lesbians play when they’re far away from home?

  When life becomes mundane, the best way to shake things up is by getting away from it all. On vacation, anything is possible and fantasies really can come true. Edgy, wild, and wanton encounters promise satisfaction for those ready to play while away. Join these award-winning authors as they explore the sensual side of erotic lesbian travel.

  Escape to Pleasure: Lesbian Travel Erotica

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  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

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  Escape to Pleasure: Lesbian Travel Erotica

  © 2019 By Bold Strokes Books. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13:978-1-63555-340-6

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, NY 12185

  First Edition: January 2019

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editors: Sandy Lowe, Victoria Villasenor, Stacia Seaman

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Design by Tammy Seidick

  The Lodge

  Aurora Rey

  Aurora Rey is a college dean by day and lesbian romance author the rest of the time. She grew up in south Louisiana and lives with her partner in Ithaca, NY. Baking is her favorite form of seduction. She may be contacted at aurorarey.com.

  “Eryn, you’ve lost your mind.” Sasha shook her head.

  I pointed at her, unwavering. “You’re the one who said I should take a vacation in the first place.”

  “Yes, to some tropical place where people bring you drinks with umbrellas in them while you sun yourself on the beach.”

  “I don’t like umbrella drinks.” It wasn’t the umbrellas that bothered me. I didn’t care for coconut, or super sweet, fruity things that masked the taste of cheap alcohol. I liked good alcohol and I wanted to taste it.

  “Don’t split hairs with me.” Sasha scowled. “Who celebrates their divorce by going to some romantic mountain lodge in the middle of winter? You don’t even ski.”

  “I could ski.” This was technically true, even if my two previous attempts had ended with a sprained wrist and a black eye, respectively.

  Her stern expression didn’t waver.

  “I could also sit by the fire, drink wine, and people watch. Then go take a bath in my private Jacuzzi tub.”

  One eyebrow lifted. “Jacuzzi?”

  I shrugged. “I reserved the honeymoon suite.”

  It did seem a bit perverse to book the suite, but that’s what I liked about it. After all, I was celebrating the legal end of a relationship that had been a train wreck for the better part of two years, not mourning it. And cozy lodge was way more my style than tropical resort.

  “I guess I’m slightly more okay with this plan.”

  “Good, because you’re taking me to the airport in three days.”

  Sasha eyed me suspiciously. “It’s a freaky early flight, isn’t it?”

  “Five a.m.” I couldn’t keep the chipperness from my voice.

  By some grace of God, I had no delays. And the Lyft I took to the lodge was driven by a little old lady who took the snowy and winding roads with steel nerves. I checked in without incident, ordered dinner in my room, and promptly fell asleep for ten hours.

  I woke the next morning feeling refreshed and alive. Not quite alive enough to rent a pair of skis and brave the slopes, but ready for a day of cocktails and quality time with my e-reader. I donned a pair of fleece-lined leggings and an oversized sweater and headed downstairs.

  I grabbed a cup of coffee and a croissant from the breakfast room and claimed one of the big chairs by the fire. I’d just finished the first chapter of the latest from my favorite lesfic author when she walked by.

  No, walk wasn’t the right word. She swaggered. The kind of sexy butch swagger than came with knowing every woman’s eyes were on her.

  I was the only woman in the room at the moment, but still.

  She almost walked right past me. I’m pretty sure I sighed. Then she turned. It felt like slow motion. Like when the two love interests in a romcom lay eyes on each other for the first time.

  She smiled. I stared. And then she was gone.

  I continued to stare at the spot where she’d been, as if by sheer force of will I could summon her presence once more. It didn’t work. The good news, at least, was that she’d been dressed in ski gear. That dramatically improved the chances she’d be back. Maybe then I wouldn’t act like a class A idiot.

  Despite the image of this woman flitting through my mind—in various stages of undress—all day, I managed to enjoy an entire book, a leisurely lunch, and my first cocktail promptly at three.

  I’d started to give up hope of seeing her again, but just after four, she walked in, looking just as you’d expect a sexy-ass butch to look after a day on the slopes. Her hair was disheveled from wearing a hat all day, her cheeks were pink from the cold, and her swagger was just as I’d remembered.

  I managed to smile this time. She offered me a casual nod of recognition. And then, just like before, she was gone.

  I finished my cocktail and hoofed it upstairs to change for dinner. If I did see her again, I planned to actually open my mouth this time, and I wanted to look good doing it. I’d only packed one dress, so on it went. I added heels, a spritz of perfume, and my favorite dangly earrings, then hurried back downstairs.

  There was no sign of her in the great room, so I claimed a chair in the lounge. I ordered a second cocktail and sipped it slowly, stalling and hoping she’d come down for dinner. What were the odds she was here alone? And looking for company? Slim to none, given my luck these days. Still, she hadn’t been with anyone coming or going, and she probably needed to eat.

  I was failing spectacularly at my attempts not to think about her when she reappeared. She looked freshly showered and had traded her ski wear for black pants and a burgundy button-down. Not dressy per se, but sharp. Sharp enough to send a stab of lust right through me.

  Was it wrong to develop the hots for someone on a weekend meant to celebrate my independence? Before I could decide on an answer, she looked my way. If I was the swooning sort, I’d have passed out right then and there. She crossed the room toward me.

  “The slopes were great today. Did you make it out at all?”

  “Um.” My mind went on a frantic search for words. Any words. “I’m more of a book by the fire kind of girl.”

  She angled her head ever so slightly. “That’s too bad. I assume you’re waiting for friends, then?”

  Right, because who would come to a ski resort alone and not ski? “I’m not, actually. I came for a little solo relaxation.” She nodded and I couldn’t tell if she was glad or disappointed.

  “Does that mean you’re not interested in company for dinner?”

  Holy crap. This woman was asking me to join her for dinner. Or at least feeling me out. “I could be interested.”

  Despite the cheesiness of my answer, she too
k the seat across from me. A waiter appeared as if he’d been watching the whole thing play out. She ordered a Manhattan, then focused her attention on me.

  It proved all but impossible not to squirm under the acuteness of her stare. She made casual conversation, asking me about my work, and what book I’d read that afternoon. But there was this intensity in her eyes, like she was searching for something beneath the surface. I didn’t know what it was, or if I even had it to give, but I wanted to.

  We finished our drinks and moved to the dining room. We were seated at a cozy table for two next to a window. Snow swirled outside, a stark contrast to the warm glow of candlelight reflected in the windows.

  We ordered food. A bottle of wine appeared. The waiter poured a tiny bit into her glass. She tasted it, nodded her approval. Nothing about the ritual should have turned me on, but it did. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  I wanted to say it was her face, or her voice, that captivated me. But if I’m being honest, it was her hands. They looked strong and a little rough, like she did manual work, but they were clean and her nails short. What would they feel like on me, inside me? And did she have any idea what I was thinking?

  Before I knew it, our plates were cleared. I had this horrible sinking feeling that the night was about to end. But she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “I was thinking I might have a whiskey by the fire. Would you care to join me?”

  I didn’t drink whiskey, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me.

  It was late and we were the only ones in the great room. We sat in a pair of wing chairs angled toward each other. The fire crackled and hissed and made me wonder how much it would cost to rip out the gas insert some lunatic had installed in my house. Like before, a waiter appeared so quickly it was like he’d spent his entire evening waiting for her to want something.

  We sat with our drinks, continuing to talk about everything and nothing. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that we were engaging in some elaborate dance that had nothing to do with getting to know each other.

  I ran the tip of my middle finger around the rim of my glass as she spoke. I wasn’t conscious of it until I caught her watching. Her gaze moved between my face and my hand. I wouldn’t have considered the gesture seductive, but the look on her face told me she felt otherwise. I didn’t stop.

  “Would you like to come back to my room?” I heard the words before I realized I’d spoken them. I held my breath, terrified she’d say no. Equally terrified she’d say yes. Seconds dragged on.

  “Yes.” She lifted a finger. “But you should know what you’re signing up for first.”

  Suddenly parched, I took a sip of whiskey. Instead of quenching, it sent a lick of fire down my throat. What could she mean? At this point, short of having a husband lurking in the shadows who would be joining us, I couldn’t fathom denying this woman anything. “What’s that?”

  It felt like her eyes might literally burn a hole into me. “I’m a top and a dominant. When I’m with a woman, I’m in charge. No questions and no exceptions.”

  My entire body tensed and a rush of liquid heat gathered between my thighs. I was either the victim of a very cruel joke or about to have my deepest sexual fantasy play itself out. “Okay.”

  “I will please you, but on my terms. I will likely leave bruises. I will push you to your limit and then I will probably push you further.”

  A nearly manic bubble of laughter threatened to escape, but I managed to keep it in. Nothing about this moment was funny, but I was so taken aback by her words—not to mention by my body’s response to them—that I almost lost it. “I understand.”

  “And you want that?”

  All my previous attempts at being submissive flashed through my mind. The fumbling, the derision, the disastrous endeavors to give myself completely to a person, to a moment. And just as quickly as those memories appeared, they vanished. All that remained was this woman, this moment. “Yes.”

  She didn’t hesitate for a second. “You’ll need a safe word.”

  A dozen options popped into my mind. I picked the one that would feel like a bucket of ice water no matter what I might be thinking or feeling or doing. “Amanda.”

  She cocked a brow.

  “She’s my ex.” I lifted my chin. “She’s the reason I’m here tonight.”

  She nodded. “Amanda it is.”

  I couldn’t believe I might actually be doing this. Not just going to bed, but giving myself to this woman I’d barely met. This woman whose name, I realized suddenly, I didn’t even know. “What’s your name?” I asked, embarrassed that I was only now getting to that.

  “You may call me Kennari.”

  I had no idea if that was her name or a nickname or some kind of Dom title. I nodded, not trusting my voice.

  “And you are?” She looked at me expectantly.

  I considered making up a name, but I had no reason to be anonymous. And, knowing me, she’d call me by it and I’d have no idea who she was talking to. “Eryn.”

  “Eryn, I’d like you to take me to your room now.”

  I hesitated for a second, settling into the person I was going to be tonight. Eryn, but a very different Eryn than I’d been the last few months. “Yes, Kennari.”

  She stood and I followed. At the bottom of the stairs, she paused so I could go in front. She placed her hand in the small of my back in a way that felt protective and possessive at the same time.

  At my door, she smirked. “The honeymoon suite?”

  I offered a casual shrug. “I prefer to think of it as the deluxe Jacuzzi suite.”

  “So noted.”

  I unlocked the door, led the way inside. Was I really doing this? Apparently, I was. The certainty I felt was surpassed only by the magnitude of how badly I wanted it. And not just the sex, though God, I wanted the sex. No, this was about something greater. Something I’d wanted before my divorce, before my marriage. Something I’d wanted but had been afraid of.

  Kennari hovered in the doorway. I had a flash of panic that she’d changed her mind, that she didn’t find me desirable after all. But the look on her face was determined, not reluctant.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Once I come in, everything we discussed is in play. All the rules, all the power is mine. With the exception of your safe word, you will do and say only as I tell you to. Are you ready for that?”

  My body responded before my brain, sending another wave of liquid heat to my already soaked panties. “I’m ready.”

  “Good.” She stepped into the room, closed and locked the door.

  I laced my fingers together and waited.

  She took her time. Like, it took her a full minute at least to close the ten or so feet between us. She leaned in close; I thought she might kiss me. “Take off your shoes.”

  I complied.

  “And your dress.”

  I did that, too. I hadn’t worn stockings, so I was already down to a black lace bra and matching thong. I shivered.

  “Are you cold?”

  I shook my head.

  She angled hers in return. “Is that how you answer me?”

  “No, Kennari.”

  “Better. Now, are you cold?”

  “No, Kennari.”

  “Good. I’d like you to kneel and untie my boots.”

  I complied. Part of me thought this was going to be fast and rough, that I’d be thrown around like a rag doll and used. The intentionality of her commands, the excruciating patience of them, caught me off guard.

  Once I’d removed her boots, she had me unbuckle her belt, undo her pants. I could just make out what looked like a pair of old school, baby blue boxer shorts. I thought for sure she’d demand that I suck her off, but she didn’t. She had me stand, remove her shirt, then her undershirt.

  She stood in the middle of my room, naked from the waist up, and I had no idea what would come next.

  “Turn down the bed, then lie down across it, on your back.”

  I di
d as she asked, trying to keep my movements unhurried. I didn’t want her to know just how eager I was. When I was situated the way she wanted me, I returned my gaze to her. She’d taken her pants off and was wearing only the boxers.

  I wanted to put my mouth on her so badly I could taste it.

  She walked over to the bed. I watched as her gaze traveled up and down my body, hungry but restrained. It was so fucking hot.

  Without warning, she leaned in and took one of my nipples between her fingers. Even through the lace, it went rock hard, shooting a jolt of arousal straight to my clit at the same time. God, when was the last time I’d been turned on like this? I couldn’t remember. Maybe never.

  Just as quickly as she fondled my breast, she stopped. She hooked her fingers into my panties and slid them down. She tossed them aside, grazed her fingers up my leg. She skimmed across the top of my thighs. “You’re very pretty.”

  In spite of the fact that I invited this woman into my room and given her permission to do pretty much whatever she wanted, I blushed. “Thank you.”

  She took her hand away. “Roll over.”

  Although I kind of wanted her to just take me already, her terse commands were doing all sorts of things to me. I did as she asked and waited.

  After what felt like an eternity, I felt her plant her knee next to my thigh. Her other knee came down on the opposite side, leaving her straddling my thighs. She effectively had me pinned from the waist down.

  She trailed her fingers up and down my back. Just as I’d imagined, her skin was rough. It created the most magical friction along my skin. One of her hands slid into my hair. She grabbed a fistful of it and pulled—not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to angle my head to one side.

  I felt her shift forward and then her mouth was on my neck, her breath in my ear. “Are you a good girl?”

  Her voice, barely above a whisper, sent tingles of pleasure down my spine. I moaned. The next thing I knew, she’d let go of my hair and moved far enough away that I could no longer feel any of her body against mine. I’m pretty sure I whimpered.