Chapter Scene from Undressed: Sweet Tiramisu Melts in Your Mouth

Excerpt from Undressed

WARNING: This post contains dirty talk 

“I want you, Lex Easton,” he moaned, pressing his hand over her backside and pulling her in with a tight force. Massimo plunged his tongue deeper into her mouth.

Their noses meshed, and as he pulled his face from hers, he wiped the dampness from his forehead. She noticed and wondered if she made him nervous?

“Bring it on, my prince!” She brought her right leg up around his left. Lex didn’t want to let him go. She craved more. Unsure what came over her, she leaned forward and kissed him back with a feverish intent as her breasts grazed his chest and desire exploded inside her. Her nipples became hard with desire. She fell against the sofa, where he shoved her sundress up around her waist.

He studied her lacy thong. She loved him looking, more than ever when he ground his hips against her. “Sei bellissima,” he murmured, nuzzling her earlobes. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

“Tell me again and again,” she joked, getting more at ease with his compliments. Massimo’s words echoed in her ear.

“I told you the dress looked good on you. I bet it will look even better off you.” He grinned.

“Touch me.” She took his right hand and placed it over her panties, letting his thumb hook on her fabric. Rip it off already.

His fingers glided up her bare stomach and tickled her with pleasure. Upon each caress, his lips kissed her body. He tugged on the little carnation bow centered on her G string.

“What do we have here, bella?” With both hands, he lowered the ivory fabric which kept her private, wrapping the metallic lace between his fingers, and she became exposed—vulnerable and naked in his arms. But he didn’t lower his own slacks, though his zipper seemed as if it would split his linens, revealing his hung loins at any minute.

“Take off your pants,” she bossed. She was a Manhattanite. What did Massimo expect?

“Patience, my bella. I favor taking my time.” He brushed her lips with his pointer and middle finger. With a slow drop of her jaw, she opened her mouth as he inserted two fingers over her tongue. “Such a tight, hot, mouth—my cock on your lips and down your throat will do you some good, bella. Your tongue is too sharp.”

“Mmmmm,” she mumbled. Sucking his fingers, pretending his cock fucked her mouth, she tasted vetiver. His skin felt callous, rough, and yet his nails groomed and smooth. Lex swallowed, imagining for a second it was his load going down her throat. “This is what I’ll be doing to your cock soon enough.” She spoke with confident poise. Unsure where in the hell it came from, she’d run with it.

It turned him on. His eyes widened with excitement.

“Good girl, bella. I love the way your tongue feels against my fingers. Wet suede is how your cunt will feel hugging my cock—when I am inside you,” he continued with a gaze into her eyes. Massimo challenged her to see how verbal she could be.

“Sounds good to me. Let’s go, Masi.” Sweet tiramisu, his voice is making me wet. His words reverberated in her head as a spell cast to unleash her deepest fantasies. She wanted to be his utopia. Massimo’s coolness combined with determination terrified her—in a good way.

“I bet you have a wet cunt.” He shoved his fingers into her mouth. His commanding, deep, baritone voice was hypnotic.

I do now. Her pussy creamed while listening to him speak, while his tone vibrated though her entire body.

“Yes, yes, Masi.” For a second her entrepreneurial brain imagined recording him speak, selling it on iTunes, calling it Come While Massimo Talks. Women could charge up their Masi’s Salami vibrators, lie on their beds, play his voice and off they’d go—to sunflower island. Jesus Fucking Christ.

“Let me touch you, feel your pussy, bella.”

Touch me for sure. Feel me, you bet. Fuck me, let’s go.

Massimo pulled his two wet fingers from her mouth as she whispered, “Do it.” Saliva strings connected his two fingers resembling fine silk.

“I want your pussy soaking.” He then re-licked his tips and fingered one inside her.

Yes, yes, yes. A pleasurable moan rose in her throat as he went deeper, stimulating her clit. A vibration hummed through her body. Her womanhood found its own tune chiming through her, following the conductor’s direction. It was set to an Italian station, that was for sure.

Bliss. Ecstasy. Joy.

“More. Give more…”


Favorite Quotes in Undressed by Avery Aster

Happy Friday Readers,

Book reviewer, Tracie Lampe has awarded Undressed with FIVE hot pink Lady Porn sex symbols. Meow! She’s also released out into the blogosphere her favorite quotes from my novel. I’ve pasted them below. I’d love to know what your favorite quotes are from Undressed. Please share them here in the comments section, on Goodreads or email moi Avery(at)

Tracie’s favorite quotes from Undressed:

“You’re finger fucking my palm. You hot pig.”

“Her mouth said fuck off but her body said fuck me.”

“Poolside I’m some what soft. With Bella I’m very hard.”

“American Express doesn’t accept orgasms as payment. But my twat will take your Massimo Euro.”

” ‘The longtime Miss Prudence of Prudeville’, my frigid friend, the ‘Big Apple Starved for Sex’ got her McIntosh plucked. Or should I say fucked and made into apple sauce.”


NEW Contemporary Erotic Romance Virtual Book Tour & HBO’s TV Show; Girls


emailed from a reader

Undressed launched yesterday on Amazon and a handful of you were up late emailing me. We got Undressed together. Smile!

You mentioned that The Manhattanites cast in my novel reminded you of your favorite HBO TV show, Girls. Though, you ladies noted my characters are a little bit wealthier and a lot hornier. I’ve honestly never seen the show. I imagine, similar to the producers of that program, I write about characters who are like my real life friends, just a tad more fictitious. Okay a lot more fictitious. Wink!

I’m announcing a few tour dates for The Manhattanites.

Reviews Only Tour

The tour will run April 15 – 26. I’ll be awarding Choc-A-Lot: Chocolate-Covered Sandwich Cookies from Dylan’s Candy Bar to a random commenter at every stop to be chosen by the host.

Virtual Book Blast Tour

The Book Blast Tour will take place on Friday, April 15, and is limited to the first 50 people who sign up. This tour will not include interviews or guest blogs; however, a blurb, excerpt and bio will be provided to every host for inclusion on their blog. For this I’m awarding a 6-month membership to Dylan’s Candy Bar Candy of the month Club to one randomly drawn commenter.

How does sugar relate to Undressed?

In my novel, the heroine, Lex Easton makes herself fuck-it buckets when she’s stressed out. They are candy filled containers. Her store of choice is Dylan’s Candy Bar because it’s close to where she lives. (Yes, I’m projecting) The store was created by Dylan Lauren, daughter of Ralph Lauren and is a New York City institution merging fashion, art and pop culture together. You’ve seen it on such popular TV shows as Gossip Girl, Project Runway and Cake Boss. Keep in mind, you may use any store that sells candy to make your fuck-it bucket. Winners during the book tour will have the pleasure of nibbling on these treats.

If you are a book reviewer and are interested in participating in either of these exciting events please email me directly at Avery(at)AveryAster(dot)com and I’ll put you in-touch with the wonderful goddesses who are organizing it on my behalf. 

My Readers Promise As An Erotic Romance Author


Empire State Building in purple and pink for V-Day

Dear Fans,

I wanted to personally thank the crew over at Ellora’s Cave. My publisher, Raelene Gorlinsky, is a pro and has made the launch of Undressed and The Manhattanites series a walk through Central Park.

I’m a little overwhelmed, in a good way, with all of the emails that have come in from my publisher’s website and from readers anticipating the launch of the series. I worked on Undressed for about a year. If you’ve enjoyed TV shows like Girls (HBO), Dirty Sexy Money (ABC), and The Bold & the Beautiful (CBS) then you’ll love The Manhattanites series. My characters are over the top. They have raunchy sex, speak sarcastically and the plots are twisted. But, all in a good way. (wink)

Last night, I celebrated Valentine’s Day and the launch of Undressed by having dinner at Brio. It’s an Italian bistro near my apartment. I was joined by two galpals. They both are sorta like my characters in The Manhattanites. One is my dear friend “Holly,” a well known magazine editor for a gossip magazine, who in a way inspired the fictional character Vive Farnworth in the series. Vive is an editor for a magazine called Debauchery. The other is my friend “Tracy,” who works as a beauty public relations guru for one of the biggest cosmetic firms in the world. She is a lot like my fictional character, Taddy Brill. You’ll read more about Taddy in book two, coming out later this year.

I hope you have as much fun reading The Manhattanites novels as I do writing them. I promise one thing, to make you laugh. I’ve lived in this city for a long time and have a lot to share with you. Also, I’d love to hear from you…so please leave all comments on this blog. Right now, I have no plans to Facebook or Tweet. Sorry!

If you’re on GoodReads or review erotic romance novels for your own website and would like a copy please email me: Avery(at)AveryAster(dot)com. I’ll put you in-touch with the publicity department at Ellora’s Cave.

Feels like forever,



champagne, red wine and a martini to celebrate Undressed at Brio


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(Contemporary Erotic Romance) Free Read: Prologue for Undressed

part one


Screw the Masi Salami Dildo Fantasy

“Massimo, answer the flippin’ phone—you royal pain in my ass!” Lex Easton vented out loud in her Manhattan showroom. Doing her best to keep raw emotions in check, she remained on hold, at his mercy, waiting to speak to the Italian stud muffin she’d nicknamed her beloved vibrator after.

Lex praised Prince Massimo Tittoni, famed CEO to the Girasoli Garment Company, by naming her sex toy after him. It was a noble gesture indeed, one which took place prior to Massimo fucking up her textile order.

Unlike the prince, who’d been impossible to reach, her dildo, titled “The Masi’s Salami”, remained by and large amenable and on hand whenever needed. It featured the unique double A battery power to relieve her nervous tension during horrific moments such as this one.

Today’s call, one of many in recent weeks, shunted from the office manager to the purchasing coordinator to the legal department. At last, she’d spoken to the imperial’s Mediterranean summer estate’s ground manager, who claimed he’d see if the prince would take her call.

She realized her verge for doing more than losing her voice to his hold music was crossed. I’m ready for ya, Masi.

A deep voice with an Italian accent came on the line, interrupting Puccini’s La bohème opera “When I Go Along.” After thirty-plus calls, she knew Puccini’s classics by heart. Raised on heavy metal, Lex wasn’t a fan. “This is Prince Massimo Tittoni.”

Through the bad connection, Lex heard laughter and water splashing and laughing in the background. Her thoughts darkened. No wonder he’d been difficult to get in touch with. And how nice it must be to take an extended vacation. She hadn’t taken time off in years.

Closing her eyes, she put her free hand to her forehead. Focus. Except white spots glittering over her eyes suggested an oncoming migraine. Lex cleared her throat. “Thank you for taking my call, Your Majesty.” Inhaling a deep breath to help with the nausea, she nagged, “I’m sorry to interrupt your vacation, but I’m on a tight deadline and the fabrics I need to complete my upcoming fashion collection were supposed to have arrived in my Midtown warehouse over a month ago.”

He gave no response. Did she lose him already? “HELLO? Are you there?” Fashion gods, Halston, St. Laurent, Givenchy, watch over me.

, signorina.” His voice was low and seductive. “Please tell your boss, Signor Lex, we will not be shipping Easton the fabrics after all. We won’t be doing business with Easton going forward because—”

Bebeee cacuuuse—

An echo made it impossible for her to hear what he said next.

Because why? And did he say Mr. Lex? The boss? She was the boss.

“Prince Massimo, you are speaking to Lex.” You buffoon—I’ve been buying fabric from you for two years.

A fresh burst of static crackled over the line.

I’m the owner, Lex Easton.” Did he hear her? Maybe not—Damn this Verizon phone.

Signorina, please tell Signor Easton I am on holiday for the month. I feel terrible we are unable to fill the order. Nevertheless the wheels are in motion. I will send a certified letter tomorrow in effect. Now if you will mi scusi, I am being rude to my guests.”


The phone squealed.

“No! Please! What do you mean you can’t fill the order? Why not? Whose wheels are in motion?” I ride the subway. I don’t own any wheels.

He’d hung up. Her entrepreneurial window for victory—slammed shut.


With the phone clutched to her chest and the black plastic cord wound around her fingers, Lex laid her head on the drafting table, succumbing to the headache dancing between her temples. Pain shot through her body as tears choked her.

“Rude to your guests,” she wailed and stomped her Christian Louboutin pumps under her chair. “What about being rude to me?” It was over for her. She’d be a laughingstock in the fashion community.

Lex predicted the grim newspaper headline, “Daughter to Late Rock ‘n’ Roll Legend Eddie Easton Closes Her Fashion Brand.” This evening’s news at eleven broadcasting, “Easton Essentials, American’s leading upscale apparel line, is unable to fulfill production and will not be showing at New York’s upcoming Fashion Week.”

Whatever sexual fantasy she’d dreamt for the prince flew out her twenty-first story window along with her fabric. Massimo’s selfish refusal to deliver on her brand’s signature identity—the unique material which completed her line’s success—made him repulsive.

Her office door creaked open.

“Honey, Lex, you in here? There are three calls on hold for you.”

She avoided eye contact with her mother. To Birdie Easton, Lex’s despair would be obvious. “Please take a message, Mom, or send them to voice mail.”

“Line two is the handsome Wall Street fella—who keeps asking you out. What shall I tell him?”

“Tell him I don’t have time.” Her love life would have to wait. It always did. I’ve already kissed my sex life bah bye too. Hell, no man had touched her here, there, or anywhere in weeks, months, years. She was overdue. Infuriating. Did abstinence cause migraines?

Her mother’s arms looped around her shoulders. “Honey, what’s wrong? Did you talk to the textile plant? Will they release the fabrics?”

Lex sat up and studied her mother’s weathered face. “Maybe,” she hedged. She couldn’t tell her the truth.

After caring for a drug addict husband while taming her own substance abuse demons, it was evident Birdie persevered, but at Lex’s expense. Her mother’s Malibu detox bills drained any savings Lex stashed. Birdie had been sober for two years—and counting.

She continued, “Since they are the only supplier who manufactures what we need—I have to fly to Isola di Girasoli tomorrow to meet with the prince about the shipment.”

Yes, she’d go see him. Giving up wasn’t an option. Why should she allow Massimo to destroy her fashion company? Easton Essentials was the bloodline to her urban life. Designing fashion kept her going these past few years.

“Isola di Girasoli?” her mother repeated. “Why?”

“I need to speak to the prince face to face. I have no doubt I can persuade him.”

“But if he’s being difficult, why don’t we get legal involved?”

“There’s no time, Mom. We have the fashion show in ten days.” She tried to smile but couldn’t. “We’re desperate.” Ten days.

“Invite Vive and Taddy. I’m going too. We’ll shop, shop, shop.” Birdie attempted her onetime, overbearing tone she’d snorted up her nose and lost as an Eighties rock ‘n’ roll icon, many parties ago.

Shop—with what money? No inventory equals zero paycheck, Mother. “I’d love for you to come.” A white lie, but Lex attempted to sell it. “But you are needed here to finish the details on the fashion show. I’ll handle Girasoli.”

Her mother grew more worried than less and questioned, “On your own?”

Lex forced the impossible smile. “It’ll be fine. I’ll use whatever Amex points we have left to buy an airline ticket and rent a hotel room in town.” She realized they may be cash poor but were miles rich. “Then I’ll jet up to Milan for the industry event afterward. I promise to return with the fabrics.” Hoping she could keep her vow, Lex knew Isola di Girasoli was somewhere Mediterranean, perhaps off Sicily’s coast, but not much else.

The trip was daunting enough that she’d prefer companionship. She could’ve requested her two gal pals make the trip. Both remained devoted, even after she was left with zilch. Taddy Brill would’ve been her obvious choice. Except, Taddy’s PR firm was hosting a press trip in St. Barth’s and left strict instructions—not to be disturbed.

Backup bestie Vive Farnworth would’ve been her natural alternate. However, Vive gave new meaning to the term “high maintenance.” Her ever so demanding ways as Debauchery magazine’s editor in chief made a trip to the toilet a Vogue worthy affair. Lex didn’t have the energy.

Conscious she’d been fucked by the prince in a way she’d never imagined, she squeezed her mother’s hand and found her strength to carry on.

“I wish your father were alive,” her mother quavered.

“So do I.” Since his death, she’d longed for someone to lean on.