*~*Sex. Love. Repeat. by Alessandra Torre Sale Blitz

Title: Sex. Love. Repeat.

Author: Alessandra Torre

Genre: Erotic Romance

Release Date: November 30, 2013

I love two men. I screw two men. I am in a relationship with them both, and they are both aware that there is another. That is all they need to know, that is all I will let them know. They don’t need to know a name, they don’t need to know anything but that they are not alone in my heart.

They have accepted the situation. Stewart, because his life is too busy for the sort of obligations that are required in a relationship. Paul, because he loves me too much to tell me no. And because my sexual appetite is such that one man has trouble keeping up.

So we exist, two parallel relationships, each running their own course, with no need for intersection or conflict. It worked for us, for them, and for me. I never expected it to be a long term situation, I knew there was an expiration date on the easy perfection of our lives.

I should have paid more attention, should have looked around and noticed the woman who watched it all. She sat in the background and waited, tried to figure me out. Saw my two relationships, the love between us, and plotted our demise.

She hates me.

I don’t even know she exists.

She loves them. I love them.

And they love me.

Everything else hangs in the balance.

I step from the bedroom a half hour later, jeans and a tank top on, my wet hair twisted into a bun. I swing by the kitchen on my way out, waving a goodbye to Estelle and snagging a red apple and bottled water from the fridge.

I hop on Santa Monica Boulevard, moving through lanes of traffic with ease, my car knowing the route as well as my soul, my thoughts wandering as I drive. My Audi was a gift from Stewart, my twenty-ninth birthday present, probably picked out by his assistant. Regardless of who chose the vehicle, I love it. White exterior, blood red leather inside, it is sleek, sexy, and just begs every degenerate in my neighborhood to steal it. I am shocked it has survived for the last five months.

It’s fourteen miles between Stewart’s home and mine, but it might as well be different countries. Stewart lives in the fast-paced world of downtown Hollywood, rarely leaving the blocks of the city unless jetting off for work. He doesn’t own a plane, he doesn’t spend his money on much other than his home, his clothes, and me. He doesn’t have time to spend money, and doesn’t believe in purchasing things just because he can. He works a hundred hours a week, sleeps six hours a night, and fucks the hell out of me the rest of the time. His needs are minimum: food, sleep, and sex. I take care of one of those. Estelle and his bed take care of the rest.

I get off on Lincoln Boulevard, the road traffic lessening, frustrated drivers continuing their zip along the freeway, anxious to continue their painful life . I wish, for a brief moment, that I had put down the car’s top, needing the wind in my hair and the sound of the surf. Leaving Stewart’s, I sometimes need the wash of fresh air. A strong breeze to release the intensity he carries with him.

I pull off the road, turning down our street and press the garage release button, entering the dark space that is my spot and killing the ignition. I step out in dim light, the overhead burnt out, Paul promising for the last five months to get around to it.

The steps are worn concrete, this townhome complex built before developers knew what they had, before they realized that this close to the beach they shouldn’t build shit housing. Back before property values hit ridiculous figures, and a six-figure income still puts you in the projects, dodging street beggars and used needles. We don’t make six-figures. Paul brings in anywhere from fifty to sixty thousand surfing. And I bring in far less than that, running a bookstore that operates out of a bar on Venice beach. For California standards, it’s practically poverty, but we don’t need much. For Paul and I, we never did. We’re lucky to have this place, my stepfather blessing us with a rent payment low enough to both piss our neighbors off and ensure that we still can cover food and utilities.

We met at the Santa Monica pier, when we were side by side in the singles line for the rollercoaster. We had all of six minutes in line, the shuffle moving quickly, singles getting split up among the empty seats in a bored and orderly fashion.

He flashed a smile at me, and that was really all it took. Broad shoulders, tan skin that peeled a bit on his nose, blue eyes that looked like a fucking turquoise magic marker. He was in board shorts, a tee-shirt, and flip flops with muscular, track-free arms and no hint of tattoos. It was like God plucked an Abercrombie & Fitch model from the sky and injected him with testosterone and sexuality. I smiled back.

We spent those six minutes talking, our words spilling out between laughs and chemistry. I instantly liked him, had one of those at-peace realizations that ‘this is a good guy’. The type so good that women run over him, the type so good that he is often best-friended. But this guy? With his gorgeous looks and the I-will-fuck-you-in-this-line-right-now vibe? No woman was stupid enough to best-friend this man. I wanted him, right there in that line, my panties sticking to me in the best way possible beneath my short cotton skirt.

We reached the front, our moment of separation, but were seated together, two of us in one bench, a ridiculous, never-should-happen moment, and I took the minute before liftoff to reach over, tugging the back of his head, his wide smile and soft lips telling me that I wasn’t crazy, that he wanted this every bit as much as I did. And I knew, in that kiss, in that brief moment of hotness in which our mouths instantly knew every part of the other’s soul, that I would fuck him. The minute, the second, the ride finished. I needed him inside me, needed his hands to grip my waist, his shirt to move off that beautiful chest and my bare breasts to replace it. I needed every inch of him against and inside of me. Then the bar jerked down, and we separated with a laugh.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Just prepare for screams.” I grinned.

I was, and still am, a dramatic rider. I believe that there’s no point in doing something if you aren’t going to do it with all of your heart. I raised my arms, I screamed bloody murder, and he loved every minute of it. We swept through the loading bay after one cycle, the operator amping the riders up before pushing the button and letting us ride again.

The vibration of the seat underneath me, the closeness of pure sex beside me, the anticipation of what was to come… I attacked him the moment the ride ended, grabbing his hand and tugging him out, the pounding between my legs reaching a fever pitch. I ran, pulling him along with me, our bodies weaving around families, couples, giant stuffed snakes and dollar games of chance.

We broke from the crowd and moved faster, our flip flops slapping against the wood boardwalk, the tinny laugh of children vaguely registering in my head. I broke right when I saw the opening and jogged down sandy steps, glancing behind me to make sure he was there. He was, his eyes bright and curious, his steps right behind mine, keeping easy pace with my frantic steps. “What are we-where are we going?” he called out. I ditched my sandals when I hit the sea of white and ran through hot sand, gripping his hand and pulling him along, under the boardwalk, past a few homeless tents and down towards the water, where the posts are thicker, the cover more enclosed, privacy at a barely-there standard. I waded into calf-high water, pulling and then pushing him against a square post, my hands frantic on his shirt, my mouth fighting the movement of clothes for another chance at that gorgeous mouth.

His hands pushed my thin tee up, over the curves of my bikini top, his firm fingers sliding the triangles of my bikini over, my breasts spilling free, his hands cupping them and squeezing, his breath catching in my mouth. He pulled away, looking down, staring at my breasts in his hands, his head leaning down, his hands lifting me into the heat of his mouth. His mouth was incredible, soft yet firm, pliable against my delicate skin, his fingers’ brush against my nipples soft and sweet. I could feel him, hard against my thigh, and I reached back, digging into my pocket for what I always keep there – just in case. Just in case I meet a man who I can’t resist.

He started at the touch of my fingers, dipping under the nylon of his shorts, his mouth coming off of my breasts and looking at me, surprised. “Here?” This close, I could see tints of green in his blue eyes, the color of ocean water, glittering brilliantly against the brown sand of his skin.

“Yes, here. I need you.” I met his eyes confidently as I said the words, my hands already sealing the deal, pulling him out *oh my god HARD* and sliding protection over him with one smooth motion. His eyes darkened, intensity stealing over them, and he turned us, trading places, pushing my back against the hard wet span of wood, his hands lowering, gripping the back of my legs and sliding up, pushing my skirt higher, his hands gripping the meat of my ass and lifting.

Then I was in the air, his pelvis underneath me, supporting me against the post, and his fingers were skimming the line of my bikini bottoms, traveling up the curve of my hip until he reached the tie, yanking quickly, his hand moving back down once the material of my suit is gone. His mouth left mine, a gasp in his tone as his fingers pushed inside, one digit and then two. “Jesus. Are you sure?”

A stupid question as I hung before him, my breasts exposed, legs wrapped around his waist, my need dripping a path for his cock. “Give it to me,” I breathed. “Hard.”

He didn’t ask again, didn’t do anything but prop me hard against the post, used his fingers to position himself at my entrance, and then he fucked. Quick fast strokes, his breath hard against my neck, his hands digging into the flesh of my ass, pulling and gripping the skin as he made his mark on my body. His fucks were wild, out of control, and I moaned against his neck, loving the fervor of his movements.

When I came, I cried out, his mouth quickly moving to mine, muffling the sound, as my body shook around his, my legs squeezing as intensity shook my body. It was too much, too great, the heat of my orgasm and clench of my sex, and I felt him as he came, the twitch and raw emotion that flowed through him, his breath gasping as he grunted, slowing his fucks and giving me a few last, final, pushes.

“Oh my god,” he whispered against my neck, his cock softening inside of me. “Oh my god. I think I’m in love with you.”

He wasn’t. He was just surprised, that a girl with perfect teeth, and a bred-in-the-Valley smile, would fuck a stranger under the pier in Santa Monica. And I really thought, as I dropped to my knees in the water and peeled off the condom, taking him into my mouth and sucking his cock dry, that I would never see him again. That it would be that one, fuckable moment, and nothing else. But here we are, two years later and incredibly in love.

That’s right. In LOVE. Yes, I am still the hoochie who just got my brains fucked out on the weight bench. The one who has dated Stewart Brand, one of the most eligible bachelors in downtown Hollywood for the last two years. I know what you’re thinking. That dropped jaw and disgusted look on your face? I’ve seen it before. But wait. Please. Don’t judge me quite yet.

Sex. Love. Repeat. by Alessandra Torre

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

*ARC Given to Blog for Honest Review*

4.5 “Madd” Kisses

Wow…wowowowowowow…speechless. I need words – can somebody help me with some words? Because this book just sucked my capability to form thought from my brain. There is one word that describes this book…unpredictable. Okay…there are more words…like holy-freakin-hell-hot, complex, passionate, intense, emotional, distinctive…GAH! I have wanted this book since I read the synopsis, needed this book since I saw the cover and now this book just owned my ass. I. Just. Can’t. Handle. It. Madison Decater…Madd…oh wow. Yeah, it’s completely easy to see why two men would fall in love with her. She has just about every positive quality you could think of smashed into one beautiful human being. She has not had it easy, which just adds to her loveable-ness…but it’s part of what shaped her into who she is now. Madison is gorgeous…inside and out, blonde hair, brown eyes…she’s athletic, smart, funny, loves to live life…has the best job ever a.k.a. works at a book store (I might be a little partial)…and her most endearing quality – she loves sex. She knows she loves sex and she’s 100% fine with that fact. I’m 100% fine with that fact because as long as all parties involved are being smart and healthy about it (in all aspects both physically and emotionally)…I say Party on Garth. Or Madison. In this case…she freakin’ rocks it. And I loved it. However, I do not for one moment though, envy the situation she got herself into. Equally in love with two amazing men.

‘I was, and still am, a dramatic rider. I believe that there’s no point in doing something if you aren’t going to do it with all of your heart.’

Paul Linx…he’s the first voice we hear from Madison’s POV…he’s not the first man we meet, but he’s the first connection I made. I cannot explain to you the connection and draw that I had to Paul but there is something very distinctive about him. He’s a surfer…he’s a kind soul…he’s a free spirit…he compliments Madison very well…and possibly the #1 thing I love about Paul…he gave her the nick name Madd. I loved how he and Madison met, I loved the sacrifices he made for her and all because he couldn’t fathom his life with out her in it…no matter what that meant for their relationship and where it took them. I also loved Paul because he’s a complete dichotomy…while he is this gentle giant that is so sweet and loving to Madison, would cut off a limb if she asked him to…he can still turn it around and show you this animal magnetism and strength that is totally and fabulously HOT. He is so passionate and sexy and sensual and just…sex on a surf board.

‘“I love you Madd.” “I love you too.” And I do. I love this man, who has not one stressed out bone in his body. He concerns himself with two things. Surfing, and keeping me happy. I love his outlook on life, a Bob Marley style philosophy. We fuck, we surf, and we love. There isn’t too much else to our life. To this half of my life.’

Stewart Brand…hmm…Stewart melted my panties off before 5%. There is no denying my lust for Stewart…I did grow to love him but OMG that man is just created for hot sex. And…that’s all he has time for. In Stewarts world it is job first, everything else second. But that is also part of his attraction. His drive, his dedication and his passion towards his job is…honestly, sexy. He has made a name for himself and has the lifestyle to prove it. The chemistry and sexual connection that Stewart and Madison have is something that I have rarely seen between to characters. Obviously, I love those all-encompassing emotional relationships where the couple have bonded over so many things…Stewart and Madison have one very common bond – Sex. Plain and simple. But it is a very deep and very special 2 year bond that they have both come to depend on. They both need each other desperately and as different as their relationship might be, I liked it and it worked for me.

“God…” he whispers. “You are my fucking kryptonite.” He leans down pressing soft kisses on my hair and forehead, his hand releasing me and cradling my face, turning it up to his, and kissing my fully and deeply on the lips. “I love you Madison. For everything.”

There is no way to talk about this plot and not spoil it. Oh and btw…don’t try to figure it out – because once you do, then something else will happen and then your brain gets scrambled and you don’t know what to think. Or…maybe that’s just what happened to me. I L.O.V.E.D. all the jaw dropping moments I had with this book. I could not get enough of it’s unpredictability and uncanny tendency to leave me gaping like…wait…did I just read that??? I re-read parts, not because I didn’t understand it but just because it was freaking GENIUS! Absolutely mind blowing! Completely spot on and I was eagerly turning each page waiting for the next breath-stealing moment. The complexity of the characters, the way all of them were sewn together so intricately, the feelings and the way it all played out – it’s like this beautiful symphony of hot, angst, drama, emotion and it all collided in my brain brilliantly. Most of the book is told from Madd’s POV but there are points that, because of the story line, we have to be in other POV’s and so it varies between Stewart and Paul. I liked it…I actually craved more of Paul and Stewart after that point.

‘I love her eyes. Love how I can instantly tell if she is mad, excited, or in love. Whatever the emotion whatever her temperature that day, there is lawas sex in those eyes. It floats off her skin, gleams in her eyes, and is in every move of her delicious body. This woman cannot exist without sex. It is her food, her body-sustaining air. I discovered that early, knew it from the moment of our second date. She cannot contain it, does not even try. She embraces it, owns it, loves it. She does not fuck out of insecurity or to get something or someone. She fucks because she loves it, and loves through it. It is her gift to the world and I am lucky enough to be a part of that world.’

So…the choice…as in every love triangle…has to be made. My choice was made early on – I was Team Paul (obviously!)…Stewart did it for me sexually but Patrick covered all the bases and then some. Did I flip flop…ehh…I can’t lie, I did, a little – especially towards the end, right before it’s decision making time because…the emotion is so high, feelings are coming out, things are being said, the truth is finally being heard and my heart just wanted to explode because…a part of me did want them both. But…a side had to be picked. I can’t say which side Madison chose…because that would be spoiling…but I can say that regardless of whether or not it was my choice in what I wanted for her…I was happy with what she did. Everything in this plot from beginning to end was logical and flowed with the characters…including everything leading up to the ending and I really appreciated that.

‘My smile widens, and I laugh, dropping my bad on the floor and wrapping my arms around his neck. “God, you are impossible.” “What can I say? I’m addicted.” His words are soft, so sweet and sincere that they tug my heart in a way that cannot be described.’

I cannot get over my addiction to Alessandra’s writing style. I have said it before and I will scream it from the roof-tops…I love her brain. She never ceases to amaze me with her ability to write these crazy story lines that I never see coming…the completely engage me from the first page to the last, I never get bored. If anything I’m holding my breath half the time waiting for the next click of my kindle to see what kind of mind fuckery might be waiting for me on the next page. And…the dirty book whore in me must address the fact that without a doubt is she one of the hottest writer’s I’ve ever read. It’s erotica people…and she lives up to that genre proudly. If erotica’s not your thing, that’s fine – but it’s mine and she is the queen of making me pant, beg and drool for more. It’s not superfluous of gratuitous, at least not to me – but there is a lot of it and it’s just…to quote her… ‘Hot, fuck-my-panties-to-pieces, sex’ – that’s what you get. Every time. And then some.

‘I love her. She knows it. I don’t hide the fact. But I don’t think she knows how much I love her. How much my chest expands to a point of pain when she smiles. How I ache when I leave her, how my hands shake when I finally get to touch her again. She is everything I don’t deserve, and everything I could ever hope to attain.’

Oh…and the ending. The last chapter was fabulous…I had my HEA…my nice little happy neat bow…BUT Alessandra Torre always likes to leave me with the WTF moments…and this one – she left for the end. The epilogue. The pull the rug out from under you moment that makes you sit back and question a lot. Not everything…but a lot. Makes me look at things in a different light…Madison actions…reactions…it’s just interesting to say the least. Puts a totally different spin and I have to tip my hat to Miss. Torre for knocking me on my ass and now I’m just begging for more. There’s nothing left to be had but…I’m a glutton for punishment and Alessandra gives it out so well. She will forever be the queen of leaving me breathless in so many ways and I just cannot get enough of the magic that comes out of her brain.

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Alessandra Torre is a new author who focuses on contemporary erotica. Her first book, Blindfolded Innocence, was published in July 2012, and was an Erotica #1 Bestseller for two weeks. Alessandra has since published an erotic thriller (The Girl in 6E) and an erotic miniseries (The Dumont Diaries). The sequel to Blindfolded, Masked Innocence, will be released in early 2014.

Alessandra lives in a Florida beach town and is married, with one young child. She enjoys reading, spending time with her family, and playing with her dogs. Her favorite authors include Lisa Gardner, Gillian Flynn, and Jennifer Crusie.