Today I have a little Hump Day Hotness for you from L.V. Lewis, author of Fifty Shades of Jungle Fever, the first book in The Ghetto Girl Romance Quadrilogy.  Enjoy the guest post, get an eyeful of the excerpt, and then enter the giveaway!  Let’s meet L.V. Lewis…

WHY I WROTE FIFTY SHADES OF JUNGLE FEVER

By L. V. Lewis

When the wildly popular Fifty Shades of Grey books took off into the stratosphere, I wondered: How might a similar scenario have gone with a woman of color?

That question wouldn’t stop nagging me, as I read all three books of the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. Ana came across as such an innocent, and one who didn’t have the mettle to stand up against Christian Grey. She was simply too enamored with him and, quite frankly, afraid of him in the beginning. I wanted to know how a sassy, irreverent girl from the hood, a woman of a totally different ethnicity might have handled a mover and shaker like Christian Grey. I wanted to write a woman who would talk back to him, and give him a little piece of her mind before she gave him little pieces of other things. Pun totally intended!

A writer friend and I were discussing on GChat one night how another author had written a spoof of Fifty Shades of Grey called Fifty Shades of Alice in Wonderland, and I suppose that’s when the wheels really began to turn in my head. So, after a marathon of writing for about two months, I came up with my parody of the famous trilogy from the viewpoint of a young woman from the south side of Chicago. This is Fifty Shades meets “Keisha from the Block,” if you will.

Keisha Beale doesn’t have a Subconscious; she has a Ghetto Good Girl or Triple-G who tries to keep her out of trouble. However, when the opposite or naughty part of her psyche gets involved, all bets are off. These minor characters provide much of the fun and humor in the story, as well as Keisha’s random thoughts about pop culture.

Tristan White was so aptly named because I wanted his name to be the personification of his ethnicity. This is a card-carrying gazillionaire, and lifetime member of the country club set, born with a silver spoon in his mouth—a whiter man than Keisha’s ever known. She’s bewildered by her attraction to him in the beginning. In fact, it scares the hell out of her. However, Keisha’s need for venture capital to get her dream business off the ground, and her desire to “scratch an itch,” compels her to take Tristan up on his indecent proposal.

Follow Keisha on her journey into the world of BDSM. This story pokes fun at some of the stereotypes that used to piss me off as a woman of color, and takes readers a little further into the lifestyle, and in some instances makes the vanilla original FIFTY SHADES BLACKER.

This story is not intended to offend, but to entertain, and get readers hot and bothered. I hope readers of all ethnicities will read and enjoy it!

 

Fifty Shades of Jungle Fever (Excerpt)

“I want you, Keisha.”

Those four words are my undoing. I crash into him. His arms go around me, and our mouths connect, followed by hips fusing, and my legs winding around him. There are definitely hard feelings now. Throbbing, hard feelings, touching me right there.

He finds the bed without looking, and we fall, our lips still locked, bodies writhing, hungry to create the glorious friction we felt for a few seconds last week. We kiss forever while our hands explore as much as they can of each other with clothes impeding our progress.

Tristan hauls us both further up onto the bed, and kneeling, we lock lips again while anxious fingers begin to remove clothing as quickly as we can. We only stop kissing long enough to raise arms and remove tops, then we fall onto the bed again. I can feel the heaviness of his need pressing against my belly, but only for a few fleeting seconds. Immediately, his pants and boxers are gone, and I’m eager to be naked myself because if he doesn’t enter me soon, I fear I’m going to spontaneously combust.

He stretches to reach into a drawer in a table next to the bed and returns with a condom, which he slides onto his humongous straining cock.

My Triple-G sees it and faints. My fairy hoochie mama does the Beyoncé’ “Crazy In Love,” booty dance, “uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no, no!” her tiny round apple bottom bouncing like a rubber ball.

I allow him to whisk me out of my pants and panties as if he’s a fucking magician, and without stopping to look to align us, Tristan hits the sweet spot.

“Aargh!” We grunt in concert as he fills me. His breathing is harsh, and his eyes are cloudy with lust. He squeezes out words with difficulty. “You’re tight. How long’s it been for you?”

“Three and a half . . . years,” I say through a groan. He’s only taken three strokes when I am convinced, this will be, hands down, the best sex I’ve ever had.

I cry tears of ecstatic joy as I grasp his forearms, and join in the syncopated rhythm, when he begins to move in earnest. We both seem to have lost the ability to form words because all we are capable of at the moment is movement and sound. Words are superfluous anyway. All that matters right now is what we’re doing to each other. He speeds up, and I match him thrust for thrust.

I make so much noise, it’s embarrassing. Tristan has this way of moving his hips that’s so sensual, so carnal, it’s like dancing and fucking at the same time. He doesn’t know the meaning of simple up and down, he gets a serious swerve on that I can’t match, but I hold onto him and keep up as best I can. The sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

He grasps my head and kisses me hard, his tongue dueling with and arresting mine. He releases my lips with a pop and kisses a trail to my neck, still moving, never missing a beat. He shifts his weight onto his elbows and grasps the sides of my torso with his large hands, and his thumbs find my nipples and begin to make frenzied circles on the hardened nubs. This man takes multi-tasking to a whole ‘nother level! I can feel my orgasm building deep inside me as he thrusts on and on.

I knew it would be different with Tristan, but I didn’t know it would be as good as this. He kisses me again as he continues the onslaught. Oh, man he has superb stamina! But, who’s complaining? Certainly not me. His tongue should be registered as a weapon because it’s lethal in its ability to exact pleasure. I feel so many sensations all at once, I fear I may explode into a gazillion pieces.

Somehow, Tristan knows what’s about to happen. “Give it up, Keisha,” he growls. My body vibrates in an uncontrollable quiver beneath his, and if he weren’t on top of me, holding me down, I’m positive I would’ve jack-knifed off the bed. My climax is so forceful, I scream his name like a litany, not a cliché. With a final scream to rival Zena, the Princess Warrior’s, I clamp my legs around Tristan’s ass and give up the ghost.

He follows a few seconds later with a more dignified grunt and collapses onto me. Our bodies are slippery with a fine sheen of sweat, but I don’t care. I am so well-fucked, I’d drink a glassful of Tristan’s sweat right about now. My Triple-G feigns gagging herself with two fingers, but my fairy hoochie mama, naked and sweat-slippery in her own right, lies comatose in her little bed.

Tristan and I are panting, attempting to slow our breathing, and bring our riotous thumping heartbeats back to normal.

“Wow . . . That was . . .” I don’t know if there are words in the vocabulary to voice such indescribable pleasure. We are forehead to forehead, and I can feel, rather than see his smile. I’m afraid to open my eyes as if doing so will erase the experience.

 

AUTHOR BIO

L. V. Lewis is a married, mother of four who lives in South Georgia, and works in the Florida Panhandle. A new author who decided that stories like Fifty Shades of Grey needed a little more diversity and comedy in them, she penned Fifty Shades of Jungle Fever as a parodied response from a woman of color. Lewis loves romances that involve interracial couples because she envisions a world one day where it won’t matter to anyone else who you love (because despite the civil rights movement, and a biracial US President, we aren’t there yet).

L.V. and spouse are political junkies. One leans right, the other left. Thankfully, this has never caused any issues in their relationship. If Lewis told you which of them was the Democrat and which was the Republican, you just might be able to figure out which is Dominant and which is submissive.

Where to stalk find L.V. Lewis:

GoodReads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6553830.L_V_Lewis

Blog: http://lvlewis.wordpress.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/lv_lewis

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/lv.lewis.148

Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/lvlewis486/

Thanks to L.V. Lewis for the great post and excerpt!  I’ve also read the first chapter of the book, and it was hilarious!  I thoroughly enjoyed the crisp, witty writing.  Keisha and the gals sitting on her shoulders offering constant commentary are extremely entertaining and will have you laughing from the first.

Want to win a copy for yourself?  *This is a Kindle only giveaway*  Leave your twitter handle or email address in the comments of this post.  New and existing followers of my blog get their name tossed in an extra time.  Tweet this post out or Like it on Facebook, and you’ll earn another entry!  This is a drama free zone; if your comment is not of the respectful variety, kindly restrain yourself.  You have until this Friday at high noon. Go!