50 Shades of Freedom – The Friend Series Book1 by Natasha Clark

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About the author:

If you like romance that will steam up your windows and leave you wanting more then you will enjoy her books.

What inspired you to write your book?

This book was inspired by 50 Shades of Grey. I just kept having this scenario go through my mind and had to write it.

Here is a short sample from the book:

50 Shades of Freedom – Chapter One
Judith sat in the cafe, listening to the hubbub of noise that had always seemed relaxing, but today she was wound so tight it made her want to scream. The cappuccino machine hissed and crockery clinked and beneath it all was the chatter of friends rising and falling as they each tried to be heard. Judith knew she should have cancelled their Friday drinks and gone home, admit that she had lost her job, but the thought of Nathan’s disapproval was more than she could bear right now. She needed to see her friend, to talk things through and decide what she should do. Of course Anna was late as always, and Judith huffed her disapproval: she needed her friend tonight.
Sitting alone with a warming cappuccino, she found herself wondering why they were friends. Anna was flighty and flirtatious. Petite with short red hair, deep blue eyes and a pixie face. She was the life and soul of any party and dressed as such, with a short black mini skirt and tight red t-shirt being her standard wear. Judith was her opposite: tall with long blonde hair and a good figure, but that was it. Her face was stern and it matched her character, and at twenty-eight, god she was tired. She was wearing a plain white blouse and a blue knee length skirt and – blazer—boring and old-fashioned. She looked down and picked at a bobble on the skirt. She should have got some better clothes, made an effort, but it was too late now.
She glanced across the plain plastic to the table next to hers and felt the warmth of a blush flush her cheeks as the tall olive skinned hunk who always sat there met her eyes. He moved his head and his shoulder length black hair seemed to glisten under the spotlights. A stab of excitement clenched her stomach and she looked away quickly. Anna had often joked that she should get it on with the guy, and she had to admit that she had thought about it. At twenty-eight, she had been married for seven years and the passion had left them a long time ago. She had tried buying silky lingerie that had got smaller and smaller, but he was always too tired or too busy, she even wondered if he was having an affair. She still loved him, or at least she thought she did, maybe it was just habit, but since Nathan had admitted to losing £50,000 gambling, things had been unbearable at home. Now she had lost her job as the company was closing, and they would probably lose their house. She let out a sigh of frustration and fought back tears. She would get through this, she always did.
She closed her eyes and leaned against the window. The cold glass felt good on her cheek, and she thought about the hunk. He came in every Friday and sat opposite her. He never picked another table, so it must be because he wanted to see her, or so Anna always said. She laughed. They never picked a different table either. Anna said that he had a crush on her and that was why he came to the cafe and sat alone. Every Friday she would see him there, he would drink one cup of coffee, and sometimes their eyes met. It was the most exciting thing in her life.
Her breath seemed to catch in her throat. He was looking directly at her. He had large, almost feminine, brown eyes and prominent cheek bones. Wearing a blue t-shirt his chest looked ripped and his arms were beautifully muscled. His lips curled into a smile as he rose from his chair and walked towards her. She tried to look away but couldn’t as he strode across to her table. He reached out and took her hand. It was like a physical shock ran down her arm and into her stomach, leaving a warm sensation nestled there.
“Come,” he said and pulled her from the table.
Holding her hand, they weaved between the tables and he pushed open the door into the bathrooms. He pulled her to him and shouldered his way into the disabled bathroom, locking it as soon as they were through.
“What are you doing?” she protested as he pushed her against the wall. It felt cold and hard on her back.
“You want me,” he said leaning in towards her.
He smelt of woodlands and musk, and it was intoxicating—as was the warmth of his skin as he moved in close. She reached up to push him away, but as her hands touched his chest, felt the muscles beneath the silky material of his t-shirt, she couldn’t move. She knew she should protest, but she couldn’t speak.
His elegant finger caressed her bottom lip, and she sighed involuntarily, her breath coming faster and faster. His fingers left her mouth and traced over her chin and down her throat. She could feel warmth in her stomach and her pussy clenched as his hand drifted to her left breast. She knew this was wrong; she was married and should stop this—would stop this any minute now. Her nipple hardened under his touch and she groaned, “Stop.”
He circled her breast and leaned in close till his breath tickled her ear. She wanted to suck his earlobe; it was so close, so tempting and she felt her lips moving towards him.
No, she must stop this.
His hand slid lower as he blew into her ear, soft air that tickled and tantalized the skin warmed by his kisses. His hand reached the waistband of her skirt and slid lower over her stomach, and then through the material he found her clit and circled his thumb over and around. She drew in a breath and panted against his neck. “Stop… please you have to.” It sounded more like she pleaded for him to continue. His tongue flicked across her ear as his thumb circled her clit; she was wet and warm and desire raged through her. It had been so long since she had felt like this. He blew on her ear, and the cold air on wet skin tingled and thrilled through her.
“Beg me to fuck you,” he whispered into her ear.
“Oh.” She groaned and circled her hips, pushing against his hand. He reached lower, pulling up her skirt and running his hands along the nylon of her stockings. His hand came higher and higher and found her warm creamy skin. “Please,” she moaned, “please.”
“Beg me,” he whispered into her ear, nibbling the lobe. The sharp pain was another type of bliss.
His hand touched the silky material of her knickers, and he could undoubtedly feel how wet she was through the thin covering. “You are so wet. You want me don’t you?”
“Yes,” she groaned as he rubbed two fingers across her clit and lower, almost entering her through the silkiness of the panties.
“Beg me to fuck you, or I stop.” His lips were nibbling on her earlobe, sucking and pulling as his fingers worked her pussy. She reached out and touched his thigh, feeling hard muscle beneath coarse denim. Her hand searched for his cock, her fingers desperate to free him from his trousers. She found his button, undid it, and fumbled for the zip. As she slid it down, she could feel him hard and hot beneath the cotton of his boxers. “Beg me,” he said his voice coarser now, as he slipped two fingers under the waistband of her panties and slid them down through her coarse hair, across her clit and into her wet pussy.
She was panting hard as she pulled down his boxers and took his hard, throbbing penis in her hand. As she stroked its length, his fingers stopped their caressing and he groaned against her neck. She ached for him to continue, ached to feel him inside of her. She squeezed his penis, sliding her fingers over the bulbous head and down the veined shaft until she found and cupped his balls. “You need to beg,” he whispered against her ear.
His cock throbbed in her hand and she gasped with frustration: she needed this. “Fuck me, I beg you, fuck me hard,” she groaned into his ear.
He grasped her panties and pulled them down. He took two fingers and circled into her pussy, slipping and sliding in the hot wetness of her. “You are so wet and I am gonna fuck you hard.”
She stroked his penis and guided it towards her throbbing cunt. He pushed her back and took hold of his member. Bending at the knees, he rubbed its head across her clit, sending waves of heat and joy through her, and he then eased it into her pussy. She felt him slide in; his width and warmth seemed to fill her, and she wanted to fuck him so hard and so fast that she could almost scream. He pushed in and out, again and again, and she was rising, rising, rising towards orgasm.
His fingers gripped the warm flesh of her thighs as he thrust into her, driving her higher and higher to an ecstasy she had forgotten. She gripped his trim, hard ass and pulled him towards her, matching his thrusts with her own. “Deeper,” she moaned and felt him push into her, filling her with a passion that drove her to moan and squirm beneath him. She reached down and squeezed his balls gently as she rode his cock. A pressure was building inside of her, and she knew she was getting close. Her pussy and clit throbbed with heat and intense pleasure. She wanted to hold back to prolong the sensation, but she couldn’t. It all felt so dirty, and that, as well as his hard hot cock thrusting into her, filled her with unbearable waves of felicity.
“I’m coming,” she screamed. Orgasmic waves rippled through her from his cock all the way to her finger tips. She felt him tense and thrust deeper and then spasms wracked his body as they came together.
She collapsed against him, and he was wet with a thin film of sweat—she wanted to lick it from his hard, olive-skinned muscles. She felt so wrong, so dirty for fucking a stranger whilst the cappuccino machine whistled behind her.
“Judith?” Anna’s voice seemed faint and far away.
“Quick, before we get caught.” She pushed him back and frantically brushed at her clothes.
“Sorry I’m late.” Judith shook her arm. “Were you sleeping?”
Judith was wrenched from the dream, still frantically patting at her clothes. There was a dribble of drool on her lip and color flushed her cheeks as the throbbing from her fantasy orgasm still coursed through her body. Judith Pearce… what were you thinking?