Colors ed. Selena Kitt

  • ISBN: 9781609825768
  • Written by: Selena Kitt - EDITOR


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The prism of life divides us into a whole spectrum of colors and ethnic flavas, so these anthology authors dish out their best erotic pancultural cuisine in eXcessica’s first interracial anthology—a veritable multicultural buffet! It’s time to taste the rainbow!

Stories included by: Vivian Vincent, Selena Kitt, Giselle Renarde, Tristan Cole, Samantha Jones, Dakota Trace, Jim Baker, D.B. Story, Kenn Dahll, M.E. Hydra and Sable Jordan.

Warnings: This title contains graphic language and sex.

Word Count: 82,672





From If It Isn't Love by Sable Jordan

So here we are on her bed, seven months later, dab-smack in the middle of things getting hot and heavy, and she’s still staring at me like I’m the largest conundrum –her word–on earth.

“Z, what’s the matter?”

“I’m not feeling too good,” she finally responded, and I wish she’da said it sooner. Little Derek hates standing up for nothing.

“Is it something you ate?”

She hopped up, bringing my eyes to those perfectly rounded breasts, dark nipples erect. Two supple mouthfuls of chocolaty goodness. Damn but she’s gorgeous. Her back to me, my eyes took in the shape of her body. Z has a nice athletic build; flat stomach melding into a narrow waist that flares into curvy hips and ass. I love her ass. Well-rounded globes excellent for gripping in the moment - or any moment for that matter. Mesmerized, I watched her jean-painted hips sway on her way to the bathroom. Never a good sign. A couple minutes later she emerged, clutching her belly.

“You all right?”

“Umm… No, actually. Cramps.” Her beautiful face was distorted in a tight grimace. “That time of the month.” She dropped onto her bed and curled into a ball.


“So that means…” I trailed off, hoping she understood my inference. “’Cause I don’t mind if you don’t.” Don’t blame me; blame Little Derek. He’s in total control right now – to be followed a little later by my stomach, my bladder, and my PS3 in that order. It’s almost ten at night so too late for sports.

Z eyed me from her fetal position and cringed. “First…eewww. Second, it means right now I need you to do me a favor and go to the store. I’m out of stuff.”

Guys, pay attention. When a woman says she’s out of “stuff” it means one of two things. Either she’s out of birth control and you’re not getting any, or she’s out of feminine crap and you’re not getting any. So grab the lotion, ‘cause you’re not getting any.

I felt Little Derek slump a bit in defeat, but he’s an optimistic guy and the thought of lotion had him back in fighting form in no time.

“Would you go to the store for me?” she asked again, all sad. I hated seeing her in pain, but the thought of going for her… stuff made me shiver. There are some places where a guy’s gotta draw the line. I mean, what’s next? Drinking triple venti sugar free, non-fat, no foam, extra caramel macchiatoes with heavy whip while we do mani-pedies and watch Lifetime? Plus, I’ve never had to get… stuff for anyone before. It’s like being a girl and buying condoms. Sure you could do it, but you don’t want to ‘cause the cashier’s gonna look at you weird.

“Please?” she moaned, batting those huge eyelashes of hers. “I’d go but I can’t move right now.”

The groan got swallowed in my throat and I reached for my shirt. I shrugged into it and pulled on my sweatshirt before standing from the bed and grabbing my keys, phone, and wallet off the dresser. Still half naked, Z rolled onto her other side, clenching her eyes shut in pain. I had to go. There was no way I could let her go without her… stuff, right?

This book was added to our catalog on Tuesday 03 January, 2012.

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