Erotica author Jade Jurgensen is a pseudonym for Ellen Ashe.

Bad boys- gangsters, outlaws, villains, real or fictional- name one and Jade is immediately the center of attention. She loves talking about them, reading about them, watching them in the movies, and most of all, writing about them. On the keyboard she's in control and every viciously handsome man equates to scenes that are sultry, steamy, and salacious. Heroines never walk away unsatisfied. And neither will you!

Check out Jade's Virtual Library at Impassioned Pen! http://jadejurgensen.blogspot.com

Indecent Games Available now from Forbidden Publications

Indecent Games Available now from Forbidden Publication Kirstina is bored. She aches for excitement and when she meets a smooth talking distinguished businessman in a bar she thinks a one-night stand will placate her need for a little harmless fun. Instead it is just the beginning as she agrees to share his jet setting life style, filled with wealth, promiscuity, and opulence. But beneath the lurid games is a darker world of power, mistrust, deceit and shady business deals. And the more she becomes involved with his sensual delights the more she realizes how quickly her passions can spiral out of control.

Excerpt (unedited)

"And by the way," Kirstina yelled, perhaps a little too loudly. "I faked all my orgasms."

"Yeah, well. I faked mine, too!"

Despite shaking with anger Kirstina couldn't help but smirk. Mark had one thing going for him and that was a great sense of humor. That wasn't enough to keep their six-month relationship from falling into the rocks and splintering into a thousand pieces though. As she watched him dash out the bar door in his own fit of rage and humiliation, she figured this argument was the final blow- she'd never see him again. It hurt a little- this was a do or die holiday- and seemed the decision had been finally made. She took a deep breath, recovering quickly. She was ready for a change, the bigger the better.

Kirstina turned the bar stool around so she could face her drink. There happened to be many eyes in the room peering at her, expectedly so after the outburst, and a few muffled laughs were audible, but whatever they thought was no big deal. These people were strangers. Once she finished her drink and had gone she'd never see any of them again.

With defiance she crossed her long legs to one side and flipped back a strand of blonde hair that annoyed her cheek. Maybe now that he was gone she could relax and enjoy what was left of her holiday. Three weeks yawned up in front of her. Whatever she wanted to do, she could, without being argued with- visit museums, art galleries, pubs, or sit on a bench in the middle of Hyde Park and fondle herself- it was up to her. Free. Free at last. Kirstina sighed heavily, and smiled. She felt better already.

"If what you just said is true, then it's a shame."

Kirstina flinched. It was one thing knowing the whole room heard what she had just said, it was quite another to have someone acknowledge it with a comment. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to the source of the deep rumbling voice.

He sat two stools down. Immaculately dressed in an expensive three-piece suit, he looked very much the business type. A slight gray fleck in otherwise dark heavy hair gave an indication of middle age, even though his lithe physique did not. He was tall, balanced by broad shoulders, under which there was hint of muscle. This man took care of himself, despite twiddling a cigar between his fingers.

He didn't look at her. He was staring at the crystal tumbler on the bar in front of him. Kirstina could tell, however, he was giving her his undivided attention. The square jaw flexed. Smiling, he slowly lifted his eyes to meet her questioning glance. "I mean, if you were with me that would never be an issue."

Careful what you wish for- a change, the bigger the better. A shiver of impending danger trickled down her spine. She shifted her legs. His unblinking black eyes fell to her thighs- her skirt had inched up with her movement. A flush of heat crawled to her neck.

Oh-oh, she mused. The jackal was circling a wounded prey.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Thunder, rumbling in the distance. "My intention was not to embarrass you." He slid onto the stool next to her as though invited. "Jack Berkley."

She took his hand. The skin was soft, smooth, cared for. "Kirstina Meyers."

"Kirstina," he whispered to himself. "That's a very pretty name." The dark eyes instantly swept over her breast and to her face again. If she had blinked she would have missed the glance. "Please, let me buy you a drink," he offered.

Her first impulse was to gulp what was left in her glass and make a mad scramble for the main door. It was screamingly obvious this man was coming on to her and any other time she would have been repulsed with the leering attention. But there was something incredibly smooth, mysterious, and daring about him. The eyes. Must have been the eyes. Whenever she stared into them her limbs felt weak. Somewhat annoyed with herself she agreed. "Thank you. I'll have a bourbon."

His brow lifted. In the same second he waved his hand for the bartender's attention. "Two bourbons," he ordered. Turning back to her he said, "You're not British."

Watching the drink being poured she said, "No. I'm not."

Jack waited a few seconds and then began to laugh. A small scar in his right cheek deepened, a flash of perfect teeth, and he dug in his pocket taking out a wad of bills neatly folded with gold clip. He peeled off enough to pay the bartender. Then he saluted with his drink, coaxing her to do the same. "Here's to intrigue," he said. "I like a woman who doesn't easily give up her secrets to strangers."

"I don't have secrets."

His smile faded instantly. The brow furrowed over the dark eyes, which warned of storm. "We all have secrets. They simply vary in degree, that's all." Suddenly, he was lost in thought. Kristina was grateful she was no mind reader. If she were, she had the feeling that her own thoughts would be flooded with wicked, unspeakable deeds. As quickly as his sullen mood had overtaken him, it was gone. "Well, if you're not English, then I'll venture to guess you're in London on holiday."

"A mixture of pleasure and business." She hoped to continue sounding mysterious. She was enjoying this man's company and actually had visions of saying yes if he asked her for a date. Wetting her lips with a slow stroke of her tongue she sighed, "Mostly pleasure, now."

Jack propped his elbow on the bar, throwing his shoulder into a stance that snapped his thick neck to one side. His lashes never moved; Kristina was being studied, and studied heartedly. She stared back. If he was throwing out a net of some indecent proposal she wanted to see it coming.

He reached over and lightly stroked her wrist. She had the feeling this was some sort of test because he continued to watch, scrutinizing her reaction to the caress. And she tried desperately not to show the excitement whelming up within. Fixating her own eyes on his, she swallowed the shiver erupting in her stomach, tickling, like a feather, and winding its way into her tightly folded thighs. All this stranger had done was tenderly touch her arm and she was wet. Very wet. The tickle turned to an ache. She pulled away from his touch; if she hadn't her silent whimper wouldn't be silent for long.

"Kirstina," he purred. "Do you enjoy games?"

"What kind of question is that?"

Long fingers wrapped round her wrist, not threateningly, more with sensual pleading. "Don't be offended," he said. "Please, hear me out."

She nodded. This was, after all, quite intriguing. "Carry on."

"Games are a source of entertainment, relaxation, escapism. They're meant to be fun, enjoyable, sometimes stimulating, and sometimes even dangerous, which in itself is alluring. Different types of games for different types of people, yes?"

Kirstina leaned towards him, puffing her lips seductively. "And what sort of games turn you on, Mr. Berkley?"

His eyes widened and then narrowed just as quickly. A seductive wash poured from his voice. "Indecent games. I love everything sexual. I think you do too."

Kirstina's heart pounded double time. She sipped her drink in an attempt to sooth her drying throat. "You really should work on being more extroverted, Jack. You know, speak your mind." She grinned. Nothing like putting one's cards on the table before the betting began! Was he finding her as enticing as she found him?

The finger kept caressing her wrist. "Of course men love everything sexual," she added. "It's the nature of the beast. You have nothing to lose."

"Nothing to lose," he repeated, diverting his attention to the cigar in the ashtray. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a monogrammed gold lighter and snapped it to life. Sucking on the end, smoke whirled around the smooth olive tones of his skin and wisped into his hair. He clasped his drink and stroked the side of the glass with his thumb. "Let's see… what are women afraid of losing? Money. Sexual dignity. Stability. Heart." His right brow lifted as he returned his attention to her face. "But you're not like other women, baby. You don't fear losing those things. Your personality is strong, your mind set, your body your own. But you're lacking a sense of… excitement. Why not live on the edge for a while? Bring the thrill back into your life?"

Kirstina shook her head. This man was certainly dark and mysterious but he was also extremely full of himself. Still, what he was saying had an odd ring of truth. She had been bored, and the remark made about the orgasms wasn't completely false. "Thrill back in my life? And I suppose you're just the man who can do that?" Her tone dripped sarcasm. She was no push over despite the growing fantasies that were beginning to cloud her judgment.

He was undaunted by her remark. "In part," he said, finishing his drink and stubbing out what was left of the cigar. "If you're interested, let me know, soon. I'm in room 2002." He stood, his presence towering over her like a city skyscraper obscuring a streak of light. And his huge hand clasped her throat, gently and luxuriously. She whimpered slightly to the sudden touch, the fire in her voice extinguished by heavy lips, which pouted promise against her mouth, promise of excitement, fun, and living on the edge. And then he was striding out of the busy bar, followed by another man who had been sitting unobtrusively near by reading a newspaper. Neither looked back.

What had just happened she couldn't be sure. That was the strangest pick-up speech she had ever heard. And the most alluring. She felt as though she had been hit by lightning. It was the most exciting thing that had happened to her in a long, long time.

Erotica author Jade Jurgensen is a pseudonym for Ellen Ashe.