Jillian Boyd – Erotic Author Spotlight Series | Lady Laid Bare

Jillian Boyd Erotic Author Spotlight Series Feature

This week’s erotic author in the spotlight is Jillian Boyd – already an amazing sex blogger and also a fantastic erotic author and erotica editor. Her new 20s themed anthology, Flappers, Jazz and Valentino, has just been released (August 8 2014). Don’t miss it!

Find out more about the lovely erotic author, Jillian Boyd, in her writer feature below.

If you’d like to read about other erotic authors you can find the Erotic Author Spotlight Series here. Erotic author and interested in your own free feature post at Cara Sutra? Find the call for submissions page here.

– Cara Sutra

Jillian Boyd Erotic Author Spotlight Series Lady Laid Bare

Jillian Boyd Biography

Jillian Boyd Erotic Author Spotlight Series Lady Laid Bare

Jillian Boyd is an erotica author and blogger, who has been putting dirty words on paper and on her blog for the past three years. She likes taking everyday, seemingly mundane situations and making them sexy and sensual – and when she’s not doing that, she lets her imagination fly off into history and distant planets. Where she also tries to find everyday situations and make them sexy and sensual.

She’s been published in several House of Erotica anthologies, contributed to Tiffany Reisz’s office supply erotica charity anthology Felt Tips and has a story in the Golden Crown Literary Award-winning Best Lesbian Romance 2014, published by Cleis Press.

When she’s not writing erotica, she’s being a film reviewer for various websites. She’s currently working on her first novella, a sci-fi erotic thriller called In Another Life. Her first anthology as an editor, Flappers, Jazz and Valentino is her ode to the glamour of the Jazz Age and is released on August 8th.

Her interests include Doctor Who, Lola’s Cupcakes, reading Nicci French novels in the park and archery – which she hopes to actually take up as a hobby one day.

Jillian Boyd Works

Here are just a few of the anthologies Jillian Boyd has featured in:

Flappers, Jazz and Valentino (House of Erotica, as editor)

More Smut for Chocoholics (House of Erotica, with Les Délices Parisiens )

Smut By the Sea Vol. 3 (House of Erotica, with Artistic License)

Boys Will Be Boys (House of Erotica, with Dirty in Denim)

Best Lesbian Romance 2014 (Cleis Press, with Aussie Girl)

Free Excerpts

From Artistic License – found in Smut by the Sea Vol 3.

Jillian Boyd Erotic Author Spotlight Series Lady Laid BareThat Friday, I sat on the terrace of the café where I met Goran the first time. Alternating between sipping my drink and checking the time, I cursed at not being able to get time to move faster with my mind. But again, there was the sound of millions of thoughts rushing through my head all at once, with one thought repeating over and over again – do I take my clothes off this time? Will that lead to anything more?

And what did I actually want it to lead to?

Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to find the answer at the bottom of this drink. I got my stuff and made my way to his studio. The setting sun glittered on the surface of the Adriatic Sea, the heat finally giving in and taking a breather. It should have made me a bit less tense, but it didn’t. Instead, it just served to amplify the ache for that something I couldn’t put a name onto yet.

Three knocks. An opening door. A smiling Goran, inviting me in. By the time I put my bag down by the door of his studio, I’d made my decision.

“So, is it okay if I take my clothes off this time?”

Goran had barely a chance to say hello to me. He nodded, as he went to set up for the evening. “If you want to disrobe, I am okay with that. Do you want me to look away?”

Without thinking, I joked. “Ha! Reminds me of what Brendan used to say just before we fucked. It was his way of being polite, I guess.”

I nearly had my top off when I caught the look on Goran’s face. “I see…” he said, sounding a bit more reserved. “And would Brendan be okay with you, here, naked before me?”

“Oh Christ, I’m… He’s my… he’s my ex. I guess. I don’t know.” I replied, suddenly finding it hard to concentrate on disrobing. “We’ve not been… not together for very long. It’s taking a while to get used to.”

“Aha. If you could keep your underwear on for just a bit longer.”

“Sure. Any reason?” I said, getting into a comfortable position. I worried that, somehow, mentioning Brendan had made him uncomfortable, even after I said we weren’t together anymore – and that he would now refuse to have me take my clothes off for some reason. But he just smiled.

“I quite like the colours. They remind me of the Adriatic. Now, sit still for me.”

Another half an hour went by with him sketching me in my underwear. He visibly relished in the colours of my lingerie, which delighted me because who else would pay attention to me colour-coordinating my bra and pants? It was an artistic detail for an artistic man; another thing which had me wet with arousal.

As the time ticket by, he appeared to soften and started chatting. With his pencil not leaving the page, he told me stories about the people he’d painted, about how he became an artist, about why he liked the human form so much. I hung on his every word. Until he asked me the inevitable.

“So, this ex of yours. How long have you not been together?”

I counted it in my mind, deliberately taking my time to answer. “Ehm… three weeks, I think.”

“Three weeks? No wonder your heart seems sore still.”

“Is it noticeable?”

“Not at first sight. But if you look deeper into your eyes. Or at my sketches from the previous session.”

“Well, we had been together for a couple of years. It was quite sudden.”

“I see. What prompted him to make this terrible mistake?”

“He got a small part in a film.”

Goran stopped drawing for a minute and looked up at me, in disbelief. “He ended your relationship… for a part in a film?”

I nodded.

“Nothing else? No other reason than a part in a film?”


“Then that man is not fit to breathe the same air as you, Leah, let alone be in a relationship with you. Honestly, ono masivna krètēn.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Did you just call him a massive idiot?”

“I did. Let that be your first lesson in this beautiful language, Leah.” he said, with a wink. “Swearing in Croatian sounds like pouring honey into milk, that gorgeous.”

He paused before adding “Almost as gorgeous as you.” Although he said it quietly, it was loud enough for me to hear and break out into a massive blush. And prompted me to ask him something I’d been dying to know.

“Goran… when we met, and you went off and said ‘see you later… something in Croatian’… what were you saying?”

“Moj slatki London dama. It means my beautiful lady from London.”

The blush spread through my body. “Do you… do you really think I’m beautiful? As an artist?”

“Leah, there are a lot of people who ask me to capture them, be it on a canvas, or in a sketch. There are not a lot of people who have prompted me to ask them for the pleasure of capturing them. Now, if you’d take your underwear off for me… But take all the time you want, of course.”

The time it took me was about seven seconds. The time Goran spent looking at me, seemingly drinking in the sight of my every curve and softness felt like about seven years. Not that I was complaining. The look in his eyes was something beautiful to behold – a look of pure adoration.

“Right!” he eventually said, his voice a couple of octaves higher than normal. “I’ll get my materials. Do you mind if I get up close to you? I want to capture you at your best.”

“Oh, close… not at all! No, do come close… you are the artist, capturing me up close and… naked, after all.”

“Naked. Yes, very… naked, after all. Indeed. Right. Sketching, that was what I was going to do.”

With one hand visibly trembling, he shifted his chair close enough so I could see the details of every expression crossing his face. As he started sketching me, the thought stream in my head which had been ever-present seemed to slowly die down.

There was something so incredibly, achingly intimate about watching a man capture my naked body onto sheet after sheet of paper. It didn’t miss its effect; my pussy felt wet and hot and with every passing minute the need to touch myself increased to a maddening high. Every time our eyes locked, my body burned.

“Can you shift just a little? I’d like to see a bit more of your belly.”

“It’s my favourite part of me.” I said, apropos of nothing. “Well, that and my breasts.”

“You have a lovely belly. Soft, round, curvaceous… much like your breasts. Possibly the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever seen.”

“Surely not. You see breasts every day.”

“That doesn’t take away from the fact that yours are possibly the most beautiful, voluptuous, curvy, soft…”

He trailed off, his pencil nearly dropping. It took him about half a minute to snap back into the studio and pick up where he left off. It took me longer than that to repress the need to pull his face towards my breasts and have him lavish all the attention he wanted to on them; if he wanted to, at least.

Eventually, he finished the sketch, with a big intake of breath.

“Right. Tell me how you like this, Leah. It’s not completely ready yet though. You can come and get it tomorrow.”

He handed me the sketch pad, his face framed in anxious anticipation. He really needn’t have worried.

“Wow. Bloody gorgeous.” I said, casting my eye over his work. I was seeing myself through a different set of eyes… eyes that had seen something in me that not even I knew was there.

Whatever it was he saw in me, I liked it. And I wanted more.

Jillian Boyd

Flappers, Jazz and Valentino

Jillian Boyd Erotic Author Spotlight Series Lady Laid BareI’ve always been fascinated by the Jazz Age. It’s an era of cultural and social bloom, with as many dizzying ups as there were dizzying lows. And when it came to trying to find a subject for my first anthology as an editor, this was the one I wanted to tackle the most.

Luckily, I found eleven brilliant authors who were very willing to tackle the era as well – thus was born Flappers, Jazz and Valentino, a collection of twelve erotic stories through a Jazz Age filter. I like to imagine the filter’s sepia.

This is a short excerpt from one of the stories in the anthology, Annabeth Leong’s Genuine Chemistry.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

I closed the distance between us and pushed her hands out of the way. For a moment, the room was silent except for my harsh breath, her fluttering panting, and the stretch and snap of silk handled roughly. Her body swayed in my arms like a slim tree in a strong breeze, and I had to claim her. Getting one of Mira’s shoulders bare, I dropped a brief kiss on it before biting.

I expected a yelp, but instead I got a moan. Since she’d liked it so much, I did it again, sucking and licking as I gripped her flesh with my teeth. “Please, yes. That’s what…” She flailed her hands backward, and I guided them up around my neck. I wanted to be the one doing the groping, not the other way around.

I released her shoulder and sank to my knees so I could deal with the bottom sections of her undergarments. “That’s what gets you jazzed? Your rich husband had no idea, did he? You lay still under him like a good little wife, but when his French cousin came to visit, suddenly you discovered all the things you could do with that luscious mouth, those pretty long fingers, and these hips.”

I gripped the hips in question, finally, finally past the clothing and into the incredible world of skin. She was hot to my touch, flushed pink from alcohol, and she’d begun to smell of sex.

Darting my hand between her legs, I teased out the truth of that. “Did that French cousin get you wet like this?”

Mira ducked her head and nodded.

“And then what? Did she know how to touch you?” I demonstrated, my fingers flickering through her wiry hair and to the soft lips beneath. I parted them, probed between them, and stroked and pinched until her legs began to shake. “Is this what she did to you?”

“Yes,” Mira confessed. “But not the way you’re…”

Seeing that I’d softened her up, I pressed my fingers inside her hard, curling them against her inner walls and forcing her sentence to trail off into a greedy groan. “She was sweet with you, wasn’t she?”


Mira didn’t act like a girl who wanted it sweet. She moved against my hand as if her life depended on it. Fingers still inside her, I guided her down onto my dusty floor with an expression that dared her to hesitate.

She got onto her hands and knees like a champion, and I rewarded her by keeping those fingers pumping. “What did you do when the cousin went back to France? Who else has there been? Did you hire yourself a special maid? Or maybe you’ve got a bull-dyker in the bad part of town, and you go to see her every time you think you can get away with it.” I was making myself mad, picturing other people giving Mira what she needed.

I bent over her, running my free hand across her hair and the back of her neck, down her shoulders and along the sides of her body as if she were a prize racehorse and she belonged to me. I slid another finger inside her because I wanted her to feel me the most.

She gasped and sagged beneath the onslaught. “That was all,” Mira managed to say. “It was only with her.”

I was so stunned, I stopped moving. “What?”

“She taught me what it could be like, but ever since, I’ve gone without.”


Mira shot me a wounded look. “Easy for you to say, Rennie. You’re too brave to care. I’ve never –  until I saw you, I didn’t know how to find anyone else. I couldn’t exactly come out and ask.”

I blinked. I’d forgotten what that was like. The way I dressed, people made assumptions, opportunities came to me, and scarlet women assumed that I’d want what any man would.

The quality of my feelings toward her changed, sympathy tempering my angry lust. “Darling, I’m sorry.” I gentled my fingers, but she whimpered with frustration.

“Don’t be that sorry,” Mira said. “I want you to take me. Please – I’ve been waiting so long.”

I dropped to the floor beneath her. Showing my strength, I tightened my stomach and curled up toward her to kiss her bow-shaped lips. The tenderness I’d been feeling came through in the way our mouths connected, but I didn’t want to disappoint the lady, so I pulled myself together and began to work my way down. I kissed the side of her jaw and sucked her earlobe, then made a detailed exploration of her collarbone. Mira mewled, struggling to hold herself in position. I saw her elbows quivering.

Her breasts hung from her chest, full enough to justify that multitude of undergarments. I lay beneath them and pressed my nose up between them, inhaling the close scent of the hidden skin there. She cried out when I licked her nipple, and sobbed when I nipped it with my teeth. By the time I got to her belly, it was twitching and jumping at my every touch. I couldn’t wait any longer. I wrapped one arm around the backs of her thighs and pulled her body down onto my face.

Giving her back all the fingers, I worked her with my hand from behind while employing my mouth’s full charms against her front. I thought of that seaside resort again as I bathed my tongue in her sharp, fresh taste.

She was on the verge of satisfaction, but I broke away before she could arrive at that heavenly destination. I wanted to be inside her for that.

Mira ground against the air as if she hadn’t figured out yet that my lips had left her. “Rennie, please, don’t stop now.”

– Jillian Boyd

This feature contains affiliate links

Please share your thoughts!

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.