Erotic Author Spotlight Series: Willa Okati


Thanks so much to Willa Okati for stepping into the Cara Sutra erotic author spotlight this week! Find out more about this lovely Totally Bound author and enjoy her sensationally steamy free excerpts 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.

I run a similar free promotional offer for sex bloggers and sex toy reviewers. You can find the Sex Blogger Spotlight Series page here, and the call for submissions (the Q&A and other info to send me) here.

Email me at with your info – whether author or blogger – and I will reply with your spotlight date. This will be the next available Monday for authors and the next available Thursday for bloggers.

– Cara Sutra


willa okati banner

Hello, Cara Sutra—thanks for having me here today! I’m so glad for the opportunity. My name is Willa Okati, and I’ve been writing LGBT romantic erotica, novels and novellas and short stories, for over ten years now. I enjoy working with all genres from comedy to fantasy to contemporary, but polyamory has always been one of my favorites.

Willa Okati would say there isn’t much to say about herself, but she’s always been a wordy little fuck so that might not be the absolute truth. Writing has been her escape, her therapy, and her avocation since the days when she had to really put her back into hammering down on a manual typewriter. Thirty-five years later, the keyboards have improved but she’s still hard at it. Her body currently lives in the South, but her brain’s on permanent walkabout in the clouds, where the good stories and the tastiest fellows make their home. Polyamory, ink, and medical romance are her current jam, but you never know when piccalilli might happen.

About Take Heart

I’ve written a ten-way before, but sometimes three is just the number you need. It’s the sum total Evan and Griff have been searching for—a man who suits their desires, tickles their fancies, and is willing to be shared. The way they see it, Dr. Brandon West is almost exactly what they want. Almost. Brandon’s a hard sell. He knows he could fall for them, but he’s only in town for a short time, and he’s not up for risking his heart only to toss it aside. It’ll be up to Griff and Evan to teach him a thing or two about the value of affection, and how when it’s the real thing time and distance don’t matter so much as the possibilities that passion offers.

And if that involves getting naked—often—well, so much the better.


You can find me at:

My website



By email —I love hearing from readers!

About St. Hawk’s Medical 1: Take Heart


A gentle hippie with a new heart, a hellion making good, and a rebel doctor discover together how healing takes more than just medicine.

Dr. Brendan West, a dreamer and a doctor, knows there’s more to life than the job, and he wants to experience it for himself. His first step after finding a temporary job at St. Hawk’s is falling for kind-hearted gardener Evan—only to discover that Evan’s already taken by boisterous Griff.

For his part, Griff sees this as more of an opportunity than a threat. He likes the good doc’s kind heart and clear eyes, and the way he sees it, their lonely doc needs them just as much, or more. With Evan on board, he sets to work bringing Brendan into a ménage relationship.

Brendan knows he could fall hard for the odd couple, but the thing is—he’s not in St. Hawk’s for the long haul. He can’t bear to surrender his heart if he’s only going to leave it behind.

Can the doctor, the gardener and the hellion find a way to make it work, or will they find themselves losing out on love?

Free Excerpt from St. Hawk’s Medical 1: Take Heart

“What are you…?” Brendan tried to sit up and look.

Evan, with Griff’s help, nudged him back down. He could rest on his elbows, Evan decided, but no more than that. Evan slid down Brendan’s firm thighs and calves, savoring the friction of his own aching hard-on against Brendan’s leg then the sturdy duvet. Only when he’d positioned himself exactly so, and blown a cool stream of air over Brendan’s cock, did Evan look up at the dazed young man through his eyelashes and ask, “What do you think I’m doing?”

Taking my turn would have been the right answer, but Evan didn’t give Brendan the chance to speak. Brendan smelled of soap and salty musk. Cleanliness came next to godliness for him. Evan liked the effort, at least the first time around. Time enough later to show him the value of quick and dirty, the taste of sweat and heat.

He stopped to kiss the inside of Brendan’s thigh, strawberry-pink from Griff’s five o’clock shadow, bent his head then took Brendan deep. Perhaps too deep for a man not used to it on a regular basis. Griff had to hold Brendan down gently but firmly when he shouted and arched up. Needing to take such care could become an addiction. Almost as potent as the hesitant hitching of Brendan’s hips. Evan ached with the need to let Brendan have his way, but even so, face-fucking without practice wasn’t on the menu.

Later, Evan thought. He rested his hands on Brendan’s hips, a gentle request to lie still, and drew the man as deep as he could, pulled back with a wet suck, then pushed forward again, hollowing his cheeks.

Griff shifted up. His blunt finger traced lines on Evan’s cheeks. Evan could feel both men watching him, avid, hungry, fascinated in different ways. Brendan with amazement. Griff, because he swore and proved every time they played with a third that he couldn’t get enough of the sight of Evan with his mouth full of cock.

Brendan moaned, head back, breathing in sharp, shallow gasps. It seemed almost too much of a struggle for the man to bend forward and watch, but he tried. His movements nearly matched the pace of his breathing, ragged and out of sync, surging forward, falling back. He reminded Evan of the waves.

“You can feel me too, can’t you?” Griff asked Evan, his voice dropped in pitch to midnight bass. He ran the pad of his thumb over the corner of Evan’s mouth, catching the saliva that slicked Brendan’s cock. “Feels good, yeah?”

Brendan shook his head, helpless to speak if Evan were any judge. Even without his mouth full, Evan wouldn’t have managed it. Only Griff would never shut up.

Evan managed not to laugh out loud, but only just, and the vibrations were going to undo Brendan. Evan wasn’t much better off, and had to stop and take hold of his cock and squeeze at the base. No way was this going to be over just yet. He drew off, leaving Brendan’s swollen member slick with spit and salty pre-cum, straining toward his mouth, not willingly but for the lack of air. If he didn’t he’d come all the same.

“You were right. He’s sweet,” Evan told Griff. He almost wanted to send Griff in for another taste, but caught himself in time. He wanted to know the full flavor of the man, and only a little more would get him there. Brendan’s balls, well-shaped as any Evan had ever seen, tightened when he palmed them. Eager, so very eager, and almost there.

“He could finish you this way,” Griff said. He’d curled up tight to Brendan’s side, hand on Brendan’s tight stomach, teasing him. “Or you could try the rest. Your call.”

About Soulmarked: Now and Then


Soulmarked as mates, Robbie and Ivan come from different worlds. Robbie’s the oldest son in a long line of outlaws who live squarely on the wrong side of the tracks, and Ivan’s family tree is packed with law enforcement. That didn’t stop them from falling in love, but when they risked tearing each other apart, they cared enough to let go and hope they’d find a better life.

Years later, the strength of their soulbond still burns bright when chance brings Robbie and Ivan together at the football game of the year. The passion they felt for one another is as powerful as ever, bringing them into explosive contact. They’re not the boys they used to be—Robbie’s turned his life around and raised his younger brothers to be good men, and Ivan’s learned to stand tall and mix justice with compassion. But though they want to hope they can be happy now, not everything has changed. Maybe not enough has changed.

Or has it, after all?

It’s up to Robbie and Ivan, now. Only they can make the choice that will change their lives forever.

Free Excerpt from Soulmarked: Now and Then

Ivan laughed breathlessly, but didn’t speak. He buried his face against Robbie’s shoulder and mouthed at the skin, sharp teeth prickling Robbie. Robbie bent his head to the side to give Ivan room to work, and spread his hand as wide as he could on Ivan’s back to feel the play of the muscles beneath and the sweat that had started to slick him. He wanted to taste that sweat, salty-rich on the tip of his tongue, and he wanted to swallow Ivan down in great greedy gulps. He wanted so many things, and there wasn’t time for all of them. He groaned at the press of Ivan’s cock on his stomach, almost willing to ignore his own urgency for more of that friction.

He nearly lost control when Ivan bowed his head to press his mouth to the soulmark on his breastbone. A shout slipped, loud and rough, from between his lips, and he scrabbled uselessly at Ivan’s too-short hair, trying to press him closer. The tip of Ivan’s tongue swept over the soulmark in soothing, infuriating laps, a ring of fire burning itself ever deeper into his skin.

Ivan had made a detour through a closed door when they entered the room. Robbie hadn’t paid attention at the time, too caught up in the need to satisfy his thirst, but when Ivan nudged him to catch his balance by himself for a moment and clicked open a small bottle that smelled of cinnamon and cedar, he understood. Lotion, or something like it, unless Ivan’s room came with more perks than the usual. He didn’t care, not when those long, clever fingers, slick with cream, circled his rim and slipped inside.

“More,” he said, hitching forward and lifting his hips, not caring at all how demanding he might be, or how he looked. His hair fell forward in a curtain that hid both their faces. Ivan’s tongue slipped past his lips in time with the stroking and stretching of his fingers deep inside, curious fingers that curled up slow and steady until he found what Robbie had known he would have remembered the path to. “More.”

“Greedy,” Ivan said, catching Robbie’s lip between his teeth for a nip, half-playful, half-fierce. The light from one dim lamp, as diffuse as a candle, made his bare skin gleam and cast his eyes into fire and shadow. “Like this. Hold still, like this…”

He held Robbie’s hip, bracing Robbie on his knees as he slid his fingers out, leaving Robbie achingly empty—but only for a moment, just one moment, before replacing fingers with something longer and hotter and much, much harder. No playing about, once he was in, but a long thrust that filled him and didn’t end until Robbie settled into his lap.

When he moved, Robbie could feel the scorching length inside and the flex of his thighs, the ripple of his stomach. His hand was at first unsteady around Robbie’s cock, but it remembered as well as the rest of him. Robbie tipped his head back then forward, and tried to rise and fall, but he’d lost his strength as well as his willpower.

Robbie leaned down to press his lips to Ivan’s soulmark. He scraped his nails against Ivan’s chest when he hitched and spilled between them, a creamy mess that Ivan caught drops of as they trickled down his fingers, then raised those fingers to his mouth to lick clean. He wound his arm harder around Robbie’s waist, almost too hard, and his hips faltered. Almost crushed the air out of Robbie’s lungs—what little remained—when he groaned, deep and low, and shuddered from so deep within Robbie imagined his bones would vibrate with the resonance.

He couldn’t feel Ivan coming inside him, but he clenched his body tighter and bore down around Ivan’s length and held him fast until the hard shakes passed and Ivan breathed hot and moist against his chest.

Ivan held his head low, forehead pressed to Robbie’s shoulder. He drew lines and letters on Robbie’s back, nonsense strokes. Waiting for Robbie to give him permission one way or another. He hadn’t done that when they were young. He didn’t have to now, but that he did struck Robbie as—as—he didn’t know. Only that it struck him and worked its way beneath his skin.

His choice, then, and he made it.

“If you think we’re done,” he said in a low rumble, “think again.” He wound his arms around Ivan’s shoulders and nudged the man with his knees, ordering with as few words as he could get away with that he should move with Robbie, and follow him down onto his back.

About The Quiet Game


Flirtatious Rhys loves nothing better than chatting up handsome strangers on the job—until quirky Jareth, a player with unique moves, captivates him with absolute silence.

Server and bartender at Rook’s, a restaurant rumored to be lucky for lovers, Rhys enjoys his life to the fullest. A playful social butterfly, he revels in flirtation and flights of fancy. Though he’s never been one for settling down, after seeing so many happy couples in action he’s started to wonder if it’s about time.

Then Rhys meets Jareth. Or, more properly, Jareth meets Rhys, jumping the terrace fence at Rook’s when they’re closed and there’s no crowd to be lost in. Quirky and compelling, Jareth catches the loquacious Rhys’ attention with deliberate, absolute silence. No matter how Rhys may tempt him, Jareth refuses to speak a word—but there are other ways to get his point across, and Jareth has no problem making his intentions and desires for Rhys crystal clear.

Communicating with the captivating charmer is a challenge, but Rhys is having the time of his life playing the quiet game. He might even—much to his surprise—have started falling for Jareth, a man who makes his own luck when it comes to love.

Free Excerpt from The Quiet Game

“You wouldn’t be the first man to try to get me to zip it,” Rhys said, still playing, still enjoying. “Doesn’t work. But you’re more than welcome to try.”

A tap on his cheek said I know. Jareth’s push at his shoulder, the clearest direction in the world, added And I will. Jareth’s offering him a crinkling foil packet was as good as a cherry on top of the approval sundae.

God, yes. Rhys dropped to his knees with relief, spreading his thighs as far apart as he could to give himself room to breathe. He didn’t reach for his cock. Odds were Jareth would want that for his own pleasure, and why not let him? He’d given Rhys what he desired most, the clever man. Fair was fair. Rhys dealt with the condom. Safety first, but it was almost a shame. He’d have loved to have sucked Jareth bare.

Ah well. Rhys might be a fool, falling in love, but he wasn’t a moron.

Jareth seemed to approve. He took Rhys in hand, holding him by the hair to guide him, and nudging his cock at Rhys’ lips. He held Rhys’ head back with his neck at an arch. Rhys couldn’t have moved away even if he’d wanted to. Fortunately for him, he didn’t.

He took Jareth deep in his mouth. So, so good, even with the necessary latex. Musky, heavy, a little broader than most. Rhys needed to hold on for this kind of ride. He took Jareth by the hips and pressed fingers and thumbs against firm flesh and the jut of his hip bone beneath.

He drew off with a long, wet lick. “You are utterly unfair,” he said to Jareth. “No one should be as fine as you are everywhere.”

A glimmer of amusement showed in the crinkling of smile lines at the corners of Jareth’s eyes. He touched Rhys’ lip with the pad of his forefinger, his cock so tantalisingly close—near enough to recapture if that were the game they played. Rhys thought perhaps he might have something else in mind.

And he did, oh, did he ever! Jareth traced his wetted fingertip across the bridge of Rhys’ nose, across his cheekbones, his lips again, his forehead, and the point of his chin.

So that’s what you want. Well then. It was better to give than receive, and this combined both handily. Less risk, if more mess, and mess wasn’t a bad thing by any means.

Rhys’ cock jerked, stiffening more, agreeing with him. He reached for himself, needing light friction to keep him in the game. Jareth noticed, but didn’t stop him, which Rhys supposed was as good as approval.

God, yes. That’s the stuff. He stroked harder, faster, and without any slick he felt the friction but couldn’t have cared less. Tilting his head back, going as far as Jareth let him, he bared his face. “Go on,” he said, voice strained from the angle of his neck. “Give me what you’ve got.”

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