Hump Day: Alice Clayton's Buns

BUNS by Alice ClaytonIt is no secret that we at RT are Alice Clayton superfans— and so are our readers! So much so that this excerpt from 2013's The Unidentified Redhead is still one of the most-read posts on the RT site. While the excerpt's enduring popularity is certainly cool, we thought it was high time that we offer up a new scene from Alice's latest erotic romance, Buns, available later this month.

With no familial roots of her own, Clara takes immense pride in helping to rebrand resorts in order to keep their legacy alive. Unfortunately Archie, the future owner of the Bryant Mountain House, isn't interested in shirking years of tradition in the name of the almighty dollar. Of course, after Clara's ideas attract new, paying clientele, Archie is forced to admit that change may not be such a bad thing after all ...

Are you sure you want to go?”

“I don’t want to, but I really can’t see a thing. I’ll be back in just a few minutes. If you want me to come back, that is.”

“I want you. To come. Back.” I grinned, tucking my arm through his as I led him to the door. “See what I did there?”

“I didn’t, which is why I’m running down to my office to get my spare glasses. But yes, I see what you did there.”

We’d come inside from the balcony, messy and tumbled looking, blissful and happy looking, still kissing and touching, but when Archie tripped over an ottoman and careened off a lamp, he’d insisted on retrieving his extra set of glasses from downstairs. I didn’t want him to leave. I could still feel him, where he’d been, inside me. But . . .

I peeked out into the hallway. “The coast is clear.”

“Are you sure?”

“There’s no one in the hall,” I said as I guided him out the door. Whether or not we’d been moaning and groaning on the balcony only moments before was beside the point, he was still in charge here, and I’d rather not anyone see him ducking out of my room with messy hair and swollen lips. And lipstick on his collar. And, oh dear, lipstick on his . . . pants. I swooped in quickly, licking my thumb and rubbing at his collar.

“What’s this?” he asked, taking the opportunity to slip his arms around my waist and hold me close.

“Trying to cover up the evidence,” I whispered, scrubbing at the stain. “Eh, you’re gonna need to send this out to the cleaners. And not your regular cleaners, unless you want them to know you’ve been fooling around with someone who’s been wearing fuck-me-red lipstick.”

“That’s not really the name, is it?” he murmured, kissing my neck.

“Might as well be. Send those pants out too,” I said, laughing when he missed my neck and nearly kissed the door instead.

“Honestly, you’re like Mr. Magoo.”

“Mr. Magoo wouldn’t have made you come three times, Ms. Morgan.”

“You just called a coatrack Ms. Morgan, but you’re right about the other thing.”

“Three times,” he said once more, unable to keep the pride out of his voice.

“Three times, Mr. Bryant,” I agreed.

“So far,” he whispered deliciously in my ear, pulling me tightly against him.

“Someone could see,” I warned, as his hands dipped below my waist, grabbing a handful of my backside and giving it a squeeze.

He looked left, then right, decided he could see well enough to know that no one was there, and leaned in to kiss me slowly. And thoroughly. “Give me ten minutes. Just let me get my


“You don’t need your glasses, Mr. Bryant,” I answered, breathless.

He bit his lower lip. Then he bit my lower lip. Then he said,

“When I get back, I’m going to fuck you again.” I gasped. “And this time, I want to watch.”

He took the key from my hand, then gave me a little push back. Pocketing my key, he winked. “Ten minutes.”

And then he was gone. Hot damn. I loved a well-dressed man who had a filthy mouth.

Exactly ten minutes later I smiled as I heard the key in the lock turning. I heard the door open, then close, and then his footsteps as he crossed through the living room.


“In here,” I replied, turning the water on. A moment later I saw his reflection in the mirror as he entered the bathroom. I turned from the faucet just in time to see his eyes widen behind his glasses. And then his jaw clench.

Standing in the middle of the bathroom, I slipped the robe from my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I heard his intake of breath as he saw me for the first time, naked and waiting for his return.

“I was a little cold from being outside. Spring is here, but it’s still a bit chilly, don’t you think?” I spoke as though it was perfectly natural for me to be naked, walking toward him. I made sure my hips swayed a little more than normal, made sure there was a little extra bounce there, and in my breasts as well. I reached across him to grab two towels, and in doing so brushed up against him. “I thought I’d warm up in the bathtub, maybe you’d like to join me? It’s big enough for two.”

“Big.” He nodded, his eyes round as he watched me move across the room. I watched his gaze slip across my body, his lust evident, his body taut like a live wire. I stepped into the tub, slipping under the water. “I’ll just be in here, when you’re ready.” I grinned, feeling the warmth swirl all around. He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, kicked off his shoes, and pulled his suit jacket off.

I knew what he meant when he said he wanted to watch. I wanted to see him, see his body, take in every angle and plane that I’d missed on the balcony in the darkness. With each article of clothing that hit the floor, I saw more of this man, and more of what I’d been missing.

“You’re kind of gorgeous, you know that?” I called out to him as he stepped out of his pants. He was gorgeous. Broad shoulders, long strong arms, narrow tapered waist. A little bit of auburn-colored hair covered his chest. That same hair blazed a trail south, disappearing below the band of his boxers.

“Gorgeous?” He ran his hands through his hair, making it stand even farther on end. He walked over to the bathtub, kneeling down just beside it. He watched me, the tips of my breasts just breaking the water’s surface. He gazed down at me, watching me, taking everything in. “Jesus, look at you.”

I bit my lower lip, looking up at him through heavy lids. Keeping his eyes on mine the entire time, he slipped off his boxers, and stepped into the tub.

I could feel the water change as he moved behind me, the water rising to the very edge of the tub but stopping just shy. I watched as his hands slipped around my waist, tugging me back against him. Christ, he was hard, I could feel him sliding across my bottom.

“You’re very tall,” I remarked, as his legs snaked around mine, at least a foot longer.

“Am I tall or are you short?” he asked, nipping at the exact spot where my shoulder became my neck.

“Both, I suppose.” I leaned back against him. “If we flood this bathroom how much trouble are we going to be in?”

“Who’s going to flood the bathroom?”
I turned to look back at him, the movement disrupting the water and making it nearly overflow. “See, I gotta let some of this water out.”

“Clara, don’t worry about it,” he started to say, as I leaned forward toward the drain, unplugging to let some of the water out. “On second thought,” he groaned, running his hands down my back toward my hips, which were now poised in the air as I sat forward on all fours, “what a wonderful idea, feel free to let out as much water as you feel is necessary.” And then he kissed me. On my backside. One cheek, then the other, his teeth nipping my skin and then . . .

“Oh!” I exclaimed, tipping forward against the front of the tub, slapping at the tile.

“Hold still,” he growled, as he tilted my hips forward, angling them upward as his tongue licked at my clit. We both moaned as he touched me this way for the first time, his mouth surrounding me, working me, sucking and fucking. The cold tile pressed against my breasts as his hot mouth devoured me as I rocked my hips against his face. His groans were as guttural as mine as I came in his mouth, on his tongue, seeing stars and splashing water everywhere as I came apart for him once more.

He splashed plenty of water of his own as he rose up behind me, put me on all fours properly and drove into me hard from behind.

“The water,” I panted, his hand slipping across my back and sliding under me, tweaking a nipple on his way to my shoulder to hang on tight, moving me back against him. “The water is . . . fuck off that’s good . . . the water is going everywhere!”

With his left hand he swept a pile of towels off the shelf and onto the floor exactly where it had started to puddle, then slipped it down along my back, ending with a resounding wet smack on my ass.

“Let me worry about the water, Bossy, you just concentrate on how this feels.”

And I did. I gave over and threw back my head, arching my back, arching into him, letting everything I was feeling run wild across my body as his groans became deeper and more animal by the second, using my body, hot and wet and slippery and right exactly . . . there.

Text copyright © 2017 by Alice Clayton. Published by  Gallery Books, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc.  Printed with permission of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Buns will be available in digital and print on May 23. Digital copies start at $7.99, grab yours here: Amazon | B&N | Google Play | iBooks | Kobo. And if more sexy Hump Day excerpts is what you crave, we've got you covered.

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