The Color of a Bruise: Queer Kink Erotica

By Sinclair Sexsmith

Angie is just visiting New York City, talked into an adventure to a seedy bar, when she meets Fern. She never expected to find someone so bold, full of confidence, and so ... sexy. Little does Angie know, Fern is just getting started. Contains the stories "Honeysuckle & Leather," "Tangled," "Morning After," and "Just This Next Thrust."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sinclair Sexsmith
• Release date: Dec 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9780990762867

Sinclair Sexsmith

Sinclair Sexsmith is "the best-known butch erotica writer whose kinky, groundbreaking stories have turned on countless queer women" (AfterEllen), who "is in all the books, wins all the awards, speaks at all the panels and readings, knows all the stuff, and writes for all the places" (Autostraddle). ​Their sex, gender, kink, and relationship blog Sugarbutch appears frequently on top sex blog lists, and their short story collection, Sweet & Rough: Queer Kink Erotica, was a 2016 finalist for the Lambda Literary Award. They identify as a white non-binary butch dominant, a survivor, and an introvert, and use the pronouns they, them, theirs, themself. Follow all their writings at patreon.com/mrsexsmith.

Book preview

The Color of a Bruise

by Sinclair Sexsmith

Table of Contents

1. Honeysuckle & Leather

2. Tangled

3. Morning After

4. Just This Next Thrust

About the Author

Credits

Honeysuckle & Leather

I look at his face, and I know I am alive.

I’m not so sure about him, though. I mean, look at him. Leaning against the bar like he’s in a GQ photo shoot—hip jutting out just so, pursing his lips so they are a tad bit more plump and pink, shoulders down, neck twisted half-cocked to the right so his jaw looks even more square. He’s been staring at some mean-looking white leather man with long stringy hair since we walked in.

He should be staring at me! This is my best dress, the one that practically guarantees I’ll get laid. Not that I thought I would need it, but it’s always good to pack extra ammo. He dragged us here to New York City on our winter break, promising all that the Big Apple has to offer, and I was naive enough to swoon. He didn’t mean Broadway shows, gourmet restaurants with famous chefs, or horse and carriage rides through Central Park, though. He meant gay leather bars.

I have to admit: he is pretty. I could totally see him on my arm for our family Christmas photos, or at the epic Hamlin family Thanksgiving cutting the turkey and handing around slices of pie. Clearly that was me getting ahead of myself, and any and all of those little future fantasies were knocked out of my head the first night he got here and he dragged me to the meat-packing district to go to—his words!—somewhere fun. Then he spent all night drooling and staring, sucking up rum and Cokes, his perfect bubble-butt ass glued to the wall, too scared to actually talk to anyone.

Next to him, I am so animated, so vibrant. He’s pretty, sure, but c’mon—David is made