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Thursday, November 17, 2016

Pump Up Your Book Presents: Girl Within Girl by S.P. Aruna; #VirtualBookTour, #OutNow, #Review

We're thrilled to be hosting S.P. Aruna and her GIRL WITHIN GIRL Virtual Book Tour today! Please leave a comment to let her know you stopped by!

Title:  Girl Within Girl: An Erotic Thriller 
Book 1: Unraveling
Author: S.P. Aruna
Publisher: BookBaby
Pages: 170
Genre: Erotic Thriller
Rating:  4 Stars
Told in the first person.

Disclosure of Material Connection:  I received this book for review from Pump Up Your Book and the author.  I was not compensated nor was I required to write a positive review.  The opinions I have expressed are my own.  I am posting this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255:  "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising".

Katrina is never alone. She is bound to others inside her,
tighter than any Siamese twins could ever be: Cherry, the freewheeling
photojournalist, Anisa, the covert spy-assassin, and others as yet unknown, all
sharing her body and mind as she goes about her work in a psychiatric hospital.
But she is starting to unravel, and her sole hope is the handsome Dr. Sean
Paisley, the only one who can make her whole again.

Girl Within Girl is a dark erotic thriller that wanders
through a sensual maze of mind control and torture.

For More

  • Girl Within Girl is available at Amazon.
  • Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.
My Thoughts:

Katrina Novak lets us know what she looks like – a self-observation.  It was certainly an interesting way to start this story.  She works in a very sad place.  Even though she likes her job, you still feel sorry for her.  Cherry Cummins has a freelance job that makes me envious.  Anisa Grant is a woman with no feelings.  It’s interesting to see how dissimilar these women are.

I found it a good thing that each chapter lets you know which character is doing the talking.  There are so many twists and turns that you will need to pay close attention otherwise you may get lost or have to go back and reread the chapter.  This story is very dark and dirty – so graphic that there’s no way that you won’t know what’s going on.  It’s almost as if nothing is off limits and what a great way to showcase how creative an author you are.  There were times where I found it very hard to read about the violence used against the characters in this book.  Something that comes to mind as I read about what’s happening to the characters is that it makes for a great psychological thriller.

Since each woman has their own chapter it helps when you’re trying to decide where you want to stop.  This was one of those tales where you want to stop, know you should stop, but you keep going as you try to figure out what these three ladies are about.  And it’s all about the women.  For me, when they come into contact with the male characters they seem a little detached – not making any type of deep connection.  It’s a story that makes you question what you’re reading – a puzzle that needs to be solved.  But the bad news is that the ending will leave you hanging.  This just means that if you liked this story you will want to make sure to look out for book two.

Book Excerpt:

Shit! I've got about an hour to get to the airport!
Rummaging through my closet for the pre-packed bag I always
kept for exigencies like this, I became extremely pissed. "Bitch hid it again
under her pile of clothes! Why is she always doing that?"
I was talking about my roommate, whom I never see, Katy
But I eventually found it: a black Northern Face duffle bag.
It had most things that I needed already packed inside; I only had to throw in
a few simple items, like my toiletries, extra sexy silk
frock...then there are the things I needed on my person: passport, wallet,
business cards - can't forget the business cards!
I grabbed a plastic box full of them from the recesses of the
bottom drawer of my dresser; then took a few cards out to stick into the breast
pocket of my cotton blouse, but not before looking at one to admire the design.
Cherry Cummins, Freelance Journalist & Professional
Photographic Artist.  
I like that last part: Artist.
I know I'm a bit wild, and travelling in particular gets my
juices going. But hey, consider this: you get on a plane in one part of this
great globe, get some sleep, and wake up in another part; out of one world and
into another.  Like magic.
I also consider myself, without shame mind you, a naughty
pleasure seeker, and traveling   arouses my wicked inner urges even
more. I knew I would have ample opportunities to release them on this trip, and
this thought gave me little shudders of excitement.
They invented a bunch of ten dollar words for that type of
behavior: hyper-sexuality, erotomania, nymphomania, satyriasis...whatever... I
don't give two shits. Not long ago, homosexuality was considered some neurotic
disorder in the psychiatric manuals. And you can bet your ass it isn't now!
I called up my usual taxi service and to my relief not only
was the car's arrival timely, but the cabbie's deft driving got me to the
airport in less than 20 minutes. The check-in line wasn't too bad; after all
the passport checks, the X-rayed hand luggage, the TSA inspections, I still
arrived at the departure gate ten minutes before boarding.
Columbian Airlines, Flight 148, non-stop to Bogota.
I had an exclusive photo-op and interview lined up with the person
who was considered the tsar of all the drug lords in the western hemisphere:
Dom Renaldo Cortez. It took me months to set this up, and you can't imagine the
rush I felt when the plane finally descended to our destination eight hours later.
A pre-arranged car picked me up. Never got to see the capitol
city, as we took a road straight out of town and drove for about two hours past
crude one-storied dwellings, until we reached a local airstrip, where I boarded
a single engine Cessna that flew me to Lishimango, a relatively new town deep
in the jungle that, despite its airstrip, wasn't even on the map yet. From
there I boarded a jeep that bounced past the luxuriant growth of trees that
were all around us and ultimately took me to my objective: the mansion La
Casa de Cortez
It was magnificent, a white colonial manor with trimmings of
gold. I proceeded up the steps to the entrance and no sooner had the door been
opened by a short man dressed immaculately in a white tuxedo, I beheld a sight
that took my breath away: a large parlor, it's walls covered with radiant
grey-white marble, the floors tiled in deeply captivating aquamarine
blue.  There was an effect of one being on a heavenly white-sand beach
fringing a pristine sea. What made this more realistic was the sky-like azure
ceiling fifteen feet above my head. The ebony furniture and black leather
couches posed a striking contrast against the glowing background.
The man himself, my fascinating, sensual objective, seemed to
appear out of nowhere, now slowly walking towards me, an eye-catching figure
with an authoritative gait, yet casually dressed in a powder blue golf shirt
and white slacks. His footfalls echoed like an impending event about to happen.
He was somewhat brawny, possibly from working out. His tanned fleshy face was
clean shaven, much to my surprise, but it was his arresting dark eyes that
commanded my attention. When he got within a step of me, he extended his hand.
"Welcome to my casa."
I accepted his hand, which held mine in a firm grip that gave
me tingles and awakened my loins. He let go after a few seconds and I followed
him as he turned in the direction from whence he came, the steps of his leather
boots reverberating down the cavernous corridor like the advance of an
intimidating army.
He turned his head slightly to address me, his gait hardly
slackening. "I thought that perhaps you would spend the night here, and
then in the morning we could do the interview and the pictures." His
English was flawless, yet impregnated with a sensual Spanish accent much like
Ricardo Montalban.
I had actually counted on spending the night and the
implications therein. "Yes, that would be more than convenient. In fact,
I'm grateful for a chance to rest up."
"Anything you want, just tell me. Perhaps you would like
to freshen up before we meet for a, what you call, a sundowner?"
 "You read my mind," I said, a bit too
"Rafael will show you to your room."
The diminutive man who had opened the door when I'd arrived,
still dressed in a white half-coat, white shirt and tie, white cummerbund and
white trousers, smiled at me with crooked teeth and led the way up winding
marble stairs bounded by gleamingly varnished hardwood bannisters.  My
room was luxurious: parquet floor, oak paneling, velvet drapes fringing a French
window, and a four poster canopy bed. As I turned to thank Rafael, he smiled
and exited.
The first thing I did was to lie luxuriantly in the giant
bathtub immersed in foam and bubbles in a giant marble bathroom and, shortly
after transforming myself into a more presentable female, rejoined my sexy host
in a glorious dining room: cerise-painted walls trimmed with white moldings, a
moderate-sized dining table in the middle of an earthen-brown tiled floor.
Renaldo had changed into a white cotton button down shirt and khaki trousers. I
had put on my short silk dress with the thin straps, leaving my shoulders and
most of my legs exposed. I didn't bring anything more formal than that, so I
was relieved that he was dressed just as casual.
 Dinner was superb: oysters on the half shell, a
luxurious green salad served with the local bread, poached cod, oven-roasted
asparagus, fillet de mignon and chicken cordon bleu; it was so much that I
could only take small portions of each, savoring every taste.  Conversation
was exhilarating: at first polite talk about tomorrow's photojournalistic
work...and then...
"So, how long have you been a photojournalist?"
This question made me think too much. "As long as I can
remember," I replied, distracted by some niggling bad vibes that came out
of nowhere.
Anyway, my evasive answer didn't seem to bother him. "I
admire your work."
"Do you really?"
"Yes, yes, of course I do. That piece on that
artist...what's his name, Solonoy..."
After that, there followed an embarrassing silence, which we
made up for by nibbling at more food.
"You're such a beautiful creature," he said out of
the blue.
I know my good points: my blond wavy hair, my trim muscular
figure...but let's face it, it would be kind enough to say my face was plain,
especially considering my thin lips. How I hate my slit-like lips! Yet, it was
obvious he still wanted me.
After we had finished our chocolate mousse he suddenly
announced, "I think we should retire. Would you mind it much, if perhaps I
cannot sleep, I knock on your door later on? Just to talk, of course."
I had to admit to myself that I was more than expecting this;
I had been fantasizing about it for the past few weeks. Half of my incentive
for coming here was my anticipation of Dom Reynaldo Cortez seducing me and
taking me without compromise. I gave him a vixen smile. "There's no harm
in trying."
And with that he got up, cuing me to proceed to my room.
Of course he knocked. And of course I opened. It doesn't take
too much of an imagination to figure out what happened after that. But let me
sum it up.
First, I need to make one thing clear. This man was alpha,
with a capitol A, macho with a capitol M, and virile with a capitol V. Such a
man doesn't hide it either; he just comes right out with it.
"You know, Columbia
is filled with the most beautiful, sexiest, most passionate women in the entire
world. The one thing they have in common is their lustrous dark hair. But the color of sunlight reflecting off the morning precious
I think that any girl would recognize that as a come-on line,
particularly when accompanied by the wolfish grin on his face. He approached
me, unbuttoning his shirt, which he eventually threw off, and bare-chested, put
his arms around my waist.
"Tonight is going to be a special one for me and
you." He kissed me, slowly, deliberately, reinforcing the meaning behind
his words.
He didn't need permission, he just seized me. He bit my neck
like a vampire, and mauled my breasts like a hungry wolf; perhaps not a style
for those who are more romantically inclined. It all depends on the woman and
the mood she's in.
And I was the right woman in the right mood.
After he had calmed down and released his initial pent-up
passion, the rest of the foreplay was agonizingly delicious. He really paid
attention to my body, worshiping it with his lips and tongue, licking me all
over like a preening housecat, then once again greedily consuming my breasts,
like a newborn desperately trying to satiate his hunger. He raised his head and
stared into my eyes before he pounced upon my lips.  His mouth worked on
mine and I practically choked on his deep throat kisses. Then he slid down and
did the same to my pussy, giving it the same attention as he did to my mouth,
his lips brushing on my labia, his tongue lapping up my clit. When he
eventually entered me, the housecat turned into a tiger.
The erect male penis can evoke different responses. On one
level it is a rather crude organ, veiny, threatening, and even obscene.
On the other hand it can be fascinating and powerfully attractive. Again, it
all depends on the woman and the mood she's in.
And I was the right woman in the right mood.
Renaldo's was long, so I expected it to bang against my
cervix; something I liked, perversely if you will. He thrust into me hard,
letting me know from the onset who was the boss.
"Your hair," he growled, baring his teeth in a
vicious snarl, "so fucking beautiful, on your head and around your pussy,
like nectar. I'm going to punish you for being so sexy!"
"Yes, yes!" I cried, then realizing I said the
wrong words, I corrected myself. "No, no...Please...mercy!"
"None for you, you little bitch!"
His prick unleashed its fury, bashing my innocent cunt left
and right, high and low, Reynaldo roaring like a wild beast.
But I asked for it, didn't I? And I got it.
 His coppery body assaulting my lily-white figure posed
a frantic moving picture of carnal contrast, my body rebounding under his blows,
my legs flailing helplessly in the air,. His stiff manhood left no doubt who
was in charge, its pugnacious battering venting an inexplicable rage against my
soft insides, walloping it on all sides. I was aware of myself half-sobbing,
screaming out no, no but meaning yes, yes. I climaxed in a spray
of fireworks, and he himself immediately shouted out, as he emptied his balls
in me.
And later when he took me anally, bellowing like a rabid
creature just as he did before, I surprised myself with how much pleasure I
derived from the pain of it.
"WHO IS YOUR BOSS?" he screamed out while pounding
my poor little butthole.
His arm reached underneath my body for my neck, which he
cupped with a restrained but firm grip, firm enough to remind me that he could
tear out my windpipe if he wanted to, and that put me on the edge of swooning
from a delicious sense of helpless vulnerability. In fact, his renewed assault
gave me so much titillation that I came even harder than the first time...
Wow! It was as good as I had imagined.
We both nodded off in a post-coital trance, but it wasn't
long before my phone cell rang. It was a low volume ringtone, but it vibrated
in a way that seemed to resonate in my skull. I sat up, reached for my purse on
the night table, and fished for my phone. I looked over at Renaldo, my Dom, to
see him snoring lightly. I pushed the receive button. "Hello?"
"One fish, two fish, blue fish."
About the Author:

Half French, half Khmer (Cambodian), I'm a woman whose head is filled with fantasies and intriguing stories, and who wants to share them with others.

S.P. Aruna’s latest book is the erotic thriller, Girl Within Girl: An Erotic Thriller: Book 1: Unraveling.

Visit the author on Facebook.

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