In this edition of Watch This Space, meet Becky Robbins and Lorraine Carey, authors of the new racy adult adventure, Camp Cougar.
Wondering what it’s all about? Here’s the blurb:
Not since The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas has a story been able to capture the humorous side of scandalous tawdry sex in a southern theme. Our main character and brazen hussy, Leona Patrone is today’s version of Blanche Devereaux from the Golden Girls. Camp Cougar will whet the appetite for those looking for something steamy, provocative and humorous.
Camp Cougar has opened to rave reviews. Check out a sampling:
Camp Cougar entertains and empowers all the delicious sensations we love to feel, share and experience. ~ Oscar Crawford
This book is funny! I laughed so hard so many times while reading it. ~ Amazon Customer
Hot, steamy and sensual throughout ~ Peter Martin
Head and shoulders above the competition in its genre ~ Alex Treadwell
This book has the right amount of saucy and sexy attitude drizzled with plenty of laughs. I only wish I could rate it even higher. ~ Tracey
These ladies have a great sense of humor and love to entertain. ~ Bev
Ready for a spicy excerpt? We aim to please.
From Chapter 2 (Leona tries to convince Falynn to join her in the Cyber Sex business)
Leona was pleased to see Falynn arriving on time. Actually, I thought, she’d be a ‘No Show’. She answered the door in her white fluffy robe.
“Well, this guy must be into cozy things,” Falynn remarked as she stepped inside.
“Not really, but rather this.” Leona opened her robe to reveal a black lace teddy that was tied up the front with red ribbons and matching thong panties with little bows on the sides.
“Oh, my!” Falynn’s hand lightly slapped her mouth.
“I told ya, this guy is conservative.”
“Well, if that’s conservative, I would hate to see what your definition of kinky is!”
“So how did you meet Sam, pray tell?”
“Social Media. I’ve known him for a year now. As a lover of country music myself, I saw he was trying to be an up and coming artist in the industry.”
“Uh yeah, I bet he’s cuming. You worry me, Leona. You do know these relationships aren’t real, don’t you?
“That’s the best part. I have no intentions of building any long lasting bonds with these young men. It’s a simple Fantasy Fest. It’s a win-win situation for both parties. It’s just a wild, fun romp with no strings attached.”
Leona led Falynn into the kitchen and made her a martini. “When was the last time you had a good orgasm, girl?”
“Excuse me?” Falynn almost dropped her glass.
“You heard me.” Leona stood with her hands on her hips.
“Look, hon. You can either hide out in that damn dusty library behind the shelves or come out from behind those books and live a little – or let me say, live a lot.”
Falynn shrugged. “So what gives?”
“Lesson number one – you have to be relaxed. If you are uptight, you won’t perform well. Besides, we’re the experienced ones here. We need to show these Cubs just what we got.”
Where can you get your hands on a copy of Camp Cougar?
Use this Amazon link: http://amzn.to/2dY3LDx
Meet authors Becky Robbins and Lorraine Carey:
So what brought children’s author Becky Robbins and paranormal author Lorraine Carey together to create a fun and humorous adult novel?
Not too long ago, Lorraine Carey had read Becky’s children’s book, but what really caught her eye was the hilarious Redneck Poems Becky had written about sex. They were edgy, fun and out of the box. The two authors became cyber friends after reading each other’s works.
Not long after, Lorraine had a vision for a comedy adult book with Becky’s southern flare. So our two authors began to create Camp Cougar from their homes via Skype sessions. Mid book Becky flew from her home in Virginia to Miami to meet Lorraine in person who had flown in from the Cayman Islands where our ladies worked out of a hotel for a week to finish the book.
The weeklong stay in Miami was an adventure in itself. It was as if they had known each other all their lives. Our ladies found out they had similar interests and even completed each other’s sentences.
Needless to say our authors continue to collaborate on a daily basis from their homes with building a brand for Camp Cougar along with a sequel.
Looking for a fun, sexy read? Camp Cougar is for you!
And be sure to like the Facebook page:
I’m so excited to introduce you to Erinn Ellender Quinn, author of paranormal historical romance. Her debut romance novel, Ride the Wind, is available now. One of the things I love most about this book is the red-haired heroine. You know that I’m all about #MoreGingersInErotica. Here’s the blurb:
Captain Ian O’Manion is a man with three names and a perilous past….
As Ian O’Malley, he’s wanted by the English. He’s wanted by the French as Jean Delacorte. When he wins The Oaks, a Maryland horse farm, he takes a new name for his new life…until the past catches up to him, with a vengeance.
Ian returns to The Oaks with a festering gunshot wound, fractured bones, and a broken spirit. Haunted by abuses suffered in a Jamaican prison, devoid of hope after his botched escape, he believes that he’s come home to die.
Elsbeth Gordon is an indentured servant with dangerous secrets of her own ….
A young woman of power, Beth talks to trees, communicates with animals, and practices magick alone. When healing the Captain means sharing her secrets, Beth has no choice but to risk being burned as a witch. The psychically gifted beekeeper sees the promise of their future in his eyes…if they can survive an old enemy and an ancient evil that threaten to destroy them both.
A paranormal historical romance, written for ages 18+.
The story sounds fantastic! Now, how about a nice, spicy little tease from Ride the Wind?
At the stables, they found that the Marshall men and O’Flaherty boys and Theo had everything under control. Ian still didn’t know why Red Beth had to drag him from his sickbed and make him walk all the way down here, feeling uncomfortably weak as a kitten, when she could just as easily have told him a bedtime story about it. But she’d insisted. Mindful of his indebtedness, he had humored her, and so it was that they had come to this, poised in the role of passive observers in an empty stall, until the mare was brought in. Red Beth excused herself and went over to talk to the chestnut, rubbing her head and whispering in her ear and adjusting the leather cover that would protect her neck from an overzealous stallion’s bites.
Zephyr smelled the mare, even before Thomas brought him into the stable. Outside, he whinnied his pleasure, and he came in dancing with an erection that hung to his hocks. Ian almost called out to beg her not to when Beth dared to approach his horse.
Zephyr reared up, and Ian swore that his heart stopped. It would have been too late; there was no way he would have reached her in time to save her, but the prancing, padded hooves miraculously cleared Beth as they came down. Ian exhaled sharply and released the breath that he’d been holding.
Thomas had his hands full, controlling the stallion and keeping an eye on Beth, who was talking to the beast, no doubt sharing a bit of breeding etiquette, warning him not to play too roughly. Zephyr whinnied, and Thomas waited until Beth was free and clear. She rejoined Ian in the empty stall, closing the short door behind her. Zephyr pranced up to the pretty chestnut mare, who had twitched her tail to the side to ease his way. She was good enough to welcome the stallion’s weight as he reared up and covered her, shoving his massive member inside her and thrusting home like the magnificent stud that he was.
And all the while, Beth stood, almost breathless, watching spellbound, wincing when Zephyr bit at the leather-covered neck. She gripped the door of the empty stall that was their viewing room, and Ian knew she was not unaffected. Forget Zephyr. He watched Beth watching the horses. He listened to her telling breath, and felt the hum in her body that sang to him as surely as the fiddle’s phantom tune.
And because they were in a place where they could see without being seen, Ian stepped behind her and slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her back against him. She shivered, and inhaled sharply, then forgot to breathe altogether. He leaned down, bending until his teeth found the base of her neck. “Red,” he whispered against her petal-soft skin just before he tasted it, tasted her, and asked her to take him home.
“Please,” the Captain begged when she stayed rooted, transfixed, watching his stallion cover the chestnut mare as he wanted to cover her. “Have mercy. Don’t do this to me. You don’t know what it’s been like.”
But she did. She did. She knew exactly what he’d felt. It was her gift. Her curse. Like now, feeling the blood pump in old haunts, the word made flesh, the promise of resurrection fulfilled. The Captain wanted her, and she wanted him to want her, and Herne would just have to understand.
The stallion finished and disengaged, dropping onto all four feet, with his penis tamed and near normal size already, while the Captain’s was just coming to life. She wished he could have taken her right then and there, amidst the sharp scents of the stable as they tumbled in the straw and hay.
They headed for the house, each one priding themselves on moving at a reasonable pace, when every step brought them closer to the bedroom upstairs, with its urn full of dead honeybees and a plate of herbs and sliced ginger root and an odd number of pinch-necked glass cups. Back in the day, Ian could have swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. Now it was all he could do to navigate under his own power and pray the feeling wouldn’t go away once they’d gotten to where he could do something about it.
When they reached the front door, he took her hand and pulled her through the house he’d won on a turn of the cards, gotten by chance and kept by pretense, until he could clear his real name. At least his Christian name was the same, and the subtle change from O’Malley to O’Manion was still a damn sight better than the years he’d played Jean Delacorte.
He counted the steps on the sweeping entrance stairs, marked the feet from the landing to his bedroom door, and numbered the eyelets on the back of her bodice as he put his fingers to the task of unlacing them. While he was busy in the back, she unpinned her apron front, reaching around and pulling one tie so that the thing fell free, landing in a puddle on the wide board floor. He opened his mouth on the back of her neck, and he knew she remembered his stallion, covering the chestnut mare, giving her that enormous member of his in a mating that was as intense as it was brief. A stallion did his business in a minute; it took three hundred forty days, give or take, for a mare to finish hers.
Beth felt the Captain’s breath on her skin, like dragon’s fire. No sooner did she wonder if he intended to consume her than he put an arm around her waist, pulled her back against him, and opened his mouth on the base of her neck. He scored it with his teeth, not quite biting, and then he did bite her, inhaling sharply with his mouth fastened on a spot that made her knees go weak. His hands skimmed up her sides and pulled down her bodice; he splayed his calloused fingers and lay claim to her breasts.
Ian wanted it to be good for her. He wanted it to last, but he couldn’t wait for layers of clothes and shoes and stockings, no matter how much he enjoyed a leisurely disrobing. For the first time in months, there was life in every part of him.
“Red,” he whispered against her hair. “I’m sorry, I can’t wait. Forgive me.”
He kept one arm wrapped around her, kept her backside pressed tight against him when he turned her and guided her onto the edge of the bed, bending her so that her face nestled where he’d lain. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with his scent. He spread her legs with his knees, fumbling at his buttons and praying he didn’t go off too soon. This had been such a long time coming, he didn’t know what to expect.
Hello, old friend.
Ian felt a full-body smile come over him. Red felt it too, or had read his damned mind again.
Beth purred and buried her face in his bedsheets, pressing her hips back against him, waiting for him to enter her. There was no finesse left by the time he opened his breeches and threw up her skirts. Finding her wet enough, he drove himself inside her, sheathing himself to the hilt.
Ah, God. Sweet Jaysus.
A stallion finished in a minute and he did too, thrilled that he’d accomplished that much, at least, but hating himself for her sake, for giving such a disappointing performance when she deserved so much better. Red Beth, in whose body the source of pleasures lay, whose clever hands and kind heart had saved him from himself.
How can I thank you? I wanted to die. I would have, if not for you.
She heard him. He could tell, because when she turned her head to smile softly at him, he saw that her pink lips were quivering and her brilliant blue eyes were filled with tears. She deserved so much better than this, than him, and he told her so.
He told her with words. He told her without words. He told her with his hands, his mouth, his touch, his breath as he pulled her into his arms and unwrapped her like the treasure she was. Her dress went first, then the single petticoat she wore to flaunt convention—but then, she’d been working. Working to cleanse him. Working to heal him. Freeing him from the laudanum and restoring his manhood.
The stays were a surprise. “They’re for my back,” she told him, eavesdropping again. “I hate them, but they help.” Her chemise was utilitarian and well constructed, with generous gussets under the arms that suited someone who tamed foxes and gathered honey and could have the most vicious horse eating out of her hand like a child’s pet pony. And under the chemise, there was what he remembered, what he dreamed of, with and without laudanum: the trim waist and pomegranate breasts and just the slightest swell of a woman’s belly above nether curls that were as wild and red as those that crowned her head.
He pulled her onto the bed with him, his own clothes be damned. This was for her, the least he could do after all she’d done for him.
He dried her tears with his thumbs and bent his head and kissed her. Every fiber of his being, every breath, he owed her more than he could say, more than he could ever repay. Darlin’ girl,do you know what you’ve done to me?
Of course she didn’t. He didn’t know himself, so there was nothing for her to pull from the whispers of his mind. Quieting himself, he focused on the woman in his arms, with her trim ankles and pretty feet. He undid her buckled shoes and pulled them off, dropping them beside the bed. He ran his fingers on the inside of her thighs and smelled the musk of their joining. He untied her garters and pushed her stockings to her ankles, taking care to pull them off as she’d put them on, figuring it was the least he could do. Attention to details in lovemaking counted; even something as small as right-turned hose could never be underestimated.
The cheeky thing laughed, delighted with his philosophical approach to coitus.
Ian smiled. She had no idea.
Now who was reading whose mind?
It didn’t matter. She’d seen too much of him to hide, and he’d learned more of her than he had any woman in his life, even the one he’d left with child. Someday he would tell her, but not now. Now he wanted to think of Beth. Only Beth, who slept with foxes and talked to bees and communicated with horses and whispered to trees and made a man dare to dream again.
He kissed her feet, those pretty, pretty feet, and worshipped her ankles. Like a sculptor’s apprentice, he explored the masterpiece that was her body so closely he could have copied it, had he a block of marble and the tools and the skill to breathe life into stone. She could. She had. He was proof. He said nothing, in case it came to naught, but he swore he felt himself thickening even as he thought about it.
He refocused his attention on Beth, lying breathless in his bed, at his mercy after he’d been dependent upon hers since the new moon. He wondered, what would she do tonight, when the full moon—the Buck Moon—rose over the wooded hills and called to her pagan blood?
Where can you get Ride the Wind? Right here–http://mybook.to/TW2
Now for a little surprise. Erinn Ellender Quinn is another pen name for one of my most favorite people on the planet, author Nia Farrell. She’s a gifted and talented writer of erotic romance, and besides, precious few people are as understanding as she is of my giraffe fetish, bless her!
Erinn Ellender Quinn is the softer side of erotic author Nia Farrell, one of Mr. Blackthorne’s Wicked Pen Writers and a multi-genre author who is published in nonfiction, poetry, music, articles, and children’s books, with one documentary screenplay under her literary belt. She’s an old soul and a period reenactor who’s been into corsets for centuries, although she wears them more to Civil War events these days.
Erinn has been involved in the metaphysical community for over twenty-five years. She is a Reiki Master and crystal healer whose work encompasses this and other lifetimes. Erinn was fortunate enough to meet her soul mate early on. She married her high school sweetheart, raised two children, and began writing at her husband’s suggestion. She has been published as Nia Farrell in erotic romance since 2015. Ride the Wind is her debut romance novel.
Want to follow Erinn Ellender Quinn?
CONTACT INFORMATION AND LINKS:
Erinn Ellender Quinn’s webpage http://niafarrell.wordpress.com
Erinn Ellender Quinn’s newsletter signup http://eepurl.com/b1PtzD
Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Amazon author page http://viewAuthor.at/EEQuinn
Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Goodreads author page https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15812179.Erinn_Ellender_Quinn
Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Facebook author page https://www.facebook.com/ErinnEllenderQuinn/
Erinn Ellender Quinn/Nia Farrell on Tumblr http://authorniafarrell.tumblr.com
Erinn Ellender Quinn/Nia Farrell on Twitter https://twitter.com/AuthrNiaFarrell
Erinn Ellender Quinn/Nia Farrell on Pinterest https://www.pinterest.com/authrniafarrell
There’s more where this came from:
Nia Farrell Titles:
The Three Graces Series
AS WICKED AS YOU WANT (Forever Ours Book 1) August 1, 2016 ebook http://mybook.to/FO1
By Nia Farrell and Jane Austen
PRIDE AND PUNISHMENT—AN EROTIC RETELLING OF JANE AUSTEN’S BELOVED CLASSIC June 1, 2016 ebook http://myBook.to/Punish or https://www.amzn.com/dp/B01FJ612HY; paperback http://myBook.to/Punishp or https://www.amzn.com/dp/1533228477; Large Print https://www.amazon.com/dp/1533235244 or http://myBook.to/Punishlg
REPLAY BOOK 3: HONOUR BOUND November 1, 2016
TOUCH THE WIND (w/a Erinn Ellender Quinn) December 1, 2016
This edition of Watch This Space spotlights sexy author Siren Allen and her new smoking hot sci-fi romance, Silver. Wondering what it’s about? Here’s the blurb:
All Malia Valdese wants to do is survive in the Outlands and serve food to the patrons of her diner. She doesn’t want anything to do with the handsome silver-eyed stranger who keeps showing up after closing, asking her weird questions and making her feel something she hasn’t felt in years, desire.
She doesn’t care that he’s the sexiest male she’s ever seen or that he stares at her like she’s the main course. Steering clear of him is her plan. Well, it was the plan, before he turned her world upside down with four words…. You’re coming with me. Apparently she has no say in the matter.
She’s not on the menu. But she’s what he hungers for.
Her scent tells him she’s his and the wanted pictures popping up all over the dark-net tells him he needs to lay low for a while. Having her next to him in bed while he tries to clear his name is the plan. Unfortunately, his enemies are closer than he thought and now they’ve found his weakness…. her. Can he shield his mate from the consequences of his dark past? Or will she flee to his enemies to escape him and the intense emotions he stirs inside of her?
No matter what she chooses, he has no intention of letting her go, ever.
I love a good, spicy sci-fi romance and can’t wait to read this one. Check out this excerpt:
“Tell me to step away,” he told her.
Why would she do that? No rational female would tell a creature like him to step away. Wait, she should do that. She wasn’t trying to be with him for real. This was pretend.
“Say it and I’ll do it. I promise Malia.”
She couldn’t say it. The words wouldn’t come. Instead, she reached up and touched his face. His eyes closed and he leaned his forehead against hers.
“I don’t want to say that.” Even the rational part of her was falling for this male.
“Good, because I don’t want you to say it. I want to keep you all to myself,” he whispered. “I don’t want to share you.”
“You don’t have to share me. I’m all yours.” Yep, she’d just said that. And right now, she meant it. She’d deal with the consequences of her words later.
“All mine,” he mumbled, opening his eyes. “And I’ll destroy anyone who threatens you.”
Stars, that was the most violent statement she’d ever heard, yet it made her feel safe. What was she turning into?
“Say you believe me, Malia.”
“I-I believe you.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you. Say you believe this.”
“I believe it.”
“Good.” He took a step back, her hand still resting on his cheek. His hand covered hers. “I will go and get the crew. I will try my best not to kill any of them for getting too close to you.”
“Please behave. I don’t need you dirtying up my new kitchen.”
He smiled, before pulling her hand away from his face and placing it over his heart. Her breath caught.
“This is all yours,” he told her. “I promise.” He released her hand and went in search of his crew, leaving her breathless.
Stars, what had she gotten herself into?
And how the hell was she supposed to get out of it with her heart intact?
I’m such a huge fan of Siren Allen. One thing that she does that I love is character interviews. Get to know Silver and Malia, the stars of Silver.
Q: What thoughts raced through your mind the moment you found your mate?
Silver: My first thought was, ‘Stars, she more beautiful than I’d imagined.’ My second thought was, ‘I wonder what she tastes like.’
Malia: Oh my gosh, Silver, you didn’t have to give a second thought. My first thought was, ‘This guy looks like trouble.’ And I was right.
Q: If you could change one thing about your mate, what would it be?
Silver: I would change how she sees herself. She thinks she’s too curvy. I think she’s perfect. If I could change anything, I would make her able to see herself through my eyes.
Malia: Ahhh, that’s so sweet. If I could change anything about Silver, it would be his need to kill any male who stares at me.
Silver: That will never change.
Malia: I know. I’m just saying what I would change if I could.
Q: Do you believe in love at first sight?
Silver: Yes. Though, I knew I would love her before I met her. She’s my mate. I’m supposed to love and cherish her. But when I saw her for the first time, those feelings that were ingrained in me tripled. I knew I had to have her. Unfortunately, my way of getting her wasn’t the most charming.
Malia: That’s an understatement. As for me, I believe in lust at first sight. When I first saw Silver I didn’t think about forever with him. I thought of all the things I would love to do to him that night. The forever feelings came later, wayyyy later.
Silver: She played hard to get.
Malia: Uh no, I was hard to get. And then you kidnapped me.
Silver: Problem solved.
So where can you get your Kindle on this book? I have the links right here:
Now Siren Allen tells us a little about herself:
Hi, my name is Siren Allen. I’m a writer and lover of all things supernatural and romantic. I reside in southern Mississippi where I write steamy romances that are guaranteed to make you blush. When I’m not listening to the characters in my head and jotting down their adventures, I am busy working as a Clinical Laboratory Technician.
I love to travel, preferably with my husband, so he can do all of the driving. I enjoy time with my family, who are just as silly as I am. My hobbies are reading, writing and shopping, though I hate trying on clothing. If I wasn’t a writer or a Laboratory Professional, I would probably be a Secret Agent. But that’s the beauty of being a writer; you can create your own world and be whoever you want to be. In my imaginary world, I am Queen and my siblings are my minions.
Connect with Siren Allen:
AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE – www.amazon.com/Siren-Allen/e/B00ELF795O/
WEBSITE – http://sirenallen.com/
FACEBOOK – https://www.facebook.com/authorsirenallen
TWITTER – https://twitter.com/SirenAllen
PINTEREST – http://www.pinterest.com/sirenallen/
Siren’s Newsletter: Join to stay updated on my new releases and giveaways:
Siren’s World: Join my Facebook group to chat with me about reading, writing and whatever else comes to mind: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1787481798155719/?ref=bookmarks
PLUS, and I know you’ll want in on this, Siren has a giveaway. Don’t miss out!
Siren’s Sci-Fi Giveaway: Be sure to enter the rafflecopter giveaway for a chance to win a gorgeous Sci-Fi necklace.
This installment of Watch This Space is a change of pace. ASPA author W. O. Cassity is a man of eclectic tastes and interests. His debut novel, Heir of the Blood King was well-received. Now, he’s writing a horror series called A Short Journey Into Darkness. The first installment, Dementia Praecox, releases today.
Here’s an excerpt:
Skulking over the ledger’s musty-scented pages, Dr. Livingston dipped the oversized quill into the emerald-green inkwell before penning the latest entry:
11 November 1877
Bethlem Royal Hospital Bedlam
Subject 41 expired at approximately 10:22 p.m., possibly due to cardiac arrest once again. I wait for my assistant Hensley to deliver and release the corpse to the hospital morgue. My only concern is that there may perhaps be further inquiry into the claw-like contusions upon the deceased’s forearms and along his facial cheeks. I still cannot fathom how the subject, who was restrained, managed to damage himself in such a way. Both Hensley and I agree that the peculiar wounds appeared to spontaneously appear across the patient’s flesh of their own accord.
Having witnessed this entire incident, I must admit that further precautions are still a necessity as I continue to push on toward a resolution to this condition. The screams of the patient still reverberate within my ears at those haunting terrors, which only existed in his tormented mind. My first assertion is that the patient’s experience became so vivid, he was somehow able to enact the subjective manifestations of his consciousness into literal lacerations upon his extremities. Perhaps Hensley and I are the first to witness the true potential of the human mind to inflict its falsely perceived stimuli upon the body during a controlled experiment. Mind over the material world indeed! This may warrant further exploration in the future after I have completed my current work toward a cure for dementia praecox.
When Hensley returns, he will prepare Subject 42 for her time in the chair. I will administer the new cocktail of ingredients according to the schedule after readjusting the chloroform and nitrous oxide levels for proper sedation during the procedure. Even though she’s much smaller than Subject 41, we still need to gauge the appropriate levels of anesthesia so Subject 42 will remain conscious yet controllable and programmable during the procedure.
As I understand it, Subject 42 has a peculiarly heightened state of hysteria, so perhaps this will allow us to mark any substantial improvements in her mental realignment using the electric resonating device with profound measure. It was difficult to identify the response from Subject 41 due to his condition’s tepid state and mannerisms.
Regardless of tonight’s setbacks, I have the utmost certainty that I can mitigate the issues Subject 41 experienced tonight. It is too soon for me to surrender now and too dangerous for me to stop. Questions are being asked already and if I do not have an answer to Annabelle’s condition soon, I may not be able to cure her ailment before they forcibly return me to New York if they discover what I have been doing. Certainly, they would shower me with accolades upon my substantial progress, but the board will need to see results and I need to save Annabelle if I am to marry her. She would definitively accept my proposal of marriage with a clear mind, for who else could liberate her from Dr. Kraepelin’s diagnosis other than the youngest fellow to be accepted by Bethlem Royal Hospital? At the age of thirty-seven, I will become renowned for such an achievement and therefore, Annabelle would accept me unconditionally.
- L., PhD
Edgar rested his quill in the inkwell and remained still as he pondered what outcomes awaited him in the final experiment of the evening. A rapping at the heavy oak study door rescued him from his reverie.
“Yes, what is it?” he asked.
“Dr. Livingston, Subject 42 is now prepped for the resonance procedure,” Hensley responded. “Should I start charging the apparatus?”
“Indeed, Hensley. I shall be there momentarily.”
I’m totally digging the creep factor here. Intrigued? Here is the buy link for Dementia Praecox.
Just who is W. O Cassity? W.O. Cassity grew up in the Mississippi Delta Valley dreaming of new worlds fueled by his passions for writing and playing tabletop games with his friends. As an adult, he relocated to Nashville, Tennessee where he pursued a career in IT and Telecommunications, working for companies such as Dell Computer Corporation, Verizon Wireless and Asurion. Will returned to his childhood passions sharing those experiences with his children. He went on to release his debut novel, “Heir of the Blood King” which was well received. He also has an ongoing horror short story series, “A Short Journey Into Darkness”. Will and his wife, Barbara, currently reside in Arkansas with their four children, three dogs and one very stinky cat.
Author W. O. Cassity was kind enough to answer Pandora’s Dirty Dozen. Here’s what he said.
1. Describe your books and your writing style.I like to immerse the reader into vividly detailed environments with a real-time feel of what’s happening in the story to enrich the reading experience. My preferred point of view is 3rd Person, limited perspective and I generally tell my stories in the past tense.
2. Talk about your process. Where do you write? When do you write? Are you linear or do you write scenes and put them together later? Who are your muses and where do you get your best ideas?I try to write everyday and I do most of my writing in the bedroom in the morning while pouring through a cup of coffee. A good number of my stories are related to impressions I had while dreaming, so this writing routine allows me to capture that dreamlike feel in my stories.
3. Tell us about your latest release.My latest release is title Dementia Praecox and it explores a topic very dear to my heart: Mental illness. Dementia Praecox was the first clinical term used to describe the mental condition of schizophrenia, which plagued my maternal grandfather most of his life. I wanted to tell a story of a mad scientist in a gothic period story experimenting on patients in a cold, calculating manner. Obsessed with his goal to cure his beloved, the patients are treated like lab rats. In the end, Dr. Edgar Livingston accidentally succeeds in a way that unlocks the full potential of his patient’s mind, opening pathways that should remain closed in the real world.
4. What is your current project?I’m working on a story tentatively titled, “A Guest In Solitude” with a poetry and prose inspired writing style similar to Poe’s “A Tell-Tale Heart”. It features an older man isolated in a rustic cabin whose solace is disrupted by a mysterious haunting voice whispering to him from under the front door.
5. Now about you… Very generally speaking, where do you call home?I grew up in the Mississippi Delta Valley and so, I’m a Southern by nature. I never quite fit into my community, so I have traveled and brought those experience back home.
6. As a reader… What genre do you most often read? What is your all-time favorite book, and why?I enjoy reading horror and fantasy stories, but my favorite novel is Frank Herbert’s Dune. The world building is immersive and the inner dialogue of the characters captured my imagination and left me with the feeling that I belonged in his beautiful, yet dark world.
7. What do you like to do when you’re not writing or reading?I enjoy gaming with my family and deep philosophical conversation, as well as spending time doing both with my wife and children.
8. We all have guilty pleasures. I enjoy boy bands. There, I said it. What is your guilty pleasure?Even though I have no guilt, my obsession is chocolate even though I know it isn’t good for me.
9. What superpower would you choose, and why?Flying. Even as a young child, I immersed myself in dreams and during my waking hours, I was fascinated. Lucid dreaming allowed me to take charge in those wayward nightmares to put me in control of the situation. I would usually fly to escape my nightmarish dilemmas. This process also help me escape the cruel realities that occurred in my traumatic childhood.
10. If you could live anywhere, you’d choose…Where isn’t as important as who I’m with. I want to be with my wife and children in a place that values freedom of expression.
11. I wish _________________ would read my book.Neil Gaiman
12. In the airport, you overhear a heated argument between a husband and wife. You:politely ignore it.
Contact links for W. O. Cassity:
Patreon Page: https://www.patreon.com/wocassity
Goodreads Author: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13834500.W_O_Cassity
This edition of Watch This Space spotlights ASPA author Ian Whitcomb. His new novella, Contrast, is out September 28.
Here’s the blurb:
He just wanted to cross the street and get some breakfast tacos while his car was in the shop.
She just wanted to get home and sleep after a long night shift.
But somehow, ten minutes after they bump into one another on the sidewalk, they’re in her bed together going at it like weasels.
They both think it’s crazy. They both assume it can’t last. But somehow, weeks later, then months, they’re still obsessively, anonymously, voraciously wrapped up in each other.
There are rules. No names. No personal details. Just blazing hot sex as often as they can manage it.
So what happens when, despite their every effort and intent, it starts to mean something?
He describes the heat level of this erotic romance as Venusian, or extremely hot. So you know I’m in! Here’s an excerpt:
He waits on her doorstep repeatedly stopping himself from biting his lip, from tapping his foot, and most of all from reaching up to knock again. If she’s here and awake, she obviously would have heard the first knock, and if she’s not awake, or if she’s in the shower, he’ll just make an idiot of himself banging on the door. Rude … clueless … desperate … take your pick of what kind of idiot.
He’s got too much shit with him – went crazy at the donut shop. A dozen donuts. A carton of coffee. A drink caddy with a latte and a cappuccino and a bottle of milk and a couple handfuls of sugar packets and three different artificial sweeteners. He had to put some of it down to free up a hand to knock.
She’s not here, he thinks. Or she’s here, but shit, she all but told you she’d be out till two or three. Eight was too early. Why didn’t I say –
The door opens. She’s wrapped in a towel, hair back in a ponytail holder but with tons of stray strands jutting out.
She can tell from his expression that she looks like hell. He blinks at least three times without saying anything. He’s got a bag from a donut place in one hand, coffee on the ground by his foot. Holy god don’t let me scare him off looking like this. Her head hurts. She can feel the red in her eyes. But something in her chest starts burning at the sight of him.
“Jesus, I want to fuck the shit out of you,” she breathes, totally forgetting her plan to say she was about to take a shower.
He grins. Whew. That’s better.
Looking to buy Contrast by Ian Saul Whitcomb? You’re in luck!
Contrast on Createspace: https://www.createspace.com/6563989
Just who is Ian Saul Whitcomb, anyway? Here’s his Author Bio:
Somewhere between Mexico and Canada, not too far from the centerline of the U.S., Ian Saul Whitcomb spends his days writing, blogging, and occasionally tweeting, while struggling to fend off his mid-life crisis (under the theory that if he can postpone it till the age of sixty, the definition of “mid” means he’ll live to be a hundred and twenty). He also works for a large corporation, but tries not to think about that any more than he has to.
Wondering how you can connect with Ian Saul Whitcomb?
Turpitude is the fourth book to A Harem Boy’s Saga, a provocative story about a young man who was initiated into a clandestine sexual society through his UK boarding school. From there, he was spirited to the Middle East to attend the Bahriji (Oasis) School in The United Arab Emirates in preparation for Harem services for the wealthy elite.
It is also a love story between the young man, his ‘Big Brother,’ and his ‘Valet,’ who served as his chaperones and mentors.
This book follows the teenagers’ erotic and exotic adventures and experiences at their fourth Arabian Household, the Assalamu Alaikum (Peace Be with You) Harem. There, they became confidants to a sheik, assistants to his numerous international ventures, especially that of a film production: “Kāmasūtra – Lover’s Tale.” The teenagers continue to apprentice and model in a controversial photography project, “Sacred Sex in Sacred Places.”
This story is an account of the author’s experiences. Through these truths, often demonized by contemporary societies that deem such behaviors inappropriate, the author hopes to dispel condemnation and negativity related to sexuality, love, and personal freedom.
A Harem Boy’s Saga series – Film Contract has been secured with an independent UK Producer, operating in Hollywood.
Young alias Bernard Foong is, first and foremost, a sensitivist. He finds nuance in everything. To experience the world he inhabits is an adventure which is mystical, childlike and refreshing. He has a rare ability to create beauty in a unique fashion. His palettes have been material, paint, words and human experiences.
Our helicopter flew towards the picturesque Musandam Dibba Al Hisn, a hidden pene exclave that belonged to Sharjah but was located within the Sultanate of Oman (and which the Omanis referred to as the ‘Norway of Arabia’). I was awed by the imposing mountains and the rugged coastline that surrounded the fertile Gulf of Oman, where colorful marine life swam placidly within this aquamarine sanctuary.
It was of little wonder that Fahrib chose this haven to dock his competitive vessel in readiness for his upcoming Acapulco race. His luxury sailboat was primed and ready for us when we arrived at the marina.
In normal circumstances, Fahrib’s crew would be at the ready to set sail as soon as their commander-in-chief gave them a thumb up. In this instance, the crew members consisted of Jabril, Victor, Andy, me, and a handsome Arabian compadre of the sheik whom I had not met before. When our host introduced him as Tad, he said, “My sailing buddy here is a ‘gift from Allah.’”
The man riposted jestingly. “Are you referring to yourself, Fahrib?” before he gave our captain a fraternal hug. The Arabs laughed at their insider’s joke while we looked on with befuddlement, though I would soon discover that this man was indeed a gift to any who had the opportunity to experience his sexual prowess.
As I stood watching our attractive crew get the boat in motion, a sense of freedom overcame me. Suddenly, it dawned on me why my Master kept coming to the “Norway of Arabia” – not only to get away from his nagging wives, but most importantly, to disappear from the madding crowd and from his public identity.
This narrow entryway that protrudes into the Strait of Hormuz and into the Persian Gulf from the Arabian Peninsula had given rise to a hidden paradise, a place for the unsolicitous to rediscover equilibrium within their harrowed souls. It was a safe haven for the next in line to the throne to set aside what was expected of him and to simply be a man whose carnal desire happens to be for his own sex. In us he’d found valiant camaraderie, a roborant masculinity as old as ancient Hellenism and as new as contemporary bromance.
As soon as we were out of sight of dry land, Tad advocated we strip bare to enhance our seafaring experience. Jabril seconded his motion, followed by our commander-in-chief. We E.R.O.S. recruits had no qualms being naked, and neither did Victor, who was an ex Enlightened Royal Oracle Society member.
As each of us revealed our nakedness, Sharjah’s cover-ups and pretexts seemed to tumble away. I felt liberated from society’s constraints as my last item of clothing was discarded.
The sheik’s playful bon mot with his pal certainly proved true when he revealed all of himself. Tad’s and Fahrib’s imposing looks, combined with their formidable endowments, were impressive to behold. I couldn’t help but steal secret glances at their ‘Allah’s gifts to mankind.’ They were not just majestic in girth but resplendent in length, even when flaccid. Any hot-blooded male or female to witness such plumpness would undoubtedly deem my perception accurate. It was of little wonder our captain’s wives craved their husband’s attention.
Comfortable in our skins, we cruised along the majestic mountains, the sweltering sun beating upon the fjords of Oman. The steamy crew had fuelled my heightened libido as my erection bobbed to the rhythmic motion of the rocking boat. We made no effort to hide our arousal as we worked tirelessly at our assigned chores.
Captain Fahrib had assigned me as an assistant steerage to Tad, the red-hot Arabian helmsman. My job was to help him keep the boat’s wheel in check so wind wouldn’t steer the vessel off course. He said jokingly while studying a map, “Ready about… hard-a-lee?”
I stared at him, befuddled. He laughed at my nautical ignorance.
“What? What did you say?” I queried in all seriousness.
He smiled wryly at my erection before answering, “Don’t be embarrassed by your excitement. We sailors are in tune with nature’s wonders.” He made no effort not to look at my length. He resumed, “Even though we take japes at nautical idioms when sailing in the buff.” He gave me a cursory look.
Up until this juncture, I’d had no idea that the helmsman was an accomplished member of the sheik’s sailing team, bound for the 1968 Summer Olympics, not to mention being a champion polo player and a titlist camel racer.
I gave the man a comely smile before inquiring, “What’s hard-a-lee?”
Instead of responding, he tapped my erection, which bounced uncontrollably. His hardness had grown during our flirtatious intercourse, its bulbaceous size stirring my concupiscence to flutter as his sturdy hand stroked me into a dizzying spell. He pulled me to him, French kissing me passionately.
I had desired this sinewy helmsman from the moment we met. When he gave me the traditional nose-to-nose greeting, he’d stared at me unflinchingly. He had claimed my person with his assertive eyes then; now, thrills of chilling excitement coursed through my body as he cupped and squeezed my buttocks, teasing my tenderness with his manly hands. He inserted his fingers into my opening, claiming my cloven his.
As we continued our alluring foreplay, the boat had drifted into an aquiline cove. It was then that I noticed my beloved Andy observing us by the doorway. My Valet gave me his approval to continue appeasing the beguiling athlete as he stared, mesmerized, at our erotic performance. He, like me, was entranced by Tad’s virility. He was witnessing a reflective manifestation of our intimate moments together in which I had surrendered myself fully to his maleness, as I did now to the helmsman.
My chaperone needed no invitation. He knelt to suckle our thumping palpitations simultaneously as we jabbed into his craving throat. This hallowed ecstasy intensified my hunger for both men. Just then, I felt a pair of hairy arms pinching my bristled nipples from behind. The sheik’s sultry lips caressed my tender neck, seducing me into his web of libidinous captivity. While his jouncing member knocked at my doorway to paradise, I couldn’t help but succumb to this jubilant exultation, when another stimulation seized my searing soul, propelling me into an inferno of pleasurable jouissance.
Jabril’s epicurean tongue rimmed at my anal receptacle before jabbing into my tunnel of love with abandon. His commanding lividity drove my tilting pelvis to receive slivers of his dripping saliva. He was preparing me for the feast of the gods. And I was delighted to suffice.
Much like my Valet relishing the helmsman’s mightiness, Victor devoured the captain’s prowess with avid ferocity. Spittle of beaming wetness coated their organs.
Tad led me above deck while the men followed suit. Pulling me atop a comfortable mattress, I straddled the athlete with aplomb, kissing his succulent mouth with wanton fervency. Quivers of euphoric rhapsody surged through my body when his tumid avidity eased into my passageway of forbidden love. His bouncing gyrations commingled with my lustful kisses brought our hankering spirits into a unified entity. Just as this newfound vivacity took hold, I felt another force in my core. This elevated double entry catapulted me into an uncharted and blissful realm.
The captain and the champion tantalized my tightness with symmetrical cadences as we tangoed to the rhythm of the lapping waves. Tad’s provocative expertise, coalescing with Fahrib’s rousing mastery, hurled my frenzied soul to an intensified crescendo of erotic gratification.
Rainbows of aesthetic enthusiasm flashed before me as Andy and Victor mirrored one another as the Levantine lowered himself onto their throbbing hardness simultaneously. He was at once in agony and ecstasy before his misshapen expression transformed into gleeful entrancement. Heaving sighs of euphoric relief, he accommodated both obelisks with pride.
It was within this circle of debauchery, we effectuated our erotic dance, answering only to the call of the wild. When our prurient desires took hold, we exchanged partners until we had our fill of proliferated succor.
As I rode their ferocities with tumultuous savagery, fanatical flashes of electrifying potencies crashed within me, launching my deliverance over and above my partner’s head. The smashing waves of their burgeoning cogency coated my inner walls, stuffing my core to overflowing capacity.
Before I could attain equilibrium, their relinquishing appetites had triggered another round of firing deposits – Tad’s unrelenting kisses brought on my second cumming while their stiffness continued to rock me into oblivion. Squirts of their molten love burst into the hub of my fervent mortality as I surrendered to this heavenly joyance with blissful contentment.
While the helmsman and the captain took turns lapping up the brimming remnants they had lodged within my willing burrow, I swathed their leaking appendages with ardent gusto before sharing our fill in a three-way kiss.
When I finally looked over at our adjoining trio, they too were apportioning their feed, as we had a moment ago.
At last, we plunged into the cooling aqua, cleansing all traces of our man-to-man love before heading back whence we came.
- Authors have a chance to win a $10 Service From Rukia Publishing Book Promotions
- Readers have a chance at winning a $10 Amazon Gift Card
- All entrants will receive a copy of ‘No Distance Between Us’
She should hate him, but her body told her differently.
Juliette Banks has a great new release. Snatched is a sexy historical romance set in 19th century Eastern Europe. If the title sounds familiar, it’s because Snatched is a newly edited and greatly revised and expanded version of a book previously released under the same title.
Here’s the blurb:
Loss. Passion. Sacrifice.
It’s the worst day of Laryssa’s life when bandits snatch her beloved daughter Sofiya, carrying her away to places unknown. Vowing to save her, come what may, Laryssa sets off on a long and difficult journey to find the eighteen-year-old.
When she stumbles across a half ruined castle in the middle of a forest, she realizes she’s found the very place where Sofiya is being held by four men. In desperation, Laryssa begs to be allowed to stay with them, to cook and clean, and even offers her body for use to the leader of the gang, a man called Bhodan. Not knowing who she really is, he grudgingly accepts.
Bhodan is a dark man with a troubled past. With livid scars marring his otherwise handsome features, he is gruff, ruthless, and cold. Somehow Laryssa, the woman he has employed to cook and clean for himself and his men, and to service him sexually whenever he desires it, manages to see past his harsh exterior. Her growing attraction to him is undeniable, and no one is more surprised than Bhodan himself to discover that he is beginning to reciprocate those feelings.
Sofiya is not the only girl to have been captured by the gang; Hanna, a girl close to her in age, was already being held when Sofiya arrived. Laryssa is desperate to rescue them both, but knows she must bide her time until the moment is right.
When the four men decide to leave the women alone to go thieving, Laryssa sees her chance. However, she is unprepared for the emotional dilemma she will face when only one of the men – Bhodan – returns. He is badly wounded, and she finds herself unable to leave him alone, as he will undoubtedly die.
Torn between the love of her daughter and the passion Bhodan has awakened in her, Laryssa faces a tough choice. Should she send Sofiya and Hanna back to their village alone to face their demons, or should she accompany them and risk losing what could well be her last chance of experiencing boundless passion and love after years spent alone? Can she forgive Bhodan for what he has done in the past, or will she decide that her daughter’s happiness is more important than her own?
Publisher’s Note: This tale, set in Eastern Europe in the mid 19th century, is one of passion, sacrifice and hope, in an age where poverty made life a daily struggle to survive. It contains some explicit sexual scenes, including spanking, as well as erotic horror themes. If such material is likely to offend you, please do not purchase this book.
That being said, how about a naughty snippet to whet your appetite?
“That’s right, let me know how much you are enjoying this. Groan, shout, cry… do whatever you want. Show me how much you want me!” It was though he was teaching her how to pleasure her own body, and she wondered why he was doing this.
Laryssa did not know how to answer his request, other than by increasing the volume of her groans. All those years ago, with her husband, she had maintained her silence, except for a few whispered sweet nothings at the end. She wondered if that was because of her youthful shyness, or because her husband had not lit the flame of passion as this man was doing. Bhodan had discovered a part of her she had not known existed until now. She could not describe her feelings in words, but she knew that her body was alight in ways it had never been before. He took her to new heights of pleasure until, unable to hold out any longer, she had the most earth-shattering climax that she had ever known.
Bhodan waited until she had ceased trembling before moving up the bed and lying on top of her. He entered her body swiftly, plunging himself deeply within her.
“You have such a sweet cunt,” he panted. “I could stay in here for hours.”
He slowed his pace so that he was entering her in a much more sensuous way, but just as deeply as before, and Laryssa climaxed yet again, her body shivering and shaking from the heights of pleasure he had shown her. It took just a few more thrusts before he came inside her with a great roar.
They both lay in utter exhaustion for several minutes before he pushed her towards the edge of the bed.
“I think you had better go and light that stove, and make me some breakfast. Now that you have satisfied one hunger in me, you’d better satisfy the other. I could eat a horse. But best not take that literally.”
Humor, she thought. He does have a sense of humor after all.
I know what you’re thinking. Where can I get my own copy of Snatched? You can find it at the links below.
Who is Juliette Banks?
Who better to tell you about Juliette Banks than the lady herself?
I write erotic romances as Juliette Banks, but some of you may also know me as the author Rachel de Vine. I am British and live in a beautiful rural part of England. However, I also like traveling to remote and unusual parts of the world, and have visited places as diverse as Tibet, Bhutan, Peru, Namibia and China. Our world is so beautiful and I hope that it will always remain so, and I see myself as being so lucky to have the freedom to travel that was denied many previous generations. I hope I never take it for granted.
I write mainly romances, because I am an incurable romantic, and I write erotic romances because I am always attracted to the sexuality and sensuality that is within so many of us. I like to write about interesting characters who often have to survive life’s challenges before they can reach the happy ending they deserve.
Contact Juliette Banks:
Website www.racheldevineauthor.com (a site for both Rachel and Juliette)
I’m so excited to introduce you to this hot new book by erotic romance author Lilah E. Noir! Not long ago, at a release party for her novel Unorthodox Therapy, Lilah floated three different possible plots for her next book, asking readers to vote for their favorite. That became her newest release, The Brat with the Phoenix Tattoo: Summer. Check it out!
Release date: 29th August 2016
Genre: BDSM erotic romance
Author: Lilah E. Noir
Cover design: Lilah E. Noir
International Link: http://mybook.to/PhoenixTattooSummer
Sage Phoenix has been the thorn in Paul Skyler’s side ever since their final night of high school. She was a bright spot of chaos in his cerebral world of logic and order. The manic pixie dream girl who drove him crazy and left him panting, seduced and longing for more of her spell. The only woman who ever saw him in his most naked and vulnerable state.
For years Paul’s been dreaming of nothing but giving her a taste of her own poison. When he spots Sage behind the glass of her run down tattoo studio he knows he’d never get a better chance. His briefcase contains everything necessary to punish her, put her through her paces and keep her on the edge and at his mercy… just to humiliate her completely and leave her bound to her own tattoo chair.
Little does he suspect that by the end of the night he’d be too addicted to their power exchange to walk away. Little does she know that by the end of the summer she’d be completely under his spell.
Lilah E. Noir is an author of dark erotic novels and stories with elements of taboo, seduction and different aspects of the BDSM spectrum. Her tales are focused on the intricate relationships between people and their rough yet always sensual encounters.
Lilah is an author of Stroker Ace, a menage novella that has been nominated for a Best BDSM Book of 2015 at the Menage category. At the beginning of the summer, Lilah released her debut full-length novel, Unorthodox Therapy, first part of a trilogy exploring the nature of addiction.
The Brat With The Phoenix Tattoo:Summer is part 1 of a four book series dedicated to the different seasons of a relationship between two polar opposite people brought together by their love of kink and power exchange.
When she doesn’t write Lilah enjoys creating covers for herself and other writers.
I got up without saying another word and walked to her, holding my breath as I stared at her hypnotizing eyes. Sage looked confused and insecure at my sudden move, especially when I wrapped my fingers around her tender wrist and removed the glass from her fingers. She gasped and stared up at me with genuine shock. So I used the moment to stroke her hand and run my thumb down her bottom lip. Her pulse quickened and she swallowed while looking at me in the eyes like a deer in the headlights.
“I was sure you’d be more than excited at my ability to predict and assess risks,” I said in a teasing voice while caressing her chin. “I wish I had been savvier about all the risks involved the only time I tried being a betting man… with you.” Sage blinked for a moment and opened her mouth to let out a slight, purring groan so I opened her lips wider by using my thumb. I inclined further as if about to kiss her but stopped in the last minute with a cruel smirk. “You won’t need this. Also, why ice? I thought a hardcore chick like you wouldn’t take her whiskey on the rocks?”
The look on her face when I let go of her jaw and walked away was so damned precious it made my cock throb with excitement. Sage reached out to caress her lips, where my fingers have been laying just a minute ago, warming her up, feeling her blood rush. The knowledge I could have the same effect on her made me feel powerful and stripped me of all my earlier doubts and worries. She looked around nervously and brought her hand to her neck, at a loss of words.
I kept on circling around her chair, with my hands behind my back and kept watching her, as if she was a subject of an experiment. Her perky breasts heaved up and down rapidly while the woman was trying to regain composure.
“I… I was just being playful.”
“Well, we both know how much you love playing games, kitten.”
Sage frowned a little at that unexpected pet name. I had never used it with her before. As cheesy as it was it fit her very well. Finally, she uttered in a hesitant voice, still feeling up her bottom lip.
“I wasn’t trying to belittle your success but it was always clear to see you’d go far someday.” She kept staring at her boots. Her gaze fell on on the intricate buckles and Sage kept playing with them with shaking fingers. I’ve been watching her closely and didn’t fail to notice the reddening of her cheeks, the way her nipples hardened, how her posture changed. Her confidence was melting just like the ice in my water.
Sage had always been the type of girl in need of proper handling but I never thought she might be genuinely submissive.
“You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself too, Sage.” My voice was soft as I went behind her and ran my fingers through her hair. Watching her squirm under my light and seemingly innocent touch was so much fun. It was time to raise the stakes so I brushed my lips against her earlobe and whispered.
“Are all these designs yours?”
Sage gasped again and squeezed her hands in her lap as I kept tracing the front of her neck with fingers.
“No, Finley did at least half of what you are seeing.” Her back was stiff as I let my hand slowly run along the line of her spine, caressing her skin with small, feather-like movements. “My forte is the industrial tattoo design. These are some of my latest stuff.” She pointed at an abstract steampunk styled frame. It showed a tattoo design of a sleeve that consisted of elaborate clocks and gears. “I still have a long way to go but I’m getting better, and all my clients are coming back for more.”
“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t give up on your cute little art hobby, isn’t it?” She tensed at these words and looked down with her eyes closed. That was more condescending than I planned it. Bruising her ego would make her more compliant but there was no need to hurt her feelings. “You were always talented.” I laid my hands on her shoulders and kissed her neck. Her shoulders trembled slightly, her breathing hitched and she squeezed her fists harder at my touch. Other than that Sage showed in no way my intrusion in her private space was unpleasant.
A depraved, dark part of me expected her to struggle, protest, cry, bite and scratch me, that I’d have my way with her whether she liked it or not. I hadn’t done anything drastic yet so there was always a chance for her to start fighting back if I went further. Still, I hoped those ugly, violent urges would remain unsatisfied. I wanted to walk out of that place cleansed, not feeling as a deranged rapist.
Besides, seeing Sage surrender herself and get down on her knees for me would be more arousing than the thought of fucking her against her will.
She blinked a few times and kept sucking as I tried to decide what should I use on her perfect, unmarred skin, so pale that it begged to be marked. It was difficult to think while those luscious lips were wrapped around my cock and sucked me so hard as if my new fuck toy was trying to devour me. So I pulled away and slapped it across her face so I’d smear it with more of my thick and salty precum before I put it back in my pants. Sage stared at me with hungry, insatiable eyes and used the moment to breathe. The leather strap was still hanging around her neck. It would probably come handy later but now I needed something more impressive.
“You know… you almost gave me a tattoo machine fetish back then.” I explained to her matter of factly as I squatted next to the briefcase. “Sometimes I still get hard whenever I see someone getting tattooed. That stinging sensation…” I grinned at her and pulled the new violet wand I bought a few weeks ago. Little did I know back then how soon I’d get to use it. “I think it is fair to give you a similar sensation.” The electrode I planned to use on her was a lot smaller than the plasma balls I had a soft spot for. This one was in the form of a long, glass tube that curved at the end, with a mushroom head. “You ever tried some of these?” I dangled the device by its cable it in front of her eyes the same way she did with my car keys back then. She shook her head and paled a little, biting her lips with fear in her eyes. “No worries, pet, you’ll love it. It’s a shame no one used it on you, with how sensitive you are.” After some hesitation, I also picked up my favorite Wartenberg pinwheel and stuffed it in my pocket, out of her sight.
“I… Please, use it on me.”
“Good girl.” I stroked her hair and plugged the cord into the outlet under her tattoo chair. The glass tube slowly heated up under Sage’s amazed eyes and she swallowed. Then she licked her lips and watched the pale blue light inside the glass, with fear and curiosity but not revulsion. I had no idea whether that was Sage’s first brush with kink but that woman was fucking natural.
Without giving her any warning I pulled my still hard cock out and put it back between her lips.
“Suck me real slow while I test it on you. We’ll do some slow direct touch. Don’t you dare hurry up too much, let alone take me deep down your throat or I’ll punish you. Trust me, I have no problem doing things you can’t handle. Do you understand?”
I had to bite my tongue to correct her and make her refer to me as Master. But I couldn’t get her to attach to me or start thinking she was my sub. For a moment the temptation was so strong it choked me, just like those words I never told her during that night. Calling her “pet” was bad enough and probably my worst fuck up for the entire evening.
I moaned slightly while Sage served my cock with her soft, loving licks, smooching the tip and running her tongue all around it. It was time to taste if she was ready for some serious play. The butt plug was nestled nicely inside her tight ass and her pierced clit was swollen and dripping juices. I grinned again and placed the tip of the tube against her left nipple, red and swollen from my rough treatment earlier.
Sage whimpered as the electrical sparkles licked her skin and made her body tense. I ran the wand between her breasts, holding its plastic container tight while my cock was bathed by her talented mouth.
“It feels so good…” She whispered against my engorged head and kept sucking it. I hissed and kept the device longer on her other nipple, enjoying the vibrations of her smooth skin. My action coaxed another, a longer cry of pleasure and intensity out of her.
“And if you only knew how good it would feel on your clit piercing. I’m not sure you can handle it, though. Let’s see.” In response Sage sucked me harder and ran her teeth against the mushroom of my cock, nibbling it very lightly. I chuckled and ran the wand against her mound, right over the landing strip of trimmed jet black hair. “Bad girl. Using teeth already? I’d have to break you out of that habit… or encourage it.”
Her pupils dilated when the smooth surface of my device slid against the hoop of her piercing. The scream died in her throat as I used the perfect moment to ram my shaft deep and rough in her mouth. The beautiful violet sparkles were flying off the metal on her vulnerable flesh. Sage looked as if she was being electrocuted in that moment, writhing on the chair, rolling her eyes and trying to escape from the powerful charge. She was crying hard against my cock that was killing all her protests and groans. I held her hair with one hand and proceeded to facefuck her. I was curious to see how long she’d last with the violet wand right on her clit, the metal conducting electricity to her most intimate zones. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and her pussy was leaking with juices that streamed at the base of the butt plug.
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Title: NOLA Naughty Nin9: An Erotic Romance Anthology
Release Date: August 15th, 2016
Genre: Erotic Romance (mix of Contemporary, Paranormal, LGBT, BDSM, Historical)
Guilty pleasure. Perfect Sin.
New Orleans gets in your blood. Like sweet chocolate or a decadent bite. Ancient mysteries hide behind hidden doorways, and messy love happens in the dim bar lights of the French Quarter. Follow us through nine tales of love found through need, pain, desire, and inhuman temptations. Contemporary, paranormal, menage, or gender bending, we’ve got it all, in one perfect package. Just like the city itself.
9 Erotic Romance Tales in the Big Easy
Dedicated to Amanda Byrne. May your stories live on forever.
Bayou Shadows by Erzabet Bishop
Voodoo dreams and buried lies bring Delia to New Orleans. A sexy shifter with secrets of his own might just get her to stay…
Sultry by Amanda Byrne
Ash is really fuckin’ tired of being a virgin. Rory’s suddenly got an urge to seduce him. But can their friendship survive?
Sinfully Hot by Tina Donahue
A hotter-than-sin reaper. A badass demon. Hell doesn’t get steamier than this.
Playing with Fire by Margaret Madigan
When Vlad Golakov is sent to New Orleans to find a missing woman, he plans to get the job done quickly, then enjoy the Big Easy. He doesn’t expect to fall in love with the woman-turned-werewolf or teach the pack’s alpha that when you play with fire, you’re bound to get burned.
Creole Corsair by Wren Michaels
Sabine Chauvet needs closure on her family’s past. But when she runs into Jasper Carrington, her old high school crush, the one thing in her past she wasn’t searching for finds her instead.
Phenomenal by LeTeisha Newton
We all lose, and it snatches our souls right out our chests. When I lost her, I wanted to destroy the world with the same bloody hands I used to pound my enemies. When I win her back, she won’t get away again. I’ll risk my life for it.
Change of Heart by Liv Rancourt
Preacher always said New Orleans was a den of sin, so of course Clarabelle had to see for herself…
An Evening at Crossroads by Kate Richards
They broke every taboo, an ancient vampire, an exotic shifter on the run sharing gay romance under the roof of the newest and most daring club in New Orleans
Lion of Frenchman Street by Teresa Noelle Roberts
When saxophonist Peter Lyons invites New Orleans newcomer Kelsey into his world of jazz and kinky sex, his dominance ignites her body and his music speaks to her soul. But Peter’s hiding old pain and when Kelsey’s offered a job out of town, everything goes out of tune.
Tina is an Amazon and international bestselling novelist in erotic, paranormal, contemporary and historical romance for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three of her erotic novels (Freeing the Beast, Come and Get Your Love, and Wicked Takeover) were Readers’ Choice Award winners. Another three (Adored, Lush Velvet Nights, and Deep, Dark, Delicious) were named finalists in the EPIC competition. Sensual Stranger, her erotic contemporary romance, was chosen Book of the Year at the French review site Blue Moon reviews. The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love Loves Books was created specifically for her erotic romance Lush Velvet Nights. Two of her titles (The Yearning and Deep, Dark, Delicious) received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition. Take Me Away and Adored both won second place in the NEC RWA contest (different years). Tina is featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.
Erzabet Bishop is an award winning author who loves to write naughty stories. She is the author of Lipstick, Dinner Date, Crave, Hedging Her Bets, Red Hot, The Science of Lust, Arcane Imaginarium: Spirit Board, Holidays in Hell, Mallory’s Mark (upcoming 2016),The Devil’s Due (upcoming 2016), Charity Benshaw’s Enchanted Paddle Emporium (upcoming 2016), Sigil Fire, Glitter Lust (upcoming 2016), Written on Skin, Club Beam, Pomegranate, A Red Dress for Christmas, The Black Magic Café, Fantasies in Red, Wicked for You, Sweet Seductions: The Erzabet Bishop Collection, Holiday Cruise, Fetish Fair, Temptation Resorts: Jess, Temptation Resorts: Marnie, Taming the Beast, The Erotic Pagans Series: Beltane Fires, Samhain Shadows and Yuletide Temptation along with being a contributor to many anthologies. Erzabet has been a finalist in the GCLS awards for 2014 and 2015. She has also been nominated for the Golden Flogger Award for Crave. She lives in Texas with her husband, furry children and can often be found lurking in local bookstores. She loves to bake, make naughty crochet projects and watch monster movies. When she isn’t writing, she loves to review music and books.
Teresa Noelle Roberts writes erotic romance and romantic erotica for passionate people who like tales of true love on the spicy side. Also a poet and fantasy writer, she has a particular fondness for paranormal and fantasy tales in which the romantic, the supernatural, and of course the erotic mingle. She’s also drawn to things kinky.
Born in the Finger Lakes region of New York, she now lives in southeastern Massachusetts with her own personal hero and a clowder of exceedingly large cats. When she’s not writing, you might find Teresa working in the vegetable garden…or cooking up a storm…or knitting something bright and colorful….or on a beach, regardless of the weather. If you can’t find her at all, well, she has to get ideas for all those sexy stories somewhere.
Wren hails from the frozen tundra of Wisconsin where beer and cheese are their own food groups. But a cowboy swept her off her feet and carried her below the Mason-Dixon line to Texas, where she promptly lost all tolerance for cold and snow. Fueled by coffee, dreams, and men in kilts, Wren promises to bring you laughter, sexy fun time, and action that keeps you on the edge of your seat. The easiest way to her heart is anything to do with the Green Bay Packers, Doctor Who, or Joss Whedon.
LeTeisha Newton: So I think this is the part where I’m supposed to say something super cool, win you over, and make you my life-long superfan…OR wait, is that how I am about my anime collection?
Basically, I’m an author, blogger, geek, and villain lover (Joker IS MINE!). There shouldn’t be any surprise then that I tend to love my heroes a bit broken, all messed up, and in need of someone who understands them just the way they are.
Ha, my heroines are right there with them. You see, love is nice, it’s sweet. It can be all rainbows and glowing stars. And then it can be dark, twisted, hurtful, and feel so good you have to scream about it. So I write like that. From one side of the spectrum to the other, because that’s real. That’s life. And that’s what we crave–-delving into a fantasy world or not.
Margaret Madigan: I write romance for Entangled Publishing and Evernight Publishing. I write and indie-publish romance and sci-fi through M&M Publishing.
I’m an Oregon Ducks fan.
I’m a donut and pastry addict (pretty much any carbs, really).
I like cats.
I’m terrified of balloons.
When I’m not writing you’ll find me in a college classroom teaching English and, of course, wrangling my family.
Sadly, Amanda passed away in July 2016. When she wasn’t plotting ways to sneak her latest shoe purchase past her partner, Amanda wrote sexy, snarky romance and urban fantasy. She liked her heroines smart and unafraid to make mistakes, and her heroes strong enough to take them on.
When she wasn’t writing, she was reading, drinking hot chocolate, and trying not to destroy her house with her newest DIY project. She lived in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, and no, it really doesn’t rain that much.
Liv Rancourt: I write romance: m/f, m/m, and v/h, where the h is for human and the v is for vampire…or sometimes demon. I write funny. I don’t write angst. When I’m not writing I take care of tiny premature babies or teenagers, depending on whether I’m at home or at work. My husband is a soul of patience, my dog is the cutest thing evah(!), and we’re up to three ferrets.
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