Blinking with Kay – A Hump in the Night (@kay_jaybee)

thingsthatgohump300x200I’m delighted to be taking part in Kd Grace’s Hump in the Night!!

October is the time of the year when the Ancient Gaels believed the fabric between the worlds of the living and the worlds of the dead thinned, and broke open, so that on Samhain- later known as All Hallows Eve, and then Halloween, evil spirits would be released into the world, spreading pestilence and plague.

To ward off these forces of evil, huge bonfires were lit, and people dressed up in frightening masks to scare the spirits away, and therefore keep themselves, their families and their harvests safe.

trick or treatIt was also thought at this time when, if an offering of some burning hay was held up to the heavens, then souls trapped in purgatory could be freed.

Okay- enough of the history lesson! I could go on, and on, and on about the history behind Halloween…But that’s not why you stopped by today! You came to see what I could offer to tease and perhaps even scare you!

I’m not known for writing paranormal stories, but hey- for you guys, I’ll do anything (well, almost!!)

So here’s a little taster from a special one off short story called Blinked



(copyright Kay Jaybee 2013)

Human minds are so unimaginative, so closed. There’s usually a soft blue glow surrounding them. Not this one.

The taste around him was sharper, it tingled against my skin, zesty with an edge of…what to call it? To say it felt sulphuric would suggest it was accompanied by an unpleasant odour, but that wasn’t the case. The aroma emanating from this human was irresistible, yet it was oddly metallic in its intensity, in its bitter tang, in its…

He turned and looked directly at me, cutting off my line of thought. I was startled by the piercing nature of his deep brown eyes, and began to wonder if he already knew, if he could tell what I was?

The hairs on the back of my neck bristled beneath my red ponytail. He really was something different. My green eyes narrowed, my heart-rate, always rapid, increased further, and I felt the familiar swell of my chest and a twitch at my crotch as I observed him watching me.

Mentally I admonished myself. There was no way he could possibly know.

The hum and buzz of the bar faded to a mere background annoyance. He should have come to me by now. Impatience rose in my throat. This was unsettlingly strange. My quarry usually comes to me as soon as my craving for them enters my psyche. It’s part of the power; an automatic response. I want them, so they want me; madly, insanely, and without a hint of uncertainty, for the desire was all. The desire IS all. Hunger, sex, success, power and control. Without them the blood I crave is simply a nice warm drink.

My senses constricted further, tuning out the other drinkers. Confusion edged uninvited into the corner of my brain. Conquest should be easy. Then the small part of me that remembered what it was like to be human, reminded me that sometimes the pursuit was as exciting as the capture. Yeah, right!

I went to him, my head held high, my pony tail swinging purposefully behind my back. His lack of instant obedience wasn’t my failure, it was his, and he would pay for such insolence.

Essential need had taken me over, and as my breasts pushed against the satin of my black bustler, and the thud behind my ribcage became louder, I stood only inches away from him. Then instinct took over, and I moved in for the kill. My eyes, blazing dangerous lust, met his without flinching, without wavering, without blinking.

He blinked. That was when I knew I’d won. That whatever strange game he thought he’d been playing, it was already over. He blinked, and I didn’t. He had a weakness I had long since cast off. Simple.

We didn’t speak. I just nodded and turned around, walking purposely towards the exit, my hips swaying, my tight leather mini-skirt revealing the tops of my stockings and the contours of my backside. I could already taste his drooling mouth as he picked up the bag that had sat at his feet, and followed me, finally my slave.

His mind had cleared of the haze that had first kept me away. All he thought now was of his need, the need to fuck. To fuck me.

I kept walking. I didn’t look back, I knew he was there. I could smell the chemically caustic edge of his presence, even if I couldn’t see him.

My flat, small and obsessively neat, was only a short walk from the bar. I unlocked the front door and pointed inside, watching as he followed the line of my finger with his eyes, before obeying the unspoken request and entering the dark hallway.

Locking the door behind me, I led him to the bedroom, and began to unbutton the studs that held my top together down my right hand side, enjoying the sight of his wide hungry eyes and his parted lips. Hell, he was virtually panting like a dog.

Dropping my bustler to the ground, I showed him I wore no underwear beneath, and that my tits were more than ready for his touch. He was clearly in need too. The bulge beneath his denims was all but breaking out on its own. I smiled, but did nothing about his growing discomfort, instead, I commanded him to remove his black t-shirt. My crotch gave a twitch of anticipation as he obeyed without question.

I admired the torso before me, the beautifully thick neck, its veins running blue, pulsing slightly just below the surface. I would visit that neck soon; linger over it, but not yet. I had learnt to be disciplined, that the wait for the kill was more fun than the moment itself. For once the second of victory came, it was soon over, and then the hunt would have to begin again.

Walking around my guest in a wide circle I nodded in approval. His head turned with me, his brown eyes never leaving my chest, his mouth watering. This was obedience.

Beneath his left shoulder blade there was a small tattoo. It was a black Celtic cross. I moved closer, and with a single blood red fingernail traced its outline. A sudden chill engulfed me, but that was all. I didn’t disappear in a puff of smoke. I wasn’t reduced to a pile of ash upon the floor. Religious symbols versus the vampire. The vampires won that battle years ago. We are simply too strong to be beaten that easily.

I felt his flesh quiver beneath my touch, but to his credit he didn’t move, although his breathing did quicken, and the gleam in his eyes said more about his requirements than any words could have expressed.

The air between us began to change as his aura altered. The sulphuric tang was evaporating and red hot chemical desire had taken its place. Still not quite what I’d have expected from the average human, but this guy was so together, literary pulsating sex; he was everything I wanted.

From nowhere, I heard my mother’s shrill voice from centuries ago, telling me not to play with my food. A disobedient child to the last, I began to do just that, and ran my tongue up and down his back in long languid strokes. As I savoured the salty sweat against my taste buds, my self-control began to wane, and I felt the yearning for blood creep up my spine, heightening my senses further, clouding my eyes so that they are but a black focused fog, taking in nothing but my victim and the overriding longings of my body.

I tore off his remaining clothes with a speed that was beyond mortal, clawing them so they lay in mere shreds upon the floor.  At that moment his semi-hypnotised state broke, and with a hunger I would normally only associate with the un-dead, he returned my urgency with fervour. Peeling off my tight skirt and boots, a flick of his brown eyes showed brief pleasure at my lack of knickers, as I pushed him back onto the bed.

If he was surprised by my strength then he didn’t show it. His heavy masculine aroma, his lust, intoxicated me as I sat astride him, impaling myself to the hilt. Rocking back and forth, and sliding up and down in alternative motions, I revelled in the expression on his face. His eyes closed in concentration, as I snaked my right hand beneath us, and stuffed two sharp fingernails up his arse, making him yelp in surprise.

I tore off his remaining clothes with a speed that was beyond mortal, clawing them so they lay in mere shreds upon the floor.  At that moment his semi-hypnotised state broke, and with a hunger I would normally only associate with the un-dead, he returned my urgency with fervour. Peeling off my tight skirt and boots, a flick of his brown eyes showed brief pleasure at my lack of knickers, as I pushed him back onto the bed.

If he was surprised by my strength then he didn’t show it. His heavy masculine aroma, his lust, intoxicated me as I sat astride him, impaling myself to the hilt. Rocking back and forth, and sliding up and down in alternative motions, I revelled in the expression on his face. His eyes closed in concentration, as I snaked my right hand beneath us, and stuffed two sharp fingernails up his arse, making him yelp in surprise…



Gratis cover2-smash-150x150So where can you read the rest of this tale?

It is tucked away inside the FREE anthology, Gratis: Midwinter Tales

Amazon UK | Amazon US


Thanks again for inviting me Kd!!!

Happy Humping!!

Kay xx



Kay Jaybee was nominated as the Best Erotica Writer of 2013 and 2014 by the ETO.

Kay wrote the The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (Xcite, 2011-14), Making Him Wait, (Sweetmeats Press, 2012), The Voyeur (Xcite, 2012), as well as the novellas, Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (2nd ed. 1001 NightsPress, 2013), Digging Deep (Xcite, 2013), A Sticky Situation, (Xcite, 2012), and The Circus, (Sweetmeats Press). She has also written the anthologies The Collector (Austin & Macauley, 2012 & 2008), The Best of Kay Jaybee (Xcite, 2012), Tied to the Kitchen Sink, Equipment, (All Romance, 2012), Yes Ma’am (Xcite e-books, 2011), Quick Kink One and Quick Kink Two (Xcite e-books, 2010). Kay has had over 70 short stories published by Cleis Press, Black Lace, Mammoth, Xcite, Penguin, Seal, and Sweetmeats Press.

Details of Kay’s work, past, present and future can be found at

You can follow Kay on Twitter- kay_jaybee



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Ghostly Encounters by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985)

thingsthatgohump300x200I love a good paranormal, whether it’s about vampires, shapeshifters, succubi or ghosts. I love the variety you can play with – your characters can inhabit completely different worlds with different rules… or they can live alongside humans in our “normal” world, our reality. The latter is what I went with when I wrote Timeless Desire, which in a previous life was called Love Through Time. I recently republished it, as I got the rights back when one of my publishers went under. It’s been rewritten and reedited so is a slightly different tale to the one that went before.

The story encompasses several of my very favourite things… libraries, books, hunky men, stately homes, history, and ghostly encounters. That last one I’ll stick to just in fiction, though.

Timeless Desire is a story with lots of facets—it’s contemporary, but also paranormal. It’s set in modern day, but a big part of the plot harks back to World War II. The main characters just met, and while it’s not instalove, there’s a promise of more to come. Throw in some sections that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I wrote them, and you’ve got a quirky little tale that reviewers have described as “clever” “a wonderful novella filled with suspense, undying love, and drama,” and “a delightful ghost story.”

So, if you like yourself some ghostly encounters and a quirky romance that will pluck at your heartstrings, then check out Timeless Desire.

Happy Reading!

Lucy x



Emily received some strange looks and frowns from the people she passed as she walked across the graveled drive towards the front entrance of Westbury Hall. She could appreciate their confusion. It was closing time for the stately home and the last of the visitors were being politely ushered out of the building, yet she was heading inside. What’s more, she’d been invited. She had a job to do.

An elderly lady stood in the porch smiling and nodding as she held the door open for those departing the property. Most of them seemed in no hurry to leave, stopping to make comments to the woman, thanking her for a lovely visit and so on. Emily waited patiently, allowing the patrons to leave before attempting to get in. When the staff member—most likely a volunteer, Emily thought—caught sight of her, she gave her a polite nod of acknowledgment.

Finally, the last of Westbury Hall’s visitors moved out, leaving Emily free to enter. Climbing the single stone step to the threshold of the front porch, she took the hand that had already been offered to her.

Shaking Emily’s hand with a surprising firmness, the woman said, “You must be Miss Stone.” Her smart appearance and the intelligence in her eyes indicated that despite her advancing age, she was far from past it, “I’m Mrs. Thompson, house supervisor.”

“I am,” replied Emily, dropping her hand back to her side, “but please, call me Emily. It’s lovely to meet you. So, house supervisor? Do you live on site?” Not a volunteer, then, but a paid member of staff.

Indicating Emily should step inside the entrance hall, Mrs. Thompson proceeded to close and lock the porch and front doors of the house, securing them in.

“I do,” the older woman said, turning back to face Emily, “I have rooms in a separate building just off the back of this one. So you needn’t worry about me disturbing you.”

“Oh no,” said Emily, worried she’d inadvertently rubbed Mrs.  Thompson up the wrong way, “I didn’t mean that. I was just curious, that’s all. You’re more than welcome to see me at work, Mrs. Thompson, although I’m afraid you won’t see anything terribly exciting.”

Mrs. Thompson smiled now, the warmth reaching her eyes. Emily almost sagged with relief. She’d yet to see the extent of the work she had to do, but she’d been told it was no easy task, so she could be here for some time. The last thing she needed was to upset any of the staff.

“Oh, you’d be surprised, my dear. This is a fascinating old place. Of course, all these old houses have history, but Westbury Hall’s is particularly rich.”

Emily smiled. The woman’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Well then,” she replied, “I can’t wait to learn more about it. I hope you’ll feed me some historical tidbits throughout the time I’m here?”

Mrs. Thompson gave an enigmatic smile. Then, startling Emily somewhat, she turned smartly on her heel and walked deeper into the house. “Come, my dear, I won’t hold you up any longer. I’ll show you to the library, where you’ll soon start uncovering Westbury’s illustrious history for yourself.”


Timeless DesireBlurb:

Emily arrives at Westbury Hall with a job to do. She’s to clean and conserve all of the books in their impressive library, preserving them for future generations. Not long into her stay at the house, she bumps into the night guard, George. She’d expected an old, balding guy with a comb over, so the hunky chap she actually meets is a very pleasant surprise. The introductions complete, George leaves Emily in peace to get on with her job. But when a falling photograph sets off a chain reaction of ghostly events, Emily and George are thrown together in order to find out who—or what—is causing them. Their investigation uncovers a tragic past, a lost love, and a stunning secret.

PLEASE NOTE: This is a revised and extended of a previously published title, Love Through Time.

Buy links:

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Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at:



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15th Instalment DEMON INTERRUPTED, A Lakeland Witches Story

As you may have noticed, there has been more than one episode of Demon Interrupted, every three weeks recently. That’s because, like mostthingsthatgohump300x200stories, DI, took on a life of its own and would not be wrapped up quite as quickly and as easily as I planned at the beginning. That means that instead of the fourteen episodes I had planned for this serial, there will be seventeen. The series will still end on Halloween, the last day of Things that Go Hump in the Night, but you’ll be getting more of Ferris and Elaine’s story before then, so sit back and enjoy episode fourteen.

And remember, all through the month of October, A Hopeful Romantic will be celebrating all things paranormal and all Things that Go Hump in the Night. There’ll be lots of your favourite authors stopping by bringing with them lots of paranormal fun. There’ll be lots of great giveaways and lots of scary, sexy, excitement, so be sure to put Things that Go Hump in the Night on your calendar. Remember, the fun begins October 1st. More on that in a later post.

If you’ve missed the previous episodes of Demon Interrupted, find the links at the bottom of this instalment.

Enjoy Chapter fifteen, and thanks for joining the fun with this Work in Progress.  If you want to know more about the Elemental Coven’s sexy adventures, check out the Lakeland Witches Trilogy: Body Temperature and RisingRiding the Ether and Elemental Fire. Happy, reading! 


Chapter 15

The Vessel

Demon Interrupted Cover‘I will spare you a long, drawn-out search,’ Lucia materialised in the wing-backed chair near the library’s fireplace. That her comings and goings were commonplace in the Elemental Coven was evidenced in the lack of so much as a gasp of surprise by anyone else in the room at her sudden appearance. ‘Soul Riders are very obscure in your magical histories. As with succubi, most people think them only a myth.’ She nodded to her daughter and smiled.

‘So now you’re going to be forthcoming with information?’ Tim said, folding his arms across his chest. ‘About damn time.’

She offered him the kind of tolerant smile one would offer a child or a simpleton, who struggled to understand basic concepts. ‘I can speak of what Ferris’ dreams have already revealed, what he has already shared with the coven; nothing more.’ Her gaze came to rest on Ferris, who sat in the other wing-backed chair next to the fire, still unable to get warm, though Sky said he no longer had fever. ‘Believe me, it is not that I don’t wish to help our dear rider understand what has befallen him, but the pact between us was sealed with powerful magic that makes it physically impossible for me to do so until he does. My memory of that period in his existence is linked to his own, as he wished it at the time. If he desires to understand his past and who he is, then he must discover it for himself.’

‘Then he is a demon.’ Tim said.

‘Of sorts.’ Lucia shifted in her chair and smoothed the flames of the fire robe across her lap. ‘I suppose you could compare Soul Riders to the furies of the ancient Greek myths, but much more –’ she shrugged ‘– mercenary.’

‘In the dream, Elaine bargained for my services with the price of her own life, of her own soul.’ Ferris closed his eyes and leaned his aching head against the back of the chair. It was easier to speak of the dream with his eyes closed. For him it wasn’t a dream; for him it was as real as the breath he now drew. ‘What she asked of me, I was more than willing to do. Her husband, Patrick Farringdon, deserved the worst I could do to him.’ He opened his eyes and looked around the room at his coven family who watched him intently, but there was no judgement in their eyes. For that he was thankful. ‘I was more than happy to do it. I … fed on his fear, his distress as I forced him into his own darkness. As he grew weaker, I grew stronger, and I shared that strength with Elaine.’ He scrubbed his hand over his face. ‘In the beginning it was not so much avenging Elaine that drew me to take her bargain as it was the possibility of riding a pure soul after I had finished with her husband. That was an experience, I had never had before, an experience I had never contemplated until she offered herself to me.’

‘She was hardly pure if she summoned a demon to torture and kill her husband, was she?

The words were barely out of Tim’s mouth before Ferris exploded from his chair and had the man by the throat. ‘You don’t know what she suffered, farmer. You don’t know what she endured.’

A sizzle not unlike an electric current grazed his body and expanded outward along with the scent of ozone. Somewhere far away, he heard gasps and cries and people scrambling.

‘Let him go! Let him go, Ferris! Let him go now!’ Someone shouted.

It was Cassandra’s voice that brought him back to himself, her hand on his arm, her succubus energy calming the fire and syphoning it from him until he could contain it, and he suddenly realised he held Tim by his throat, his feet several inches above the Aubusson carpet, something that a man of Patrick Farringdon’s stature could not have done. He released the farmer, who stumbled backward coughing and grabbing his throat. Then he caught his balance, and watched in fascination, along with the rest of the coven, as Cassandra moved into Ferris’ arms and kissed him on the mouth. At the touch of her lips, the world contracted and he fell back into the tight confines of Farringdon’s body.

No one moved, no one spoke, but he could feel all eyes on him. He did not apologise for his treatment of Tim, but turned and settled back into his chair. Only after he had settled and drank the glass of juice Fiori had set on the nesting tables next to him did Tara speak.

‘That –’Tara nodded to Ferris, but spoke to Lucia ‘—is the rider’s true form?’

‘This is the form in which our Ferris had chosen to enflesh himself before he took upon him Farringdon’s vessel.’

‘But you know this,’ Ferris said. ‘You’ve seen me in that form.’ He nodded to Tim, who still rubbed his throat, then understanding dawned as the others stared at him blankly. ‘Then that too must have been only a hallucination.’

castlerigg_Stone_Circle1Tara nodded. Then she quickly added. ‘No one was affected by it but you, though.’

‘Still,’ Fiori said, ‘the last time you came to my bed, Ferris, when you eased the nightmares for me, while we were making love I felt that you were somehow larger, somehow more than yourself.’ She shrugged. ‘I didn’t think too much about it, at the time. I mean dreams and the magic they evoke can do strange things to people.’

‘In all honesty, it is very rare for a witch to have the power to call and control a Soul Rider without being ridden herself,’ Lucia said to Ferris. ‘Your Elaine must have been exceptional.’

‘Are there others like Ferris?’ Kennet asked.

‘Perhaps,’ Lucia said. ‘Though I have never met another. We demons tend to stay away from each other as much as possible for obvious reasons, but Soul Riders are even more reclusive. The power extracted from a soul is unfathomable, so a Rider could easily get by only taking one soul a millennium, one truly corrupt soul, and staying in obscurity the rest of the time.’

‘I took more than that,’ Ferris said. ‘I took often and without remorse. I don’t know how I know that, but I do.’

‘What do you remember beyond the dream?’ Tara asked.

He shook his head. ‘Only intimations, vague shadows of insight that I know are true, but don’t know why or how.’ He looked down at his hands. ‘I don’t know how I ended up in Farringdon’s body, and clearly in my first encounter with Elaine at Storm Croft, she didn’t know either. In fact, she had no memory of who I was at all.’ Now, knowing what he knew, it hurt to think that she didn’t remember him.’

‘Ferris,’ Cassandra, who had been kneeling on the floor next to him since he attacked Tim, laid a hand on his knee and looked up into his eyes. ‘It’s very possible that your first encounter with Elaine was only a hallucination. As far as we know, you hadn’t dreamed before your dream in the Room of Reflection three days ago.’

Three days ago? How could he have been gone that long? ‘I suppose it’s possible,’ then he added quickly. ‘That doesn’t mean that she hasn’t visited me, that she hasn’t been with me.’

‘That she lived, there’s no question,’ Marie said. ‘And there’s documented evidence of the hanging of one Elaine Farringdon, wife of Patrick Farringdon, who owned High Moor Estate. It’s astonishing that she hanged rather than burned. The villagers firmly believed she was a witch, as of course she was.’ She looked down at her laptop. ‘But according to the histories, which are surprisingly detailed, she was hanged as a murderess, though from everything I can tell, it was a lynch mob that hanged her. She was never tried.’ She cleared her throat and nodded to Cassandra, who took Ferris’ hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ Marie said softly. ‘Ferris, I didn’t mean to be insensitive.’

He shook his head and straightened in his chair, forcing himself to breathe normally, forcing down the rage and the pain he felt. ‘Then I failed her. I couldn’t save her.’ His voice broke. ‘Clearly I couldn’t or she wouldn’t have come to me as a ghost.’ He nodded for Marie to continue

This time her voice was softer, laced with sympathy. ‘After her death, according to the history of High Moor, her husband returned, not dead at all, but only travelling and, in his rage, in his pain at the loss of his wife he …’

‘He what?’ Ferris asked, gripping Cassandra’s hand until he was sure she must be in pain.

Marie looked up at him, her eyes misting. ‘He … took her body and hid it away. No one knows where. There are lots of caves in that region. That night he returned when the village elders were meeting in the church. He locked the doors and …’

‘And what?’

She took a deep breath. ‘He locked the doors and burned the building with them inside. Then,’ she held his gaze. ‘Then he simply disappeared.’

‘I see,’ he said so softly that it was little more than a movement of his lips. ‘What else?’

‘Ferris, the really strange thing about what we’ve discovered is the accounts of Farringdon.’ Alice took over the story. ‘It would appear, as you say, the villagers hated him. In fact there seemed to be an incredible amount of sympathy for his young wife in the beginning. He married her for her father’s money, after whoring and gambling away all of his own. The accounts say that he beat her from their wedding night onward; that he bragged that while he may have been forced to marry her for her money, he had no intention of changing his lifestyle to accommodate the baggage her father couldn’t get rid of on anyone else in the kingdom. Apparently rumours of her being a witch made it difficult for her father to find a suitable match.’

With a growl of rage, Ferris threw his empty glass across the room and it shattered against the wainscot as the sizzle of the electric current surge over his body again. Next to him Cassandra tightened her grip on his hand and spoke soothing words that he could barely hear above his anger.

Marie spoke in a quiet voice. ‘It makes no sense that this man, who clearly despised and abused his wife, would be upset about her death. Oh, he might very well have played the grieving widower until the dust settled, but if as you’ve said was the case, he was already spreading rumours about his wife being a witch, then he would have found her death a vindication of his accusations. He would have never grieved her to the point of avenging her death upon the heads of all the village elders. The man was a lot of things, by all accounts, but he wasn’t crazy.’

The silence in the room stretched to the breaking point, and Ferris heard it as a deafening roar in his ears. The library felt as though it were stretching itself with the silence, pulling everyone else in the coven away from him. His head pounded. His muscles ached from the tension. When, at last he spoke, he could barely hear his own voice over the roar. ‘Then I was the one who did this thing. I was the one …’ he looked down at his hands as though seeing them for the first time, and fisted them until his fingernails cut into his palm. ‘I was the one, in this body, who avenged her death.’

No one spoke. ‘I am the one who failed her, when she trusted me, when she believed I would come for her.’

‘There’s more.’ Marie glanced down at her laptop, then back up at Ferris. ‘Though no one knows where her body was buried, there were accounts of sightings of her ghost for years to come. Nothing is left of that place now. The village was but a small one even then. High Moor was Farringdon’s last and poorest property. The rest he’d long since sold to pay his debts.’

All eyes were on Ferris. He knew they all hoped desperately he would remember, though to remember such hideous events was not his wish. He understood now why he chose not to remember them, why he made no attempt to discover his past. He was a demon. That would have been difficult enough for him to stomach, but there was no conflict in his being when Elaine summoned him. That he had done hideous things, he had no doubt. The very act of being a Soul Rider should have been repugnant to him, and yet of all the evils he had done, of all the heinous acts he had committed, even that he had burned the village elders alive he might have come to terms. But that he had failed Elaine, that she had died before he could come for her, this was the breaking point, the precipice beyond which he could not even beg forgiveness, for how could there possibly be any?

‘You must reclaim those memories, Ferris,’ Lucia said. ‘Though the pain of it seems unbearable, you must remember. The consequences have not changed if you do not, and you risk everything by trying to avoid the truth.’

‘I told you I wanted to return to the dream,’ he said. ‘I have to find Elaine, and if remembering the truth is the only way that I can do that, then I wish to remember every detail. I wish to know her suffering as though it were my own. I wish to … make amends.’

‘Ferris it happened three hundred years ago.’ Tim’s voice was unusually gentle.

‘Maybe so, but for me it feels like yesterday.’

Cassandra took his hand again and brought it to her lips. ‘You have no need to make amends, my dear Ferris. I’ve been your penance. Surely you know that. And no one could have been more trying that I’ve been.’

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. ‘You have been my reward, little succubus, and my salvation.’ He closed his eyes and laid his head against hers, feeling her magic effervesce over him like a sea of champagne. He pulled away, still holding her hand.

‘She is not your salvation, demon, that you must find for yourself.’ He looked up to see Elaine standing in the doorway, wearing the robe she wore when she worked magic. She beckoned to him. ‘Come back to yourself, Ferris, my darling. It’s been too long, and I can’t come home until you do. We are bound to each other by powerful magic, remember?’ She turned and walked away.

‘Elaine! Wait!’ As he stood to follow her, the room fell away. He could hear panicked voices a long way off. Cassandra’s fingers slid from his. And he followed Elaine into a field and then onto a remote hillside, to the door of a shepherd’s bothy, into which she disappeared.

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Here are the links to the previous episodes in case you missed them:

Chapter 1 Demon Interrupted: Perchance to Dream.

Chapter 2 Demon Interrupted: A Chat with a Demon

Chapter 3 Demon Interrupted: Enter the Shadows

Chapter 4 Demon Interrupted: Dark Chrysalis

Chapter 5 Demon Interrupted: The Empty Spaces in Between

Chapter 6 Beneath the Weight of Shadow

Chapter 7 Possessions

Chapter 8 Necessities and Inconveniences

Chapter 9 Demon Dreams

Chapter 10 Backlash

Chapter 11 Chasing the Dream

Chapter 12 The Summoning

Chapter 13 Tenuous Threads

Chapter 14 Corporeal


Things that Go Hump in the Night: a Month-Long Celebration of Paranormal Erotica

Things that go Hump in the Night 1Pssst! It’s almost time!

Throughout the month of October I’ve invited some of the most exciting, best known, most celebrated erotica writers to A Hopeful Romantic to help me celebrate and blog about all things paranormal.

Things that Go Hump in the Night is a celebration of all the sexy, scary, furry, fangy, ghosty, witchy fun things we love about paranormal erotica and paranormal erotic romance and I could think of no better way to help me celebrate the relaunch of my paranormal erotic Lakeland Witches Trilogy than to invite the most fabulous erotica writers I know over to celebrate with me and then to invite all you lovely readers to join in the party.

Here’s your chance to meet some of your favourite erotic authors and get some of their suggestions for fabulously sexy paranormal reads. You’ll get great posts, fantastically filthy excerpts, and LOTS of totally amazing giveaways. The chills and thrills and sizzles begin October 1st and continue ALL MONTH LONG! Werewolves and vampires, succubi and witches, ghosts and shifters, they’ll all be here for Things that Go Hump in the Night!

The event will begin on the 1st of October and end on the 31st with the chilling, sizzling finale of my paranormal erotic Lakeland Witches serial, Demon Interrupted. Things that Go Hump in the Night will also coincide with my two-week Lakeland Witches blog tour from October 27th to November 7th.

Grand Prize Giveaway:

In addition to a plethora of prizes and giveaways from the authors, there will also be a grand prize of a $50/£80 Amazon Gift Card!

You won’t want to miss a single day! Get out your diary and write down the dates when your favourite authors will be talking about things that go hump in the night, and join the fun and frolic!

THE AUTHORS & THE DATESThings that go Hump in the Night 2

Oct 1 Lucy Felthouse

Oct 2 Kay Jaybee

Oct 3 Janine Ashbless

Oct 4 Vanessa de Sade

Oct 5 Elsie Hepner

Oct 6 Tabitha Rayne

Oct 7 Elizabeth Black

Oct 8 Tamsin Flowers

Oct 9 Lisabet Sarai

Oct 10 Victoria Blisse

Oct 11 K D Grace (Demon Interrupted)

Oct 12 Suz deMello

Oct 13 Sommer Marsden

Oct 14 Janine Ashbless

Oct 15 Barbara Elsborg

Oct 16 Rose Caraway

Oct 17 Lexie Bay

Oct 18 Jacqueline Brocker

Oct 19 Kathy Kulig

Oct 20 Rozlyn Sparks

Oct 21 Eizabeth Morgan

Oct 22 Jennifer Denys

Oct 23 M. K. Elliot

Oct 24 Kay Dee Royal

Oct 25 Nancy Corrigan

Oct 26 Rayna Noire

Oct 27 Teresa Noelle Roberts

Oct 28 Kristina Lloyd

Oct 29 Ellen March

Oct 30 Lily Harlem

Oct 31 K D Grace (Climax of Demon Interrupted)



Happy 4th Birthday, Holly! oh my! Where has the time gone? Was it really four years ago today that The Initiation of Ms Holly strutted its way into the world? On the one hand it seems like only yesterday. On the other, ten novels, written under two different pseudonyms, four novellas, and multiple short stories later, it seems like a lifetime ago.

At the moment, The Initiation of Ms Holly is getting the best birthday present a novel could ask for, and that’s great sales! Holly has been at the top of the Amazon UK BDSM Erotica chart, hanging it at position number one or number two for almost a month. Go Holly! There seems to be something about the story, with its inspiration coming from the experience my husband and I had being stranded in a train for four and a half hours in the tunnel under the English Chanel in the Eurostar, and its roots based in a modern retelling of the mythical tale of Psyche and Eros that keeps drawing people back.

The thing is, Holly almost didn’t make it to publication. Remember back in the day when Black Lace closed its doors? Yup! Holly was there just waiting for the editor to say yea or ne. After that huge disappointment, she was turned down by another publisher before she found a happy home at Xcite Books, who have kept me busily writing totally fun and filthy stories ever since The Initiation of Ms Holly has been through three printings, and the US version was even bought from Xcite by Source Books, which means Holly has also been through three covers – all of them gorgeous, and I doubt if there is a scene in any of my books that gets more comments and more demands for readings than the filthy bike-tastic Harley scene.

Holly cover FINAL9781907761270_FCAs I watch my first born do me proud again and again, I am very pleased to say that her sequel, Fulfilling the Contract, with its splashy theme of Vegas voyeurism, is also making me proud, and I’m chuffed to bits to say that pre-orders for the third book in The Mount Series, To Rome with Lust have already popped the book into the charts. Excited much? What started with Rita and Edward, then progressed to Elsa and Nick, and back to the original Mount in Rome for book three with Liza and Paulo. Will there be more Mount novels to come? We’ll see, but I must say I found New York very inspiring, and I’m sure there is a raunchy tale about the New York Mount just waiting to be told.

Yup! My little girl is now all grown up and a world traveler. I couldn’t be prouder. I don’t mind saying I was terrified on that launch day four years ago. Me! A published novelist! Scared for my baby, scared for me, wondering if I could write another one, wondering if everyone else would love Holly as much as I did. Those were nail-biting days as well as happy, proud, exciting days, with a fantastic launch at Sh! Women’s Emporium filled with some of my favourite writers and lots of truly amazing people to help me celebrate; with a signing at Erotica, with readings in multiple venues, including the Flamingo Hotel in Las Vegas, and with good sales, as Xcite gave me the go-ahead to write my second novel, The Pet Shop.

Ten novels in four years. I’ve had little time for much else, but wow! Has it been fun! Holly was the exciting beginning of a dream come true – me being a real novelist with books to write and stories to tell that people would buy and read and share with their friends. I love it as much now as I did then. Even though there have been hard times and challenges a long the way, the joy of watching the story in my head unfold on the written page never diminishes. Holly has been and still continues to be the book that keeps on keeping on. She’s filthy, she’s sassy, she’s romantic, she’s a modern-day myth that sizzles, and she still is and always will be my first born.

Happy Birthday Holly! You make me proud!

Holly walks across England with Raymond and me

Holly walks across England with Raymond and me

Drop by my blog to say hi on Holly’s birthday and I’ll send you a ‘party favour’ – not a funny hut, not a party whistle, but something fun and filthy. *tosses confetti into the air and lifts glass of fizz in salute*


The Initiation of Ms Holly Blurb:

Book One in The Mount trilogy (Click here for: Book Two | Book Three)

Journalist, Rita Holly, never dreamed sex with the mysterious Edward in the dark of a malfunctioning train would lead to a blindfolded, champagne-drenched tango, a spanking by a butch waitress, and an offer of initiation into the exclusive mysteries of The Mount. Desperate to save her threatened job, she agrees, scheming secretly to write an inside exposé on the club that will make her career. But as she delves deeper into the intrigue of The Mount and the lives of its members, she soon discovers that her heart may have other plans.


Birthday Excerpt From The Initiation of Ms Holly (The naughty Harley excerpt. Yup, that’s the one!

Holly Final Cover ImageIn the privacy of her lounge, she opened the box to discover a black leather cat-suit heavily weighted with zippers, snaps, chains and other pieces of metal which made Rita shiver to even contemplate. She was pretty sure the suit weighed as much as she did. The costume was complete with thigh high boots, a bomber jacket, and a hand-written note that read:

Don’t touch, don’t fondle, and don’t experiment. Just put on the suit and nothing else, then wait for me.

Visions of the high councilman with the leopard tattoo flashed through her head – and her cunt.

Morgan needn’t have worried that she would experiment or play with the suit, and certainly not that she might put something on under it. There was barely room for skin under it. With the efforts of a contortionist and a fair amount of cursing out loud, she finally got it up over her hips and shoulders, but thoughts of zipping it above her navel made her break out in a cold sweat.

She didn’t have to wait long before there was a soft knock on the door. A glance through the peep hole assured her that it was Morgan. The intriguing tattoo was completely covered in black leather, all topped off with a heavy bomber jacket. She opened the door just enough to let him in.

Immediately his brown sugar gaze took in the unzipped front of the suit and the way her arms were folded protectively over her breasts.

She blushed hard. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m –’

‘Claustrophobic. Yes I know, kitten.’ She noticed the tiniest bit of Western twang. ‘Edward threatened me about it ad nauseam downstairs just now. That’s what took me so long.’

Her heart suddenly leaped into her throat. ‘Edward’s downstairs?’

‘Well, he was. I sent him home. I’m here now, luv, and I promised I’d take good care of you.’

She tried to sound matter-of-fact. ‘How long had he been down there?’

‘Ever since he got your text about someone spying on you.’

‘Why didn’t he come up?’

Holly launch with Kay Jaybee and Lucy Felthouse celebrating at Sh!

Holly launch with Kay Jaybee and Lucy Felthouse celebrating at Sh!

He held her gaze. ‘Sweet cheeks, you know why he didn’t come up.’ He changed the subject. ‘Now about this lovely suit. Just let me help you with it, and you’ll see why it’s so perfect for someone who suffers from your affliction.’

She struggled to drag her thoughts back from Edward as Morgan coaxed her arms away from her chest and released a long sigh at the sight of her breasts barely covered by the unzipped front of the cat suit. ‘Oh we’re gonna have so much fun.’ He covered her lips in an open mouth kiss that tasted of caramel and coffee. His tongue flicked across her hard palate and wrestled lightly with hers. He slipped his right hand inside the cat suit to cup her breast and raked a thumb over her heavy nipple. Then he rolled it against his index finger until the pinch of it was so close to pain that she held her breath waiting for it. Or was it pleasure she waited for?

newkdbutton-mounttrilogyMorgan’s chuckle was hot against her mouth. ‘You’re so full of anticipation, kitten, so full of needs you don’t even know about yet. I smell it on you, all of it and more.’ He lowered his mouth to her nape and bit. And she definitely felt pain, but her pussy felt something a whole lot nicer.

Then as though he were about his everyday business, he began to fiddle with the chains on the front of the suit. She could see little of what he was doing, but she could hear a snap here and a chink there and occasionally feel the cool metal against her sternum. At last he pulled away and inspected his work.

Where the zipper would have confined her tits into a breathless hug, there was a loose lacing of chain linked and criss-crossed bustier-fashion revealing the mounds of her breasts while concealing nipple and areola. ‘There,’ he breathed. ‘That’s better, isn’t it?’

He walked around behind her to take in the over-all effect. ‘Ever ridden a Harley?’

‘Motorcycle? No.’

‘Don’t look so frightened, sweetness. I’ve been riding since I was a pup.’ His lips curled into an edible smile. ‘I promise I’ll make it good for you.’

He knelt and helped her into the boots, lingering to suckle her toes and kiss her insteps before guiding her feet into the soft insides then slowly zipping them up and up and up. At last he stood and held the bomber jacket for her. ‘Our steed awaits.’

Outside a few neighbourhood teenagers had gathered around to admire the biggest, sleekest vintage Hog Rita had ever seen, complete with silver wings painted stylistically across the petrol tank along with the words, Pegasus III. It took her a few seconds to realise that the boys’ attention had shifted away from the Harley. ‘Could we please go,’ she whispered, feeling like she did in her dreams when she found herself suddenly naked at the office or in the queue at Sainsbury’s.

theinitiationsofmsholly_front_jpegBut Morgan took his time buckling her into the helmet, making sure it wasn’t too tight, making certain she wasn’t claustrophobic. When she started to get on behind him, he shook his head, scooted back slightly and patted the leather seat in front of him.

She balked. ‘Isn’t that illegal?’

‘Not if we don’t get caught.’ He patted the spot in front of him again and chuckled. ‘Trust me. It’s the best seat in the house.’

Trying to ignore the mutterings and the stares of the teenagers, she climbed on the Harley in front of him, a little less gracefully than she had planned. Fortunately the resulting blush was contained within the helmet.

Morgan knew only one speed and that was suicidal. The g-force of acceleration strong-armed her back against his chest with a yelp that was fortunately drowned by the roar of the Hog. It seemed to her that Morgan was taking the fastest way out of town, weaving in and out of traffic with such terrifying manoeuvres that she feared heart failure was imminent. They had only gone a few blocks when she gave up shouting at him to stop. He either couldn’t hear, or was ignoring her.

As the traffic lessened, and he headed out on the A3, she realised he was controlling the Hog with one hand. The other arm was wrapped low around her waist. There was an electronic crackle next to her ear, and his voice filled the inside of her helmet. They had contact. ‘Just relax, sweetness. This is gonna be so good.’

His hand slid lower on her belly until it rested against her pubic bone where it began to fumble until she felt a tug and a zip, and suddenly cool air bathed a horizontal swath of flesh exposed to the night. ‘I love zippers. Don’t you?’ His voice was like a kiss against her earlobe.

There was more tugging and zipping until she felt the pressure of the cat suit lessen against her crotch, as though she had just split her trousers. She caught her breath.

Reading at the EAA conference in the Erotic Museum in Las Vegas

Reading at the EAA conference in the Erotic Museum in Las Vegas

‘Mmm, there. Oh that’s nice.’ His voice was inside her helmet again just before his fingers slid down between her folds and pressed up into her in such a way that the vibration of the big bike beneath them seemed amplified as though it were a giant vibrator. She was suddenly in danger of forgetting that she was in danger of losing life and limb. My God, the bloke’s fingers were expressive as he slipped the middle one deep into her cunt while his thumb raked her pebble-hard clit.

He swerved to pass a lorry. ‘We’re gonna die!’ she yelped inside her helmet. Then she bore down against his hand and the vibration of the Hog, hoping he could keep from crashing until after she came.

She didn’t know if he had heard her yelp, but she wondered if he’d heard her thoughts. ‘Lift your bottom,’ his velvety voice filled her helmet again.

Visiting the Dudley Libraries with Kay Jaybee

Visiting the Dudley Libraries with Kay Jaybee

‘Are you crazy?’ She gasped.

‘Trust me. Lift your bottom. Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe. I promised Edward, didn’t I?’

She held her breath, cursing between her teeth, and struggled to do as he said. She grabbed on to the petrol tank until she was sure her fingernails would dig holes in the paint. Then she squealed as another zipping loosened the hug of the cat suit even further until she was certain the whole crotch of the garment had been zipped away. As if to confirm her suspicions, Morgan’s large hand now stroked her from behind, spreading her lips.

‘Sweet Jesus, you’re slippery, kitten. I believe you really like riding a Hog.’ Then she felt him inch forward on the seat.

He wouldn’t … Surely he couldn’t … ‘Oh my God,’ she gasped. What was crowding against her bottom and nestling up to her pout was too thick and too stiff to be his finger.

‘That’s my girl,’ came the voice in her helmet. ‘Lift your bottom for me. Just a tiny bit more now. Almost there. I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.’ He tightened his arm around her and manoeuvred his hips. ‘That’s it, oh yes that’s the place I want to be. Jesus, Rita Holly, that’s some hot pussy you got there.’ Then all she could hear was accelerated breathing followed by a hard thrust that nearly sent her over the handle bars but for the strong arm wrapped around her. And he was in. Her pussy felt like it would split in two from the sudden, unexpected fullness.

‘That’s my girl. Now lean forward. All the way forward and let the Hog do the work. She felt him change down, and the beast rumbled beneath them. With the substantial length of him so far up inside her, she felt physically compelled to lean forward over the petrol tank until she could feel the cool chains of the cat suit pressing into her bare flesh, until her erect nipples felt like they’d drill clear through the tank.

Then with a hard thrust, Morgan scooted forward again, and she heard him sigh. After that the thrusting and manoeuvring became much more
subtle, using the power of the Harley roaring beneath them as the driving force. He had positioned himself perfectly so that each undulation of his hips drove her distended clit against the vibrating leather of the seat. My God, she thought, it was a brilliant way to die.

ETO Awards with Brit Babes, Tabitha Rayne, Lexie Bay, Kay Jaybee & Victoria Blisse

ETO Awards with Brit Babes, Tabitha Rayne, Lexie Bay, Kay Jaybee & Victoria Blisse

His breath was soft little grunts inside her helmet coming faster and faster until she thought he must have stopped breathing altogether. The

movement of his groin against her became less and less, all the while building in intensity until each minuscule shifting penetrated up her spine clear into the crown of her head, until she was certain the imminent orgasm would surely explode her brain.

When his ejaculation erupted inside her, she felt as though his cock had suddenly expanded to fill the entire space within her pelvic girdle, and her own orgasm tightened and gripped on him until he cried out.

She would have surely catapulted off the Hog with the double explosion in her pussy had Morgan not held her tightly with his free arm, as they sped down the A3 toward the Guildford exit.


Don’t forget to comment for a raunchy party favour and help Holly celebrate



© 2014 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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