Renee Rose Talks Sex Magic in Avalon

One of the very best things about Eroticon is meeting new people, and one of those people I had the pleasure of meeting was the lovely and spankalicious Renee Rose, and I’m totally delighted to have her on A Hopeful Romantic today! Welcome Renee Rose! 

Renee Rose held for ransom10002819_421069491372812_32935404_nI had the immense pleasure of attending KD Grace’s workshop at Eroticon on Spirituality and Sex. The topic is one that has always intrigued me. I believe there is power and magic in sex and it can be as sacred an act as giving birth or transitioning to death.

In my new Avalon romance, a sex rite eventually brings the hero and heroine together, but the beginning of the relationship is full of tension. Ariana, a priestess of Avalon is kidnapped and held for ransom by a mercenary knight who seeks the release of his clan members from her brother’s dungeon. Keeping two characters cooped up in a small room together for a week (particularly when one character is tied up the entire time) gives a kinky author all kinds of opportunities for forced intimacies and deserved punishments.  Here’s a little snippet of their banter:

They were not taught to send curses at Avalon. She had been raised to bless, to elevate spirits, to bring harmony and peace. Yet, she knew the elders understood magic well enough to send evil, too. If she could send love to heal, she could also send hatred to harm.

After some concentrated effort, her captor’s eye began to twitch and a sweat broke out on his forehead.

“Lift your curse, highness.”

Her lips curved into a satisfied smile. She did not know what he felt, but it seemed her darkness had an effect. “What curse?” she asked innocently.

“Lift it.”

“Or what?”

“Please.”

She expected a threat, rather than supplication and his appeal unsteadied her. In truth, she feared the power coursing through her. It had an unfamiliar, dense darkness and her naval center felt heavy and sick.

“Do you tell me you do not deserve it?”

He rubbed one temple as if she had given him a headache. “Aye. I deserve it. Yet it does not serve either of us. Do you wish to be guarded by a wounded dog? I am far meaner when I am in pain.”

Blurb:

When Sir Gorran’s people disappear after a raid on a Saxon settlement, he kidnaps Princess Ariana, a priestess of Avalon, and demands their return. Though he knew he risked Ariana’s curse as well as a lifetime hiding from the king’s sword, he does not realize his greatest risk in holding the lovely princess for ransom is to his heart.

The intimacy shared with her kidnapper leaves Ariana wounded by the experience and his reappearance at the annual tournament only deepens her pain. When her brother foists him on her as a guardian and slave she must come to terms with her feelings for the dominant warrior. Will she send him away to his death, or will she realize her pain is only caused by living without him?

Renee Rose Spanking Romance10003387_421069588039469_1490927064_nPublisher’s Note: This book contains spanking, anal punishment and erotic sex scenes.

Buy Now on Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble, ARe

Renee Rose is a modern dance teacher, Feldenkrais Practitioner(R), energy worker and kinkster. Named Eroticon USA’s Next Top Erotic Author in 2013, her books are all centered around her favorite kink: spanking.  She can be found on:

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Do you know when I first started loving you? Demelza Hart Explores the Question

Thank you so much, KD for once again hosting me at you blog.

Demelza HartSatedSomeone once said that a man grows to love the person he is attracted to and a woman becomes attracted to the person she loves.

It’s all bollocks, of course, but in many ways this explains Tara and Patrick’s relationship in my trilogy, Suited to You.

Neither of them is looking for love at first, but perhaps they conform to the stereotype after all.

I love that moment in The Sound of Music when the Captain and Maria reveal when they first fell in love with the other. Touchingly and interestingly, for both, it’s very early on in their acquaintance, almost immediately in fact, with little incidents that reveal something personal and intimate about them. Is it always that way?

In Suited to You, Tara doesn’t believe herself to be in love with Patrick. She wants sex, she’s come looking for sex and, on the surface, she seems to conform more to the male stereotype – slowly falling in love with the person she’s attracted to. But perhaps she’s fallen far earlier than that?

Like the dominant hero in so many erotic romances, it’s not what we know about him but what we don’t know about him that renders him irresistible. The very things which are supposed to keep Patrick – The Suit – emotionally distanced from Tara in fact make her fall for him. His anonymity, his aloofness, his control – in his mind, and hers, these are designed to keep the feelings at arms’ length, but in actuality they compel her to him, not only physically but emotionally. Tara is hooked even before the overwhelming physical attraction takes hold.

As for Patrick? Well, despite all the moody, enigmatic brooding, he’s a bloke, after all – more predictable, perhaps. Does he fulfil the male paradigm and eventually fall in love with Tara? You’ll have to read the series to find out.

Here’s a taste from the final part, Sated:

‘Shit! I’m bloody supposed to be at work!’

Demelza Hart9781783751266_FCAs the thin dawn light crept into the room behind the heavy velvet curtains, I tore myself awake with a panic.

Patrick rolled over and placed an arm over me before I could escape.

‘No, you’re not. It’s sorted, don’t worry. No one expects you to get from Devon to Dean Street in two hours.’

‘But Sarah’s not even my boss any more! What if the new editor’s there today?’

‘Relax,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘She’s not starting until next week. Technically, as assistant editor, you’re the boss, and you’ve just given yourself the day off.’

‘Have I?’ He was kissing over my body, which once again awakened instantly. He’d already reached my collar bone.

‘Hm-mm. Or at least … you’re working from home.’

Left nipple.

‘On what?’

Right nipple.

‘Research.’

Belly button.

‘For?’

Left hip.

‘Mating rituals in the West Country.’

Right hip.

Demelza HartExposed properI tittered. ‘Oo-arr, moy darlin’ – does that mean spreading me all over in clotted cream and licking it off?’

Clit. Oh, definitely my clit.

I moaned and arched. He broke off and glanced up.

‘Among other things. Plenty of time to explore that –’ he spun me over and yanked me up onto my knees ‘– and more.’ And he thrust into me, hard and long, right up in one go.

Demelza Hart loves both contemporary and historical erotica and erotic romance. Suited to You, published by Xcite Books, follows the exhibitionist, spontaneous sexual encounters of Tara and her lover, Patrick, otherwise known as The Suit, and is her first trilogy. Her stories can be found in all the usual places, but please join Demelza on Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/demelza.hart.3

Twitter – https://twitter.com/DemelzaHart

or her blog – http://demelzahart.wordpress.com/

Buy the Suited to You Trilogy Here:

Spontaneous 

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

Exposed

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

Sated

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

 

I’m Taking Over at The SubClubbers FaceBook Page!

SubClub FB pate takeover imageI’m very excited to have been asked by Nina and the fabulous folks over at The SubClub to do a takeover of their yummy FaceBook page this Tuesday, 18th March. If you’re in the US, I’ll be taking the reins at 7:00 pm Eastern Time.  That means for my UK friends, slumber party time! I’ll be settling in with choccie a glass of wine and my warm jammies … er, I mean my corset and satin robe (Oh stop laughing already!)

I hope you’ll join me and all the lovelies at SubClub and ask me questions and tell me naughty things, because I’ll be doing the same to you.

You can find me here all ready to chat At 7:00 Eastern Time. https://www.facebook.com/subclubbers I’ll be ready to talk writing, reading, and sexy stuff, and I hope you will too! See you at the SubClub!

 

Demon Interrupted Third Instalment: A New Lakeland Witches Story

Another image from KevI’m very happy to offer the third instalment Demon Interrupted, a new story from the Elemental Coven that will be unfolding in its entirety right here on A Hopeful Romantic over the next few months.  The Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy left so many stories untold and so many fun places in the lives of the Elemental Coven yet to be explored, that a serial seemed like the ideal way to share more of the coven’s adventure. With a coven that specialises in sex magic, it’s not only exciting to revisit my witches at Elemental Cottage, but it’s sizzling hot. Here are the links to the previous two episodes in case you missed them:

Chapter 1 of Demon Interrupted: Perchance to Dream.

Chapter 2 of Demon Interrupted: A Chat with a Demon

Enjoy Chapter Three, 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 Heatwave Trilogy: Body Temperature and RisingRiding the Ether and Elemental Fire. Enjoy!

Lakeland heatwave banner1

Chapter 3 of Demon Interrupted

Enter the Shadows

Ferris left for Storm Croft early the next morning. He was anxious to take care of the estate’s business and be back to Elemental Cottage in time for the Full Moon circle. Fiori had packed him a picnic basket with enough food to see him through an entire Cumbrian winter. His takeaway breakfast included two enormous bacon butties on her homemade sourdough bread, a punnet of fresh strawberries she’d picked from Tara’s garden and a flask of Skye’s black tea blend with lemon verbena. There were homemade ginger biscuits tucked in too for elevenses, and that was just for the morning. Eating had only been an act of sustenance before he had joined Cassandra at Elemental Cottage, where it had become a sensual pleasure – one among many.

He had made it all the way to Birmingham without much traffic on the motorways and was back in Surrey just before noon. The groundskeepers were busy with trimming the topiary and deadheading the roses in the formal gardens. He walked in the early summer sunshine inspecting their efforts. Cassandra had never cared what the grounds or the great house looked like. For most of the time before she had fallen in love with the Elemental Coven’s High Priest, Anderson, she had lived her life as though she had no home. He had always felt compelled to make sure that though she might live that way, she was not without a place to lay her head, a good place, a safe and comfortable place to return to when she had need. There was no shortage of funds for the upkeep, and unless she told him otherwise, he would continue to keep Storm Croft as though its owner were coming home tomorrow and bringing the whole Elemental Coven with her.

Inside, he skirted the grand drawing room and the great hall, both of which had, only yesterday, had their lush wood floors waxed. Using the servants’ stairs, he headed for the small apartment behind the kitchen where he maintained his office and living quarters. Cassandra had offered him free choice of any of the above floor suites, but he had never desired more than a simple accommodation. The housekeeper had left the post of interest stacked neatly on his desk along with invoices, receipts and any other documents he might need to peruse. The ledgers he needed for the monthly records were set aside as well. He still preferred the feel of paper and fountain pen to the sterile tap, tap, tap of the laptop keyboard when it came to the monthly book keeping for Storm Croft. Of course he made sure Cassandra had everything at her electronic beck and call, should she ask for it, though she never did.

It was never difficult for Ferris to find something to do at Storm Croft. For most of the years of Cassandra’s life he had occupied himself with the day-to-day tasks waiting for her to need him, grateful when she did, feeling that she was somehow safer under the big roof of the great house, under his protection, beneath Deacon’s radar. And though he might have wished it, Ferris had never been able to keep her there.

castlerigg_Stone_Circle1And now that Deacon was no longer a threat, now that Cassandra had the happiness Ferris had always wished for her, he was reluctant to move away from the routine that had so ordered his life. In spite of Lucia’s little gift, he wanted no more journey of discovery than what was happily offered him in life at Elemental Cottage.

The afternoon passed to evening, with him grazing on the feast Fiori had packed, packed as though he would be digging ditches rather than crunching numbers. In the bottom of the basket was a bottle of Boudreaux that Cassandra had tucked in, wine that she and Anderson had purchased on a holiday they recently made in France. Ferris knew little about wine. He drank nothing but water before he came to Elemental Cottage, but his lack of knowledge did not lessen the pleasure of it. Whoever he was, or whatever he was, strong drink had little effect on him beyond the gentle buzz that always made him want sex.

It was late and the moon hung heavy through the window of his study when he finished the last of the wine and turned his attention, at last, to the weight of his cock in his trousers. He laid his hand against his fly as he mentally went over the list of all he wanted to accomplish on this journey south. He stroked his length and, it stretched and swelled in response. As his other hand slipped below to cup himself, he felt the amazement he did each time his penis drew his attention to its need to be satisfied. He had no memories of sexual desire before arriving at Elemental Cottage. In all those years he had not missed what he could never recall having. And yet upon the very night of his arrival among the witches of Elemental Coven, he cock weighted his trousers like heavy stone and he’d had both Fiori and Sky several times before the night drew to a close.

And there were skills, sexual skills that he had not known he possessed. He knew how to use his tongue and teeth, his fingers and lips on a nipple, on a clitoris, on the labial folds that swelled with sucking and nibbling. He knew how to pleasure a man when the need presented itself. He knew when to stroke and where. He knew when to stop. He knew precisely the edge and how to bring lovers to that edge and hold them there until they were mad with the need to come. He know when the mount them, he knew how to pleasure their nether holes until they wet themselves in waves of pleasure. He could hold the weight of his need for as long as he willed it, and if he wished to empty himself into the gripping tightness of a lover, he could also will himself to remain hard and continue thrusting after his release. As far as he knew, all these skill were his with no previous recollection of having had sex. He had skills that could not have been instinctual, and yet skills that his cock demanded he now use on a regular basis whether he was among the witches and their consorts at Elemental Coven or alone.

At first he believed his surge in libido was because Elemental Cottage was long steeped in the sex magic of its residents, and his body responded to that magic. But he quickly discovered that it mattered not where he was, his desires did not diminish, and the stroking and caressing his cock simply because it felt good to him had become a part of his routine. It was coven practice that the pleasures of the flesh were pleasures one should share generously with oneself, as well as with others, and they were indeed pleasures in which he took delight.

He opened his trousers and lifted his erection free from his boxers sucking his bottom teeth in a tight gasp as engorged flesh came in contact with the heat of his palm. He shifted his buttocks forward and scooped his balls free with his other hand. Then he took a moment to look down at himself, distended and pale against his black trousers. The housekeeper now lived in the gamekeeper’s cottage. She had left hours ago. He was alone in the big house and it was a long time till morning. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the leather chair, stroking and cupping. Sometimes he thought about sex he’d had at Elemental Cottage, sometimes he fantasized about situations that were not a part of the experience of which he had memory and wondered if they were experiences from his past. And sometimes he just lost himself in the feel of his own body, the sheathing stroke of his fist, the cup and fondle of his balls.

The journey down from Cumbria was a long one and he had forced himself to wait, feeling the uncomfortable surging and swelling and tightening in his cock as he travelled the motorway, anticipating the relief that was always welcome at the end of the journey. And even then he had held himself, held the weight of his need close to his body, felt it tug at him while he inspected the gardens, while he balanced the books, while he paid the bills. And now after the meal and the wine, now it was time. As he stroked, he thought of the deep valley between Fiori’s breast, the way she cupped them around his cock as he thrust; he thought of watching Skye’s skilled tongue snake up over Alice’s splay while she sat on the kitchen counter bathed in afternoon sunlight, skirt hiked, panties kicked to the floor. Fiori’d had every intention of chasing them out that day so she could begin dinner. Instead she had joined them. He had watched her ease three fingers into Skye’s wet slit from where she bent over. He watched until he could take no more, then he opened his fly and entered Fiori from behind. Dinner was late that night. No one had minded.

As he stroked and thrust into his hand and ground his buttocks into the leather chair, his mind was a whir of memories of sex at Elemental Cottage. How could he live among them and not constantly be aroused, and not constantly long to connect. Thrust … stroke … cup … His body knew the rhythm so well now, and it would settle for nothing less. Thrust … stroke … cup … It was as if a whole new world had opened to him, a world of pleasure and sensuality, of colour and texture. Thrust … stroke … cup … Outside a tawny owl trilled. Inside the pipes rattled as the heater kicked on just before his breathing drowned out all other sound. Thrust … stroke … cup …

How he had not seen her in the corner, he could not imagine. She sat quietly on the sofa in the shadow. It was the tight whimper and the nervous clearing of her throat as she came forward that got his attention. Before he could do more than blink his surprise, she dropped to her knees in front of him, shoved his hands away and took his cock into her mouth, deep into her mouth, keeping wide eyes that were nearly black in the dim light locked on his face.

Because he didn’t dream, she was not an apparition from the Dreamscape, and there was no doubting her flesh and blood solidity. She had no scent, therefore she must be a ghost, though how it was that she had flesh, he didn’t know, and any thoughts he had of who she was or why she was kneeling in front of him with his cock in her mouth did not linger as she tongued the underside of him and cupped his buttocks to draw him deeper into the tight tug of her cheeks. Motion became frenzied and desperate as he curled his fingers in her tumble of dark hair in an effort to either regain the control she had taken from him or lose it more completely.

It was only as she lifted the skirt of her black gown and moved to straddle him he became fully aware that her clothing was not of this era, though he could not say from which. Her eyes watered from the effort to accommodate his heft, an effort made by one whose arousal was not yet at the level of his own. But she thwarted his attempt at foreplay, pushed his hands away and persevered. Her tight struggle down onto him made him cry out and breathe in shallow gasps to control himself, holding the soft swell of her hips beneath the taffeta of the gown.

She rode him with her arms around his neck and her soft breasts swaying beneath the deep plunge of the bodice. She rode him with her lips pressed to his ear, whispering frantic words he could not make out as his breathing crescendoed to a roar, then a harsh grunt as he convulsed his release in hard, desperate shudders. It was a release he had not yet expected, one he would have never permitted until he had first satisfied her, but as he reached for her to return the favour, she shook her head wildly and shoved off his lap, stumbling backward onto the floor as she did so. ‘Don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me! I thought you wanted me. I thought you wanted me to do … my duty.’

Demon Interrupted Image by KevIt was only as she regained her footing and backed away from him that he noticed the rope around her neck. How in goddess’ name could he not notice the rope around her neck? For a charged moment, she stood gazing at him, one hand pressed to her chest, the other holding the looped coil of rope. Then, before he could speak, before he could calm her, reassure her that he would never harm her, she turned quickly and disappeared through the wall of books at the back of the study leaving him stunned and shaken, but there was no denying that he was wide awake and his cock was wet from sex.

Lucy Felthouse Gives Us A Taste of Rome

A Taste of Rome by Lucy Felthouse

Blurb:

Book three of the World of Sin series.atasteofrome

Ryan Stonebridge and his friend Kristian Hurst have travelled to London and Paris on their “gap year” adventure, before starting university. Now it’s on to Rome.

The American girls they met in Paris are along for the ride, providing lots of sexy fun for the boys. But as no one in the foursome is looking for commitment, there’s still plenty of scope for hooking up with the locals. Voyeurism, cougars, risky outdoor sex and threesomes abound in the Italian leg of the boys’ European adventure.

Available from: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/a-taste-of-rome/

Add to your Goodreads shelves: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18399288-a-taste-of-rome

*****

Excerpt:

Ryan came to the conclusion that perhaps this journey wasn’t so horrendous after all. He’d been a little miffed that the American girls, Shanna and Taryn, had wanted to tag along from Paris to Rome with him and Kristian. He’d been keen not to end up with any chicks who wanted more than a one night stand, figuring that any romantic entanglements would screw up their footloose and fancy-free gap year trip. Their last year of freedom, without commitment, before they went to University and had to grow up, buckle down.

In the here and now, however, Ryan decided that Shanna actually wasn’t that bad. It seemed she was determined to spice up the never-ending coach trip from Paris to Rome. Eight hundred and seventy miles, thirteen hours. They’d known when they’d booked it that it would be nigh on intolerable, but it was the cheapest way to travel. And having sat in the increasingly stuffy, tiny coach, Ryan could see why. It made cramped seats in coach class on a flight feel like first class.

Shanna had removed her jacket as the crap air-conditioning was utterly failing to cool down the cabin. It had been draped over her lap for a while before she slid it across so it covered part of his too. Ryan frowned, wondering why she thought it was a good idea to make him warmer. He was already melting in the heat. Then she slipped her hand beneath the jacket and moved it over his crotch. She squeezed his flaccid cock, making her intentions absolutely clear. He realized that if he continued to stare down at their laps it would be painfully obvious to anyone who glanced in their direction what they were up to. So he leaned over and kissed Shanna’s cheek, nuzzling her red hair out of the way to murmur into her ear.

“I’m going to try and act natural.” Then, remembering what had happened to him back in London when he’d ended up with cum-filled boxer shorts, he added, “Can you, uh, catch it in a tissue?”

Grinning, Shanna revealed the flimsy white material in her other hand. It appeared she’d already thought of that. Saucy wench—he liked her. She was a fun girl, gorgeous-looking and a great lay. Had things been different, he might have considered pursuing something long-term with her, but it wasn’t going to happen. He and Kristian had this one chance, this few months to live life to the fullest, do what they wanted, do who they wanted, go where they liked, and he wasn’t going to throw it away for a green-eyed, cute-accented chick. No way.

He wasn’t worried about upsetting her, though. He knew that she and her friend had a similar pact and outlook on their European travels. They too were hooking up, having a good time and moving on.

Ryan grinned out of the window. Life was good. A sexy girl was about to get his cock out on a coach and toss him off, and he was heading to the third destination on his gap year adventure. The Italian capital awaited and he couldn’t wait to see what it had in store.

Before he got there, though, he was going to have another orgasm on public transport. First the toilets on the Eurostar, now beneath a jacket on a coach. God, what was it with women and doing it in cramped, risky places? And Blanche—the French bird on the Eurostar—and Shanna weren’t the only ones he was thinking of. He was beginning to forget what it was like to have sex in a bed. Not that he was complaining—Christ, no. If a sexy woman propositioned him, who was he to refuse?

By now Shanna had undone his belt, button and fly and released his cock from his boxers. It had taken a while as she’d had to keep her movements slow, subtle, so no one realized what was happening. As a result of all the fumbling, his dick was rock hard by the time she got it out, and it sprung eagerly into her hand.

She leaned her head on his shoulder and he slipped his arm around her, pulling her close. Anyone who looked now would just see a couple of young people having a cuddle. Or possibly a hot redhead sleeping on the shoulder of a young man who could either be her boyfriend or a total stranger.

Carefully, she began to stroke him, getting into a rhythm that would drive him to climax without anyone knowing.

Ryan turned back to the window, giving the appearance of looking out at the darkening sky. Shanna’s grip tightened, her movements grew faster and he grew closer to coming. He dug his teeth into his bottom lip in an attempt to regain some kind of control. It didn’t help—his hormones raged and the familiar tingle at the base of his spine was a dead giveaway.

Looking as chilled out, as casual as possible, he turned to Shanna and whispered, “You’d better get that tissue ready—otherwise I’m going to make an awful mess.”

She gave a single nod of understanding and moved her other hand beneath the jacket, slowly, languidly. It probably looked as though she was just changing position, rather than anything naughtier. Ryan, however, was at the stage where he didn’t care. If anyone happened to look across, happened to confront them, he’d hold a hand up to keep them quiet until he finished.

About Lucy:

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, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9