Out Now – Love Bites by Queenie Black (@queenieblackwr1) #erotica #ku #kindleunlimited

Love BitesBlurb:

Elevator Magic
A steamy encounter in an elevator makes Cass the center of attention for two sexy men. Is it just hot sex for them or will Cass have to make some life-changing choices?

Immortal Longings
Not one, but two Greek gods in her bed. How’s a girl to choose? Must Zoe’s sensual holiday romance end in farewell, or will she try to make her own heaven on earth with two demigods?

Eleanor’s Choice
Eleanor explores the shadowy world of submission – her marriage depends on it. Will the Master give her an experience she can use to please her husband, or is it time to walk away?

Love Bites
Lonely Ella is mesmerised by the owner of a chocolate shop. Drawn into Lang’s rich, seductive web, she grows to fear as well as desire him. What is the secret he is hiding from her?
These four short stories contain too-hot-to-handle Greek gods, a sexy Vampire who might just turn out to be a killer, a Master who can wield a crop with artistry, and two delicious CEOs who know how to keep a woman happy. Oh, and chocolate, BDSM, MFM Mènage and sex in an elevator.

Universal Amazon link: http://viewbook.at/lovebites

 

Excerpt:

ELEVATOR MAGIC

“You know what? You can take your job and stick it.” Mad as hell I grabbed my purse and stomped out of the little cubicle I called my office. I was done here and I was never coming back and fuck the giving notice part.

The elevator always took ages to creak its way between floors and I could feel the stabbing pressure of what felt like a thousand eyes in my back. Of course they were all watching. They’d been waiting for something like this to happen for twenty months. Just then melodic chimes signaled the arrival of the executive elevator. The one that normal people like me are forbidden to ride in, the one for the exalted rich and the bosses who live in the penthouse. I wanted to escape the avid looks that were directed my way and, what the hell, what could they do anyway? Sack me?

So I stepped into it.

I turned and, just before the doors closed, got a good view of open mouths, staring eyes and was that…envy? It certainly looked like it from where I was standing. As the doors slid silently shut, I raised my hand and gave a little finger wave.

The car was bigger than my bedroom, and a thousand times more luxurious but I hardly noticed the mirrored walls and the thick-as-a-mattress carpet. My attention was caught and held by the two guys already in there, one on my left and one on my right.

My gaze darted between the two of them and I felt guilty colour sting my cheeks. I hadn’t expected company but I wasn’t objecting. These guys were fit and built. One dark-haired and smoooooth, the other blonde and just-got-in-out-of-the-wild rough.

And I knew them. Brandon Shaw and Mitchell Graham owned the company I work – ooops, scratch that – the company I used to work for. I’d met them at work events, like the Christmas party and the Halloween party and the Employee of the Year party. I’d seen them a couple of times from a distance. They always had a flock of female employees around them.

I’d heard people described as chick magnets but only realised exactly what it meant when I saw these two. I used to feel their magic pull yet always stayed away because initially I was in a relationship, and then afterwards was suffering from a broken heart and struggling to cope with a job where my ex was screwing a colleague. Pity my ex didn’t take a leaf out of these guys’ books – there was never any suggestion that they had slept with anyone from the company. Which meant in the end that there was a gentle rumor that they were a) gay, or b) didn’t like vanilla and went for the more exotic, with their tastes catered for elsewhere.

I positioned myself with my back to the wall and let my gaze slide over them. To my right was Brandon. He’d taken off his suit jacket and had it hooked over one shoulder. Beneath the fine fabric of his shirt I could see the hard muscle of a broad chest, arrowing down to a pair of narrow hips and a huge bulge… Oh man.

I licked my lips and dragged my reluctant gaze away to focus on his face. He was watching me scope him out. There was a hard predatory glint in his eyes. Heat speared through me from my cheekbones to my pussy, part embarrassment and part desire. I squeezed my thighs together to stop the growing ache.

I quickly glanced away and found myself checking out Mitchell on my left. He was slightly shorter than his partner, and seemed kinder and less predatory too. His eyes were a softer green, more jade than emerald. But his shoulders were as wide and he sported an identical erection. Were they lovers? A pity for womankind if they were gay. What a loss.

I shouldn’t be in the elevator with them in the first place but the new militant me with nothing to lose didn’t care. So instead of fixing my gaze on the floor and fighting the temptation to look again, I enjoyed the view. They put my slimeball ex to shame and my panties grew damp while they silently watched me. I wished that I was wearing something a little less conservative when the elevator jerked to a sudden halt.

Not a nice, slow, we’ve arrived kind of halt but the scary kind.

The lights went out.

Panic dug its claws into me, not letting go even when the emergency lighting kicked in.

“What’s happening?” I didn’t even try and keep the terrified squeak out of my tone.

“Hey,” Brandon said softly, “it’s going to be alright. They’ll have it fixed in no time.”

“It’s broken?” I hated the idea of being shut in closed spaces, and the car, despite its size and luxury, suddenly felt very small. I couldn’t bear to spend hours locked in here hanging over all that empty space. The walls closed in, my hands and feet went cold, and I struggled to breath.

“Now you’ve done it, Brandon.”

“Easy.” When had they got so close to me? I was crowded by two warm male bodies that smelt good. Having them so close, almost touching me, took my mind off the elevator.

“Rub her hands, Mitchell. Get some warmth into them, she’s freezing.”

Mitchell sandwiched my hands between his palms and rubbed hard. The movement distracted me, not because he was making my hands warmer, which he was, but because he kept bumping my breasts.  Awareness rushed through me and my nipples went hard as cherry stones and poked at my blouse. Brandon’s hands rested lightly on my hips but they might as well have been brands. I could feel every finger as if there were no clothing between us. Woodsy cologne, mingled with clean male musk, swirled around me. My pussy creamed and I couldn’t help it; my wayward body leant back until I was pressed hard against Brandon.

His cock, huge and promising, seared my lower back. I couldn’t prevent a small sound escaping. I felt my cheeks go hot. What must they think of me?

Mitchell’s expression was rich with satisfaction in the dim light.

“Shall we carry on distracting you, baby?”

I shivered, my panties drenched as my body answered the question for them.  Brandon nuzzled the sensitive spot beneath my ear. His voice rumbled right through my body as he asked, “Ever been double-fucked before?”

The crude honesty of his question embarrassed me and I couldn’t answer. Then I forgot what he asked because Mitchell dropped to his knees in front of me. His hands stroked slowly up the back of my thighs. They smoothed over stockings, and then paused when they reached my lacy garters.

*****

Author bio:

I’ve been writing pretty much since I was able to read. I juggle fundraising for charities, family life and writing with varying success. My children have mostly flown the nest and I live in a small village in North Yorkshire, England with my husband and some chickens. I write in an old caravan in the garden where I can’t be tempted to procrastinate on the internet.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/queenieblackauthor/?fref=ts

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/queenieblackwr1

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Lily Harlem Can Take the Heat!

heatoftheday_800The Heat in Spain

By Lily Harlem

Thank you for inviting me to your blog today, KD, it’s great to be here once more. I’ve brought with me my new novella Heat of the Day. It’s a ménage a trois story with M/F, M/M and M/F/M scenes in it and set in beautiful Southern Spain.

I’ve been lucky enough to spend quite a lot of time on the Costa Del Sol in and out of the holiday season. It’s a beautiful place, there’s always something going on and the people watching—if that’s something you enjoy doing, which I certainly do—is incredible.

You can sit in Peurto Banus and admire the super-cars crawl by as you sip on sangria and lust after the yachts in the marina. Wandering around the old town of Marbella is always a treat and I particularly love the quaint, cobbled squares which have orange trees providing shade for diners at the exquisite little restaurants – Ohh the tapas! And all the time the majestic Sierra Nevada mountain range towers in the distance.

If you’re feeling flush and in the mood to party don’t miss Nikki Beach. It’s THE place to be seen for the young, hip and rich crowd and a day there consists of music, dancing and drinking champagne – awesome fun! I was lucky enough to get in there once by tagging along with some cool friends!

But it’s the long walks along the beachfronts and promenades that I enjoy the most. The Golden Mile is strung with beautiful villas to admire, there are sand artists in Marbella to stun you as you wander with an ice-cream and if you’re fortunate enough to get on a boat out to sea, you can take a trip to Morocco or Gibraltar. Look out for dolphins too, there’s plenty about.

nikki-beach-It’s my love of this area that brought my decision to set Heat of the Day here. My threesome aren’t rich by any means and certainly wouldn’t have the funds to hit Nikki Beach. They are bar workers who have fallen into a wonderful summer of threesome love, until that is, they are forced apart. But you know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder and when they reunite, phew, the heat of Costa Del Sol is nothing compared to the heat these three feel for each other.

I’m looking forward to a return trip to Southern Spain, I hope perhaps next year, but until then, I’ll keep my heart and thoughts there by using it as a place to set my stories.

Thanks for reading

Lily x

 

10403203_10152653009484149_8858646410541605500_nBack Cover Information for Heat of the Day

When three become two with no explanation, emotions run high, passions flare and hearts are ripped apart.

Everyone can remember a perfect summer—one with endless blue skies, a heart brimming with true love and nights full of hot, sweaty lust. Well, we’ve just had a summer like that, Piper and I, and it was spent in Spain with a man who had that certain je ne sais quoi that we couldn’t resist.

Seraphim came into our lives and blinded us with his beauty, his charisma and his exotic charm. His generosity with his mind, his affection and his body blew us away and the three of us became a joyously tangled trio who needed nothing more than to be together.

So when he left, when we had no way of tracing him, the despair was black, the pain raw and our only comfort was each other. But why did Sera leave? What would make a man walk away from his lovers? And if he showed up again on the doorstep, what the hell would happen after so much angst? One thing’s for sure, it would be an explosive reunion in many ways. Absence might make the heart grow fonder, but it can make the rest of the body highly volatile as need wars with hurt, and pain collides with desire.

 

Reader Advisory: This book contains M/M and M/F scenes.

Buy Heat of the Day from Amazon, Amazon UK, Pride and all other good ebook retailers.

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In The Heat of the Day Excerpt 18+

 

Eventually they wandered up the wooden steps to their two-bedroom mobile home. They’d never slept in the second bedroom, it was just used for storage, but it meant the living area was clear for lounging. Plus they had a nice bit of decking with a BBQ that had been well used during the summer.

Flynn flung open a few windows to let the heat of the day out then pulled the guitar from his back.

Piper switched on the shower then proceeded to strip off her clothes.

He sat and watched, absently tuning and strumming, admiring the sway of her breasts and the way her limbs moved like fluid. Even hot and tired she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen.

“Play while I shower,” she said, curling her hair onto the top of her head and securing it with a pin.

“Anything you wish, my lady.”

She disappeared into the small bathroom.

Flynn listened as the sound of the water became interrupted by her body then he started a lilting melody he knew she adored. The music flowed from his fingertips, the words rolled from his mouth in one long sound. His breathing steadied and his bones relaxed within his skin.

supercarThe song was about happy times. Lovers who’d smiled then left. How goodbye was the hardest word.

Halfway through he stopped. A knot of determination twisted his gut. He had to snap out of this and be thankful for the love he had. The woman who made his life the one he wanted to live.

He set down his guitar then quickly shucked off his shorts. He stood in the tiny bathroom and watched Piper holding her face to the stream of water. Her hair was flattened and hung like a long, thin snake down her back. Her breasts jutted upward and her small strip of pubic hair was pressed to her flesh.

He pulled off his T-shirt.

His cock was hard, his heart beating fast. It was time to say goodbye to Sera, for today at least, and claim his woman.

He squeezed into the shower cubicle and circled her with his arms.

“Flynn,” she said, tensing a little. “I was listening to that. Why’d you stop?”

“Enough listening.” He nibbled her earlobe. “Time to start doing.”

She spun in his arms and pressed close. Her skin was like wet silk, her arms a slender vise as they wound around him. “Okay, so where do you want to start?” Her voice held a tone of humor.

“Right here.” He slipped down to his knees. His butt touched the cool, steamy wall and he was aware of Piper also pressing against the edge of the tiny cubicle. “Open up,” he said, his mouth against her belly as he pressed his palms to her inner thighs. “Let me in.”

She did as he’d asked, widening her stance.

He could see the delicate folds of her pussy, the crease of her lips and the trickle of the water over her mound. He adored tasting her, making her come on his tongue, and it was what he wanted to do right now.

“Flynn,” she gasped, threading her fingers into his hair. “Oh God, yes, please.”

“Are you begging for it?” he asked and glanced upward.

“If that’s what it takes.” She grinned sinfully and tilted her hips.

He’d have taken his tongue to her whether she’d begged or not, but it was nice to know she wanted it as much as he did. He cupped her ass and speared into the crack of her lips, arrowing through sweet skin and onto her clit.

“Oh yeah,” she said on a moan, her knees giving a little.

He flicked some more, using the flat of his tongue against her sensitive bud. He knew how to make her 1779813_189620004723549_1699793449950599888_ncome in a minute or two like this but he hadn’t yet decided whether to or not. Maybe he’d just get her desperate for it with a fast oral session then toss her onto the bed and feel her come around his cock. God, he loved that, when she was hot and wet, gripping him, spasming around him.

He released her ass and sought her entrance, pushed two fingers in, rejoicing in the tight sweetness that hugged him.

“Flynn…oh, fuck…I’m going to…” She hooked one leg over his shoulder.


No, you’re not.

He continued to work her up but lightened the touch of his tongue. He wanted to keep her hovering.

She ground against him and tugged his hair. Her body was hot, writhing, frantic almost. On and on he teased and pleased. Her juices mixed with the water and the scent of soap swirled around them.

“Ah, fucking hell, Flynn, don’t tease…” She pressed her heel to his back and sank her buttocks onto his cupped hand. “Let me come. He would in a minute. But right now he was enjoying the fact that only this miniscule cubicle, the water and his tongue existed for her.

 lily-harlem

 

About Lily Harlem: 

Lily Harlem lives in the UK with a workaholic hunk and a crazy cat. With a desk overlooking rolling hills her over active imagination has been allowed to run wild and free and she revels in using the written word as an outlet for her creativity.

Lily’s stories are made up of colourful characters exploring their sexuality and sensuality in a safe, consensual way. With the bedroom door left wide open the reader can hang on for the ride and Lily hopes by reading sensual romance people will be brave enough to try something new themselves? After all, life’s too short to be anything other than fully satisfied

 

Find Lily Harlem Here:

Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/

Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/

Twitter https://twitter.com/lily_harlem

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/lily.harlem

Facebook author page https://www.facebook.com/LilyHarlemAuthor

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/

Raw Talent http://rawtalentseries.co.uk

BritBabes http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk

Newsletter Subscription http://www.lilyharlem.com/newsletter-subscription.html

Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/106837751333678531161/posts

Harlem Dae http://www.harlemdae.com

Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem

 

 

Writing Good Sex

 

Dreams image 2IMG_0351As a writer of erotic romance, I’m always trying to analyze the ways in which sex strengthens story. I’ve
been very vocal in my belief that a story without sex is like a story without eating or breathing. Sex is a major driving force in our lives on many levels that I’ve dealt with in many blog posts. Because it is a major driving force in our lives it must also be a major driving force in story. Sex is a powerful way to create conflict and chaos in a story. It’s a way of allowing our characters to interact on an intimate level. And it’s one of the very best ways to cut through our characters’ facades and get an honest look at who they are when their guard is down and they’re at their most vulnerable. With that in mind, I’ve decided to share a few points that I always find helpful when I write sex scenes. For me, going back to the basics is always a great way to sharpen my skills. And I love to share the things that work for me.

 

Three occasions not to write sex

 

  1. While writing children’s books
  2. While writing the definitive work on antique saltcellars.
  3. When you’re not a writer, you’re a bricklayer. Even then …

Auguste Rodin’s The Kiss

Three important reasons to incorporate sex in your writing

 

 

  1. Sex adds tension.
  2. Sex adds depth and dimension to a story, and gives it more humanity.
  3. Sex adds intimacy and transparency to the story and helps the reader better know the characters.

 

Three big no-nos in writing sex

 

  1. Sex should never be gratuitous. If it doesn’t further the story, don’t put it in.
  2. Sex shouldn’t be a trip to the gyno office. Technical is NOT sexy.
  3. Sex should never be clichéd or OTT. (unless it suits the story)

 

Four suggestions for writing better sex scenes

  1. Write sex unselfconsciously. No one is going to believe it’s you any more than they believe Thomas Harris is a cannibal.
  2. Sex scenes should always be pacey. Too much detail is worse than not enough. Sex should neither slow nor speed up the pace of the novel. It shouldn’t be used like an interval in a play. It should not serve as filler to bolster word count. It should always keep pace with the story being told.
  3. Approach sex in your writing voyeuristically by watching and learning from your characters. Their personalities, emotional baggage and behavior traits will dictate how they have sex and how you write it.

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  1. You should always be able to feel a good sex scene in your gut. I’m not talking about wank material, I’m talking about The Clench. It’s a different animal. The Clench below the navel is for the sex scene what the tightness in the chest and shoulders is for the suspense scene.

 

The power of good sex can drive a story in ways that almost nothing else can. Good sex can be the pay-off for a hundred pages of sexual chemistry and tension, but the pay-off is even better if it’s also the cause of more chaos, sling-shotting the reader breathlessly on to the next hundred pages and the next.

(This post from KD’s Archives of cool stuff)

 

In the Flesh Ch 35: Dark Paranormal Erotica in Progress. Enjoy!

In the Flesh 11880534_1463650103936599_545702979581425574_n

It’s Friday! Time for chapter 35 of In The Flesh, in which Susan sees the light.

There are only three more episodes of In The Flesh left, so be sure to mark Fridays on your calendar. You won’t want to miss the exciting ending.

 

In the Flesh  is very dark paranormal erotica. When Susan Innes comes to visit her friend, Annie Rivers, in Chapel House, the deconsecrated church that Annie is renovating into a home, she discovers her outgoing friend changed, reclusive, secretive, and completely enthralled by a mysterious lover, whose presence is always felt, but never seen, a lover whom she claims is god. As her holiday turns into a nightmare, Susan must come to grips with the fact that her friend’s lover is neither imaginary nor is he human, and even worse, he’s turned his wandering eye on Susan, and he won’t be denied his prize. If Susan is to fight an inhuman stalker intent on having her as his own, she’ll need a little inhuman help.

 

 

To read the story in its entirety up to this point, follow these links to

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4 Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8Part 9Part 10Part 11Part 12Part 13Part 14Part 15Part 16, Part 17Part 18Part 19Part 20Part 21Part 22Part 23Part 24Part 25 Part 26Part 27Part 28Part 29, Part 30Part 31Part 32Part 33, Part 34. 

 

 

You can also read In The Flesh on Wattpad.  

 

 

In The Flesh Chapter 35

Michael’s groan was pure lust as I took the first deep taste of him, and with the taste of his heart’s blood, Bernini Hades and Persephone close uptumblr_lg4h59T3z31qe2nvuo1_500for a split second, it wasn’t lust I felt. It was Michael’s agony at my death he was helpless to prevent. It was his anguish at me shutting him out, it was all the pent-up feelings of more lifetimes than I could imagine down through the ages when I only existed in his horrific knowledge of eternity in an instant, the agony of endless ages of waiting only to be denied. Alonso had warned me that there was so much more in the blood than just nourishment and lust, that the knowledge of the whole of a person’s existence was contained in the blood, and even beyond, the history of their people. He told me that a vampire could access such information in that first ravenous sip, but I’d never had the presence of mind to do so before, though I’d quite possibly taken only from people who knew how to shield their own inner workings. Alonso hadn’t yet taught me how to preserve the privacy of the person upon whom I fed, and Michael was suddenly wide open, laid completely bare to me in a rush of information that was heart breaking and terrifying and amazing all at once. There were glimpses of his relationship with the Guardian, there were flashes of him with Magda, there were images that made no sense in a context of anything that had ever been mortal. And then just a suddenly as it flooded my consciousness, it was gone. It was as though a heavy curtain had descended, and what remained was the pleasure of nourishment and lust twinned with the bond that I suddenly realized had not been broken by my death after all.

I acted more on instinct than on any real knowledge of what I did, tearing open the front of my blouse and ripping the bra as easily as I would a sheet of rice paper until my breasts were exposed. I sat up, still straddling him, and opened my own heart’s blood to him with a sharp flick of my nail, pulling him up to me to feed. To my delight, he took what I offered with a swirl of his tongue and an opening of his lips, and then he sucked hard and bit, just as he had when he had given me his mark. With a sharp cry of surprise, he pulled away enough to meet my gaze, lips wet with the sheen of my blood. “It’s still there. My mark.”

“Stronger than ever,” I said, nodding to the wound over his heart. “Because now you wear my mark as 2015-09-04 16.17.13well.” I pulled him back to me and felt the tight delicious, almost painful pull of his lips and nip of his teeth, and it was as though he did the same between my legs. I felt it down there as surely as if his face were pressed between my thighs, as surely as if he fed upon my most intimate self. Careful not to pull away just yet, I lifted my bottom and fumbled open the tight strain of his fly, feeling the hiss of his breath against my breast as I freed him, slid aside the crotch of my panties and guided him home with a deep groan the was a combine effort. And he truly was home as I rode him and he rose up to meet me, kneading and cupping my breasts while he suckled. How could I ever not have realized that he was my heart and my only home?

“Not too much,” I said pulling away, him following me up with a groan of protest. “Too much will make you drunk and I don’t want you drunk. I won’t be done with you for a very long time yet.”

He sealed the wound with a press of his tongue as he’d seen me do and offered an evil chuckle. “Then for your pleasure, I’ll do my best to stay sober, Susan.” With that, he guided me back to him. Again instinct took control with the first taste of him, and I sipped and licked and nipped until his whole pectoral muscle tensed and rose with each breath he took, each breath which now came in heavy gasps and sharp little pants as though he battled for control. His nipple rose tight and dark pink beneath the brush of my chin, and I broke free from my feeding occasionally to give it a worrying lick or a sharp nip just to hear him pant and moan, just to feel him surge inside of me before I returned to his vein.

His cock filled me so completely, and the glide and move of the two of us was so in sync, so deeply connected that time went away, that everything went away but Michael inside me – what I had craved and longed for the length of my own eternity, which seemed desperately long before Michael filled it.

I arched over his body, and with a large hand curled in my tangled hair, he held me tight to the wound at his heart as I took from the nourishing flow of him, all the while undulating and shifting against the powerful rise and fall of him beneath me.

“I won’t go away, Susan, so you best get used to it.” He fisted my hair and pulled me away just enough that I was forced to look up into his deep ocean eyes. “You’re mine. The vampire might be your maker, but I’m the one who waited an eternity for you. I’m the one who’ll feed you. I’m the one who’ll give you what you need. I’m the one who loves you.” He licked the taste of himself from my lips with a possessive tongue.

Then he rolled with me pinning me beneath his massive body, and for the first time I realized just how Graveyard angel 2da8f31cc622c5a47d15ff0c4f1e114abpowerful he was, just how much control he had exerted in our lovemaking before I became a vampire just to keep from hurting me, or even killing me. As though that blood connection had somehow made him aware of my thoughts, he bent and nipped my own wound licking it hard enough to make me squirm with transferred pleasure while he never lost the rhythm, the subtle increase of speed as we drew near our release. “You can’t hurt me, Susan, I promise. At least not physically.”

He lowered his mouth, and took my nipples in turn, cupping and caressing my fullness with both gentleness and strength, and I held onto his arse, feeling the tensing and relaxing of fit, firm buttocks with each thrust. I couldn’t help it. I was unable to resist biting his neck – just a little nip – taking just a sip, intuiting what my feeding on him did to him, as he pressed deeper inside me and the rhythm became frantic, wild with power, filled with a hunger that had nothing to do with physical nourishment. I dug my nails into his back and bit harder and he grunted with some mix of pain and lust. “Oh dear God, Susan, I never want it to end, but I can’t hold back much longer.” His breath was warm and humid against my ear. “I want to know what it feels like to come while I feed you, to know that you possess me as completely as I possess you.”

Words – sometimes words are as powerful as touch; sometimes words are the tipping point, and they were this time. They were enough to send us both over the edge growling and grasping and trembling as though we would shake each other apart or dissolve completely into each other. Perhaps we did both. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I was completely unaware of where my body ended and Michael’s began. He was still hard and I was still fully impaled and happy to remain that way.

He rolled to one side so that his weight wasn’t fully on top of me and fumbled behind him for the duvet from the overturned bed. He offered me a wicked smile as he pulled it free. “Does this make me your familiar?”

“Don’t know,” I replied hooking my leg around him, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere. “I haven’t had that lesson yet.”

“Not sure how I could get much more familiar,” he said giving my breast an enthusiastic knead.

“Me neither, but why don’t we give it our best try, just to be sure you’re familiar enough.”

He had just taken me in a kiss that promised to lead to far more serious things when there was a knock on the door and Michael barely got the duvet pulled over us before Talia shoved her way in ignoring his curse and my little yelp.

2015-06-30 11.27.42“Oh good! You haven’t killed him,” she said with a sunny smile. “I brought food.” She sat a large covered tray on the one sailors trunk that hadn’t been turned over with the bed and gave the room, and then us, a knowing once over. “Alonso figured you’d need it, Michael, if your little scribe hadn’t drained you completely dry. And he asks that I remind you not to linger too much longer before you head for the basement. Dawn will be coming soon.” Then she left, chuckling under her breath.

“That woman’s a pain in the arse,” Michael said, taking the cover from the tray and biting the end off a freshly baked Baggett.

“She’s a good kisser though. I’m just saying,” I said as he gave me the evil eye and shoved half the Baggett into his mouth like a hungry nestling.

“So’s Cook,” he spoke around his efforts to chew. “But that doesn’t mean I want you kissing him.”

“You’ve kissed Cook?” I scooted closer and lifted a lid off a steaming bowl of lamb stew, taking note that even though I used to love lamb stew, it was now like thinking of eating cardboard soaked in water.

He shrugged. “We were both drunk at the time, and he had made a fabulous Beef Wellington for dinner that night. Worthy of at least a good kiss.”

Once Michael had devoured everything on the tray, he ate me for dessert and then I returned the favour. At some point we’d managed to right the mattress, and tangle ourselves in the remaining bedding, but we didn’t quite manage the rest of the bed before Michael took me from behind, me on my knees, hair fisted in his hand like I was the horse and he was reining me under control. It’s quite possible that’s exactly what he was trying to do. It didn’t work. The control part, I mean.

“You kept your strength from me,” I said, when at last we collapsed on the mattress and he pulled me into a spoon position.

dark moon image_xl_6338206“I had no reason to tell you,” he said. “I’ve kept my strength from everyone except Magda. I had to in order to interact safely with humans. You’re all so fragile. Well you were,” he added, then he bit the side of my neck playfully. “Nice to be able to play rough, and even nicer not to have to wait for you to recover.” He stood and offered me his hand. “Come on, let’s get down to the basement and then we’ll pick up where we left off.” He gave his still erect penis a stroke with the other fist to demonstrate.

I gave him a tug and off balanced him back onto the mattress. “I can’t possibly leave without just one more little taste, and maybe one more little fuck. We have time. Besides, the shutters are drawn tight and we’re down behind the bed frame. Alonso’s just being a worry wart. We’ll be fine.” Before he could protest, I straddled him and guide him up inside me, and as he began to thrust and grind beneath me, I opened my vein for him to feed. A long time later we fell against each other in an awkward twin orgasm that had us half off the mattress onto the stone floor before we collapsed.

“Okay,” he mumbled in an intoxicated slur. “It’s off to the basement for you, young lady.” Then he was out cold, with me not far behind him.

Dreams of The fells sparkling in the summer sun roused me drenched in sweat and half smothered beneath the body of a sleeping Angel. My angel, I reminded myself, as the delicious memories of last night came rushing back to me along with the mouthwatering scent of our lovemaking and our blood. I stretched and shoved my way out from under Michael, who mumbled something incomprehensible from his own dream world and gave my nearest breast an unconscious grope before I leaned in and kisses him, and he aimed a half- conscious smacking of lips in my general direction.

“It’s sweltering in here,” I said, noting the sheen of perspiration on his brow. “No wonder I was dreamingIn The Flesh 2 12006311_1476805985954344_6570546160088833292_n of the fells in summer. We need some air.”

“Susan? Susan don’t!”

“Oh don’t worry. I’m not going far,” I called over my shoulder, as I threw open the shutter and flung the windows wide, taking in a breath of fresh fell air I didn’t really need, lifting my face to the cool breeze. As the sunlight struck me full on, a voice inside me all but erupted like the press of my heart against my chest, and something not unlike static electricity prickled over skin. I gasped for breath, for strength, for context as the voice filled every cell of my body. “I may well be your prisoner little Scribe, but I will not be kept in darkness.”

What happened next was over almost before it started. Michael exploded from the bed roaring like a wounded lion, and the next thing I knew, my world went dark, suffocatingly tight, and a heavy weight drove me to the floor with the force of a lorry.

 

IS Zak Jane Keir Keeping it Real?

SFWL COVERWhen it comes to being asked That Question, the one that gets asked of erotica writers far more than writers in any other genre, the ‘Have you really done all that stuff you write about?’ question, my answers have included ‘Maybe…’ ‘Well, what do you think?’ and ‘Look, pal, if I’d done all of that I’d probably be dead by now.’

 

Most erotica writers have had sex. Most erotica writers really like sex, and either spend a lot of time having it or thinking about ways in which they would like to have it, and who they would like to have it with. (People who really don’t like sex do not make good erotica writers, especially when they are people who think erotica is both crap and a shortcut to easy money.) Sometimes, we use the sex we’ve had, or the sex we might have, or the sex we want to have with certain individuals as yet impervious to our charms, as the basis for our stories, which is absolutely fine as long as we change the names and physical attributes enough to keep ourselves safe from outrage, hurt feelings or lawsuits. Not only is it ethical to remove identifying details if your starting point is someone you know – or would like to know better – but doing so takes your work where it needs to go: further into the wonderful, fertile, unlimited territory of the author’s imagination.

 

Some of the stories in my new anthology are just a little tiny bit based on things I got up to and things I might like to get up to. Because I run reading slams, that can sometimes make things even more interesting, should there be someone in the audience who recognises himself or herself in what’s being read out. Advice given to anyone new to public speaking often includes a suggestion of picking one member of the audience to look at and telling yourself that you are addressing that one person. I would have to say that if what you are reading is some erotica you have written and it has some particular relevance to a member of the audience then the last thing you want to do is catch that person’s eye when you get to the good bits. You will either go purple in the face with embarrassment or be consumed with such lust that you drop your clipboard and have to press your thighs together tightly. Other listeners may be intrigued and thrilled by the almost palpable erotic tension in the room, or they may just think you are a dipstick who hasn’t prepared your material very well – or that you are drunk. Depending on how much your actual relationship with the person in question varies from the one you have been writing about may also affect how well your performance goes, er, down: if s/he is someone you are seeing/married to/about to consummate a flirtation with then there is a good chance of thrills all round. However, if you have an unrequited crush and the object of your affections turns green and flees the premises, then you will just have to console yourself with the fact that your mortification has made the evening memorable for everyone else.

 

You may be wondering if this is the sort of thing that actually happens at DSW slam nights. My possible answers to that might include ’Maybe’ ‘What do you think?’ and ‘Why don’t you come and find out for yourself?’

 

EXTRACT: The Tops, from Sticky Fingers And Warm Leatherette

 

She sauntered through the crowd, head high, face composed. Her long, light-brown hair was caught up in a high ponytail on the crown of her head; her scarlet latex catsuit gleamed under the lights and her patent leather boots shone just as brightly. She carried a scarlet suede flogger with twelve tails, fastened to her wrist with a loop of plaited black leather, and her make up was still entirely flawless. Pausing for a moment at the far end of the bar, she contemplated getting another vodka, but decided against it. For the moment, she wanted to keep her head clear. Besides, soon enough some slave or other would probably want to endear himself to her with the offer of a drink.

 

In the alcove by the staircase, she saw a beautiful Japanese girl who hadn’t been around for months but was clearly delighted to be here tonight. She was leaning back in her chair, eyes shut and lips slightly parted, her fingers splayed on the table top. Passing a little closer by, Lynsey was able to tell that there was someone kneeling between the other woman’s legs, but couldn’t be sure if it was male or female. Not that it mattered, naturally. She smiled and walked on, silently wishing the pair of them well. House of Sinners was one of the more permissive clubs, and it was definitely one of those nights when people were inclined to go for it. Interesting, really, how the mood of a whole club could vary from month to month: even in the more behave-yourself venues such as the city centre wine bar that hosted Leather&Chain: from time to time there would be a night when there was something in the air and people would keep disappearing off to the loos, all giggly and conspiratorial and coming back with naughty, sated looks on their faces. Lynsey had had her own share of that sort of thing, though she tended to prefer waiting till the end of the night and taking her captive home in a taxi before getting really intimate.

 

She spotted another couple in a corner on the top floor, near the dungeon: this time it was a man sitting back with a blissful expression, and no table to conceal anyone’s view of the girl on her knees in front of him. She was naked, apart from a neat and unadorned set of black leather cuffs, and a matching collar round her slender neck. As Lynsey drew near, the girl raised her head slightly so that she held only the tip of her lover’s impressive tool between her gloss-smeared lips, her tongue presumably working on the little slit in his cock-head, probing and teasing and tantalising in the hope of triggering the mouthfuls of hot spunk she appeared to crave. Her eyes were half-open, but there was a moment where her gaze and Lynsey’s met, and Lynsey had a dizzying flash of imagining herself in that position, naked, on her knees, gobbling a huge cock, maybe fingering herself as she sucked and licked and all-but devoured… She shook her head and moved quickly on.

 

 

About Zak:

Zak Jane Keir is a veteran writer of erotic fiction and occasional ranty blog posts. She also runs Dirty Sexy Words erotica slams in London.

 

 

Find her books here:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1?ie=UTF8&text=Zak+Jane+Keir&search-alias=digital-text&field-author=Zak+Jane+Keir&sort=relevancerank

 

 

Find out more about Dirty Sexy Words here:

https://www.facebook.com/DirtySexyWords/

 

 

 
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The Romance Reviews

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