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Out Now—Classic Felthouse: Stories from the Archive by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985)

Classic FelthouseBlurb:

Fancy a blast from the past? Then dip in to five short stories from the Lucy Felthouse archive. A handful of her earliest published tales have been polished up and presented to you in one seriously hot collection. Enjoy a sexy soldier, a buxom babe, erotic daydreams, filthy phone sex and a language barrier, and see where it all began for this prolific author of erotica and erotic romance.

Buy links:

Amazon (universal link): http://mybook.to/classicfelthouse

All Romance eBooks: http://bit.ly/2gs48VN

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2gsbpor

iBooks: http://apple.co/2hp6bfo

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2gR7faE

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/2gRbZ0c

*****

Excerpt from Fantasy Assignment:

I couldn’t believe my luck when I heard what my next editorial assignment was. In fact I discreetly pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

My editor wanted me to write an article on Single Living Accommodation in the British Army. The British Army. Big deal, I hear you thinking. Perhaps I’d better explain. I have a real thing about men in uniform, I always have had. Stick me in front of a hot guy in uniform and I’m putty in their hands. So you see, I was rather excited at the prospect of being around all those sexy men. And even better, I was going to be paid for it. Talk about perks of the job.

The article was planned into an upcoming edition of the glossy women’s magazine I work for. The ‘careers special’ was designed to give the readers an insight into different industries and jobs within them.

I only had a few days to prepare for my assignment, so I did my homework and made lots of notes. I always like to be well prepared, to avoid the chance of messing something up and getting a bollocking from the editor.

Soon enough, the day arrived and I dragged myself out of bed at 6 a.m.—a chore in itself as I’m not a morning person—got my things together and took a taxi to the train station. I had strict instructions on where I had to change trains, where I should go and who I should look for when arriving at my destination. Corporal Matt Stokes would be there waiting for me. Given he’d be in uniform, I wasn’t too worried about recognising him.

When I boarded the first train and got settled into my seat, I grabbed my bag and pulled out a magazine. After reading the same page three times and realising I still had no idea what it was about, I gave up. I allowed my mind to wander. Would Corporal Stokes be attractive? Would he be tall and slim; small and well-built? Aloof, cheeky; who knew? All I knew for sure was that there was a good chance I’d think he was sexy simply because of what he was wearing. In my opinion, the uniform screams masculinity and sex. It hides what is beneath, leaving that to your imagination, but gives the impression of the wearer being rough and ready—just how I like my men.

After a speedy change of trains, I relaxed and let my thoughts wander for some time, until I heard the announcement that my station was the next one. I got myself ready, checked I had all my stuff together and perched on the edge of my seat. I was also aware that my daydreams had left me feeling more than a little horny, and as a consequence, my underwear was damp. I smiled to myself. I hadn’t even set eyes on a squaddie yet and my mind was in the gutter. Heaven knows what I’d be like when I was surrounded by hard male bodies, and the smell of sweat and spunk.

Perhaps I’d become immune to the charm of the uniform after seeing it constantly for a couple of days? Only time would tell. Five minutes to be precise; which was the time it took for the train to pull in at the platform and for me to get off and look around for my lift. As I’d expected, he wasn’t difficult to spot. As soon as I laid eyes on the six foot plus frame of Corporal Stokes, I knew I would never get bored of that uniform as long as I lived. Especially on him.

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller) and The Persecution of the Wolves. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 150 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Release blitz hosted by Writer Marketing Services.

 

Three Authors Who Have Inspired Me as a Writer by Queenie Black

tourbutton_lovebites

First let me take you back to the beginning of time!

Queenie_Black_17th FebruaryWell almost.

I was a confident reader when I was four and I have never stopped reading since. One notable year (2010) I read 322 books/novellas .

No, I wasn’t doing a challenge and I haven’t managed to break that record since. Now I’m more discriminating and I probably average about 200 books a year.

I spent my teenage years in Greece and as an avid reader I was pretty much starved of reading material.  I could read Greek but it was a laborious process and the books available were mostly classics.  Luckily I had an English aunty out there who received a massive tea chest full of novels from the UK every year. It was a treasure trove of Mills and Boon, and historical novels by authors like Jean Plaidy and Georgette Heyer and I pretty much spent every summer from the age of fourteen reading through the tea chests.

I wasn’t picky. I read everything and I read everywhere.  On the balcony, on the bus, on the beach, it didn’t matter. I always had my nose in a book.

Out of all the authors I read there were many I absolutely adored and still retain affection for but two had a lasting impact on me.

The first is Mary Stewart. Her books contained suspense and classical and literary references that I found fascinating. Mostly though I loved her book because her heroines were quite strong women, often widowed but certainly not shrinking violets.  They weren’t kick ass, and they didn’t argue for the sake of it. They were quietly confident and capable of getting on with things.  I particularly liked her novel Madame Will You Talk which had a wonderful section where the hero chases the heroine across France. I loved that sequence- it made my juvenile romantic heart race.

The suspense, the excellence of her descriptions and her strong heroines intrigued me and I still don’t get tired of reading her stories. Nearly all of her books have a place on my keeper shelf.

My second greatest influence was Georgette Heyer. Her historical romances were detailed and she would transfer me to another place and time. Her heroines were also quite strong.

Bear in mind this was a time when it was quite OK for heroes in romances to put heroines over their knees and wallop them (and we’re not talking BDSM, we’re talking icky paternalistic chauvenism) or even slap their faces, so a strong heroine was not only a welcome change but also inspiring to fourteen year old me.  At the same time, both these authors knew how to write characters who could be vulnerable without wallowing in self-pity. One of my favourite Heyer books is The Devil’s Cub. Great story because the heroine shoots the hero.

I moved on in my tastes and spent a couple of years reading crime, horror and thrillers until I went back to romance, and then came across Erotica and erotic romance.  Here my eyes were opened to romances where sex and the sexual relationship were central to the story which was very graphic and contained explicit language.

Queenie_Black_17th February1I read quite a few of these authors- guzzled them to be honest, working my way through Lora Leigh, Annmarie McKenna and many others. The queen of all of them in my opinion, and the person who inspired me to write erotic romance, is Cherise Sinclair. I came across her books when I picked up Edge of the Enforcer, part of her Dark Haven series in which she explores ménage and BDSM, and I was hooked. It’s the way that she writes and her characters that draw me. Again, her heroines are strong and I particularly like the dynamics between the protagonists and the way she builds the sexual tension and develops the plot and the romance through the sexual relationships.  I love her understanding of the unique sexual preferences of the characters as well.

Overall these three authors have taught me about creating worlds, about strong female characters, and about sexual tension all combining to create believable and human journeys to the essential Happy Ever After.

I hope that one day I will be able to write with their level of skill.

What about you? Who are your favourite authors/ genres and why?

*****

Here is an excerpt from my new collection of short erotic stories Lovebites.

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.

*****

Love BitesBlurb and buy link:

Elevator Magic
A steamy encounter in a lift 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.
This collection of 4 stories contains explicit language and graphic erotic sexual content. It is intended for mature audiences 18 years of age or older.
Lovebites is available on Amazon: http://viewbook.at/lovebites

*****

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

Twitter: @queenieblackwr1

*****

GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/queenie-black/

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A Paranormal Tidbit

10628798_10152952694540561_1170280432287907008_oIf you’ve been keeping up with my online serial, In The Flesh, then you know that I’m in the dark paranormal zone at the moment, and there are a lot more connections with what I’m writing than you can easily guess at the moment. Since I’m off in London this weekend for the Romance Novelist Association Conference, I decided to continue the paranormal theme and make it easier on myself and hopefully fun for you by offering up the 1st chapter of my paranormal M/M erotic novella, Landscapes from the fabulous Brit Boys: On Boys anthology. Enjoy!

Brit Boys: On Boys

From east to west and north to south, these British boys are having a blast in and out of the bedroom with the men of their dreams. They’re topping and bottoming from London to Cardiff, living out fantasies in the wildest fells and hooking up while serving HRH Queen Elizabeth II.

With passion and lust the name of the game, nothing is off limits. Throw in honed muscles, high-strength testosterone and an accent to die for and there is nothing they can’t do and no one they can’t get in this world or another.


Landscapes
 Blurb:

Alonso Darlington has a disturbing method of keeping landscaper, Reese Chambers, both safe from and oblivious to his dangerous lust for the man. But Reese isn’t easy to keep secrets from, and Alonso wants way more than to admire the man from afar. Can he risk a real relationship without risking Reese’s life?

 

Landscapes

Chapter 1

Back on British Soil

It wasn’t that Reese Chambers made my cock hard – though he did. It wasn’t that he was beautiful in a rugged, leather and stone sort of way – though he was. It was that Reese Chambers moved me in ways I had not been moved in a very long time, in ways that I, who never lacked just the right words to express myself, found my vocabulary inadequate to the task. Talia would call it an obsession, and maybe it was; from my first sight of him mantling his sketchpad like a bird of prey over a fresh kill, alone in the midst of the crowded pub, I could think of nothing else. It was my first night back on British soil. It is said that you can never go back home, and it had been a very long time for me. But the need to come home was in my blood like fever these past years, as were so many needs that never left me, but only sharpened with the passing of time.

Next to me, Talia droned on about suitable residences in Cumbria, about the leasing of a car and the making of necessary renovations. The Twa Dogs was busy for a Monday night with tourist season past, but being invisible was sometimes easier in a crowd. As Talia talked business in softly accented English, the men at the bar gave her admiring glances. Along with the permeating waft of warm bodies and fermented barley, I smelled the subtle spice of curiosity and the yeasty bread scent of simmering lust from men who knew the woman they admired was out of their league. Besides being excellent at her job, Talia was good for keeping attention off me. But there was little less than a lightning bolt that would have taken my attention off Reese Chambers.

He sat at a table near the exit, sketching in an open pad, his pint gone wanting as he lost himself in his work. I admire people of focus; people whose work is also their calling. They seem to exist on a different plane from the rest of us, and no one or nothing outside can touch them. I very much wanted to touch Reese, to draw his attention away, to hear his voice, to perhaps solicit a smile from him, to know that for a moment his attention was on me. But I’m a cautious man, and time is always on my side. The anticipation of knowing Reese Chambers in itself was to be savoured, not unlike just that right amount of intoxication, when warmth and relaxation take one to the boarders of euphoria, but no further.

‘There are three places that might be suitable.’ I returned my attention to Talia. ‘One in the Borrowdale Valley and two near Ullswater. But perhaps you should consider going back to High View, after all it is your –’

‘Find out who he is.’ I nodded in Reese’s direction. Before Talia could protest, I continued. ‘I have a roof over my head, and I’ve fed. There’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.’

Talia’s cheekbones flushed with the rush of blood, and heaven knew how beautiful she was in such a state, porcelain pale skin, midnight blue eyes and hair, which was so close to black that no one but I would have noticed all of the other colours in her silken tresses. She knew what it was I asked of her, and she knew the delicate line she tread on the rare occasion when I did ask. A tremor passed up her long, straight spine, and a bloom of tiny goose bumps textured her bare arms. It would not be painless, what I asked, and I knew she feared it as much as she longed for it. I could hear the thud thud of her pulse in the thin, silken skin of her throat as she swallowed the sudden dryness of fear. ‘What do you want to know?’

I leaned forward to rake the tip of my thumb against the pulse point in her temple. ‘Everything, Talia. I want to know all of it. And when you know, come directly to me. I don’t care what time it is when you return.’

Only her eyelids fluttered her acknowledgment, for an anxious moment shuttering the brilliance of her eyes before she drank back her Merlot and excused herself to the ladies to freshen up.

I took little notice of her leave, but like a child left alone with the candy jar he couldn’t reach, I sat taking the object of my lust into my hungry senses, watching the muscles of his arms move beneath fine bronze skin as he sketched, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest, as though what he sketched excited him, as though he were breathless from his engagement with it. His hair, unkempt and in need of a cut, was the colour of newly-forged bronze and the rapid shudder of his pulse against his throat made my lips tingle with the need to be pressed there where the life force flowed so close to the surface, there with his excitement, there with his passion. I licked my lips tasting the copper salt of my own sweat, and opened my mouth just slightly, just enough to take in the scent of him — the heat of his body, the cinnamon bite of his intense focus, and my cock shuddered heavily against my trousers. For a brief moment the sound of my own blood rushing through my body drown out the dart game behind me, the low drone of a football match on the big screen TV, the clink of glasses, the shuffle of feet. I heard only the rising of my blood and the scratching of his pencil against the rough-textured paper. For a moment, I sensed his own lust, harnessed tightly and focused through a needle’s eye on his creation and, God, I wanted that focus on me.

Before Talia returned, I stood to leave, and as I brushed passed him I smelled damp earth and verdant growth, I smelled a spark freshly kindled, and at the back of my throat I could taste his essence, as though passion itself had been distilled from the lusting creative force of the human soul. I inhaled once, then again, then I left the pub, having no idea just how powerful my lust for Reese Chambers really was, nor the sequence of events it would set off.

 

It was nearing dawn when Talia returned to our accommodations smelling of sex, as I knew she would if she were to obtain for me what I wanted. By then my blood burned in my veins, and my body felt too close to me, as though the flesh that I dwelt in suddenly conspired to crush me with its demands. And though I knew that Reese Chambers could not have refused her even if she had come to him as a toothless, foul-smelling hag, I hated her that he had poured himself into her body while I had been left with only my fantasies kindling my lust to an inferno.

Though my need was such that my flesh was fevered and my cock an insistent throb, until she returned, I held myself contained within skin that felt too thin. When she saw the state that I was in, she pulled the heavy drapes with an efficient tug, then with a nod of her head, motioned me to follow her down into the basement room that had been prepared for me. When she turned to me at the foot of the bed, before she could opened her kiss-bruised lips to speak, I took her mouth, starving for the first taste of him, the taste of his saliva, the taste of his blood, mixed with hers. She’d bitten him; he’d bitten her back. He was rough, and he liked to be treated rough, but he kept that to himself. He was embarrassed by it. His lips were slightly chapped from so much time in the sun and wind, and they’d slid against hers, suckling and stroking and pressing until her mouth opened to his. With ravenous laps of my tongue, I tasted him in her mouth, and she held back the moan of response, so I could hear the echoes of his groans, heavy with need he’d not satisfied in awhile, and I felt kinship in my own unsatisfied needs. Images of him flashed through my head. Christ, his eyes were green, dark green like the evergreen forests of the north, and he kept them open when he kissed her, taking her in with his eyes.

I shoved aside the silk of her low bodice exposing her breasts, breasts that his hands had cupped. My nipples peeked to sharp aching points at the feel of his calloused thumbs raking, pressing and releasing. I breathed in his scent on her breasts, burying my face in her cleavage, licking the taste of salty, slightly picante maleness, sniffing and tasting until I could stand it no more. In one violent jerk, I tore the dress all the way down and shoved it off her shoulders, away from the flesh he had licked and kissed and mounted. I cried out at the feel of him, weight on one elbow, knee spreading her thighs, fingers opening her heaviness, anxious to penetrate, anxious to relieve his need. And then, with Talia free of clothing, Reese Chambers’ essence filled the room. Talia’s panties were still wet with his semen mixed with her humid desire, and I tore them from her and forced her onto her stomach, onto her hands and knees, so that it was not her face I saw, but his that I imagined. With hands on her hips, I raised her bottom in the air and spread her still swollen, still slippery folds with fingers made awkward by my arousal, letting the scent of his hot bread and honey release intoxicate me. Then I buried my face in her snatch and, as I ate his lust from her, I knew him.

He was Cumbrian born and bred, and his accent was the soft lilting sound of the fells. He was a landscaper and a gardener by trade. His hands held the magic of the earth and his mind conceived ideas for beautiful outdoor spaces; those he liked best were patterned after Renaissance and medieval gardens. He was homesick and heartsick. He’d gone to Surrey to work with his father because the money was good. But his father had died recently and he had returned home to Cumbria. He didn’t care if he had to work in a pub or muck stables. He wanted to be home. He missed the people and he missed the fells. He missed the simpler, more honest rhythms of life. He was shy, even a bit reclusive. He read voraciously and widely, he liked astronomy and he was afraid of snakes, though it embarrassed him to admit it. He hadn’t had sex in a long time, and found it better to have a wank session than a meaningless encounter. The facts of him, the details of his life raced at me in a flood I consumed ravenously with each lap of my tongue.

As I ate Talia I felt the shape of his face, the curve of his chin, the rise and fall of his chest as he had done the same. I felt the soft tuft of bronze curls nestled between the hard rise of his pecs and the courser, deeper curls that caressed his testicles and his cock when it was at rest, but it hadn’t been at rest. How many times had he taken her? He was thick enough to fill her and the friction of him inside was delicious and maddening. The shape of him – I wanted to caress the shape of him, with my hands, with my mouth, and the taking of his essence from Talia was an act of ripping away something that should have been mine. As I bruised her arse with kneading fingers and, as I licked the last of his release from her, she managed a breathless moan. ‘Take the rest. God, Alonso, take the rest, and release me.’

I could hold back no longer. I rose on my knees behind him, and now it was truly him I saw as clearly as if Talia had brought him to me physically. With one hand wrestling at my fly, the other fondled his tender opening, careful as he lay there beneath me, legs parted, bottom exposed. In my mind’s eye, I would be gentle. He had not been with a man before. That I would be his first excited far more than just my cock. In my mind’s eye, I would make it good for him. I would make love to him as not even Talia could do. But in reality I was once removed, ripping vicariously the love I wanted from a succubus, and I was unable to do so graciously or without malice. When my cock was free, I took her ruthlessly, the sound of her closely entwined pain and pleasure far away. And once I had penetrated her depths, I took the rest of what I wanted, a connection, a connection that I could hold on to. I ripped it from her as surely as if I had ripped her skin from her flesh, fisting her hair and yanking her head back, bruising her hips, biting her shoulders.

And when I had savaged her for having him, and yet blessed her that she had done such for me, when I had ripped a release from her, then I felt him rising up, erect and needing to come, I felt him penetrating, deep and hard, varying his pace, torturing himself, torturing me as he had tortured her, as my own balls ached under their weight. The muscles of his buttocks clenched and released with each thrust and the look on his face as he came was pain and pleasure and vulnerability, and then distance. I took Talia cruelly, as she knew I would, punishing her for the betrayal that I had forced upon her even as every thrust, every bite, every bruising of her delicate skin, skin that smelled of his sweat, of his breath, of his semen, brought the reality of Reese Chambers, his pain, his dreams, his passion into me, deep into me. As she fucked him, I fucked her, by the very act, taking back from her what she had taken from him, every detail of who he was, alive with each thrust, with each bite, with each bruise that I dealt her.

And when I had used her up, taking from her every memory, every nuance of Reece Chambers, when she collapsed beneath me with a sob, I felt the brush of my own guilt, my own shame, as I always did when I used her so. I spoke gently to her, thanking her, calming her as I bathed her and gently cleaned the aftermath of me from her body. Then I lifted her in my arms and took her to her room. She was weakened from the experience, as she always was, and when she nuzzled in against my chest, I opened the small incision above my left nipple, and when the blood beaded up, I pulled her close so that she could feed and heal. I stroked her hair and watched, imagining that it were him feeding from me, and feeling myself hardening again at the thought.

When she was sated and sleeping peacefully, I watched her for a moment. She would need all of her strength in the days to come, for she would be my conduit. She would be my connection to Reese Chambers. I knew that above ground it was now full daylight, and I could now sleep with the essence of him against my flesh, in my flesh. And tomorrow, we would begin plans to move back to High View, where I would most definitely have need of a landscaper.

 

Find Brit Boys: On Boys Here:

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
All Romance eBooks
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Kobo
Smashwords

Brit Boys: On Boys Blurb: 

From east to west and north to south, these British boys are having a blast in and out of the bedroom with the men of their dreams. They’re topping and bottoming from London to Cardiff, living out fantasies in the wildest fells and hooking up while serving HRH Queen Elizabeth II.

With passion and lust the name of the game, nothing is off limits. Throw in honed muscles, high-strength testosterone and an accent to die for and there is nothing they can’t do and no one they can’t get in this world or another.

 

Bodywork

By Ashe Barker

 

Alex is doing okay. His body repair shop makes enough to live on, he has a decent apartment, life is fine. That all changes when he runs into Graham in a supermarket car park – literally. He offers to fix the damage to Graham’s car free of charge. The sparks soon fly, and the heat between them has nothing to do with welding equipment.

 

Breaking the Marine

By M.K. Elliott

 

Brandon Rosen hadn’t planned for his final night before enrolling in the Royal Marines to involve a hot stranger and a pub car park. And he certainly hadn’t planned for that same hot stranger to turn up at the barracks in the form of his Drill Instructor, Corporal Will Stewart. In the testosterone fuelled environment of the training camp, can Brandon and Will overcome past pains and face up to what they really want? Or will the Royal Marine Commando School break their relationship before it even gets started?

 

Love on Location

By Lucy Felthouse

 

When Theo Samuels heads off to film on location in the village of Stoneydale, he’s expecting drama to take place on camera, not off. But when he meets gorgeous local lad, Eddie Henderson, he struggles to ignore his attraction. A relationship between the two of them would be utterly impractical, yet they’re drawn together nonetheless. Can they overcome the seemingly endless hurdles between them? Or is their fling destined to remain as just that?

 

Landscapes

By K D Grace

 

Alonso Darlington has a disturbing method of keeping landscaper, Reese Chambers, both safe from and oblivious to his dangerous lust for the man. But Reese isn’t easy to keep secrets from, and Alonso wants way more than to admire the man from afar. Can he risk a real relationship without risking Reese’s life?

 

The Chase

By Lily Harlem

 

Steve’s killing time working in a comedy club. Why not? It makes him laugh and both the clientele and the comedians are not just fit but also great company. One stand up joker decides to create a wild goose chase for Steve and his ex Robert. Cavorting around Cardiff on a frosty night, however, does more than just show them the way to a threesome, it also reveals the reasons why they should give each other one more shot.

 

Dish of the Day

By Clare London

 

Richie’s sunk all his hopes and savings into a new restaurant in south London promoting British ingredients and recipes. His best friends Craig and Ben should be around to help him celebrate the grand opening, but it looks like it’s all heading for disaster – until his friends step in to tell him some home truths. Then they’ll help him relax and enjoy their loving, intimate menu instead.

 

E2

By Sarah Masters

 

When Archie meets Dan after The Change, he realises there is no such thing as a random meeting of soul mates, it’s all mapped out in the stars. Now all he’s got to do is hope those orbiting planets stay in alignment and true love finds him again.

 

Locked Out

By Josephine Myles

 

Getting accidentally locked out of his hotel room on Valentine’s Day night is embarrassing enough for teacher Martin Cooper, but the fact he’s stark naked makes it even worse. It doesn’t help that the one person he runs into is Rod, the gorgeous man he’d been checking out earlier in the hotel pool. But when Rod offers Martin a refuge, the night heats up. Now if only Martin could get the hang of this seduction business…

 

Awesome British M/M Authors

Ashe Barker

M K Elliott

Lucy Felthouse

K D Grace

Lily Harlem

Clare London

Sarah Masters

Josephine Myles

Need more Brit Boys? Hang out with the authors on Facebook by joining the dedicated Brit Boys: On Boys group and pin with the authors on Pinterest.

 

 

 

 

 

The Voices in My Head by Janine Ashbless

tourbutton_fierceenchantmentsThe voices … the voices …

The really great thing about writing a collection of short stories is that you can stretch yourself in all sorts of directions, writing from many contrasting points of view.  In my Introduction, I warn the readers of my fantasy anthology Fierce Enchantments not to trust the narrators of the stories therein, and I mean it! Some of them are simply unreliable, some are ignorant of real-life modern moral standards, and some are downright wicked. You have to make your own judgment when reading the stories…

The book opens with a cold, cold voice – Too Much of Water is a fairy tale told in the embittered priggish tones of an old biddy sitting by the fire, warning her young audience not to go down the pagan primrose path to damnation. Some, in contrast, are burning hot: The Last Thing She Needs is an agonized, guilt-riddled confession by a sadist vampire-hunter who has bottled up both his lust and his love for years, not daring to confess what will truly make him whole. Guinevere in Knight Takes Queen is mired in a confused mess of a cuckolding triangle, because no one in Camelot has the vocabulary for bisexuality or BDSM, and they try to frame everything in terms of sin and honour. At Usher’s Well is drenched in rain and grief and pity, the narrative of a servant girl whose three lovers drown at sea … and then come back for one last tryst. The world of The Military Mind is a quasi-fascist future one where individual liberty and choice have been sidelined in favour of keeping the human race alive in the face of alien invasion – so psychic Peyton is prepped by a lifetime of biological and psychological conditioning to take up her role as comms officer and sexual plaything for a squad of horny marines.  The Merry Maid is another fairy story, but this one told with playful humour. And Sycorax is a Shakespearian tale retold by an inhuman monster: don’t expect any mercy or sympathy from her.

Just because these are ten smutilicious erotic tales doesn’t mean I want them to be true. Just because they are fantasy doesn’t mean I morally approve what goes on in them! But I do love listening to the protagonists’ many voices, however strange or frightening, and I love giving them shape on paper because I think they deserve to be heard.

xxx

Janine Ashbless

 

Fierce EnchantmentsExcerpt from Fierce Enchantments:

(from the story Sycorax)

 

But Prospero I have not forgotten. No.

The Isle is mine. It is the Omphalos—the navel of the world. I rule from the earth, by night. The sky above and the day: they belong to Ariel. Belonged, I should say. I … I think we had other names once, long ago. I do not remember them. It does not matter. All stories are leaves on one tree, and the branches may be long but they are all fed by the same roots. Names come and go, like dead leaves. It is perhaps better to forget them, in the end.

Are you hungry, little man? I have a haunch of meat here that is well-cooked and only a little gnawed upon.

Yes, it is from the wreck of your vessel.

Do not ask that. You are hungry, or not. And the night is long, and my story only just started.

Ariel ruled the Isle by day, and I ruled by night. At dusk and dawn we met, as husband and wife, to act out our carnal dreams. At sunset I would ride astride his long beam, and at sunrise he would pin me flat and plough my deeps. His seed came forth in great quantities, I recall—like sea spume, or like the white fluff of poplar-trees blown upon the wind. When I dug my long nails into his golden flesh, then the dawn would come up blood red.

I had many children by him. Have you not read that this Isle is full of noises? We are surrounded by legions; if you have not seen them yet, then it is because your mortal eyes are too dull. But this is the sorrow of it: Ariel let live only those babes I spawned that resembled him, that were of his delicate and airy nature. Those childer that bore my stamp—the dark and earthy, the heavy of flesh—those he hated, and devoured at first sight.

No. For years I bore this, until even I grew weary. And with age fewer and fewer babes were birthed at all. So when at last I whelped my youngest son Caliban, and saw that he favoured me and not his father, I knew that I must hide him to preserve his life.

Oh, have you seen my boy then? Don’t look so green. Think you he is ugly? I do not. Are not his teeth strong and keen? Isn’t his skin, hued with all the shot-silk colours of oil upon water, soft and smooth? The eyes that he opened upon me that first night, in such perfect trust, were as golden and beautiful as the eyes of a toad—and if two eyes are deemed lovely, must not many be even more enchanting?

I gave to Ariel a stone wrapped in blood-stained birthing cloths, and watched as he swallowed it whole. The babe I hid anew within the caverns of my body. And inside me, Caliban grew. But at last the night came when I could carry his weight no longer, so huge of limb was my child; so I birthed him a second time, half-grown. Even then, we both knew he was not safe. We went under cover of darkness to Ariel’s crag, and as the first light of the sun touched the sky with grey, Caliban seized his sire and I split a great pine tree, and together we thrust Ariel into the cleft and closed it tight. It was over in moments: when it was done Ariel was entrapped and my child was safe.

You think I played my husband false? Don’t bother to answer: I see it in your eyes. Well, you may be reassured to know that I have suffered great pangs over the years for my part in the betrayal. I missed his cock within me and his hands upon me; the ache of my loss brought forth great groans of anguish from my innermost being every dawn and dusk. For twelve long years.

That was when Prospero came to this Isle, with his infant daughter in his arms.

Listen well and mark this: the deposed Duke of Milan was no great sorcerer, however he styled himself afterwards. He was a second-rate alchemist—a mumbling book-wizard—a natural philosopher whose philosophy went no further than his own self-importance. But he was a man, and my cunt ached beyond bearing for the rough touch of a man. I saved his life, building him a cell in which to hide him from my own son; bringing him the fruits of the Island; fetching the contents of his leaky vessel from where it had foundered upon the rocks of the bay. I even let the girl-child live, though Caliban licked his drooling chops at the thought of such a tender mouthful. I forbade my boy to harm either of them.

In return I asked only that Prospero service my appetites. It was, I admit, not as easy for him as for my poor Ariel, for he was not so well-endowed. But he was a man of ingenuity and imagination, and where cock would not suffice, fist and forearm would. I demanded only that he persevere in his efforts.

In return for my mercy he betrayed me.

 

Cover Blurb for “Fierce Enchantments”

 

Inside the covers of this, Janine Ashbless’ third collection of erotic short stories, you will find delight and terror and lust – and perhaps even unexpected tenderness.

The wayward daughter of Shakespeare’s sorcerer Prospero; a runaway slave who becomes king only for as long as he can stay awake; a servant girl whose three dead lovers return for one last tryst; vampire-hunters haunted to the point of madness by what they have been through; warriors in a desperate future war for the survival of humankind – and one very dangerous frog prince – all appear in this collection of erotic stories that will take you to the edge and then pull you over into the glittering darkness beyond.

Weaving worlds of fantasy, Janine Ashbless draws from fairy stories, history, myth and the darkest depths of her imagination to bring you tales of passion and desire that will enchant, shock and dazzle you.

Buy links:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

 

Janine-AshblessBio:

Janine Ashbless is a writer of fantasy erotica and steamy romantic adventure – and that’s “fantasy” in the sense of swords ‘n’ sandals, contemporary paranormal, fairytale, and stories based on mythology and folklore.  She likes to write about magic and mystery, dangerous power dynamics, borderline terror, and the not-quite-human.

Janine has been seeing her books in print ever since 2000, and her novels and single-author collections now run into double figures. She’s also had numerous short stories published by Black Lace, Nexus, Cleis Press, Ravenous Romance, Harlequin Spice, Storm Moon, Xcite, Mischief Books, and Ellora’s Cave among others. She is co-editor of the nerd erotica anthology Geek Love.

Her work has been described as: “hardcore and literate” (Madeline Moore) and “vivid and tempestuous and dangerous, and bursting with sacrifice, death and love.”   (Portia Da Costa)

 

www.janineashbless.blogspot.com

Goodreads

Janine Ashbless Facebook

Amazon UK Author Page

Amazon US Author Page

 

 

Out Now – Multi-Orgasmic: A Collection of Erotic Short Stories by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #erotica #erotic #ebook #ku #kindleunlimited

multiorgasmicBlurb:

From the pen of award-winning erotica author Lucy Felthouse comes a collection of short stories and flash fiction sure to hit the spot.

There’s something for everyone nestling between the pages of this sexy anthology. From spanking to voyeurism, bondage to pegging, solo loving to ménage, with a sprinkling of femdom, maledom and magic, fans of M/F erotic stories will soon discover why this book is described as multi-orgasmic.

Enjoy twenty one titillating tales, over 52,000 words of naughtiness packed into one steamy read.

Please note: Many of the stories in this book have been previously published in anthologies and online, but three of the tales are brand new and never-seen-before!

Buy links:

 

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA

 

multiorgasmicgraphicExcerpt:

Private Jesse Bagnall glowered and muttered to himself all the way to the mess. He’d just been bawled out by Corporal Roxanne Grey—yet again—and he was getting seriously fed up of it. He knew he wasn’t perfect in the drill exercises, but then nor were any of the other guys. It was like she was singling him out and aiming all her abuse in his direction. Being shouted at was to be expected in the army—it was almost part of the job description—but Corporal Grey’s attitude was bordering on discriminatory, and he didn’t know what to do about it. Especially without looking like a total pussy.

Spotting some of his closest friends at a table towards the back of the mess, he caught the eye of one of them—Matt Kay—raised a hand in greeting, then got in line for his food.

Several minutes later he loaded his cup of tea onto his tray along with everything else and headed over to where he’d seen Matt and the boys. Hopefully they’d take his mind off the Queen Bitch. They were always game for a laugh.

“All right, lads?” he said, sliding his tray onto the table and taking a seat.

There were mumbles of assent.

“Yeah,” replied Ed Patterson. “You?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

Ed raised an eyebrow, and the other men turned their attention to Jesse, too. “Well,” Ed said, “that wasn’t very convincing. What’s up, mate?”

Jesse sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s the drill instructor.”

His friends exchanged confused looks. “Care to elaborate?” Matt said.

Not wanting to look like a wimp in front of his mates, Jesse changed his tone. But once he had, the anger took over him. “She’s a fucking bitch, that’s what!”

The confused expressions turned to surprised ones.

“I’m fed up of her treating me like a twat. I know it’s her job to bawl us out, but she takes it too far. I do my fucking best, work my arse off, and it’s still not good enough for her.”

He barely noticed the gazes of his friends shifting slightly, and carried on regardless. “She definitely picks on me more than everyone else. As though I’ve seen sitting on my arse when everyone else is killing themselves to get it right. She’s just being a complete and utter bitch. Bitch face fucking Grey!”

Matt cleared his throat, to no avail.

“You know what her problem is?” Jesse continued. “She needs a fucking good shag, she does. That might cheer the miserable cow up. Mind you, Christ knows what man would be brave enough to go there. She’d probably bite your cock off as soon as suck it.”

As the red mist of his anger dissipated, Jesse finally clocked the reactions of the other men around his table. They weren’t at all what he’d expected. Ed and Matt looked mighty chagrined, staring at a point over his left shoulder. Private Graham Pilgrim had actually put his head down and begun to bang it on the table.

A cold trickle of dread ran down his back, and he turned, wondering which of his superiors had heard his rant.

Fuck. It was none other than the target of his diatribe.

Corporal Roxanne Grey stood, her arms crossed, one high-heeled foot tapping on the floor. Her facial expression was as far from impressed as it was possible to be.

Coolly, she said, “Bagnall. Guard room, now.”

Jesse’s heart sunk into his heavy-duty boots, and he had to resist the temptation to drop his gaze to the floor. His buddies would never let him live it down. He had to do as the woman said otherwise he’d be guilty of insubordination, but he was going to do it in the manliest way possible.

Turning back to the table, he sneaked a quick glance at each of his friends in turn, hoping his expression looked irritated, not shit scared, which was what he really was. Standing, he left his lunch tray where it was and followed Corporal Grey out of the mess, across the yard and into the scruffy-looking building that was the guard room. God, the government really needed to put some money into this place—it certainly didn’t give off the air of tough professionalism that the personnel were expected to show.

Opening the door, Corporal Grey stood aside and ushered him in, before following him and shutting the door behind them and twisting the lock. The room was empty. She moved to sit in a chair, and motioned him to take another one.

“I suppose you know why you’re here?”

“Yes, ma’am. My unforgiveable words and actions back in the mess.” Now it was just the two of them, he could grovel as much as he felt necessary without worrying about losing face.

“Hmm. Yes. But actually, it’s more the reasoning behind the words that I’m interested in.”

“W—what do you mean?”

“You mentioned that you feel like I pick on you, more than I do anyone else during drill instruction. As though you’re sitting on your arse, I do believe were your words.”

Jesse fought the colour coming to his face, and failed miserably. “Y—yes, ma’am.”

“Do I really make you feel that way? Or were you just having a whinge to your mates? Tell me honestly, please.”

The anger had gone from her tone, and her expression was open, expectant. She really and truly wanted him to be honest. He opened and closed his mouth—not unlike a fish—a couple of times, before clearing his throat and attempting to form an answer. It didn’t help that, now she’d stopped screaming at him and was actually being quite pleasant, he’d come to the conclusion that she was hot. Even in her army uniform, she looked feminine, as though she was hiding a delicious body underneath all that olive green.

“O—okay then. Yes, you do. Ever since you turned up to drill us in preparation for the parade, you’ve made me feel like a useless sack of shit. I know it’s important, God do I know, and I want to get it right, but I really am trying my best. I’m giving this my all, and it seems as though it’s just not good enough for you. Some of the other guys are worse than me, and you don’t come down on them like a ton of bricks. Maybe just half a ton.” He smiled weakly, hoping she’d realise he was joking.

A tiny smile played at the corners of the corporal’s lips. “Would it make you feel any better if I told you why I’m doing it? Shouting at you more than the others, I mean.”

“Um, I guess it depends on what you’re going to say. I’m really not as shit as some of the other guys.”

“I know. But…” She got to her feet and moved to stand in front of Jesse. Leaning down and placing her hands on the arms of his chair, she continued. “Let’s just say I’m trying not to let my true feelings show. If people found out how much I want you, I don’t think it would go down too well.”

“W—want me? You want me?” His heart pounded, and his brain raced to keep up with what she was saying. Did she really mean what he thought she meant? Was there a way he could have misunderstood her words? He didn’t think so. “You mean, like, want me in the sex way?” He knew his phrasing was ridiculous, but he couldn’t think of anything better right at that moment. His brain was too fried.

Corporal Grey laughed, her blue eyes sparkling as crinkles appeared in their corners. It was adorable and sexy all at once, and Jesse’s cock surprised him by hardening.

“Yes,” she said. “I mean in the sex way. But I guess you know now why I’ve been behaving the way I have? Can you forgive me? I didn’t mean to make you feel like a useless sack of shit. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I can forgive you. But only if you make it up to me.” It seemed his cock had taken over control of his mouth now, because as the words floated into the air, he realised he had no idea what he actually meant.

“Oh yeah?” Moving her hands to her hips, Corporal Grey adopted a saucy stance. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

Jesse cast his gaze about the room rapidly, hoping for inspiration. Thankfully, he spotted something that would serve his purpose perfectly. Standing, he gently pushed past her and retrieved the pace stick that was propped up in the corner. Designed for marking time in parades and similar, when it was open it formed a ‘V’ shape; closed it was just a wooden stick. One he could use to get his own back on Corporal Grey. And he really had to stop thinking of her as Corporal Grey, especially considering what he was about to do. She was Roxanne.

Turning back to her, he stifled a grin when he saw the look on her face. She obviously hadn’t been expecting that. Pointing to a nearby table, he commanded, “Pull your skirt up to your waist and bend over.”

“O—okay.”

She sounded nervous, and he didn’t blame her. Frankly, he was surprised she’d agreed. He was wielding quite an interesting weapon, and she was going to allow him to use it on her. Perhaps she was into a bit of pain. He’d soon find out.

Following her to the table, he waited while she summoned her courage, then lifted her skirt. His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his close-cropped hairline when he saw the skimpy black thong that had been hidden beneath her drab skirt. It bisected lovely pale, round bum cheeks, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to pull the material aside and bury his cock in her warm depths.

First, though, Roxanne had some making up to do. “Ready?”

Pressing her hands to the surface of the table, she nodded quickly.

Jesse moved into the position he thought best and waved the pace stick around a little, to get used to the way it moved and balanced. He’d never spanked a woman before, never mind with one of these things. God knows why he’d even suggested it. She probably thought he was some kind of kinky bastard, now. Never mind, it was just a bit of fun.

 

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 http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

 

 
© 2017 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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