In The Flesh Part 17: Dark Paranormal Romance in Progress. Enjoy!

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In The Flesh 2 12006311_1476805985954344_6570546160088833292_nIn episode 17 of In The Flesh, Susan’s sojourn with Alonso Darlington and his entourage involves a return visit to a dream she doesn’t remember. Today’s episode is a little longer, in which much is revealed, and is often the case, when much is revealed, the plot thickens.

 

And check out the alternate cover the fabulous Kev Blisse has designed for me. Hard to say which I like best.

 

Read! Enjoy! Spread the word!

 

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 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16.

 

In The Flesh Chapter 17

‘What?’ I came out of the chair nearly upsetting my coffee cup onto the white linen tablecloth the servant had spread. ‘Talia’s going to sleep with me? Are you crazy?’ I could imagine Annie getting a good laugh out of this, elbowing me in the ribs saying if I wasn’t up for the task she’d be happy to oblige.

‘Oh it’s nothing sexual,’ Alonso reassured me, gently patting my arm.

‘Well,’ the woman said with a modest shrug and a dip of her blue eyes that said she was checking me out. ‘It could be, if you want it to be.’

Before I could totally panic, Alonso slipped an arm around my shoulder and glared at this Talia person. ‘You’ll have to forgive my colleague, Ms. Innes. She has a very strange sense of humour. I promise, she’ll do nothing you don’t invite,’ I didn’t miss the threat in his voice, clearly aimed at the woman. Then he turned his full attention on me. ‘And I would suggest that what you do invite be nothing more than the sharing of dreams, considering that your … love life, as it were, is already somewhat complicated. You don’t need to add another complication to the menu.’

‘To the menu,’ the woman chuckled wickedly. ‘Oh, I like that turn of phrase, darling. Perhaps you should have been a Scribe yourself.’ She spoke to Alonso, but her gaze was locked on me. ‘She does look practically edible, don’t you think? Though I’m guessing you’re probably well-sated after feasting on Reese.’

Alonso growled at her. He actually growled and, I think — yes, I’m certain, he bared his teeth! My skin prickled and the fine hairs on the back of my neck rose. For a moment, I swear the man seemed more animal than human and, between him and the woman, who eyed me like I was dinner, I felt like I had been set loose in the primordial woods with the wild beasts.

‘What’s going on here?’ I started at the sound of another woman’s voice, one I’d heard in the dark of the crypt, dark moon image_xl_6338206and turned to see Maggie, with Michael right behind her. If I hadn’t been wrong-footed and frightened already, I certainly was now. Alonso and Talia might have been scary beasts in the woods, but Maggie was the huntress everyone feared, myself included. Even Talia was instantly subdued by her presence. In the midst of raised hackles, Michael came to my side and slipped a possessive arm around me, literally pulling me away from Alonso, just as a ginger-haired man in jeans and a plaid shirt entered the room.

‘Is everything all right?’ He asked.

Talia offered half a smile. ‘Of course it’s not, Reese. Come on in. You might as well join the fun.’ She gave Maggie a sideways glance and stepped up to flank Alonso on one side while Reese came to his other.

For a moment the room was deathly silent. Only Maggie stood alone, nearly blinding in her golden brilliance, and I couldn’t keep from wondering how someone so stunning could be so terrifying, and why. Even Talia paled in comparison – especially on my fright-meter. And the minute her gaze turned on me, even from behind the strange dark glasses she wore, I felt a tingle bone deep as though I had just passed beneath a high-tension wire and a million volts was just a heartbeat away.

‘How’s Annie?’ Christ in heaven, I don’t know how I found my voice in front of her. Maybe because I was still pissed off that she’d left me in the crypt at Chapel House. But she had rescued my friend, something I’d made a thorough mess of. I owed her hugely for that.

‘I’ve done what I can for her.’ Her voice was like honey dripping over hot flame. ‘She’s resting comfortably.’ She moved forward, gaze still locked on me, until she stood close enough I could feel her breath on my face, cool and sweet like the fell air. I was sure she could see how my pulse raced in my throat at her nearness. ‘Right now I need to know what you’ve done to release the Chapel House Guardian so I can learn how to return him to his prison. He was there for a reason, you know. Though I imagine you’ve figured that out by now.’ She gave me no time to defend myself and, if what everyone said was true, I had no defense anyway. ‘Since you have no memory of the momentous occasion, I need you to sleep with the succubus.’

‘Succubus? She’s a succubus?’ I nodded to Talia, who only shrugged modestly. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me! I have a demon trying to seduce me, an angel who’s marked me, and by the way, Michael, that mark — it hurts like a sonovabitch when the demon gets mad, and now you want me to sleep with a succubus? Honestly, I don’t see how the hell –’

‘Oh for fuck sake,’ Talia broke in, ‘stop being such a drama queen, do you really think I want to incur Magda’s wrath?’ She gave the woman a quick nod of her head. ‘If you want sex, you won’t get it from me. I’ll just tiptoe through your little dreamscape all nice and polite-like and prod a memory here and there as needed. You won’t even know I’m there. Your loss,’ she added under her breath.

‘I’ll stay with you,’ Michael said, giving Talia the look he might reserve for a rabid wolf.’

She cursed under her breath. ‘Anyone else want to join in? Why don’t we just make an orgy of it?’

‘Shut up, Talia,’ Alonso said. ‘We’ve already discussed this.’

Embarrassed by Talia’s bluntness and by my ridiculous whining when my friend’s life was in danger, I squared my shoulders and found my voice, cowardly though it was. ‘What do I have to do?’ I asked, hoping my trembling wasn’t as obvious as it felt to me. I was pretty sure it was only Michael’s support that was holding me upright at the moment.

2015-09-04 15.53.34               ‘You just have to go to sleep and dream,’ Talia said.

‘The juice,’ Alonso spoke, nodding to the empty orange juice glass on the breakfast table. ‘It contained some herbs that will make you drowsy very shortly. You’ll sleep in Talia’s arms.’ He nodded toward the door. ‘You should probably return to your room shortly, unless you want Michael to carry you.’

‘When were you going to tell me about this juice, about being drugged?’

‘I just did.’ Alonso replied ‘Besides, as Magda has said, we really have little choice if we want to put this monster back where he belongs and save your friend’s life.’

Magda lifted my chin on the curl of her fingers and, I swear, if Michael hadn’t been holding me upright, I would have fallen through the floor. Even through her glasses, there was something about being the center of her attention that made me feel like I was being unraveled one molecule at a time. But when she spoke, the situation became very tightly focused, indeed. ‘Susan, if I can’t sever Annie’s link with the Guardian, she will die. She’s been under his thrall too long. You’re the key, like it or not, and if you’re not willing to do whatever it takes, then it’s best you put a bullet in your friend’s brain right now, because her death will neither be easy nor quick. Do you understand me?’

There were no more jokes, no more snipes. The room was silent as a grave as I stepped away from Michael. ‘All right.’ I glanced at Talia, who nodded in return and stepped forward. ‘If it’s all the same to everyone, I’d like to make it back to my room under my own power.’ I was beginning to feel like my tongue belonged to someone else, and the floor felt a long way from my feet. With Michael flanking me on one side and the succubus on the other, I carefully maneuvered my way back down the hall. It was only as Michael kissed me possessively and tucked me down beneath the duvet that I noticed Magda perched on the edge of a sailor’s trunk in the corner near the bathroom.

‘Are you the audience,’ I slurred.

‘Afraid so, darling. Traditionally the dreamer and her dream walker are witnessed by a third party who doesn’t sleep and remains uninvolved in events so she can awaken the dreamers if … there are problems.’

‘Are you expecting problems?’ I looked from Talia to Magda and back again, to find Talia was stripping out of her clothes. For a second that thought disturbed me, but I was way passed holding a thought in my head for very long.

‘Possibly,’ came the reply that disturbed me way more than the naked succubus now sliding down under the duvet by my side. Whoever this Magda was, she pulled no punches and made no effort to soften the blows. Clearly the woman didn’t have to make nicey-nice.

Michael leaned down and kissed me again. ‘I’d wish you pleasant dreams, but under the circumstances … ’ He 2015-09-04 16.12.40 HDRshot Talia a warning glance, then settled near the foot of the bed on a battered captain’s chair that creaked under his weight.

My last memory of the waking world was Talia pulling me into her arms and kissing me as though she were pulling the breath from me, pulling me under, into the world of sleep, and just before I lost consciousness, I wanted nothing more than for Talia to keep on kissing me.

 

It was a cry of terror that awakened me from a mundane dream of sitting at the big desk in the study of Annie’s old flat tapping away on the keyboard of my Mac. After all the dreams I’d had, or thought I’d had recently, after the way dreams had bled so convincingly into reality, I was totally prepared to be the one screaming like a banshee and making a fool of myself. I was completely unprepared to find that it was Talia doing the screaming.

I shoved my way from under the duvet and fell on my arse in the middle of the floor amid blinding light, confusion, shattering glass and screams. Michael helped me to my feet, and eased me back onto the bed. By the time my eyes adjusted to the light, I discovered Alonso sitting in the middle of the floor with Talia in his arms. She was wrapped in a blanket, sobbing and trembling against his shoulder. Magda knelt next to her and Reese stood behind them shoving aside pieces of the shattered mirror from one of the wardrobe doors with the toe of his hiking boot.

When Magda saw that I was awake, she moved to my side, motioning Michael away from me. ‘Are you all right?’ She lifted both of my eyelids in turn, staring into each like she was an optometrist.

I shrugged her away. ‘I’m fine. What happened?’ I nodded to Talia.

‘The succubus claims the Guardian’s inside you, that he confronted her in your dreams. Was he there?’

‘Christ, Maggie, you’re as subtle as a heart attack,’ Michael spat. ‘Do you even know what tact is?’

She shot him a warning glance, and he shut up. ‘Clearly you weren’t seeing the same things, she saw. Were you dreaming?’ Suddenly all eyes were on me.

‘I was, yes. But it was nothing important, certainly nothing about Him,’ I shuddered at the thought of the dream visits I’d had from Him. No, if he’d been there I’d have known.

‘I know what I saw,’ Talia said, looking at me as though I had two heads.

‘Susan, perhaps you should tell us what you remember,’ Magda suggested.

I told them, a little embarrassed that I’d had such a mundane dream and poor Talia had clearly had a nightmare. ‘There’s no way He could be inside me,’ I added. ‘I’d know. I mean surely I’d know.’

No one nodded agreement. Instead they all gave me the jaundiced stare. That did nothing to make me feel Bernini Hades and Persephone close uptumblr_lg4h59T3z31qe2nvuo1_500better. For a moment, no one said anything at all. Then I remembered my friend, who supposedly was resting comfortably somewhere in the bowels of High View and an icy prickle crawled up my spine. ‘What about Annie? If He’s here, won’t He go straight for her? I mean isn’t she an easy target?’

Michael shot Magda an accusing glance, which she ignored. ‘Trust me, Susan, she’s safe from him.’

‘Instead he was drawn to the succubus?’ I said.

‘Everyone is drawn to a succubus,’ Talia replied with a convulsive shiver. ‘That was the whole point.’

Unnoticed, Reece had gone into the bathroom and returned with a glass of water, which Talia took from him with a nod of thanks.

‘I was the bate.’

‘Jesus!’ I suddenly felt queasy. ‘You mean you went into my dreams knowing you might encounter Him there?’

Talia gave no answer, only sipped at her water.

‘Just because it’s a dream, doesn’t mean it’s not real,’ Magda said. ‘The only one who would have half a chance against the Guardian if he were to choose the dream route, which I’m guessing is how he got to you, was Talia. She feeds on dreams, especially sexual dreams.’

Talia forced a laugh. ‘That didn’t work out so well, did it?’

‘So it was you He was waiting for then, not me,’ I said, standing to pace by the bed. ‘All I had was a dream about writing, something I do every day.’

‘Oh he wasn’t trying to seduce me,’ Talia said. ‘He was trying to chase me out, and that’s exactly what he did.’ She forced her way to her feet with a little help from Alonso and Reese, then came to pace next to me. ‘Tell me about your dream in as much detail as you can remember.’

I shook my head. ‘All right. It was a writing dream. I have them all the time. I have them more often when I’m close to a deadline. Usually those involve my laptop breaking down or my entire manuscript being deleted, that sort of thing.’

‘Look, what might seem completely mundane to you could be critical,’ Alonso said. I noticed his arm was now draped protectively around Reese’s shoulder and the two had crowded into the shadowy space next to the wardrobe away from the window.

‘It is strange,’ I said, sifting through the jumble of events of the past few days. ‘Every other dream I’ve had up rose imagesuntil this one has been either sexy or nightmarish or some bizarre combination of the two. Even if I just doze. I’ve dreamed a lot,’ I added.

Talia studied me for a second, brow drawn, then she huffed out a sharp breath. ‘May I try something?’

‘Of course.’ The words were barely out of my mouth before she pulled me into her arms and kissed me. She kissed me hard and deep, and I returned the favor with more gusto that I would have thought possible. Somewhere far off, I heard Michael protest and Magda cut him off. In the back of my mind for a split second, I heard Katy Perry singing I Kissed a Girl, and then the world went blank as though someone had just pushed the reset button.

 

I set in front of my Mac the tap, tap of the keys filling the silence like the rhythm of my pulse. The moon hangs heavy, framed by the open window in Annie’s study. I’m tipsy, but not drunk, at least not too drunk, but I can’t sleep. My whole body buzzes, but it isn’t an alcohol buzz, it was like being in the zone when all the words flow onto the page, and the story I have inside me explodes like magic, like an orgasm. I’m breathless and trembling and pushing, pushing, always pushing against it, rubbing against it, feeling it penetrate me, fill me, ride me in the darkness until every last breath, every last word, every full stop burst onto the page, and I’m left weak and trembling and wrung out.

Then I’m no longer in Annie’s comfy flat. I’m in the crypt at Chapel House, the darkness awash in the scent of roses, sweet, sweet roses. I’m writing away with insane focus, something that has to be said, something that has to be freed onto the page. And, fucking hell, I’m horny. I’m always horny when the words are flowing. When the story’s coming fast and furious, it makes me want to come too. I’m writing. I’m writing. I’m writing! The silver light bleeding through the bars in the tunnel, touches me like the words do, touches me exactly where they do, in places so private no one has ever touched me there before. And I’m shy, and I’m embarrassed, even ashamed, and I’m overwhelmed with desire that burns me and flashes across my synapses like sheet lightning. And I need! Oh God, how I need! I’m writing. I’m writing …but what I’m writing is more powerful than any story I’ve ever written, and I want more, good Christ I want so much more! I want it all and I need it with an ache that will surely destroy me if I can’t have it!

And the door’s not locked, and I’m terrified and aroused, and intrigued, and I can almost see the words flowing Scribe computer keyboardMG_0777onto the page as, with trembling fingers I open the barred door that creaks with ancient disuse. And He’s there like light itself splitting the darkness. And I write Him onto the page, feeling His lust, His need, His passion in every word. And when I’m finished, trembling and spent and replete, He’s there, fully present, fully mine to possess.

Then I hear Annie in the bathroom. The toilet flushes, and I hold my breath, hold my secret tight so she won’t hear. And when I’m sure she’d gone back to her bed, with fingers cold against the keys, I copy everything, all of it, every word, every nuance, every stuttering heartbeat onto a memory stick. Then I hide it away. But before I do, I delete the words from my Mac so no one else will see, no one else will share in my ecstasy, in my passion, in the shame that so arouses me.

It’s only then, when I feel His breath against my neck, and the scent of roses fills the night air, that I realize I can’t close the door.

The Characters of Go-Go Boys of Club 21: The Complete Series by Cameron D. James

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tourbutton_club21

This week is the release of Go-Go Boys of Club 21: The Complete Series – and I wanted to take a moment to introduce you to the characters I’ve come to love so dearly in my year of writing out their saga.  I hope you feel the tugs on your heart and you want to know more about these boys and how they yearn to find love in their lives – so let’s met them!

Liam is a sweet young guy and one of the three premiere go-go dancers at Club 21.  The men watch him with awe and long to touch him, wishing they could take Liam home and make him theirs.  But Liam wants none of that – he’s still hurting after a bad break-up years ago and no longer wants love.  All that changes, though, when he does a private dance for Ryan.  As he grooves to the beat for the older man, there’s an undeniable energy that builds between the two of them, a sexual attraction that starts as lust and over time evolves into love.

Ryan is a former gay porn star, starting up his own studio.  He’s in New York City on business and spends a Saturday night in Club 21.  It’s there that he’s captivated by go-go dancer Liam and wants to get closer to the younger man.  A private dance from Liam quickly turns into hot sex and Ryan is hooked – he needs Liam like he needs air to breathe.  The only problem is that his business in New York is almost over and he’s due to return to L.A.  He makes a plea for love from Liam, and the chance to make him very happy in L.A.

Lance is the newest go-go boy.  The only reason he took the job is because he’s infatuated with Liam and wants to get to know him better.  His hopes are dashed when he learns Liam wants nothing to do with love, and then paradoxically falls in love with Ryan and runs off to Los Angeles with him, to live with his lover and become a star of his porn studio.  Lance isn’t sure if he fits into the go-go boy lifestyle anymore, especially with the empty void where his heart should be.

Zack is the replacement for Liam when Liam runs of to L.A.  Zack is innocent and super cute, managing to catch Lance’s eye and make him not feel as bad that Liam has run off.  But when Zack and Lance embark on a smoking hot fling, Lance soon discovers that Zack has a dirty side.  For such an innocent-looking twink, Zack is a sex-addict who just can’t get enough.  But when he breaks Lance’s heart, just like Liam did, will Lance pick up and move on?  Or will he change who he is just so he can keep Zack?

Ken is the third go-go boy and undeniably the most provocative.  He has sex at the drop of a hat, often with Dan, the older bartender.  All Ken wants is sex, nothing else, but when Dan makes a surprising proposal, asking if Ken would like to be more of a regular with him, more like a boyfriend, Ken finds himself starting to fall for Dan.  It’s a sensation Ken has never experienced before and he doesn’t know what to do; he stumbles through this new relationship, discovering who he is and what his relationship to Dan is about.

Dan is like Ken, wanting as much sex as possible but without the entanglements of romance.  But with each hook-up he has with Ken, he can’t get the boy out of his mind.  He wants to be closer to him, to get to know him more intimately, and with the daring question of asking Ken on a date, he embarks on a new journey in life, one that will be far more exciting than he could ever expect.

To go on a journey of love, sex, and hearbreak with Liam, Ryan, Lance, Zack, Ken, and Dan, check out Go-Go Boys of Club 21: The Complete Series, now available!

 

Excerpt: Go-Go Boys of Club 21: The Complete Series

We’re the go-go boys of Club 21. We dance, we fuel fantasies, and we give ourselves to the beat. We bump, we grind, and before each shift we have a jerk off competition; the order in which we come determines who gets the most desirable dance platform.

Normally, I shoot first, earning me the prime spot by the DJ. Ken usually comes shortly after me; he claims I get him excited. Lance, our new guy, he’s always last and ends up with the crappy spot by the pool tables.

Today, I decided to try something different—a strategy, if you will—to teach Lance an important lesson about being a go-go boy. I yanked down the front of my shorts and let my cock hang out, then grabbed it in my fist, stroking up and down the shaft. In front of me, Liam and Ken stood with their shorts tucked under their balls as they pumped with vigor.

I held back, loosening my grip just a bit, but still keeping it tight enough to stay hard and throbbing. I grunted and faked an impending climax, hoping it would give the other guys incentive to rush to completion.

The faking worked. Ken groaned and numerous rockets of hot, white cum launched from his cock. His load splattered on the tiled floor, like some abstract painter’s creation, a wad of it dropping on my toes.

“Sorry, Liam,” Ken said as he came down from that high of orgasm. I doubted Ken was actually sorry—he was definitely the bad boy of our trio. He drank, partied, and had a high-octane sex drive.

I looked at the cum on my feet and then winked at him. “Ken, you sick fucker. You can lick it off.”

He stuck his tongue out at me, then crossed his arms and watched Lance and I battle to the finish. I kept stroking, making my effort look convincing. Lance fixed me with his usual cocky stare. Lust glazed his eyes too, no doubt fuelled by the actions of his fist.

“Uhhh…” Lance groaned as his cock fired off a dozen good bullets of cum, showering across the diamond-tile floor. Fuck, he could shoot a mean load.

Lance had joined us three weeks ago and I didn’t know too much about him. He was a quiet jock, a much better fit than Aaron, the airhead twink who he’d replaced. Having a jock in our small group was good for bringing in more customers. Ken and I were well-toned and we all had boyish charm—it was part of the job, after all—but Lance’s body was hard and toned, and packed with an impressive array of muscle. And boy, could he dance.

I didn’t realize I’d stopped stroking until Ken said, “You planning on coming?”

I shrugged, letting go of my cock. “I don’t think it’s happening tonight…probably shouldn’t have tugged it this afternoon.”

Ken snorted. “Whatever.” He swiped a bead of cum from his dick and licked it off, then tugged up his shorts and headed to the staff bathroom to grab paper towels.

Lance and I pulled up our shorts too. I smiled at him, trying to give my best look of sheepish defeat.

“That was on purpose, wasn’t it?” He asked.

I leaned in close to him. “Yeah. Now, why do you think I did it?”

“Hmm…are you trying to teach me another one of your go-go boy secrets?”

I grabbed my thick bulge and gave it a shake for him. “See this?”

Lance looked down at my basket and bit his lip, then reached in his shorts and adjusted himself. “Mmm. I get it. Don’t come so you’ve got a bigger bulge.”

“The bigger the bulge, the bigger the tips, no matter where you dance. I’ll prove it to you. I plan to make a killing tonight. Tomorrow, you can try and do the same. I bet you’ll make more than your usual thirty-seven bucks.”

Ken came back with the paper towels and started wiping up the cum. He paused and looked up at us. I think he knew we had cut off a conversation upon his return. “Boys?”

I looked at Lance—he would keep a straight face if I lied. “We’re talking about bulges,” I said.

A wicked grin crossed Ken’s lips as he wiped more cum up from the floor, then from my foot. “Bulges are one of my favorite things to talk about.” He tossed the paper towels in the wastebasket. “Are we talking about a particular bulge?”

Lance looked as if he’d been caught red-handed with porn. “Liam’s.”

“Oh…in that case, that’s definitely a bulge I like.” Ken grabbed the front of my tight shorts, groping my cock and balls.

I swatted his hand away. “No touching unless you’re tipping. You know the rules.”

Ken laughed and swiftly turned around. He slapped my ass as he passed me. “I like your butt better than your bulge, anyway.”

 

GGB21-Complete-Series-Ebook-CoverBlurb and Buy Links

Club 21 is known across New York City for having the hottest go-go boys. They groove to the beat, fuel fantasies, and leave you begging for more.

Liam is one of those premiere go-go boys, but even though he’s living the life he’s dreamed about, he feels something is missing. And he might have found that something when he gets into a whirlwind romance with a former porn star.

Lance is the newest go-go boy. He took the job because he’s infatuated with Liam and hoping for a chance to get to know him better, but only gets a broken heart as he watches Liam chase some guy he barely knows. As Lance pushes to get closer to Liam, he only pushes him further away.

As the beat goes on and the tempo changes, will Lance be able to win the man of his dreams? Or will Liam forever go off in search of new excitement?

Originally released as five separate stories, this volume at last collect the Go-Go Boys of Club 21 into one hot volume.

Buy Links:

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1K20iQI

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1WSi6S6

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/go-go-boys-of-club-21-cameron-d-james/1122510139

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/568165?ref=cw1985

For links to other retailers, please visit my website here: http://camerondjames.com/books/Go-Go_Boys.html

 

Author Bio and Social Media Links

Cameron D. James is a life-long lover of books, voraciously reading everything from the classics to sci-fi, romance to science and nature, and thrillers to erotica. Understandably, a love of books led to a love of writing, having penned his first story in grade seven (about stolen baseball cards). Having written millions of words by now, Cameron now focusses on one of his favourite genres — gay erotica.

Cameron is a fan of Star Trek, having seen every episode of every series (including the animated series) and every movie at least twice. In addition to Star Trek, Cameron also loves physical exercise and seeing how far he can push his body. He’s taken kickboxing, Bikram hot yoga (that’s the super hot and tough one), diving, personal training at the gym, and likes his regular Wii workouts (seriously, they’re a lot more intense than they look).

Other interests include listening to electronica music (particularly Armin Van Buuren), puttering around the house (and attempting to grow a garden), and gawking at cute twink baristas at the various coffee shops where’s he’s such a regular that he’s known by first name.

My website: http://www.camerondjames.com

WordPress: http://www.camerondjames.wordpress.com

Tumblr (very NSFW): http://www.camerondjames.tumblr.com

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

*****

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Small Flashlight, Big Darkness

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I’m sharing a little something from the Archives with you today, because I’ve been truly In The Zone the past few coming up from the depths
days and when I’m not writing like a mad woman, I’m thinking about characters, about plot, about why what’s happening needs to happen. That all brings me back to the intense, sometimes frightening, position we writers all face  on a regular basis — shining a small flashlight into our big darkness. (This post first appeared, with modifications, on the ERWA blog October 2012)

Today’s post is a hard one for me to settle into because it could so easily devolve into navel gazing, and one of the promises I made to myself and to my readers back when I wrote my very first ever blog post was that I would keep the navel gazing to a minimum. There must be a gazillion writer and write-hopefuls blogging, and each one is convinced that their journey to writing success is totally unique and must be shared. Well maybe not each one, maybe I’m only speaking for myself, in which case, I blush heartily and apologise.

My point is that all of the energy, angst, fear, adrenaline, exploration of dark places, exploration of forbidden places that used to go into the pages and pages of that gargantuan navel-gaze that was my journal now go through that strange internal filtering process that takes all my many neuroses and insecurities, all my deep-seated fears, all my misplaced teenage angst and magically transforms them into story.

That was sort of my little secret — that I alone, in all the world, suffered uniquely and exquisitely for my art. I took all the flawed and wounded parts of myself, parts I wasn’t comfortable facing, examined them reflected through the medium of story and found a place where I could view them and not run away screaming.

Where is all this borderline navel-gazing leading? There was a BBC article some time ago asking the question, is creativity ‘closely entwined with mental illness?’ I shared it on Facebook and Twitter to find that lots of other writers had shared it as well and the general response was simply that it sounded about right. There were some very moving conversations that came out of those sharings of that article along with the realization — something I’ve long suspected — that I am not all alone out there in my vibrant unique neurotic bubble. And really, it comes as no surprise that one has to be at least a little neurotic to be ballsy enough to try to bring, in one form or another, what lives in our imagination into the real world and to attempt to put it out there for everyone to see. Or secret exhibitionist is alive and well.

As the article was shared around and the responses mounted, I found myself thinking of C.G. Jung’s archetype of the Wounded Healer. The healer can only ever heal in others what she herself is suffering from. The archetype of the storyteller is alive and well. And I believe writers live out the archetype of the wounded healer on a daily basis. Empathy goes much deeper than sympathy. The human capacity for story is as old as we are. Before the written word, story was the community archive. It was our memory of who we are, our history, our continuity, our triumphs, trials, sufferings, joys, all memorised, filed away, and kept safely in the mind of the story teller. That had to do something to your head, knowing that you were the keeper of the story of your people! How could storytellers be anything other than neurotic?

It’s a lot more personal now that we have the written word. No one has to dedicate their lives to memorising the story of their people. It’s just as well because that story has become way too expansive for one person to ever manage in many lifetimes. Now we tell our own story, the story of the internal battles that wound us, the story of those wounds
transformed. We all tell our stories in our own personal code. What may well start out as a navel gaze into the deep dark wilderness of Self can be transformed into powerful, vibrant story, and we’re healed! At least temporarily, or at Writing imageleast we’re comforted. And hopefully so are those with whom we share our stories. When I journalled my navel-gazes, I wasn’t interested in anyone else seeing what was on those pages. It was a one-sided attempt at a neurotic house-cleaning. Sharing the story is a part of the healing; sharing the story is a part of the journey. The Storyteller had no purpose if she didn’t share the story with her people.

Most of the time I write my stories because I can’t NOT do it, and it’s a lot of fun. That’s the truth of it. I seldom consciously dig deep to find those wounded, neurotic places. Really, who would want to do that deliberately? But the wounded places find me, and they end up finding their way into the story. And what surfaces is never quite what I expected, always more somehow, even if started out to be nothing more than a little ménage in a veg patch.

Out Now! – Sated by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #erotica #menage #paranormal

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SatedBlurb:

A human, a vampire and a werewolf walked into a bar. Sexy is what happens next.

Since getting together with her vampire boyfriend, Ace, Aneesa is enjoying a sex life she could never have with a human. Ace has skill, strength, stamina…and is massively adventurous. Aneesa is checking things off her sexual bucket list at a rate of knots. However, she hasn’t even come close to experiencing the ultimate item on her list. So when Ace beats her to it, proposing a threesome with his werewolf friend, Barton, Aneesa’s definitely up for it.

Barton is attractive, smart and sexy—almost too good to be true, in fact. Aneesa decides not to jump straight into things, but makes sure it’s what she truly wants. However, it turns out Barton’s not so easily dissuaded.

Will Aneesa get the ultimate erotic experience she’s desired for so long? Will she be truly sated, or is the plan doomed to failure?

Buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/sated/

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25950736-sated

*****

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Excerpt:

A human, a vampire and a werewolf walked into a bar. Sounds like the start of a bad joke. I can assure you it isn’t. And telling you that, actually, the human and the vampire walked into the bar together, and found the werewolf already there, probably doesn’t make it sound any better. Well tough, because that’s the way it went down.

Ace and I met at a Halloween fancy dress party. I know, I know—cliché of clichés. And yes, he was dressed as a vampire—Albeit a horrendously exaggerated one—all slicked-back hair, über pale skin and visible fangs. In real life, he actually looks no different to you or I. Okay, he is a bit pale. But at the time, I’d laughed at him and asked if he thought vampires weren’t a bit overdone—it was when Twilight was at the height of its popularity—all angsty teens and stalkerish behavior.

He’d laughed right back, a joyous, melodious sound that had heat pooling in my groin—then as suddenly as it had arrived, his mirth disappeared. Then he’d said, “Overdone or not, we’re here to stay. And I don’t fucking sparkle.”

My heart had been pounding, and my mouth had gone dry. Somehow, I’d known he wasn’t joking. And, although my conscious brain had shut down, my subconscious had had my back, because I’d heard myself say, “Well, thank fuck for that, because I’ve never been a fan of glitter.”

He’d laughed again, the sound tugging at my very core. And—apologies for yet another cliché—we’ve been together ever since.

Several years later and we’re still as madly in love as ever, and still fucking like rabbits. Sex with a vampire is everything you’d expect it to be—energetic, powerful, finessed, mind-blowing and packed with stamina. Providing you can keep up, that is.

In addition to our unquenchable lust for each other, Ace and I have engaged in bondage, sex toys, spanking, anal, pegging—almost an A to Z of things to do in bed. Some we’ve tried and discarded, others have been a regular part of our sexual repertoire.

And yet, our latest adventure was the most exciting yet. You see, after mine and Ace’s initial meeting, I was given an almighty education in everything it meant to be a vampire. Myths were dispelled, other beliefs were confirmed—he definitely didn’t sparkle—and yet more things I’d never even thought of were seared into my brain.

So when Ace announced he had a friend who was a werewolf, I didn’t even bat an eyelid. It was the follow up information that surprised me.

“He wants to what?” The tone of my voice by the end of the sentence was so high that probably only dogs could hear me. And yet it was genuine surprise, rather than disapproval, that fuelled my reaction.

Raising his eyebrows, Ace gave me that sexy smirk that always gets my blood pounding through my veins and my pussy aching to be filled. “You heard me, Aneesa. My friend Barton would like to screw you. With me present, of course, and actively taking part.”

“A th-threesome?” I stumbled over the word—not because I was horrified. Quite the opposite, in fact. Being fucked by two hot guys at once had long been on my sexual bucket list—a list that, since meeting Ace, had had items checked off it at a rate of knots. I was going to have to start thinking of some more shit to put on it. I was way too young to have completed my bucket list—sexual or not—for Christ’s sake!

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*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

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Vintage Grace: Wet Dreams Part 2 FREE STORY

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dark moon image_xl_6338206WARNING:  ADULTS CONTENT!

Well, here we are well into September, and we’re already feeling the cool damp breezes here in South England. BUT I like to keep that summer sizzle going as long as possible, so as I promises, some really filthy vintage K D Grace.For your reading pleasure, as promised, here is Part 2 of Wet Dreams, which is one of the first stories I had published and, like a lot of my early stories, WET DREAMS is very filthy and not for the faint of heart. It is erotica … XXX all the way.  As some of you are aware of my attitude about condoms in erotica, especially when it’s very strictly fantasy, be warned, even without a condom, this story is safe sex because IT IS FICTION! Please enjoy it for what it is. 

If you’ve not read Part 1, find it here. 

Wet Dreams: Part 2

When the subjects arrived in the evening, he usually left the preparations to his graduate assistants. He felt the less he actually associated with the subjects the more objective he would be, but this evening, he made sure that it was he who prepped Three.

When he came to her, she was already curled up on her bed in the same nightie she had worn the night before. It was soft blue silk, buttoned just high enough to contain her breasts and just far enough down to hide her panties. His penis stirred at the way the silk lay against her hips and slid off one shoulder revealing the deep shadows of her collarbones. Her eyes were closed beneath a heavy fringe of dark lashes that matched her mussed, tomboyish hair. And her soft pubic curls, which he had only seen in a dream, he quickly reminded himself. She moaned softly and yawned, already approaching the gateway of vulnerable, innocent sleep.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, and her eyes fluttered open. “Doctor Nevins?” Her voice was warm and drowsy.

“In the flesh. Here to hook you up for dream time.” He felt stupid the minute he’d said it. What would she think? She knew no one read her dream journal but him. What an idiot!

A soft blush crawled up her cheeks. As sorry as he was that he’d made her uncomfortable, he was not sorry to see how the color glowed against the perfect arches of her cheekbones.

“I’m ready.” She offered him a shy smile. As she sat up, he caught a glimpse of her nipples pressed against the nightie. The memory of her tweaking them to erection as she fondled herself in his dream nearly took his breath away and made him very glad for the extra length of the lab coat covering the bulge growing in his trousers.

She sat very still as he fumbled with the electrodes. He was painfully aware of the touch of her hair against his hand, of the awkward brush of his arm against her breast as he checked the mobile monitor. He felt as though he would hyperventilate being this close to her, knowing what he knew. Worse yet, he feared he’d come in his pants right there in front of her, the pressure building in his balls felt so relentless.

This was insane. He didn’t even know this woman, this woman who had trusted him into her most intimate space, a space he couldn’t help feeling he had somehow violated. He reminded himself, as he had his subjects so many times, he wasn’t responsible for what he dreamed. As she thanked him and lie down, she lifted her legs into bed just so he got the tiniest glimpse of pink panties caressing the curve of her bottom and the pouting folds of her vulva. “Pleasant dreams,” he blurted. Then he fled back to the protection of the control room.

The night crawled by. Joe could hardly take his eyes off of Three, who was almost immediately in REM sleep. His own lack of sleep was taking its toll. His head ached, and coffee seemed to be of little help as the night wore on and he struggled to stay awake.

It was nearing two in the morning when Three began to thrash about, which usually didn’t happen in REM sleep. In REM sleep, the body had a safety mechanism that simulated paralysis to keep the dreamer from harming herself, and yet, impossibly, the EEG showed Three in REM sleep. She shoved back the blanket, pulled her pillow from under her head and thrust it between her legs.

Carefully Joe turned on the microphone to hear soft moans coming from three’s bed as her hips ground against the pillow. He felt his cock tighten as he watched, and he carefully released it into his hand. Her moans became kitten-like whimpers until at last, she sat up and tossed the pillow on the floor with such force that Joe was certain she was awake. The EEG read otherwise. She sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed looking around the darkened room. Joe held his breath as she lifted her bottom and slipped out of her panties. Then she opened her legs. One hand worked frantically between her pussy lips while the other cupped her breasts through the nightie. Clearly frustrated, she fumbled through the few items on the nightstand, and for a second he thought she would wake Four, who was now snoring softly.

Finally she found what she was looking for, a hairbrush with a round wooden handle shaped almost like…

“Jesus,” Joe whispered, as she stuck the end of the hairbrush into her mouth and began to lick it and suck it as though it were a Popsicle … as though it were a cock. Through the microphone he could hear the wet sounds of her saliva, now dripping from her chin as she pulled the end of the brush from her lips. He knew what was would happen next, and it took all of his self control to keep from shooting his wad at the very thought.

He fumbled with the zoom, watching, holding his breath, as Three opened her engorged cunt with wet fingers and shifted her hips until the angle was just right. Then, with a catch of her breath that let him know just how good it felt, she eased the smooth wooden end of the brush, dripping with her saliva, between her pussy lips, which opened, yielded grudgingly and swallowed the handle to the hilt.

He pressed his thumb hard against the underside of the head of his cock and breathed deeply. Not yet! He couldn’t come just yet. He had to make it last.

She was now leaning back on the bed, her buttocks lifted completely off the mattress, supported by her heals as she thrust onto the handle with all her strength.

Joe held his breath, terrified she would wake the other sleepers. He should stop her. He didn’t want her to be caught in a humiliating situation. He should tuck his cock away and do something.

Three collapsed on her side with a moan that sounded more like frustration than satisfaction. Then she pulled the brush handle from her pussy, sat up and threw it as hard as she could across the room.

“Shit!” This time Joe cursed out loud. Fortunately the control room was sound proof. Amazingly, the sharp thwack of Sleeping woman reading181340322466666994_IswNAb85_bthe brush against the wall woke no one. He heaved a sigh, but then caught his breath again. Was Three watching him? That was impossible. There were no windows in the control room, and yet, her gaze seemed locked on him. He glanced at the EEG. She was still in REM sleep. How could this be? Suddenly she sprang to her feet and ran out of the camera’s view. Frantically he tried to follow her across the bank of monitors, but she disappeared from sight. He was still squinting at the screens when the door to the control room burst open.

He made a futile attempt to shove his penis back into his trousers, but in the end could do no more than pull his lab coat across his lap. Before he could even turn in his chair, he could see three’s reflection in the monitors as she launched herself at him.

She grabbed the chair and turned him to face her with surprising strength, placing a hand on each arm so he was trapped. “Dr Nevins. Wake up,” She gasped. “You’re dreaming.”

He woke with a start to find Three shaking him. She growled her frustration and yanked the Portable EEG over her head, electrodes and all, slamming the whole apparatus down on the counter next to the monitors.

“Your dreams, I’m dreaming your dreams. Sexy dreams.” she gasped. “It’s always you watching in my dreams. And now I’m in yours. Please wake up. You’re frightening me.”

“Dear God, I was dreaming?” He tried to push her away, but he was at a distinct disadvantage in the chair with a debilitating hard-on and a scantily clad woman practically on top of him.

She nodded.

“And you?”

“I was dreaming too. I had a hairbrush and you were watching.”

He struggled to breath. “How can that be?”

“I don’t know.” she clawed at his lab coat until he could hold it no longer, and his erection was there for them both to see. “But we’re driving each other crazy. I need to come, and it’s clear you need to come too. That’s obvious in my dreams and yours too.” She bent and kissed him hard. “We can help each other.”

“I can’t.” He tried to push her away. “Don’t you understand? I can’t. I’m ethically bound to — ”

“Fuck your ethics. We’re not dreaming now. We’re wide awake.” Her voice was breathless as her hand strayed to his cock. “And we need each other.”

“Oh God,” he groaned, arching back in the chair. He felt her nails tear at his hands as he made one more weak attempt to push her away, which ended abruptly as she dropped onto her knees and took his cock into her mouth like she had done the brush handle. All the way to the hilt. All the way to his balls!

“Please. Fuck me,” she gasped as she pulled away.

He yielded, no longer able to deny what they both needed so desperately.

He never would have expected what she did next. Holding his gaze, she stood up, opened her pussy lips with one hand, then turned around and sat down on his lap. It was that simple. He found himself buried up to his balls in her tight, warm cunt, which grabbed his penis each time she shifted her hips, exactly like her mouth had done only seconds before.

“Jesus,” he gasped, struggling hard not to come just from the feel of her exquisite grip. “Ah, God. You’re sure we’re awake?”

She ground her ass hard against him. “Better than a dream, isn’t it?” She guided his hand over her soft pubic curls until his fingers came to rest against her pearl hard clit. “Touch me there.” She gave a whimper of pleasure. “That’s so good. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

He could smell the strong tidal scent of her arousal, and as he leaned forward to kiss her back, he caught the scent of sleep — warm, sweaty sleep, against her skin. The hand that wasn’t enthralled with her straining clitoris cupped and stroked the firm mounds of her breasts and thumb her distended nipples. He tried to tell himself he should stop. She was his subject, not his lover. But it didn’t matter, not as long as her cunt gripped his cock like a glove. In the bank of monitors, he watched his reflection fucking her, watched his fingers curling into her cunt.

“You’ve invaded my dreams, you’re always watching, always making me want you. And now you’re pulling me into your dreams. I don’t care, but don’t make me suffer.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose. I can’t help it,” he gasped, feeling her areola rise against his thumb.

“You can help it. Give me what I need. Do it now.” Then suddenly every muscle in her body tensed. Her pussy gripped his cock like a fist. He shoved his way out of the chair, still pounding into her, pushing her against the edge of the desk, kneading her bottom with each thrust as she strained back with all her strength, rocking her hips in a maddening rhythm. Each time she pushed back, his heavy balls felt like they would burst. How could he stand any more without completely exploding?

Suddenly she was growling like a wildcat, growling until surely her throat was raw, grunting and shoving until it was all he could do to hold onto her. Then she cried out, the tight clench of her orgasm sending him over the edge too, until he emptied his balls into her convulsing pussy for what seemed like half the night.

When he was finished coming, she reached into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out his handkerchief. He watched in fascination as she wiped his cock, then cleaned the folds of her pussy, while he admired the swollen deep well of her. At last she straightened her nightie and sat quietly while he reattached the electrodes and slipped the monitor back around her neck. Then she kissed him and returned to her bed. Within minutes she was fast asleep.

 

The next morning, the other subjects had gone by the time Three finished her journal. As she handed it to him, she spoke without preamble. “How is it possible for two people to share dreams, Doctor?”

He took the notebook. “I don’t know. In all my research on REM sleep, nothing like this has ever happened before. But what bothers me more than the dream sharing is what we did when we woke up.”

She blinked. “You didn’t want to fuck me?”

“Of course I did.” He spoke between barely parted lips. “But it’s one thing to dream about something. It’s another to act on it.”

The beautiful blush crawled up her cheeks.

“It’s unethical and unprofessional, what I did.”

She nodded. “It means I can’t continue on as a test subject. For that I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry that we had sex, and I don’t want you to be either. It was good.”

He looked down at his hands clasped over the journal and felt himself blush.

She took a step closer and touched his wrist. “I like you. I’m intrigued by the way you live in other people’s dreams, by the way you visited mine. Perhaps you’ve discovered something else that needs to be researched. Perhaps I’d be the perfect subject for such a study.” She brushed a warm lingering kiss across his lips. “Sex in the waking world beats the hell out of anything REM sleep can offer. Put that in your notes, Doctor.” She fled, leaving him holding the journal.

Writing pen and birds 1_xl_20156020            For a long moment he stood looking down at the only thing he had left of Three. Then slowly, he opened it to the cover page and caught his breath.

Yesterday in had contained only the words, Subject # 3. But today, beneath the number was the name, Nina Emerson, along with her phone number.

His heart skipped a beat as he remembered the feel of being inside her. He closed the journal and returned to his desk. Nina was right. They had discovered something that needed to be researched, something more intriguing than any study of the dream world. He would call her, invite her for a drink. That was a start. They could do the research together. For the first time in ages, he felt fully awake.