Tag Archives: fantasy romance

Harvest Lick

Welcome to the second taste of A Harvest of Dreams & Embersin celebration of its full release this week! 

Remember, Licks are NSFW excerpts, so read carefully – and look forward to another erotic excerpt from my next new release, Wolf Bite, on Valentine’s Day!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This someone who is calling for you, you really must listen?” Kas’ words flowed warm across his shoulders. Myrddin turned and found himself caught in his lover’s arms.

“Yes. This time it’s my turn to go.” He paused, confused by the humor he found in the moment even now. “My turn to be summoned away.”

“I hear it. Did I not say? But I am surprised to find you giving such power to a mortal.”

“No lesser man than the High King of Britain.” He grinned as he said it, but the smile faded quickly as Kas stroked his hair.

“Why?”

“For the sake of peace, and my own conscience, and maybe…”

Kas gave a little tug to the strands still in his grasp. “You cannot stop what is coming. Not even you.”

Myrddin scowled and pressed his face against his lover’s chest. “Don’t pull my hair.”

“No? But that is not what you say when I take you.” And he stopped, ran his hands over the curve of Myrddin’s buttocks. “You have time before you leave me, do you not?”

“Always time for you.” He slipped out of Kas’ grasp and dropped onto his hands and knees. “Do what you want with me.”

Kas took Myrddin’s hips in his hands, bent over him and kissed the ridges of his spine. “What I want? That could take a while. This mortal king, he will have to wait his turn.”

Wait his—? Myrddin made a face. “No, thank you. I’ll have only you.”

“What a fool, to think that was what I meant. Even in jest, you would say that? As if I would let you, as if I would share you ever again.” The words were scalding, almost angry, but Kas’ hands were gentle, easy and eager both as he slipped them down to open him up.

Kas. I don’t deserve—oh!” his fingers inside, stroked just the right spot, and Myrddin gasped out the rest of his words. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t—deserve—ohhh.”

Kas slid one hand up Myrddin’s spine and into his hair again, tugged his head back and bent by his ear. “No. You probably do not. No more than I deserve you.”

There was a hint of subtle humor in his voice, the suggestion that he meant his words both ways that they could be taken. Myrddin opened his mouth to protest, but Kas kissed him and suddenly he was groaning instead. “It does not mean anything, Merlin. Deserve. You should know that better than I.”

“Ka-a-ahhh-ahh—” Slow, deep penetration. Cock, not fingers. Then slower. Deeper. Each thrust dragged out almost past bearing. But the sensation was intertwined irresistibly with Myrddin’s memories of every other time Kas had touched him, and with the fear of the future that went on compelling him.

 

Want more? Pick up your copy of A Harvest of Dreams & Embers here!

 

 

Green Iron

Since the magic of #1lineWed and Camp NanoWriMo coincide for the first time today, I am going to crawl all the way out to the end of the furthest limb and share not only a bit of context for some of those lines, but a piece from my Camp project, Earthbound!

This lovable doom of a novel has been in the making since my first November attempt at a Nanowrimo, and has grown in the telling…considerably.

Enjoy a sneak peek!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door closed behind the servant, and his sister’s hands pulled Lu Yin down into her bed as she slipped from his arms.
He stumbled away, tangled his legs in the sheets and fell to the floor.
Bells.
But no, there were no bells, only the sound of his sister’s laughter shattering in his ears.
“I know what you want now, Lu Yin.  Did you not want me to know? Or did you want it too much?”
He stood slowly, disentangled himself from her sheets and tossed them back on the bed. Red silk pooled around her legs, and she drew it up, up, over her knees, her thighs –
“Are you listening, elder brother?” He wet his lips. “You should be listening. You should -”
“Enough!” And then, more quietly. “Enough.” He pinned her to her pillows, and oh, those eyes.
Blue, so flashing, all the amusement in the world when she was on the verge of breaking him – could he not even have the silence to console him?
The silence and the scent of her, when that was all he had.
He held her throat in his hands, slender and bruised, white but for where she had been bitten, and squeezed for a breathless moment. He traced the dark-marked places with slender fingertips, as if they were wounds.
“Why? Who would dare to mark the Fourth Princess?”
Her dancing eyes. No promise of the truth in them – had there ever been? But now the old, dim lifelessness was laughter. Why would she still be so amused?
“I should tell father -”
“You won’t tell father.”
“I must -”
But the pressure of her mouth against his lips brings him to tingling silence. Forbidden pressure. Forbidden kiss.
“You won’t tell father. Or did you never mean it when you said you loved me?”
“I love you.” Helpless. What else to say? What lie could be enough in the face of her certain knowledge, the gleam and promise in her face?
Her kiss tasted green as the wild frontier mountains from which he had come. Her hair, too, smelled of the wild, and the iron taste of the blood on her skin was the taste of war.
There was war, too, in her hands and against his throat. Iron in her eyes, and in her hands.
The point of his own gilded dagger was sharp against his throat as she spoke.
“Did I say you could have me? Did I say, come, take, this which belongs to my lover belongs also to you?” Shadow in her eyes. Shadow in the green of her warm breath against the side of his face.
“No. I did not say that.”

 

Interview, Excerpt, and Giveaway: Wolf of the West at Prism Book Alliance

Something new has arrived, glorious beings – an interview at Prism Book Alliance, including an exclusive excerpt of Wolf of the West and a special giveaway!

wolfofthewest_800 (2)

Enter until July 2nd to win a free  copy of your own through Rafflecopter!

Good luck!

Deathless Lick

This  Lick comes  from Deathless, the second of the Tales of the Eight Kingdom to be released! This excerpt is a site exclusive,  celebrating Deathless‘ full release this week – check at the bottom for links! 

Remember, Licks are NSFW excerpts, so read carefully – and look forward to another erotic excerpt from my next new release!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Myrddin closed his eyes, let out a breath then lifted his lashes and met Kas’ gaze.

“Are you going to kiss me, Kas? Is this our rite?” His voice was…changed. Warmer. Husky. “Are you going to be my lover?”

Kas stared down at him, suddenly breathing hard for no reason he could explain. The heat within him was divided, and thus multiplied, but he understood what he’d been asked— or thought he did.

“Yes, kiss you.” He lifted Myrddin’s lips against his mouth, parted them with his tongue. “Yes. Our rite.” He kissed him again, softer this time, tender, and Myrddin sighed, a low, moaning breath, when Kas pulled away. “Yes. Love you.”

He had no more words for what he wanted to do, what he needed—but that no longer mattered. Myrddin under him was naked and willing, cock hard for him and wet with desire, seeking friction with the rocking of his hips. There would be no more escaping, no shift of shape, no running away. Kas pulled Myrddin’s legs apart, settled himself between them and entered him with one finger.

Myrddin groaned, spread his legs wider, and Kas tried another and watched Myrddin open for him, stretching—watched him arch his back and grab twin fistfuls of grass, moaning, cock twitching.

He wanted another response like that, so Kas did it again, added a third finger alongside the first two, slow penetration, deep and curling inward. He got what he wanted—the wide eyes startling wider, pale thighs twitching apart, cock harder and his mouth open to beg for more. More. That was the word on Myrddin’s lips, and a broken moan that went on, and on, ooh-oh-oh-mmm-ohh.

And…his name. Again, and again.

My name.

“Kas, Kas don’t tease me. Kas…”

He wanted to laugh, but he bent forward instead and braced himself on one hand, kissed Myrddin quiet. “No words.” He kissed him again, kept his fingers moving—in, out—slow penetration that was nothing but a tease for both of them, satisfying only in its promise. Myrddin wormed one of his hands between them, took Kas’ cock in his fist and stroked just as slowly.

It felt good, the same tingling touch as that blood on his lips. It made Kas wonder what it would feel like when his cock was inside Myrddin instead of his fingers. Without another thought, he leaned back and pulled his hand away, tried to jerk Myrddin’s thighs wider apart. Myrddin stopped him before he could do what he wanted.

Kas. Wait, wait.”

Purely aggressive, Kas pulled on his leg. “Again? Wait? No.”

“Yes. Please?”

He paused, crawled forward over Myrddin’s body and licked his last word off his lips. “Please… That word. I like it. It is mine.”

Breathless amusement warmed Kas’ lips. “I’ll say it again, just for you. Please?” Myrddin leaned up, his mouth an offering that Kas was more than willing to take. This time Myrddin slipped his lips away, kissed Kas’ cheek, his throat, his collarbone, his shoulder. When he pushed at Kas’ chest, Kas allowed it, until he sat back on his knees, and Myrddin was braced on his thighs, looking up with lust and mischief in his gaze.

His mouth moved down, down, down, traced trembling patterns of heat and tongue over Kas’ chest, his abdomen, lower and lower until Myrddin was lying on the ground. He used one hand to hold himself up and kept the other at the base of Kas’ cock while his tongue played at the tip, made circles, whorls, spirals, until he leaned forward, took the whole head in his mouth and groaned.

Kas’ breath shallowed, sped. He reached down one hand and tangled his fingers in Myrddin’s hair, stared at his wet lips as they moved down, then up again. He pulled back, and there was tongue again, lapping, sucking, wrapped around his cock. All the while those eyes stared up at him, bright with a spark of mischief and more than a hint of Myrddin’s own pleasure.

Kas’ gaze was fixed on the sight, the most gorgeous submission he’d yet gained. He liked it better when he could see what Myrddin was doing to him, hear it—the lash of his tongue, wet sounds…moaning.

He liked the moaning most of all, wanted more of it and knew how best to get it, but it was hard to make himself move, give up the pleasure. He jerked his gaze away from that mouth, down Myrddin’s back, over the curve of his buttocks.

Wait?

No. No more of wait. Kas dragged Myrddin back off his cock, clutched him close and brought him down under him, back against the grass. A startled sound escaped Myrddin’s mouth, but this time when Kas pushed his legs open, held his thighs apart, Myrddin reached for his hips and pulled him against his skin. “Please.” That word…

Kas leaned down, licked it off his lips again, tasted himself on Myrddin’s mouth and pressed his cock against the tight entrance he’d teased. Myrddin’s eyes opened wider, wider. A dark flush spread across his chest, up to his throat, and he held tight to Kas’ shoulders with both hands. “Kas, it’s too much. I—I—can’t—Kas.”

Kas liked the name even better now he’d heard it in that voice, guttural, stripped of everything but feeling. It was the voice of nerves drawn taut and abused. He knew they were a lie—those words. Myrddin squeezed both legs tight around his back, pulled him closer and urged him deeper into heat and tightness.

 

Want more? Pick up a copy of Deathless here!

 

 

Hunter, Prey

Because context is key to the marvel that is #1lineWed, and because I haven’t shared anything in particular from this monstrosity I know you’re all waiting for…a piece of the upcoming book five of the Eight Kingdoms series! (With which I am currently arguing about its title.)

Saoirse watched the Red King stride up the curve of the snow, down over the crest of frosted dunes and into the darkness that reflected off the surface of the water.

Without ripples, without waves, it still lapped at the motionless shore, and gave away thus that it was water and not frozen. The deep was black and still, but as the Red King approached, the surface of the water was broken by a small, black head – and then by more, and more.

Selkies.

She had playmates and companions among their number. She had been warned in the days just past that this time was coming, but she hadn’t believed. Her own trust in Macsen Cadoc was absolute, and that there was enough worry in any being who owed allegiance to him to bring them here, to the edge of everything, to the last of all shores, hoping to escape some unknown catastrophe…

She hadn’t believed.

Quiet, stepless, without a splash, her special friend among the selkies was out of the water and by her side, and Saoirse watched her lean closer without allowing any expression on her face.

“Hello, Líadan.”

“Saoirse, didn’t I say we were going? You shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have come!”

“You did intend to leave without goodbye, then? I thought you were my friend!”

The edges of Líadan’s soft, black body went stiff and salty, licked by the waves, but she was still. “Your friend. Yes, I am that. But this is my family, and all of my kin, and I will not be the one who is left behind. There are stories enough of last stands and hopeless cases, and not for you or our friendship will I become one of them.”

“I didn’t ask for that, did I? Only for goodbye. Which is nothing but polite, if you cared.” Saoirse squinted and peered through one eye, but her friend didn’t seem bothered in the least about her frustrated tone. “The Red King -”

“Will let us go. He’ll see right through excuses, promises, platitudes…and he’ll talk of fear, and how little it should matter to those such as us. But though we are Hunters, we remember. We were of dark Summer first. Midsummer’s midnight moon is our provenance and our place.  Not in this dark, this winter land of blood and violence. Not for a people of mothers, daughters – not though he sheltered us when our place in the world was taken away.”

Saoirse stared back at Líadan, understanding and confused both. She remembered fear from her time in the human world…and from those first hours, alone here, wondering if she would be kept. If she could stay. Not now. The sting of the emotion, the feel of it, was all but lost to her.

“Líadan I don’t understand. You’re Hunters. How could you not belong here? What does anything else matter? How could you have belonged to Summer? This is the Hunter’s kingdom, this is…”

Líadan shook her head, had only black laughter to offer, a sound as dark and deep as the matte shine of her eyes. “You do not understand. But then, you aren’t one thing or another, are you?” Her smile showed pointed teeth. “Not yet.”

“It’s not fair. I learn so many things, but they’re never enough. Not enough to understand even my friends, and the Red King -” She made a despairing sound and shook her head at the selkie’s continued laughter.

“Girl creature. Something will call you, one thing or another, meaning or madness…and you will find your way. I have that faith in you.”

“Hmm… But I’m tired of waiting. Time is different here and still I’m tired of it.”

“The mortal in you is murmuring now. You are so young – so young! I’m still a child in the water, among my people, but I barely remember being young like you. Before I could slip the sea, leave this shape behind… Saoirse, haven’t you felt it? Your soul is slipping away. A little longer, and a little longer…and then the empty space will have to be filled in by something else. What have you chosen?”

Saoirse blinked into Líadan’s eyes, blinked at her own reflection there, and then smiled.

“Blood of course. The Hunt, and its power.”

“Have you.” Líadan blinked, and the smile on her face stretched wide, then wider. Saoirse frowned as her reflection in the black eyes distorted, changing shape, size…something.

“Saoirse, I think you will surprise yourself with how much emptiness will be left behind when you lose your human self for the last time. I think you will surprise yourself with how little blood will fill the space inside you. You are not the Red King. Macsen Cadoc is of his own kind, and it is not yours. You may walk in the shadow, but I do not think it will be this shadow…or his.”

Saoirse crouched, reached forward and pet the flat, smooth space between Líadan’s ears. “What, then? Whose? I’ve been hunting, hunting without knowing – do you know my prey? Tell me!”

The selkie closed her eyes to night-dark slits. “I see a pale shadow behind you. Yes. Not red, but stripped of all color. A pale shadow…in a pale land. White flowers beneath a black moon.”

Saoirse contemplated this, but she had never heard of a place like that. She knew of eight hidden kingdoms outside the mortal world, and none of them sounded like the place Líadan was describing to her.

“When I find it, will I know what I’ve been looking for? What I’ve been missing since – forever?”

Even before I came here. The thought left Saoirse agitated, but without an outlet, just like many other such thoughts. They were becoming more and more frequent as time passed…and didn’t. As it washed over her, and left her unchanged, as the freezing ocean water moved over Líadan’s smooth, seal-black back.

“Saoirse, it is nearly time.”

“Time -”

“For us to go.”

“You…will be safe, won’t you?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. These are dangerous times, and there may be no safety for anyone, anywhere. But we will make the attempt. If things change, and what is broken is fixed, perhaps we will even return…and I will find you then, and see what you have become, and be, even as I will be far from you, your friend.”

“As I’ll be yours! I promise, Líadan. Friends, always.”

The wide grin Líadan wore as she slipped into the sea sealed the promise, and Saoirse stepped back from the water. She slipped into a shadow, then over the crackling, frosted dunes, closer to where the Red King was. She could hear his voice, and some other, and she wanted to know if Líadan had been right.

Would he be angry? Or would he let them go? Or both, maybe. She was curious, but not afraid. There was no violence, not even the anticipation of it, in the wind tonight.

Anyway, it was fun. Hunting Macsen, Red King that he was. She would tell Bran about it later, and he would laugh with her. He understood better than the rest, and regardless, she had to stay close to him.

There was an oath that she’d made, and it remained unfulfilled, but she understood oaths better now.

Saoirse took another step, then another, until she could hear clearly. Yes, she would tell Bran…even though Macsen was Bran’s, and therefore not her prey. Again, she faced the frustration of not knowing who, or what, it was that she was meant to be hunting.

Líadan had not answered her, but now, watching, listening, she wondered if the Red King would.

 

Want more? Book five is coming soon, but you can grab the first four books here

Deathless Bite

Today is a deathless day…or should I say, the day of Deathless? Now on early release at Pride Publishing, this second Tale of the Eight Kingdoms starts in the ancient woods of Britain, ten thousand years before the events of book one, and takes us to the meeting of Kas and Myrddin, and the first Spring Rite.

Enjoy this exclusive excerpt from the very beginning of Deathless!

 

Chapter One

The nights were growing chill, but the change of the autumn foliage had turned the river valley into a sea of flames. Leaves fell like sparks, browned the underbrush and bared the branches of the wood, but not only the canopy was failing. On a bier in the open, breathing slowly and quietly, Myrddin’s mother, the old chief’s daughter, lay dying.

“Mother, you can’t go!”

“Oh, it’s time. It’s past time, Myrddin. Look at you, my little shoot. You don’t change any more, but you’ve grown, and your mother is old and only a woman. Now is my time.”

Myrddin gripped her fingers tightly. The lines of her face were smooth, but worn, and her hand was limp in his grasp. The only brightness left in her was in the green shimmer of her gaze. Already he could feel her slipping away.

He supposed he should be grateful it was happening now, at the end of autumn, and not when he’d already begun his winter sleep. But how could he be? Grateful. He could have hated it—her dying—if she didn’t look so much like she was letting go of something heavy that she’d carried for far too long.

It was still agonizing to watch.

Why did death have to come so gently? Like a fall of rain—like falling asleep after making love. Myrddin could have hated it, except that she welcomed its coming.

“You’re going where I can’t follow, Mother. I won’t have anyone if you…when you die.”

She laughed, or at least she made a sound that was something like it, and he winced. “You have to learn to let go. Let it be. We’re all mortal, aren’t we? Yes, all of us but you. And you…my son, if you can’t learn to let us go, you’ll have no companion but pain, and that’s…not…what I wanted for you.”

“Mother…”

Red leaves fell onto the furs that covered her, then mingled with her hair as she tried to lift her head. One descended lightly into the spread-open fingers of her unclasped hand, and she smiled. You’ll have to learn. You will, won’t you? Promise me you will.

“I—promise.”

Good boy. Now, let them bring me where I want to go.”

Myrddin lifted his gaze. Her bearers were already waiting around them, their eyes averted from the final parting of mother and son. “Mother. You don’t have to do this. What good is it to just—

I want to die where it began. That’s all. For you, and for me. Won’t you come with me? I won’t make a journey in this world again.

He stared at her, almost shook his head, then squeezed her fingers and let go. “I’ll be watching. I can’t… I’ll just…be watching.”

She sighed, reached up and patted his cheek with her free hand, and the bearers came forward and took up her bier with careful hands. His mother’s fingers slipped out of Myrddin’s grip, and he stepped back, and back, watched her go into the forest then turned and fled up the side of the valley. The sun was setting, and the evening came full of swallowing shadows that he followed along the ridge above the crest of the valley.

He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t bear it, but he was equally incapable of avoiding it, of denying her or leaving her behind. Even at a distance, even in darkness, he could see the cortege accompanying his mother’s body, heard the wails of the tribe’s women as they fell in line behind. He wanted to go to her, stand with her, wait until the end, but he couldn’t do it. Not this.

As he thought it, the wind moved, a sudden hush of gusts that nearly blew him over. It was only then, forced out of his grief, that Myrddin felt the oncoming tide. Power was flowing around him, the green whispering. The wildlife was growing awake, aware, and the blood of his father inside him, the immortal link that connected Myrddin to the growing and greening of the world, pulsed alive.

The whisper rose through the wood until it was a roar among the leaves, a howl in the throats of wolves. The sudden baying of stags mingled with a thousand fluted melodies as the birds scattered from the trees, and the trees bowed, bent, rolled their shoulders and tossed their heads with no need for the wind.

Still, the wind was rising, carrying whispers and roars, howls and birds. Awake! Wild spirits of the spring sped past Myrddin, not focused on him, not paying him any attention, and he closed his eyes but couldn’t close his mind to the message. Awake! He comes, He comes.

Myrddin didn’t need to wonder who. There was only one reason for this much excitement in the wild. My father is coming and why? Now? When it’s too late for him to do anything. A flush of rage replaced his grief, but it was rage tempered by truth and sense. His mother had been an offering since before he was born. That had been the reason why he was born. She had belonged to his father from the moment she had chosen to give herself as a gift to the God.

I was just the result, not the fulfillment. My mother, but she belongs to Father as she has always done.

There had never been any doubt about his father. His mother had been taken, and given a child, and returned…and he was that child, bound to the spring as much as to the mortal world—or more, maybe.

Immortal powers were stronger. Immortal purposes were more demanding than anything but death, and Myrddin remembered his birth—remembered his first year as well as yesterday.

By the end of his first summer, dressed in a loincloth of leather and painted with the brown mud of the forest, he had toddled behind the hunting men. By the end of his first autumn, he’d been strong and straight enough of limb to walk with them. He’d had the look of a boy of ten years, though he couldn’t yet count even one, but he had carried no weapon and only clung to the edges of their sight.

It hadn’t been their prey that he was after, only the wilderness that ran before their footsteps…until autumn had ended, and the first snow had begun to fall.

Snow. Timeless and endless and white, it had fascinated him, then made him irresistibly drowsy. He’d gone to his mother and spoken his first words.

“Mother, I’m tired.”

“Then sleep, dear one. Sleep…”

And then, and every year since, her lullaby had gentled him into the dark. He had slept through the winter and its whiteness, the long, cold months. Only his mother had never been surprised. Like the spring shoots, he had grown and blossomed with the passing of the seasons. She had thought it only natural that winter was time for him to sleep.

“But there won’t be anyone to sing me to sleep this year.”

The flush of anger at his father gave way to grief again, and Myrddin looked up and saw that his mother and the villagers who followed her had almost passed out of sight. He caught up quickly, with the feeling he was stepping in his father’s footsteps as he crossed the ridge line back down toward the floor of the valley.

The procession wound through the trees, bringing his mother one final time through the wood she loved. Myrddin stopped when it stopped, and stood still, arrested in place for no reason he could explain. It felt wrong to move forward, though he could sense his mother’s death coming for her, walking toward her. It was here, in the wood! On the path—in the clearing—right in front of him…

A silence the likes of which Myrddin had never experienced came crashing down.

He tried to take another step forward, but the air was heavy, liquid and too thick to move through. In the same instant, Myrddin saw a shadow dart from the forest with the speed of a fleeing beast, the speed of a predator following. He saw a moment in which darkness lay itself like a shroud of shadow over his mother, a shadow the shade of the forest canopy at night.

Then, color flowed into the dark. His father. The God was green, green and growing as the vivid earth, green as the forest leaves, and He was brown, as the eyes of the stag and the pelt of the stag, and His eyes were black as the rich, turned earth of spring.

“Father… What…are you doing?”

The words fell heavy as stones from Myrddin’s mouth and disturbed the silence, but not the frozen moment. He took a breath and held it as his father bent and lifted his mother in his arms.

And now it is time for you to come with me.” His father’s voice did not disturb anything, nor his mother’s, as it came just after.

“Is this what dying is?”

Myrddin heard his father laughing.

Yes. No.”

The world snapped open and shut.

Want more? Grab Deathless here, on early release at Pride Publishing, before it’s out anywhere else!

Alpha Lick

This  Lick comes  from  The Other Alpha, book two in the After The Pack side series! This excerpt is a site exclusive,  celebrating the full release of The Other Alpha today – check at the bottom for links! 

Remember, Licks are NSFW excerpts, so read carefully – and look forward to another erotic excerpt next month!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luka’s brother turned and glanced at him, a glance that became a slow, smoldering stare. He looked Niketas up and down, and Niketas felt every place his eyes lingered—the hard bulge of his cock in his jeans, his fists clenched by his thighs, the lip he was biting…

Then he looked into Niketas’ eyes, and despite himself Niketas couldn’t defy him directly any more than he could defy Luka.

He whined softly, tilted back his throat and cast his gaze off to the side—and then, much to his surprise, felt a wet, hot lick of tongue go up his throat. Then teeth, pressed gently into his skin, holding him still and arousing him beyond belief.

Luka had never done that to him while he was still in a man’s shape, no one had. Niketas moaned before he could stop himself, pressed his hips up and then froze as he felt an erection even thicker than his own pressing right back against his cock.

He sucked in a breath, heard Luka laughing in the background while a warm hand took hold of his chin and forced him to look into blue, burning eyes. “Well, aren’t you something. Niketas, are you? I’m Stelios.”

“I know that—”

Good.”

He bent over Niketas’ mouth and kissed him. Niketas gasped in surprise. He’d never kissed a man before, and Stelios had Luka’s blue eyes, yes, but with a fire in them that promised much more than just a kiss even as he deepened it. Niketas opened his mouth when Stelios licked his lips, accepted Stelios’ tongue and moaned at the hot touch of it on his tongue, against the roof of his mouth. His eyes drifted closed, and he started to reach up, wrap his arms around broad, hot shoulders.

Stelios pulled back, and left Niketas standing alone in the middle of the room, flushed and harder than he’d ever been in his life.

“You see what I mean?” It was Luka’s voice, and Niketas couldn’t help looking over at him. “He’s perfect for you, Stelios. He wants me too much, and I can’t keep—”

“Tell me you haven’t been trying to punish him the pack way.” Stelios’ amusement was obvious, and Niketas stared straight at the floor. Luka cleared his throat, and Stelios started laughing. “Well done, little brother. Well done. I’m sure that made him want you so much less. All right, I’ll take him off your hands. For a while, anyway. Until I decide if I really like him or not.”

Niketas scowled and looked up, but Luka was just nodding, zipping up his jacket, turning for the—door? “Luka, don’t just—you can’t just leave me here with him!”

“Yes, I can. I’m Alpha, remember? And I already told you, as far as you’re concerned, so is Stelios.”

 

Want more? Pick up a copy of The Other Alpha here!

 

 

Week Fourteen – The Other Alpha

This bit  of erotica comes from the first draft of my newest erotic short ! This time that’s The Other Alpha, scheduled for release October 1st! This is the first excerpt available anywhere, so…have fun with it! 

(And of course, remember, this sort of Friday Fun is NSFW!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Niketas stayed very still while Stelios hovered over him and started to wrap the ropes around his shoulders and his back. His movements were careful, slow, methodical, every knot laid precisely where he wanted it. He wrapped smooth curls of rope around his shoulders, then down over his breastbone and around his chest.

Once he got use to the slow movements, the soft rub of the rope against his skin, it was easy to fall into the rhythm of Stelios’ movements. Around his arms, left…right…left, then right again…around his chest, and he sucked in a little breath when Stelios rolled the rope over his nipples.

Down, the rope around him, around the pillar behind him, diamonds of silk separated by knots over his pecs and down his chest and across his abs. Stelios paused then and stepped back, staring at him critically. “Try to move now.”

Niketas strained, pulled forward, testing, then jerked against the ropes holding him against the pillar. He’d thought he would be able to get free, it was only ropes after all, but there were so many of them wrapped around him, and he was bound so tightly to the pillar all he could do was rock forward a half inch or so.

He struggled in vain, but the more he tried to twist his arms free the tighter the ropes around his chest held him, and when he pulled at those the ropes holding his wrists behind his back, tied to his waist, made him arch more against the pillar behind him.

He growled, tugged harder, harder, until he was panting, sweaty, aggravated and angry. “Let me go – goddamn it, I don’t want to be -”

“Really? Because your cock is dripping all over the floor, Niketas.”

He dropped his eyes, and stared at his own erection as if it was betraying him. Fucking god it was true, he was leaking all over the place. Stelios grabbed him by the jaw and forced him to look into his face.

“I don’t like you lying to me. I don’t like you telling me you don’t want this when you do. If you really want out – if you want to go back to Luka and stay on that damned mountain and never find out why you’re here, I will let you go. I’m giving you a safe word, you understand? Not stop, not ‘no more’, not please. Let’s say…umbrella.”

Niketas snorted, and Stelios shrugged. “Not something you’re likely to shout at me no matter how much I take you, is it. So? It counts now – if you really want me to stop, tell me and I’ll let you go before I really get started.”

Niketas felt his flush spreading, down, down, from his cheeks to his chest. He couldn’t say it. He didn’t want to stop. Stelios had barely started, and he thought maybe…maybe his idea of punishment would involve taking his cock. He wanted it, and if he let Stelios do what he wanted… Anyway, he didn’t think he had a choice – not between what Luka had told him and Stelios’ desire to keep him here.

“No it’s – it’s fine. For now, anyway.”

“For now, hm? Good.” Then he reached for the trailing ends of the rope, tugged the last knot into place below his navel, then started to wrap the rope around the base of his cock, down around his balls and under, up over his buttocks and back into another loop around his waist. Niketas jerked and swore, then groaned.

“’S tight – Stelios…ohhhng. Fuck.” Warm and rough, Stelios’ fingers teased the tip of his cock, smeared his slick around over the head and down as he stroked. “Oh – oh don’t stop, fuck that’s good -” There was something amused in Stelios’ expression, and Niketas didn’t understand, didn’t care.

He lay his head back, closed his eyes and thrust back as much as he could into Stelios’ hand. He’d had plenty of women touch him before, but no men, and he liked the difference more than he’d thought he would, the rough way Stelios gripped him, stroked and twisted his wrist around the tip of his cock.

He liked the ropes, the way they held him – they way they kept him still and the way they rubbed against his skin and the way Stelios had tied them. “God so good, so good, I can’t -”

“It’s supposed to be. Now…” He walked across the room to one of the bureaus but only crouched and opened a drawer. Niketas couldn’t even turn his head enough to see what was inside, but he had his suspicions.

He couldn’t tell what Stelios had brought back with him, but his fist was closed around something, and Niketas only jumped a little when Stelios came back and he felt warm, slick fingers between his buttocks, over and around his hole, barely pressing inside. Then one dipped in, pressed deeper, curled inside him as Stelios fucked him with it and Niketas bucked up, then pressed back against the penetration. He moaned, spread his legs wider, and Stelios chuckled.

“You like that? You like my fingers inside you?”

“Yes -”

“Oh? I thought I was going to get more denials.”

“No, I – I want -”

“I don’t care what you want, you’re going to take what I give you.”

 

Week Thirteen – Sophie By The Sea

This bit  of erotica comes from my newest erotic short, Sophie By The Sea, a fun little experiment with a shark shifter! Why let land predators have all the fun?

Sophie By The Sea is out now, and this is the first excerpt available anywhere, so…have fun with it! 

(And of course, remember, this sort of Friday Fun is NSFW!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are my woman. I will give you what you want, and what you need. And I will take from you, yes, but only the same for myself. Don’t you trust me, Sophie?

It felt like the most dangerous question she had ever been asked, but there was only one answer. ‘Yes. Yes! Or I wouldn’t be here, or I – but please, won’t you tell me…

What I want? You already know what I want, woman.

Sophie traced his lean muscles with her gaze and felt them as if they were beneath her fingers – shoulders, chest, abdomen, buttocks, thighs. She stared at his cock as it stiffened, reddened and drew up against his belly

Oh yes, oh yes, she knew what he wanted – or at least, she knew now, and had been hoping. She didn’t resist when pressed flush against her and kissed her again – instead, she melted into his embrace and twined her legs around his legs.

His cock pressed hard and throbbing against her, and Theron rocked against her as he slid his hands along her arms, over her shoulders and up her neck to her face. He followed her pulse down her throat with curious fingers, then stroked Sophie’s collarbone, and across the curves of it to her chest.

As if testing their weight, he lifted her breasts in his hands, then brushed his thumbs over the tips of her nipples and smiled when she sucked in a little gasp. She tasted salt – and then Theron.

He held her still while he bent his head and kissed her, and Sophie stared up into his eyes. They were even brighter underwater, the indefinable something that so attracted her was infinitely more focused. Sophie moaned against his mouth, relaxed against him and gave in completely.

Her desire and her submission were both open in her thoughts, and he must have seen them there because he pulled back from her instantly, but only enough that he could get his mouth on her nipples. He sucked at them, bit hard enough to make Sophie buck her hips against him and moan, but not hard enough to hurt.

You like the sharp edges, Sophie? Between pleasure, and pain.

Yes…

Theron slid his mouth over her skin and bit at her breasts, her nipples. He crawled his fingers down her body, over the softness below her breasts, over her belly, down to her hips. He wrapped his arms around her then and squeezed her buttocks with both hands, and though there was no moan in the underwater silence, his lust and approval slashed across her thoughts with the same piercing ease as his words.

He desired her, really, truly desired her. The more he touched her mind the more she learned the truth of it, how passion had driven him across the sea, following her. The night that was her “night of the wolves” was his “night of Sophie”, and the thought was enough to stoke the already sweltering fire burning in her blood.

Want more? Pick up Sophie By The Sea here today!

Week Twelve – Anna In August

This bit  of erotica comes from Anna In August, now available Here in celebration of the pre-order of it’s sequel, Sophie In September! Enjoy! 

(And of course, remember, this sort of Friday Fun is NSFW!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anna knew without being told that none of them were going to fuck her unless he did, and she wanted him to. She wanted him inside her more every minute. Her orgasm was building inside her with every flutter of tongue against her clit, every thrust of Luka’s cock into her mouth, and she was desperate for it.

“You going to come Anna?” Luka’s words filtered through the heat, and she groaned her answer around his cock.

He tightened his fist in her hair, and the sensation sent a shock through her whole body. “Not until I do.” She shivered, wanted to complain and instead tried to make Luka come. She sucked harder, faster, reached up with one hand to stroke the part of his cock that she couldn’t get into her mouth, teased the tip of it with her tongue and did her best to repeat everything that made him groan and pull her hair.

The moment before Luka came she knew he was going to, felt his cock thicker in her mouth, his thighs tense under her hands, heard him groan louder, longer than before, then tasted bitter salt and shivered. He kept his hands in her hair, fucked her mouth through his orgasm. Then he pulled back, let go and grinned down at her.

“Now you can come.”

She was suddenly aware of the mouths working between her thighs again, of lips that fastened around her clit and start to suck. She started to turn her head, to look down at them, but a hand that wasn’t Luka’s fastened in her hair, tugged her around, and another cock, more slender, was in front of her lips. She looked up, startled, and saw brown hair, and brown eyes with lust in them. Ares.

Luka spoke from somewhere she couldn’t see. “What are you waiting for, Anna?” Tongue. A lash of tongue all over her clit, exposed and tortured and oh, so good.

“So good—” Then that second tongue was back inside her, stabbing into her pussy again and again, licking her up inside while her clit was sucked and teased, tormented by soft lips.

“Oh god I’m coming— coming—” Anna shut herself up with Ares’ cock, sucked on the head of it and groaned at the taste of him, so different from Luka.