Tag Archives: smut excerpt

Week Five – Anna In August

This bit  of erotica comes from a new smut short, Anna In August.  This particular bit is part of an encounter between Anna, suddenly alone on her vacation, and Luca – the Alpha of his werewolf pack. Not that the pack stays on the outskirts for long…

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

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The road went up into the mountain, and then stopped being a road. The woman clung more as they bounced over the rough dirt path, roared up into the trees and then stopped, suddenly, in a clearing where the moon was bright. They all got down at once, the whole pack around him, and they stood waiting, watching, until he finally he got up himself.

He slung down the kickstand, stood and felt the woman’s hands slipping from around his waist. Luca saw her eyes moving, darting, the rabbit-presence returned – and her awareness of him, the predator truth, was moving outward to include the rest of the pack.

They were already close. He shifted closer to her, spoke so that his mouth hovered only an inch from her mouth and their breath mingled as he spoke. “What’s your name?”

In that same, mingled breath, the word fled from her. “Anna-”

His mouth descended on her lips, and she groaned her way out of silence and into his mouth, reached up and held to his arms with both hands. When he lifted his mouth she stared at him, that dazed expression on her face that meant the wolf was winning her over. “I’m Luca, and this is my pack. Anna, you’re ours now.”

He saw her eyes dilating, her lips moving, and she mouthed the word with some confusion. Ours? But his hands were already undoing the buttons of her shirt, then the zipper of her jeans. He didn’t bare her skin, not yet. When she was flushed and coming undone, he’d save the sight of her for then.

Tease the woman, tease his pack. The scent of her was already enough that a hushed whine at the lowest end of the night howl’s spectrum was rising from them, one after another.

He slipped his fingers over her nipples until they became tight, sensitive peaks, drew tingling lines of sensation over them, over her breasts and the smooth, sensitive skin below them. His lips made warm passage from her mouth to the lobe of her ear and down along the smooth, curving column of her throat. Then he stepped back and shucked his jacket, pulled his shirt off over his head. She reached out for him, hungry for bare skin and more contact. Her hands tightened themselves against his shoulders.

This would be torture, he knew it would, but he would endure because this was only the first step, and because he knew that after this, she would not be able to deny him. She would know – and the knowing would make her his. His. Ours.

Pack.

Their awareness was humming inside him, their hands his hands, and he knew it was time to touch her now. He slipped one hand past the narrow elastic of her panties and felt dampness, then more than dampness as he pressed his finger past the soft lips of her sex and against her clit.

Luca heard Anna’s sudden, indrawn breath with a growing smile.

Week Four – Holy

This bit  of erotica comes from a work in progress, the infamous Holy. My apologies for the lateness, because of course if you hadn’t noticed this bit of Friday Fun is coming on Tuesday. But…better late than never!  (And of course, remember, this sort of Friday Fun is NSFW!)

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“Matti.”

“No. No – I – I’m not Matti. I’m Matti for you, but I -”

Artemio stared at him, then reached out with his other hand and brushed blond hair away from his eyes, sucked in a breath and let it out on a long sigh. “Yeah. I know. ” He took another breath and smirked faintly. “I know who you are, Sraosha.”

Not for the first time, Artemio tasted incense, the serenity and the sacrifice of some ancient offering long vanished. Then he dragged Matti close with the grip he had around his throat, kissed him bruising hard and shoved him back against the wall.

“You wanna be broken? Fine. Fine. God knows I’m not gonna let anyone else do it.” Matti pushed forward and kissed him, impatient, testing, and Artemio growled against his mouth, stepped back and jerked him tight against his body. “You know better than that.”

He gave in to an impulse that had been tormenting him for weeks, slipped his mouth from Matti’s lips and down to his throat, his shoulder, bit hard and sucked blood to the surface. Matti bucked against him, cock suddenly rock hard, his whole body vibrating with his moans, and Artemio chuckled, pulled his mouth away and admired the dark bruise he’d left. “Fuck me, but you do want it. What’d I do to deserve you, huh?”

He slid his lips further up Matti’s throat and did it again, sucked at the gleaming skin, twisted his fingers in Matti’s soft blond hair and pulled hard. Matti pushed up against him again, begging for friction, groaning, muscles wiry with tightness and desire.

“Gonna mark you up, Matti. Next time somebody sees you on the street with me, know what they’re gonna say? Know what they’re gonna ask us?”

“Wha – what?”

“Nothing. Cause you’re mine, all mine, and it’s gonna be all over you.” Artemio bit him again, further along his shoulder where he knew the collar wouldn’t cover, sucked heat to the surface, then moved his mouth lower. He pushed Matti’s vest back off his shoulders, bit the burnished skin again and again, then lifted his head and nudged Matti away.  Artemio put his own back to the wall and reached down to undo his belt.

Matti went to his knees without even being asked, lifted his hands to unzip, unbutton, tugged Artemio’s pants down around his hips and reached for the waistband of his boxers. “May I – may I -”

“Gonna ask now? When you’re already touching? That’s no good.”

Master. Sorry, I’m sorry-”

“You can be sorry later. Finish what you started…since you started.”

Matti bit his lip, half-worried, half-eager, slipped his fingers under the waistband and tugged them down. He leaned forward and nuzzled his cheek against Artemio’s cock, stared up at him, waiting, waiting …but Artemio could wait. Now – now, he could wait, because it was making Matti crazy, his fingers trembling against Artemio’s thighs, breath quickening, body leaning forward while he licked his lips.

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For more from the first draft of Holy, try Accidental Master!

Week Three – Wolf Of The West

This bit  of erotica comes from Wolf of the West,  and continues where the Lick from the smutty 17th left off!  (And of course, remember, this sort of Friday Fun is NSFW!)

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“Connor—don’t—”

But Marcas’ voice was rich with groaning, and his cock twitched under Connor, where it was pressed against his belly, hot and hard.

“You want me to leave you like this?”

“I’m not going to take you—not now—”

It was Connor’s turn to laugh at him. “But what if I wanted something else?” He pushed Marcas’ tunic up to his chest, then further, until Marcas leaned up under him and pulled it the rest of the way off. “What if I want to taste you, Marcas?” He bent and kissed Marcas’ throat, licked at his pounding pulse, sucked warmth to the surface, then bit his shoulder.

Marcas bucked under him, and Connor grinned, lifted his head so Marcas could see it. “Fair’s fair.” But there was no pain in Marcas’ expression, just heat upon heat, and Connor sucked in a breath. “Or maybe not.” He slid back onto Marcas’ thighs and reached between them for his cock, wrapped his fist around it and stroked slowly.

Marcas groaned and reached out to grasp his thighs, tried to hold Connor still, but he slid back and back, until he was between Marcas’ legs, not on them. He pressed his lips to the soft skin of Marcas’ inner thigh, then leaned up and wrapped them around his cock.

Marcas jumped under him, then lay back groaning. His hands crept up to tighten in Connor’s hair, pulled on it, urging him onward. Connor experimented with the speed of his tongue, the pressure of his lips. This was something new—the taste of Marcas, the smooth skin ridged with veins under his tongue, but he liked it. The way Marcas moved under him, the way he grasped at Connor’s hair, his panting groans.

Marcas’ fingers in his hair guided his head, tightened against his scalp when he found a particularly sensitive place. Connor used his tongue to trace that spot again and again, soft strokes while Marcas thrust into his mouth, until he cried out and Connor tasted salt and bitter heat, felt Marcas’ cock pulsing on his tongue.

The fingers wrapped in his hair relaxed, and Connor pulled back and crawled up to lie by Marcas’ side, licking his lips and grinning widely.

“Connor…hmm.”

Whatever Marcas was going to say faded into his yawn. He reached out and pulled Connor close to his side, onto his chest, yawned again and closed his eyes.

Connor lay quiet, uncomplaining, listened to the heartbeat pounding under his ear and wondered how long this golden time would last.

Week Two – Undone

This teaser of smutty goodness comes from Undone,  to celebrate the end of the blog tour, and because it’s smutty goodness. (And of course, as it’s smutty, that means NSFW!)

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You’re perfect.”

The words slipped out of Tighe’s mouth and Faelan relaxed at the sound of them, some of the tension dissolving and what remained, all sensual tightness. Tighe kicked his trousers the rest of the way off his legs and waited only for an instant. Then Faelan was over him, on him, .

Faelan’s thighs sprawled open across his hips and the length of his cock pressed tight and hot against the rigid thickness of Tighe’s own erection. Faelan pressed down, leaned forward and rolled his hips so that the slick head of his cock rubbed back and forth against the pulsing nerves in Tighe’s.

His mouth moved across Tighe’s chest, over his collarbone, licked at the red bruises he’d left. Pleasure made his eyes dark and darker, the shining flecks deepening from amber to mahogany dusk, the green near-black, barely distinguishable from Faelan’s dilated pupils.

Tighe let his head fall back against the grass and traced the lines of lean, slender muscles in Faelan’s arms while he moved over him. Faelan braced himself on one hand, reached out with the other and entwined their fingers. He leaned up again, a shift of pressure and angle that let him kiss Tighe’s mouth even as the movement of his hips drew out a gasp. Faelan moaned faintly, breathed hot words close to Tighe’s ear.

“How much more. How much more will you give me? Prince, how much more?

More. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. It’s too good to stop.”

Perfect friction, perfect touch. Tighe gave in to his own urges, reached his fingers into Faelan’s hair and pulled him down against his mouth, kissed him again and again. The fire that lived inside him was seeping to the surface of his skin, and around them he saw the air rich with luster.

Week One – Wolf Of The West

This bit of smutty goodness comes from Wolf of the West, as a result of…well, research, faoladh, and my own inability to resist the temptation of Marcas. Friday Fun may become a regular deal – let’s see how it goes, shall we? (And of course, as it’s smutty, that means NSFW!)

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Connor pressed his hips up against Marcas’ and grinned at the breath the other man sucked past his lips.

“What’s not right about now?”

Marcas laughed again, but this time Connor knew that he was laughing at him.

“You don’t want it enough yet. I want more than this from you, Connor.”

Connor couldn’t see Marcas’ smirk, but he felt it, the lips stretching, parting against his skin. Again, he felt a languorous stroking of tongue against his throat, nipping teeth, open-mouthed kisses that sucked heat to the surface of his skin to be soothed by that tongue. It was no longer in him to deny anything. He could only capitulate to sensation, his own nerves betraying him with what they wanted.

On your knees, Marcas said, and the image filled itself in his head, more than an image, a whole scenario… There would be the taste of salt and skin. Give as good as I get.

He found himself pushing up against the thigh Marcas had pressed between his legs. Connor arched his back off the ground and wished he could get out of his clothes, feel all the burnished heat of Marcas’ skin against his skin, but he still couldn’t move. He couldn’t even get enough movement out of his hips to ease the aching of his cock, so full, so wanting…

What did he mean, didn’t want it enough yet? What more was there to wanting than this painful pressure, tingling in his fingertips, his toes, a shiver that turned to a full body shudder when Marcas licked his lips. He leaned back over Connor’s mouth and kissed him, sucked Connor’s tongue into his mouth and stroked it lightly with the tip of his own tongue.

He mouthed his way along Connor’s jaw, back to his throat, kissed his shoulder—then bit it, hard. Connor jerked upward with an involuntary cry. He had been so close—but Marcas was already standing, backing away, grinning.

Lick Him Up

Welcome to our first Lick, an excerpt from Dark Side of the Sun, posted today in celebration of book three’s cover reveal! (You can see it here!) Why is this excerpt not in Bites, you ask? Because Licks are NSFW excerpts, and it’s only polite to keep them separate! Look forward to a new Lick on the smutty seventeenth of every month!

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…Bran flushed, and Macsen reached out and drew him close again, nuzzled his cheek and kissed his jaw, the curve of his ear, then down again toward his mouth. This kiss was rougher, deeper, and Bran tasted blood without knowing whose lip he had bitten. One of Macsen’s hands ran through his hair, dragged sharp nails against his scalp, held his head still. Despite himself, Bran groaned and gave in to his own desire. The soft lips opened to Bran’s tongue. He felt cool, tingling hands reach up to touch his cheeks, felt them running through his hair, slip down around his shoulders.

Bran turned his head under the pressure of a nudge and another kiss, and Macsen pulled him into a closer embrace. Bran opened his eyes and the movement felt lazy. Was the Red King’s kiss a drug?

No. It’s just desire.

Bran licked his lips, a quick darting of his tongue. He felt Macsen’s eyes on the motion and knew then the inevitable end of this confrontation.

“You’re trying to distract me, but I want—”

“I don’t want to talk about your mother right now, Bran Fionnan. I don’t want to talk at all. Not now. Ask me anything you want, but later. Not now.

He leaned close, breathed deeply. Bran felt Macsen’s breath against his lips and tried once more, but he was pressing up against Macsen even as he spoke, even as his words became a murmur that washed against Macsen’s lips.

“You’re sure no one—”

“No one will see us tonight. Not unless it’s someone with more power than me.” Macsen’s voice was breathless, his eyes shining and dark, the pupils dilated with lust. “Now, don’t struggle. I’d never hurt you, beautiful Bran—”

Macsen licked Bran’s lips, so soft, so teasing. Bran knew what was about to happen the moment before it did, but in that moment he found that he didn’t care. He had accepted Macsen’s nature for what it was—he enjoyed it, darkness and all. It was proof that Macsen was like him, proof that he was sidhe. Bran’s want flowed hot in him, spurring him onward, and beside his lust was the same welling of inexplicable trust that he had felt the night before. Trust. It was a promise with no words that was reinforced by Macsen’s aura, Macsen’s presence.

Macsen smirked, his lips stretching over white teeth, then bent to Bran’s throat. Bran felt Macsen’s tongue against his skin. Sharp teeth penetrated deep. A tickle like the brush of a feather became twin needles of sensation and fluttering heat. Bran gasped. The feeling was nothing like what he had imagined.

The theft of his blood was a delicate seduction that gave him promises instead of pain. For a moment it let him feel the rich, dark core of Macsen’s being—but that moment was very short. Macsen had taken barely a mouthful from Bran’s veins, but he was already stepping back.

“Delicious.”

Macsen’s hands roamed Bran’s skin through untied, unlaced clothes. Dazed, Bran wondered when that had happened. Macsen’s touch aroused, stimulated, tempted. His fingers teased Bran’s nipples into hard points and his other hand slipped between the tight press of their bodies and grasped the straining stiffness of Bran’s erection. Macsen lifted his lips from Bran’s throat and soothed the shallow wound there with his tongue. For a moment a haze hung across Macsen’s eyes. Bran saw it, heard Macsen’s voice thicken and slow and soften into a murmur that brushed heat against the tender place on his throat.

“Be my lover, beautiful Bran, my lover…”

Bran didn’t know why Macsen had stopped to ask. It felt like he had wanted this touch, this moment, forever. It didn’t matter that need and desire weren’t really the same thing, not right now. He surprised himself with the force of his answer. “Yes.”

That one word seemed like it was enough to awaken the bestial promise that slept in the Red King. Bran felt the shift in the hands that pulled his clothes from his body, hands that grasped his throbbing erection and pulled pleasure from his loins with smooth, slow strokes.

They stumbled together, and came up against the wall of Bran’s house. Macsen held Bran pinned there with the weight of his body, and Bran slipped his fingers against Macsen’s chest and down, down—he needed no encouragement to return the pleasure that Macsen’s stroking fingers gave him.

He could feel Macsen’s pulse beating in the heavy hardness that slid back and forth across his palm—then their gasps were equal and they panted together, gasping, moaning. Bran’s head fell forward against Macsen’s chest. He heard his own voice calling out, strangled and broken.

“Macsen…Macsen…Macsen…”

Macsen was quieter, but his whisper, “Bran,” was tender and sharp enough to send a new shudder rolling over Bran’s skin.