Posts Tagged ‘Changeling Press’
Between Two Wolves (Tales of Moonspell)
By Jessica Coulter Smith
Brandt Fitzgerald has wondered from time to time when he would find his mate. Imagine his surprise when he finds her — and has to share her with his brother! The boys have been known to share before, but can something on a permanent basis really work?
Falan Wright has lots of curves and a little extra. She’s never really been anyone’s ideal before and now she’s suddenly faced with not one but two hot men ready to be at her beck and call. What’s a woman to do? The concept of mates isn’t unknown to Falan, but is she really ready to tie herself to both Fitzgerald men? Can she really be woman enough for both of them?
Nolen, having undressed while they were in the shower, stood before her in all his naked glory. He came to stand before her and caressed her cheek. She tried to read his expression, but had no idea what he was thinking.
“I heard what you said,” he told her. “And you’re right. I haven’t been as committed as I should’ve been. I wanted you, but I wanted it to be on my terms. That was wrong of me and I’m sorry.”
“What are you saying, Nolen?”
“I’m saying that I may feel things differently than Brandt does, and I may not react the way you want me to, but I want you to know that I do care about you and I’m looking forward to sharing my life with you.”
Falan pulled him closer and kissed him. She felt Brandt behind her, placing his hands on her hips and trailing kisses down her neck and across her shoulders. Nolen gently gripped her arms, holding her to him. When he pulled back, her heart was pounding.
Brandt herded them toward the bed, then lifted her and laid her on the mattress. She looked up at him in wide-eyed wonder, amazed that he’d lifted her with such ease. He’d managed what no other man had before — he’d made her feel small and delicate. She reached for him, tugging him onto the bed, then crooked her finger at Nolen. With her men on either side of her, her body warmed in anticipation. In theory, she knew what happened next, at least, with one man and woman. She was starting to wish she’d read a ménage romance or two. Maybe then she’d be better prepared for this moment.
Nolen nuzzled her neck and cupped one breast. While Brandt latched onto her other nipple, Nolen pinched and rolled her distended nipple; Brandt sucked the other and grazed it with his teeth. She felt liquid drip down her thighs and began to squirm.
Brandt’s hand caressed her belly before slipping between her thighs. He delved between the lips of her pussy, spreading her juices over her clit. He circled and teased the nub until she was writhing under them. He brushed the sensitive area with his thumb and eased two fingers inside of her. Falan gasped and lifted her hips.
She felt hot, like every nerve burned and tingled. Her body was straining toward something, something just out of reach. Nolen claimed her lips while Brandt’s fingers pumped in and out of her. She felt her body tightening just like it had in the shower, and then she was tumbling over the edge.
Brandt slid his fingers from her body and sucked her juices from the digits. She was surprised to discover it turned her on. Nolen moved away from her to lean against the headboard, then he was reaching for her, pulling her back against his chest.
Brandt rolled on a condom then moved over her, spreading her legs. Settling between her thighs, he began easing his cock inside of her, stretching her. When he felt her hymen, he pushed through then stilled, giving her time to adjust. Nolen murmured softly in her ear, telling her how beautiful and sexy she was, how lucky they were to have her. When Brandt began moving inside of her, she found that it didn’t hurt. As he entered her over and over again, she lifted her hips.
Nolen pinched and rolled her nipples as Brandt plunged into her harder and faster. Her body began to burn and as Brandt thrust into her one last time she came. Nolen kissed her next and stroked her body, bringing her down from her high.
She began to shift so she could sit up, but Nolen stopped her.
“Wait a minute, sweetheart. Let Brandt clean you up.”
Sure enough, his brother slipped from her body and rose from the bed, returning a moment later with a warm wet rag. He wiped the blood from her thighs then returned to the bathroom.
“My turn now, sweetheart,” Nolen said. “Unless you’re too sore?”
She shook her head, but she wasn’t sure she’d survive a fourth orgasm. Could she even have another one? Nolen turned and lifted her so she was straddling him. He quickly rolled a condom down his hard shaft and slowly, he lowered her onto his cock. She felt the bed dip and then Brandt’s hands were on her hips.
“I’m going to help you move,” Brandt said softly.
She tipped her head back and rested it on his chest, her hands splayed on Nolen’s chest. She rocked her hips back and forth, loving the feel of Nolen’s hard cock inside of her. Brandt helped her move, creating a delicious friction. Nolen cupped her breasts and played with her nipples. Feeling brave, she reached between her legs and fingered her sensitive clit.
Nolen grinned. “That’s so hot!”
She bit her lip and worked her clit faster. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, she went flying, soaring to heights she’d never dreamed of before. She felt her inner walls clench and release Nolen’s cock, and then he was exploding inside of her.
She slumped over his chest, feeling spent, her limbs like jelly. Brandt and Nolen had surpassed her dreams. Being with them was wonderful.
She felt Brandt move away and a minute later he was back with a fresh rag in his hand. He lifted her from Nolen and cleaned her. When Nolen rose from the bed, Brandt tossed the cloth to him. Pulling Falan into his arms, he cuddled her close.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
He smiled and kissed her. “Now there can be no doubt you’re ours.”
Website – www.jessicacoultersmith.com
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jessica-Coulter-Smith/106513059928
Blog – http://jessicacoultersmith.wordpress.com
Twitter – @kitcatjms
We know this time of year could offer up the creepy and spooky. But what about the sexy and mysterious? Maybe you need a Ghost or Dragons or maybe a Scottish Werewolf or maybe a Vampire to spice up your holiday?
Maybe Ghosts are your cup of tea?
How about a Ghost to spice up your Halloween? This book went through a few re-writes but in the end I loved William and Alyssa. In the beginning William was an arrogant ass who used people and didn’t really value them. When he meets Alyssa he finds not only new creativity but also love. Will the curse cost him the woman he loves?
Lonely No More
Lonely No More
Excerpt Rating (PG-13): Could She?
Genre: Paranormal, Contemporary
Five years ago on Halloween, author William Moore carelessly broke up with a witch. Needless to say, she didn’t take it well. Cursed to a lonely non-life as a ghost, trapped in his own home, he never expected to do more than exist in the world his ex had created. Except now he’s got a new roommate in the form of fellow author, Alyssa Washington, and he doesn’t anticipate his strong attraction to her. As their simmering emotion sparks life within, he yearns to become mortal once again.
Can his newfound feelings give him what he wishes for most?
I curse you, William Moore. By the moon and the stars. By the elements of life. Your body shall know the meaning of emptiness. Your soul shall be tied to these walls. You will hunger and thirst for nothing. Here on this land you shall remain until you know the meaning of love.” Irena hissed again. “I curse you, William Moore, for your insensitivity, your callousness and inconsideration. You will be tied to this house, never to leave it as you so clearly wish not to. I curse you, William Moore, until you find true love.”
Fire blazed through William’s body. His back bowed and his mouth opened on a silent scream. He writhed on the bed while Irena’s magic burst through him. His bones were melting, muscles being stretched taut. His heart was threatening to beat out of his chest, and pain shot through his brain, almost as if it was about to explode. He couldn’t think, breathe or move. Time passed lazily, yet swiftly at the same time. Squeezing his eyes shut, he prayed to whatever gods would listen, pleading with them to make it all stop.
Finally the fire ceased and a burst of cold shot through him. Shivering and weak, he eased his body back onto the mattress. He opened his eyes. At first the room seemed bleary, but after a moment his vision began to clear. The room appeared the same. The soft red-orange glow of the fire danced on the ceiling, the lingering scent of sex and perfume hung in the air. Turning his head slowly, ignoring the pain, he saw that the furniture looked the same–at least the items in his vision were.
He hissed when he felt the muscles in his legs jump. His stomach flipped and he moaned. He slid his arms around his abdomen and rolled over, groaning as he went. Pain wracked his body as his head began to pound again. As his body began to calm down, he rolled onto his back, panting. His eyelids felt heavy as exhaustion took hold. He tried to grasp at consciousness but it eluded him. After what seemed like an eternity of fighting, finally he drifted off to sleep. Night became day and then back to night.
The moon rose high above the trees that surrounded the house. William awoke with a start and, looking around, he tried to place the room he lay in. He had dreamed that he’d been floating over his body and throughout the house. He had watched the day pass, levitating and observing normal life as it rolled on. Now awake, he rolled out of bed, the pain in his body had ceased. He felt solid enough. Rising, he walked over to a set of double doors and undid the latch. Pushing them open, he breathed in the night air. He strode out onto the balcony and surveyed his property. Closing his eyes, he began to move haltingly, controlling his movements and breathing as he started his tai chi exercise. He let the concerns of his life float away.
In the distance he heard the door downstairs open and footsteps pounding their way up the stairs. His assistant’s voice called out to him, “Hey, Will! Willll? I have some papers for you to sign that the publisher needs ASAP.”
The door to his bedroom banged against the wall, followed by a gasp. “Oh, my God!”
The horrified words were followed by loud thuds, thumps and a clatter of something metallic falling on the wooden floor. Frowning, William pivoted and entered the room, his mouth open ready to ask what was wrong, when he saw the reason for Maggie’s shock. There on the bed, lay his naked body. It took him a few seconds to comprehend everything he saw.
Once it had sunk in, he dashed toward Maggie and started shouting at her. “I’m right here! Maggie, I’m right behind you!” He reached out to touch her on the shoulder, and watched in horror as his hand slipped right through her. He held his hand before his face, it seemed solid enough. He tried again, and the same thing happened.
Deciding to deal with that later, he tried talking to her. “Maggie, I’m right here. Maggie.”
She didn’t move, just stood before his bed staring at his naked body.
How about Vampires for Halloween?
Writing Trapped was so much fun. I wanted to write a story where the hero had to pursue the heroine and fight for her, to convince her of his true affections. Rysen and Kit were so much fun to write for and I would love to write for them again. Rysen is such a naughty vampire with a dirty mind.
Excerpt (R), Feeding
Genre: Paranormal, Interracial
Kit has never forgotten the cruel way Rysen rejected her as a possible consort over a hundred years ago. She’s striven to get stronger, pushing her attraction to him down and using her anger as fuel.
Rysen has always regretted the way he rejected Kit. As much as he loved her, Rysen despised the way her clan tried to use her as a political gambit for power and protection. But he never stopped wanting Kit, trying to make her his in every way possible.
When enemies attack, they use old magic to seal themselves off and stay safe. But now they find themselves trapped with a century of hunger rising between them….
Publisher’s Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, domination.
“I felt your anger and insecurity. I had to come see for myself.”
She tried to jerk her arm away from his grip, but he refused to let go. “You’re aroused, my darling. You’re aroused by me.”
“Go to hell.” She refused to tell him just how aroused he was making her.
“Been there, got the T-shirt. Do you need help dressing?”
“No, let go of me.”
“So you can sway on your feet and fall over? I think not. Allow me to support you.”
“Pervert. You just want to watch me get dressed.”
“That is quite true. I am a pervert. You bring out the letch in me. I want nothing more than to watch you bend over as you put on your jeans. I want see that sweet ass exposed to my gaze. I long to part those deliciously rounded cheeks, fall to my knees, and lap at your anus until you become aroused, your pussy dripping with need for my cock. I want to tease you until you squirm against me, urging me to fuck you long, hard, and deep. I want you to admit you want my cock up your ass, in your pussy, and in your mouth. So yes, darling, I am a pervert.”
She shivered at his words, each syllable causing her aching channel to clench with need, gushing more cream. Her clit throbbed as her nipples tightened even further.
“I want to watch you put on your tank top. See those delicious nipples of yours pressed against the thin fabric of your shirt. I want to take those nipples in my mouth and suck on them while my fingers sink into your pussy, feel your juices slip over my hand and down my forearm. I want to finger fuck you until you come all over my hand, until the air is heavy and pungent with the scent of your sex.”
The image inflamed her. She wanted what he was saying so badly. Her cunt clenched with need. She felt the beginnings of an orgasm tightening, curling, writhing within her. She tried to control it, stop it, but it only twisted tighter, increasing the ache and fire between her legs.
“After that, I want to throw you against the wall and sink into you, balls deep. I want nothing between us, my darling. I want to feel your pussy spasm around me each time I slam into you. I want your legs wrapped around my waist, my hands holding your wrists up high over your head as I fuck you. I want to sink my fangs into your throat as I pound your pussy. I want to feel you come all over my cock, your cream slipping down my balls, over my thighs, and then I want to come inside you. I want to pump every last drop of my seed into you. I want to fuck you until my scent is rubbed into your skin. Yes, my darling, I am a letch. I am a pervert. For you, I will be all that and so much more. Don’t think for a second that once I have you, I won’t possess you, fuck you in private and in front of everyone. I want everyone to know who you belong to. Everyone.”
Need a Werewolf to have a Howling good Halloween?
Scottish. Kilted. Werewolf. Find out what happens when Iain shows Katherine what’s under his kilt.
Iain just wanted someone to help take the edge off before the full moon rose in a few days. When he met Katherine in the pub he felt he had found the perfect person to help him with his problem.
Katherine could not resist the kilted stranger who caught her eye at the bar. When he offered her a night of hot sex she couldn’t say no.
But what happens when she finds out that the stranger is her boss’s son?
The barman came over, smiling at her. “Another one for the road, lass?”
“Nope, I’m done for the day. How much –” She was stopped when he held up his hand.
“Already taken care of, love.” He nodded his head toward the man at her side. She rolled her eyes and sighed. Turning on her stool, she looked at him. His smile said it all. He thought he was going to get rewarded for his thoughtfulness. Not tonight, pal, she thought.
“I’m not going to sleep with you, give you a blow job or a hand job just because you bought me a drink. It was your money you wasted. Now if you’ll excuse me, thank you and good night.” She turned all the way around and hopped off the stool, hating the fact that she was only five foot three inches, and she had to jump down. Her booted heels clunked on the old wooden floor.
She just made it beyond the threshold when she felt a hand wrap around her wrist and jerk her back. Her spine hit the wall and two hands framed her head. His face was a contrast to the darkness of the entryway. “First, I never asked you to pay me back. Nor did I ask you to sleep with me, or give me a blow job or a hand job. I’d have loved for you to offer, but I didn’t ask. So don’t assume you know anything about me just because I buy you a drink.”
She was speechless.
“I did kiss you, not because of the drink, but because I wanted to, and besides, you were staring at my kilt. You were wondering if it’s true what they say, weren’t you? I can tell you with great certainty that it’s all true,” he murmured as his lips brushed hers.
Maybe two Dragons are what you need to fire up your holiday?
I wanted to write a story for the fantasy mentioned in Dragon Ugly. I didn’t have time or room to write it but I knew that Brent would want to fulfill his mate Carissa’s desire to have sexy in a bookstore. I loved revisiting this couple and I can’t wait to write Fletch’s story. I even know his heroine and his story.
Excerpt Rating (PG-13),
Series: Halloween Heat II: Dragons at Samhain
Genre: Paranormal, Interracial, Ménage
It’s Samhain and Brent wants to fulfill Carissa’s fantasy of sex in a bookshop while it’s open. With help from Fletch he’s going to make it a hot, steamy night she’ll never forget.
Carissa only wanted to spend more time with her mate she didn’t know what to expect when they arrived in the mountains to visit his parents. After dressing her as a French maid, him as Highway man and their friend Fletch as Zorro, she’s pretty sure that he’s taken her fantasy to a whole new level.
Samhain has always been a magical time, now it’s about to get a whole lot hotter.
Author Note: This story comes after Dragon Ugly!
Carissa’s heart thudded against her ribcage as she allowed Brent to guide her past the shops declaring Halloween and Samhain sales and discounts. Children dressed up in various costumes rushed past them, chased by harried parents. None of that really registered. Brent’s solid, roughened palm against hers, the heat rolling off his body in waves, the aura of sexual determination and arousal coming from him wrapped around her. Her own desire pulsed between her thighs; her nipples tightened and ached for his touch. He’d dressed her tonight in a sleeveless French maid costume with crotchless panties and no bra. Cool night air brushed against her overheated sex, teasing her throbbing clit.
Fletch trailed behind them in a Zorro costume, complete with cape and mask. Brent had decided that the Highwayman costume was more to his liking, complete with a cape and mask of his own. Both men looked dashing and dangerous. A thrill raced down her spine as she glanced back at Fletch, who’d decided to go the scruffy route with a bit a coppery colored beard on his jaw. Brent’s darker five o’clock shadow made him look just as fierce. He had insisted that during the fantasy her wrists would be bound behind her back and she would be blindfolded so she wouldn’t know who was doing what. Carissa hadn’t thought that far for her fantasy, all she’d known was she wanted to fuck in a bookstore. Brent had taken it to a whole new level.
She’d even overheard them talking of using nipple clamps to help increase her pleasure. None of that mattered as much as being with the man she loved, her mate. Her wolf was just happy for a change in scenery. At the end of the night, when the clock struck Midnight, they would all shift, Brent and Fletch into dragons and Carissa into a wolf. According to Brent’s parents, it was a way to welcome Samhain in your purest form. New place to explore, and a new experience to add to the ones that Brent had brought into her once boring life.
They continued on down the block, passing more kids and parents and dodging late night drunks who were leaning on each other for support as they walked down the sidewalk. The air was filled with softness and anticipation, as if the world was holding its breath for the Witch’s New Year, when the veil between man and the dead was the thinnest. Or in this case, when the veil between mortals and the paranormal blended together to become one.
Tension shivered along her muscles as her arousal and excitement blended together. She hid her eagerness to act out this fantasy and move on to the next. Brent led the way, and she rushed to catch up with him.
“Whoa there, lover,” Carissa called out. “We have time, there’s no rush.”
Maybe a bit of Mystery is more your speed?
My last offering is from the Draven’s Crossing series. This book ties up the serial killer storyline started in Tempestuous Crossings and starts something new. I really enjoyed writing the ins and outs and trying to figure out how to lay out the mystery part of the book. Here’s a snippet.
Out Now at Purple Sword Publications
Draven’s Crossing: Hidden Diversions
With so many distractions, can they catch a killer before someone else dies?
Their passion may be the death of them…
Werewolf Chief of Police, Torger, is running into walls while tracking the Draven’s Crossing serial killer. No matter what he tries to do, he can’t find the clues needed to stop the terror that stalks the streets of his city. Things aren’t helped by his attraction to dragon shifter, Draven City News Reporter, Isadora Jones. With political pressure and bodies mounting, can he get through all these distractions to the truth before it’s too late?
Reporter, Isadora Jones wants to help with the investigation into the serial killer but Torger refuses to let her. She decides to do it on her own, but her world goes upside down when the killer sets his sights on her. Under Torger’s protection, they start to put the pieces together but will it be too late for them?
Things go from bad to worse when another killer appears. Draven’s Crossing just got a whole lot more dangerous.
Purple Sword Publications:
The sweetest perfume drifted under his door. He snorted and sat up. She was near. His eyes had already adjusted to the darkness. He saw a shadow move in front of his door but it didn’t go to the guest room across the hall. He waited; the seconds ticked by. Each moment like a drip of water on his face, it seemed to last forever and there was no end in sight. He swallowed. His lips became dry as his heartbeat sped up. The jangle of a hand on the door handle rang in his ears. The delicate shells prickled at the musical sound. He waited. His heart stuttered and then crashed against his ribcage in a heavy drum beat. His body heat spiked as his wolf waited. Need coiled in the pit of his stomach. He licked his lips again, hoping, praying for what, he didn’t know. All he saw was that if she didn’t do something soon, he would. And then there would be no turning back. Everything would change for them, and he wasn’t sure how everyone would react or how everything would land.
As the seconds ticked by, her shadow remained at the door. The hand had stopped jiggling. Opening up his senses, he allowed her emotions to wash over him. He tasted the tang of hesitation with the sweetness of eagerness. All of it was tinged with the bright spice of lust. Underneath it all, there was Isy’s own unique natural scent. Not wanting to let the torture for both of them continue, he called out, “Isy, you can come in.”
Purple Sword Publications:
Contest Time: Comment with your favorite paranormal creatures and be entered to win a print copy of Demon Heat with two stories one from myself and one from the awesome Milly Taiden. As well as a copy of Dragon Ugly! Good Luck!
Even Groomsmen Get The Blues
An awkward wedding. A beautiful woman. A gun-shy groomsman. Does love stand a chance?
Ben Grimm hates weddings just on general principles, and the fact he would have been one of the intendeds if his fiancée hadn’t been sleeping with half of Grove Park isn’t improving his outlook. Ben does his duty as Mike’s groomsman, but once the ceremony’s over Ben’s had enough. Just as he’s trying to decide how soon he can politely leave, Melanie Carson, one of the bridesmaids, comes over and makes Ben an offer he can’t resist.
One-night stands aren’t really Ben’s style, and the sultry redhead who took him to new heights of erotic pleasure quickly assures him she’s not interested in being an angel of the morning. Somewhere along the line, without ever having met him, Melanie decided to offer Ben her heart. Now it’s up to Ben to decide whether the exquisite sex is worth giving another woman a chance to break his heart… or if he’s ready to try to let Melanie heal it.
Being single and lonely sucked even worse when he had to dress up in a monkey suit and dance around acting all happy for his best friend, Ben Grimm reflected. He loved Mike like a brother, but right now he wanted nothing more than to “adjust” Mike’s teal bow tie until he choked the idiotic, I’m-so-in-love grin off the groom’s face.
“Jack and Coke,” he yelled to the bartender over the thudding beat of the music. The bartender nodded and bustled off to take the order of a rowdy crew at the other end. Ben sighed, running a hand through his ash blond hair, and peeked at the clock surreptitiously, wondering how much longer good manners demanded he stay. Being a single guy at a wedding sucked syphilitic goat peckers, Ben ruminated. The few decent-looking women on display were either taken, too young, or eyeballing another potential conquest, which left him out in the cold.
He didn’t begrudge Mike and Lacey their happiness, and he certainly didn’t want to be a cloud on their day. If Veronica hadn’t done what she had, this would have been a double wedding.
Always a bridesmaid, never a bride, he thought sardonically, checking the clock again. His feet ached from standing for most of the day, his lower back was starting to spasm from an overly enthusiastic turn on the dance floor with a cute nine-year-old girl who had a charming lisp and who’d developed the kind of prepubescent crush he just didn’t have the heart to turn down, and he felt the beginnings of a low-grade migraine settling in at the back of his head. He’d have one drink, make his excuses, and get the hell away from all this lovey-dovey bullshit.
“Got a date?” a husky feminine voice murmured in his ear, downy soft lips brushing his sensitive lobe.
He whipped his head to the right ruthlessly enough to wrench his neck and provoke a strangled curse. When he saw the speaker, whiplash tumbled to the bottom of his priorities list. She can’t be… His jaw dropped, and a gibbering voice in his head screamed, Say something, stupid!
“Were you talking to me?” Ben’s mouth felt even drier.
The redhead laughed, exposing the creamy sweep of her throat and rolling her shoulders so the tips of her breasts pressed against the teal satin of her gown. “I thought if I didn’t come talk to you, you were either going to slip out the door or jump out the window.” Her large eyes, the exact shade of her dress, played over him appraisingly. “I’m Melanie.”
He stuck his hand out awkwardly. “Ben.”
She took the offered hand. His cock pressed uncomfortably against his zipper, responding to her heat. Six months of enforced monkitude had done nothing to make his errant manhood behave itself, and Melanie was sexy enough to push every hot button he had just by engaging in basic social contact. For a moment he entertained a fantasy of her spread-eagled on a bed while he took her, and he locked the erotic thought down fast. If he’d been a little quicker, he might have avoided the painful erection the woman before him had triggered.
Melanie pulled away, sliding her gaze south of his cummerbund as if mentally subtracting his tuxedo from the equation.
“You planning to drill through the wall? Or can I suggest a better use for that?”
Here I am again with another update. I’ve requested and been granted my Rights back for Hades Helmet Crew 1: At Drogan’s Command and for Dawg Town: Homecoming.
Also, the wonderful Dawn Montgomery, has agreed to do a workshop on the Offerings Loop for How to Use Scrivner for World Building.
Until next time!
First I’m almost done with Dragon Ugly which is about to hit the 60k mark. Now for another update, I’ve requested and been granted the rights back to my book Family Heirlooms: With His Mind. I plan on expanding and deepening the book. I’ll have more updates for you next month. Thank you for your patience as well as your support of that book. 🙂
*From Renee George
The Love Hangover Contest
Love-drunk and hungover?
Want to be?
Join Cheryl Dragon, Renee George, Ayla Ruse, and Megan Slayer in celebrating their current and upcoming new releases at Changeling Press!
Including the themes of Menage, Gay, Bisexual, and More!
Sometimes too much is exactly enough.
Prizes include free eBooks, goody bags, $50 in gift credit, and more!
Check us out and enter to win at:
*Permission to Share, FWD, Tweet, Post Granted*
Villain or Hero?
He and the hero oppose each other at every turn. His goal damages the hero and prompts him to take action. Yet is this person who stands in the hero’s way or destroys his happiness evil?
The label villain or hero depends on whose point of view the story is told from. The villain or the antagonist often does terrible things to achieve his goal, yet is that goal any less important than the hero’s? A well developed villain is often as interesting and sympathetic as the hero. If the story were turned around and told from the antagonist’s point of view, the man or woman you see as the “good guy” might not look so noble. Often the villain’s goal means so much to him that he’ll sacrifice anything to reach it. The hero usually shares this obsession, but since we’re exposed to his reasons for wanting to reach his goal, he gains our compassion. We want him to win the fight and stop the “bad guy,” but is he truly bad?
An intriguing villain demands his own story, though unfortunately he doesn‘t always get it. He needs a chance to prove that he’s not purely evil and that he has good reasons for his actions. He might even be as right as the hero. When told from another point of view, a story seems quite different than we originally thought.
As a reader and a writer, I love villains and antiheroes. They have flaws and strengths that make them human–even if they’re paranormal creatures. Usually they’re easier to relate to than a perfect hero.
Villains often share many characteristics with the hero, such as courage, determination, intelligence, and a sense of honor. As they’re opposing the hero, the hero opposes them as well. The hero prevents the villain from reaching a goal that might be quite noble or at least understandable, yet the villain has caused harm to a character we’ve gotten to know intimately. We see the villain at his worst, yet sometimes if we look deeper or if we’re given the chance to see inside him, we’ll learn that he’s more than we first believed.
My most recent villain turned hero is Lao from the world of Blood and Soul. Throughout this particular vampiric world, Lao has made many enemies and is considered a villain by most of the other characters. In Villain Tamed, Lao gets a chance to tell his side of the story and even reconciles with some of the people he has hurt. For me Lao always stood out as a character. I enjoyed writing him and looked forward to revealing more about him and his past.
Monstrous or misguided? Attacker or defender? Is he a villain or is he a hero? It depends on how the story is told.
Excerpt from Villain Tamed:
Heat Level: Erotic
Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Art: Zuri
Related Books or Books Set in the Same Universe: Bloody or Nothing, Blood and Soul, Dangeorus Craving, The Elixir Maidens, Heart’s Blood, The Masters
Related Free Stories: The Halloween Ball
For centuries Lao has battled humankind and in doing so has made many enemies. Injured while fighting the dreaded new reign, he asks for refuge from Sudsy Waters.
The last thing Lao wants is to fall in love with a human, but when he meets Tyler, the doctor at Blood or Nothing, a love ignites that will burn all barriers Lao has built around his heart.
In the final battle with the Evil Master, the future of the world depends on Lao, but can love redeem the man feared almost as much as the devil?
The following excerpt from VILLAIN TAMED is for readers 18 and over.
Lao lifted his gaze to Tyler and remained still, his expression unreadable. The doctor trailed his fingertips down his cheek and brushed a lock of long black hair behind Lao’s ear. He lightly traced a thin yet jagged scar that ran from the bottom of Lao’s ear almost to his chin. It was the only scar on the vampire’s exotic face.
“Where did you get this?” Tyler asked, referring to the scar.
“Trusting a human.”
Tyler snorted. “As if you ever trusted a human.”
“I’ve had my moments.”
Dropping his hand, Tyler said, “I suppose if you got scarred for it, that didn’t give you much incentive to keep trusting us.”
Lao didn’t reply and Tyler tried to guess what the ancient felt, but it was impossible.
Those black eyes studied him with a detached and keenly intelligent look.
“Is it true what they say about you?” Tyler continued.
“They say a lot of things. Which rumor are you referring to?”
“That you don’t Change blood children out of love.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“And have no doubt deserved it.” Lao rose, but Tyler didn’t back away to give him room. They stood so close their chests almost touched. Tyler’s calm blue eyes stared into his and he moistened those beautiful lips with the tip of his enticing pink tongue.
Remembering the kisses they’d shared, Lao wanted to taste him again.
Accustomed to taking what he wanted, Lao cupped the back of Tyler’s strong neck and covered his mouth in a demanding kiss. The doctor’s scent filled him and he heard the mortal’s heart beat faster. Tyler’s eyes closed and he stepped nearer. Had Lao been human, Tyler might have knocked him onto the bed. Their lean bodies pressed closer, hard chests and steely thighs pushed against each other and their cocks heated.
Tyler groaned, a rough, sexy sound that aroused Lao so much that he growled, a sound of vampire passion. Their tongues thrust against each other, engaging in a wet, sexy battle that both men sought to win.
The doctor tasted so fucking good and Lao wanted more. He wanted Tyler’s blood.
Tyler wrapped his arms around Lao. He caressed his back, removed the clip from Lao’s hair and threaded his fingers through his long locks.
When the kiss broke, even Lao was slightly breathless.
About Kate Hill
What do trips around the world, endless nights of breathtaking sex, and a muscular, 6-foot 3-inch, brown-haired, blue-eyed significant other have to do with Kate Hill? Absolutely nothing, but she can dream, can’t she? In reality Kate is a single vegetarian New Englander who loves writing romantic fantasies.
Currently, she might not be traveling around the world, but Kate has visited Europe and Africa and those beautiful places have been wonderful inspiration for her writing. While working at various times as a clerk, assistant karate instructor, house painter and banker, Kate dreamed of being an author. In 1996 her first short story was accepted for publication and since then she has sold over ninety short stories, novellas and novels.
When she’s not working on her books, Kate enjoys reading, working out, and researching vampires and Viking history. Visit Kate online at http://www.kate-hill.com.
Captain Mal, The Ultimate Antihero
I love anti-heroes, men who make you question their motives and their morality but always come through in the end as men of honor even if their methods are a bit tarnished. One of my favorite anti-heroes is Captain Malcolm Reynolds from Firefly. Mal fought for the independents because he believed in a world where people could live free of the Alliance’s control. He did his best to care for the men and women who served under him. And later when he becomes captain of the Firefly class ship, Serenity, Mal truly cared about his crew even if he’s didn’t always show it.
Mal doesn’t behave as a traditional hero should. He prefers to shoot first and ask questions later. He takes jobs that put him on the wrong side of the law, content to steal when necessary to support his crew. He kills when he needs to and doesn’t spend time on remorse.
But “Bad” as he may be, Mal protects his crew even when he doesn’t like them personally, and he never leaves a man or woman behind. Once someone is under his protection, he’ll risk his life for them even if he thinks their predicament is their own fault.
Captain Marc Devlin from my Shifter’s Station Collection is a similar type of anti-hero. He served Terra Gov as a special forces officer until they chose to experiment on him and other members of his battalion, turning them into shape-shifting killing machines. A natural leader, he gathered a group of the genetically-altered shifters and helped them escape and form a mercenary company.
But he’s no do-gooder. He’s harsh and controlling, and he isn’t the least bit concerned with the legality of the jobs he takes on. As long as the money’s good and he can support his crew, he’s content. He’ll shoot any man or woman who threatens him or his crew without a second thought. He’s gruff and tough as hell on the men and women who work for him, but he has their loyalty, because they know he’ll do anything to keep them safe.
Captain Devlin is also not above abusing his power when it suits him like when Larissa delivers a faulty shipment of weapons to his station. He and his lover, Commander Kirlos Adesta, determine that she had no part in the sabotage attempt, but Marc wants her in his bed so he refuses to release her, eventually making her a wager he’s confident he’ll win.
Read an excerpt below of the meeting between Marc, Kirlos and Larissa and see if this anti-hero doesn’t make your pulse flutter…..
Silvia Violet writes erotic romance in a variety of genres including sci fi, paranormal, and historical. She can often be found haunting coffee shops looking for the darkest, strongest cup of coffee she can find. Once equipped with the needed fuel, she can happily sit for hours pounding away at her laptop. Silvia typically leaves home disguised as a suburban stay-at-home-mom, and other coffee shop patrons tend to ask her hilarious questions like “Do you write children’s books?” She loves watching the looks on their faces when they learn what she’s actually up to. When not writing, Silvia enjoys baking sinful chocolate treats, exploring new styles of cooking, and reading children’s books to her wickedly smart offspring.
Shifter’s Station Collection by Silvia Violet
Years ago, the Terran Government betrayed special forces officer Marc Devlin, forcing him to flee for his life. He rescued several fellow officers and built a new life as the head of his own mercenary force. When he captures a beautiful Cerian diplomat, he thinks to torture the man to learn Cerian secrets. Instead, he finds a lover. Months later, Marc and his Cerian lover, Kirlos, take a young woman captive, fearful she might be an agent of one of Marc’s oldest enemies. The two men strike a bargain with her that lands her in their bed for a month. As they dole out exquisite torment with their Cerian sex table, passion builds and turns to love. But Marc and Kirlos must fight to keep her and the life they’ve made for themselves.
This e-book collection contains the previously released Shifter’s Station series novellas Pilot’s Bargain, Pilot’s Heart, Loving the Enemy, and Eye of the Tigress.
Buy it at Changeling Press: http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1315
Buy it at All Romance Ebooks: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-shifter039sstationcollection-419034-144.html
Excerpt from Shifter’s Station 1: Pilot’s Bargain
The commander cut off whatever Captain Devlin was going to say. “I have the ability to probe your mind to determine if you’re telling the truth. And if you are lying, I can compel the truth from you.”
Larissa studied him for a moment. He seemed sincere and somewhat dismayed by the captain’s brusque manner. “Do it.”
She felt pressure on her head, as if someone were mashing the heel of their hand against her forehead. Then the pressure turned to pain. It grew sharper until it felt like a needle was boring into her skull.
She felt tension radiating from Adesta. “Stop fighting it.”
“I… can’t. I don’t –”
Then the pain spread as if her skull had cracked. She fell to her knees, panting. The world began to go black. But just before she passed out, the pain disappeared.
“Fires of hell, she’s strong.”
The captain snorted. “Did you get through?”
“Yes, she’s telling the truth.”
Thank the god. They would have to let her go now. Larissa heard the men speaking, but they sounded very far away. A dull pounding still echoed in her head. Nothing like the tearing pain of the scan, but she still wasn’t sure she could stand.
Then she felt a hand on her arm. It was the commander. She wanted to refuse his assistance, but she didn’t want to be on her knees in front of the captain. He was arrogant enough without her prostrating herself like a slave.
When the commander helped her to her feet, she stepped away and forced herself to focus on Devlin. His dark eyes were narrow and cold. “Who taught you to shield your thoughts?”
Devlin raised his brows. “You need this ability often on cargo runs?”
“When you take these kinds of jobs, you do.”
He laughed. “I suppose you are right. Federated Transport isn’t exactly a legitimate business.”
“And yours is?”
Adesta’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “You seem to be losing your touch, Captain. You usually have them trembling in their boots by now.”
Larissa just managed to keep from rolling her eyes. The captain might be one delightfully put together man, but she had no intention of rolling over for him. “Can I go now?”
Devlin scowled. “No.”
“The commander has established my innocence.”
“He has established that you were unaware that the weapons were faulty. But I still have one dead crewman and several more injured. Someone has to pay.”
“Yes. That someone is my bastard of a boss.”
“But he’s not here, and you are.”
“Captain.” The warning glare in the commander’s eyes gave Larissa hope he might convince his superior to let her go.
Larissa’s heart pounded. “You can’t be serious.”
He gave a cold smile. “I’m always serious.”
Larissa clasped her hands behind her back to hide their shaking. “You can’t just keep me here.”
“I can do anything I damn well please.”
The captain stepped toward her. She stabbed her nails into her palms, hoping the pain would dull her fear and help her hold her ground.
Devlin grasped the single braid that hung down her back and jerked her head to the side. “I am the law here. No one questions what I do. If I wanted to shove you out an airlock, that’s exactly what I’d do. No one would dare protest.”
She held her breath, and commanded her suddenly rubbery legs to keep her upright.
He let her go and stepped back. “Fortunately for you, I have something far more pleasant in mind as repayment for your crimes.”
Larissa’s lungs burned, but she couldn’t seem to fill them with air. She forced herself to look him in the eye. “I have no intention of letting you punish me for a crime I didn’t commit.”
Adesta smirked. “I like her spirit.”
The captain stared at her intently. “So do I. The spirited ones are so much more fun to break.”
Larissa’s heart hammered against her chest. She knew her eyes were wide and her fear shone all too plainly. She felt like a rabbit cornered by a wolf — a big bad wolf with plans to eat her.
Now why the hell did that thought make her body feel hot and tight? She was so damn wet she’d likely soaked through her flight suit. What was wrong with her?
Devlin took a long, deliberate inhale. “Mmm. I think she likes us more than she wants us to know.”
Shit! The last thing she needed was for him to be aware of how she was responding to them. She needed to convince them to let her go. But before she could think of anything to say, Devlin’s lips curled up in a wicked smile.
“Since you seem so interested in the issue of fairness, why don’t we strike a bargain?”
“What bargain would that be?” Larissa mentally cursed the quaver she heard in her voice.
His smile widened. “I will spend the next two hours convincing you that you want to stay. If you can resist, you go free. If you can’t, you agree to remain on the station as my servant for the next month.”
Larissa took a deep breath. Her initial reaction was to tell him to go to hell, but something told her this might be her only way off the station. “How will you convince me to stay?”
“That’s my secret, but you have my word you will come to no harm.”
“Why should I trust you?”
The captain’s face froze, and a sound too like an animal’s growl rose from his chest.
Larissa glanced at Adesta. He shook his head. “I wouldn’t go down that road if I were you.”
“Fine. If I were to lose, which I have no intention of doing, how would you expect me to serve you?”
The captain’s smile returned instantly. “With every last inch of your naked body.”
Purchase Link: http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1315
Contest: Comment and be entered to win a book from Silvia’s Backlist! Good Luck!
Silvia’s Website: http://silviaviolet.com
To watch episodes of Firefly online go to Hulu here: http://www.hulu.com/firefly
Majesty Mysteries: Silver Spider
by Lena Austin
Writing Steampunk for me is an exercise in combining science fiction with historicals, two of my favorite genres. I very much enjoy giving a lady much more to do than hostess a tea party or faint when things get tough. The idea of her getting her hands dirty to win the day while still wearing a corset is a delightful joke, and very unrealistic. However, in my research I discovered how joyously many women delved into the secret world of naughtiness. Nothing gives me greater pleasure, except when I can combine all this with paranormal adventure. So it is with the Majesty Mysteries series. I do hope you enjoy. There are more to come over the course of time.
by Lena Austin
Cover art: Marteeka Karland
Series: Majesty Mysteries
The secretive Duke of Aberystwyth has invited Madge Majesty to a murder mystery party, but he’s the first victim!
Madge is a harpy, mystery writer, and amateur sleuth with a nose for murder. At her side is her faithful chauffeur, Hayden, who is a telekinetic ex-thief — and a confirmed bachelor.
Now it’s up to Madge to solve the whodunit. Her suspects are a motley assortment of inverts and very nervous heterosexuals, all of whom have more than just their sexual foibles to hide. Is it the cross-dressing vampire, the packless werewolf, the voyeuristic doctor, the gargoyle majordomo, or the promiscuous man who seems bent on getting everyone into his bed, including Hayden?
Majesty Mysteries: Silver Spider
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2009 Lena Austin
This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
Madge Majesty looked up from her study of the papers spread on her lap and across the seat of her beloved 1912 Rolls Royce Silver Ghost Limousine. “Yes, Hayden?”
“Madame, Dunraven Castle is but perhaps half an hour away. You requested a warning.” Hayden had lasted years longer than any of her other drivers, so he knew he was liked, but wasn’t fool enough to take advantage of that knowledge. Harpies were not creatures to take lightly.
“Hmm. So I did.” She gathered up her papers and stuffed them into her leather case. Wearily, she pulled on the gloves she’d laid to the side and put on the ridiculously large hat with an immense array of feathers decorating it. “There. I’m properly adorned.” She huffed out an unladylike breath, as much as her corset would allow. “I’d give a great deal to be back in Greece where the fashions were sensible.”
Hayden quirked a smile at her. “But not warm, Madame. Wales in winter is considerably chillier.” As if to emphasize his point, the wind rattled the Rolls with no respect for the craftsmanship that went into it.
“I’m very sorry I agreed to be the Duke’s hostess for this mystery party. Why didn’t I refuse and stay in our lovely townhouse in London, where I could enjoy a party or write as I pleased?” Madge rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Ah, well, what’s done is done. We’ll make the best of the weekend and be toasting our toes in front of the home fires soon enough.”
“I’ve never been to a mystery party, Madame. How does one throw a party for a mystery?”
“Very simple. It’s all in this box.” Madge patted the locked strongbox beside her. “There are clue cards and the basic plot for me to follow. This one is perfect for a winter game, called The Santa Clause. Who wouldn’t love to murder a solicitor or two now and again?” She shrugged. “I certainly would, upon occasion.”
Hayden retreated into silence and returned his attention to maneuvering her precious new car through the few treacherous roads that Wales bothered to have at all. The ex-thief was not fond of anyone who had anything to do with the law. He was officially rehabilitated, but a mere ten years of service as her driver didn’t negate a lifetime of running from authority. An extremely careful and quiet man by nature, he was — in Madge’s opinion — the perfect companion, much better than a twittering peahen of a lady’s maid.
The car lurched and slid to one side on a patch of icy mud, throwing Madge against the door. She bore it in stoic silence. Hayden wouldn’t understand how much they needed the money provided by this weekend of enforced merriment. Everyone was writing books in this day and age, and she wouldn’t say the money she earned was paltry, but it certainly didn’t allow for a lavish lifestyle. In fact, if the truth were known, Hayden was the only employee she could afford. Thus, while on their jaunts — often paid by those who wished for a bit of fame and glamour to rub off on them — Hayden served as chef, chauffeur, lady’s maid, and man of all work.
Since it suited her to be knowledgeable about subjects many men hadn’t even the stomach for, Madge pulled out of her case one of the few books where the great Sigmund Freud appeared to change his mind on the subject of anxiety and inhibitions. Madge grinned to herself. She did love humor, especially when humans meant to be serious. “Of course we all have inhibitions, moronic little man.”
Her mumble caught Hayden’s attention. “Why do you bother with that mumbo-jumbo, Madame? He thinks everything has to do with sexual congress!”
“Hmm, yes, well, he does have certain prejudices, doesn’t he? I’m not aberrant because I enjoy sex, and I seriously doubt the way your mother changed your nappies has anything to do with your homosexuality. Do be forgiving, dear. He’s hopelessly addicted to cocaine, and trapped in a repressed society.”
Sadly, everything she said was true. “You’d know more about repressed societies than I, Madame. I’m only a poor human, after all.” Hayden gave her one of his infamous Mona Lisa smiles — a smile that showed no teeth but implied much more than mischief while keeping well into propriety. Bless him, he never stepped a toe out of line publicly, unless called upon to do so.
Madge, on the other hand, had no compunctions about showing her fangs, even when she covered her retractable dagger-like talons with silk gloves. The pointed ears peeking out of dark curls and her Grecian looks marked her as a foreigner in a land notable for its snobbery, but Madge saw no need to bother hiding herself. Well, all right, she hid the wings. Blasted things got in the way if she didn’t, but that was for her convenience and not propriety. She was what she was — an expatriate harpy who told a good story and occasionally found cause to use her bloodthirsty nature to solve a mystery.
The irony was, no one ever thought to accuse her of the murders because harpies weren’t known for subtlety when it came to killing. Madge acknowledged the legend with twisted lips, and didn’t bother to remind anyone that she was free and no longer the slave of the Furies.
Framed by snow clouds the color of a pigeon’s breast, Dunraven Castle hove up from the surrounding hills like a fairytale. Beautifully situated and scrupulously maintained by a trust none of the Duke’s wastrel ancestors could touch, it was a welcoming sight in the gathering gloom of dusk. Thanks to the road conditions, if you dared call the deeply rutted mud tracks by the same noble word the Romans used for their craftsmanship, they were hours late. They’d missed tea in their haste to make up time, and now her stomach rumbled audibly. “Have we time for a biscuit, Hayden?”
“Was that your stomach, Madame? Surely I thought we were about to have a storm.” Hayden pretended to study the sky very seriously. At the same time, his hand reached back imploringly. “I’d love a bikky, thank you. No doubt I’ve missed the servant’s dinner, and I’ve no mind to make do with a bit of cold chicken and some bread until morning.”
Chuckling wickedly because he knew she always insisted he sit with her at table, forestalling any foolish matchmaking attempts, Madge handed him a large shortbread biscuit from her hamper, and they munched companionably. Finally, the car traversed the bridge atop the dry moat and passed through the portcullis into the courtyard of Dunraven.
“Just do me one small favor, Madame?” Hayden did not move from the seat to open her door.
“So serious! Very well, what is it?” She thought she knew, but made him ask.
“Let’s try not to let this weekend become a real murder mystery?” His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and she imagined under the proper driving gloves of his profession, his knuckles were white. Poor thing, he really had suffered at the last mysterious weekend, and had ended up incarcerated for three days until Madge had proven to everyone’s satisfaction that another had committed the deed. For poor Hayden, it had been a truly miserable occasion.
Madge patted his shoulder. “Buck up, Hayden. I’m planning nothing more than a game all weekend. After all, what could happen in the Duke’s presence?”
by Marie Treanor
I love steampunk. It’s a quirky genre, combining bits of several others, which, to a genre-hopper like myself, is heaven. Historical novels were my first love; I also love science fiction with strong characters; and time travel both fascinates and baffles me. Add a touch of the gothic, some bizarre characters in outlandish Victorian costume, and a few wonderfully anachronistic gadgets and I’m your woman!
Now, stir a hot romance into this heady mix, and you could have something totally enchanting . Yes, you’re right, I couldn’t resist writing one 😀 .
Steamy Nights is a steampunk romance set in fog-bound, Victorian Edinburgh, featuring an exiled time traveler and a beautiful if naive young prostitute who’re drawn together to solve the mystery of Edinburgh’s disappearing women of the night. There’s an element of Jack the Ripper, and of Burke and Hare, Edinburgh’s infamous body-snatchers (who cut out the middle-man and murdered people in order to sell their corpses to medical scientists).
This is only part of the story, though. It moves on to a wild, ruined world inhabited by a game-playing civilization with steam-powered cars and canons, and cannibal bandits – an appalling Earth future caused by none other than Robert Louis Stevenson taking the wrong career path. There are no airships in my story, or goggles that I can recall, but there is fine collection of steam-powered gadgetry, including a time machine and a wicked sex toy (you can read the excerpt on my website!).
Reviewer Patrice from Joyfully Reviewed made Steamy Nights a Recommended Read because of its “chaotic energy, driving the story with a quixotic insanity that never quits”. I like that description! And though I’m obviously biased, I also like the unusual romance between my main characters – at once tender and steamy. Here’s a taste:
By MARIE TREANOR
Available Now from Changeling Press
Love, lust, and revenge, woven through the twisted chaos of time…
Fighting for her life in Edinburgh’s dark, dangerous streets, Miri stabs the wrong man — and ends up in his arms, sparking a sequence of events that alters history, with catastrophic consequences.
Wrongfully exiled from his own dimension, Caratacus is determined to find a way home. But that’s going to be difficult using only nineteenth century steam technology — even more difficult when distracted by the sort of steam he creates with Miri!
Before he can go home, he has to set things right. That means hunting down a Jack the Ripper copycat, prevent Robert Louis Stevenson from becoming an engineer, and help a brutal, game-playing civilization protect itself from cannibals — all without destroying the intense but fragile love he’s found with Miri.
After that, reversing time should be easy.
Impatiently, he snatched off his steamed up spectacles and tossed them on the ground. Miri wanted to pick them up before he stood on them, but her trembling legs wouldn’t move.
He said, “Your admirers have gone, haven’t they?”
She nodded. He tightened something forcefully with the spanner. “Did you show them a good time?”
“They’ve got no money,” she whispered, and wanted to die. To make it worse, he turned his attention from the engine to her. She wondered how much he could see without the glasses.
“Don’t you ever do it just because you want to?”
“Free shots?” she hazarded. Hope began to rise in her. “Sometimes…”
“And how does that work out for you?”
“I… what do you mean?”
He sat back on his heels. “Does it give you pleasure?”
“I don’t… You shouldn’t ask me such things!”
“Because I’m a whore! And you’re not interested in using me!”
“Using you? No, that’s true.”
She turned her head away. As shame doused her excitement, she was conscious of the pulse beating between her legs. It seemed to throb to the rhythm of the pistons beside Caratacus’s head.
He said, “Doesn’t mean I’m not interested in you. I’m just asking if you like sex? Making love?”
Curiosity brought her head back round to look at him. Considering the subject matter, his voice had sounded cool, almost clinical, but his intense green eyes were hot and misted, mesmerizing her. Behind him, she was aware of the pistons plunging rhythmically up and down, almost like the act of love. Sex…
Excitement rose again, higher. She felt daring, wicked, talking to him like this, she wanted to tell him what she did, see his reaction, tell him more…
She gasped, “I like to give men pleasure. Apparently I’m good at it.”
“Oh I’ll bet you are. You could just lie there and be good at it. But I’m interested in your pleasure. What — or who — makes you orgasm?”
She thought her knees would buckle.
“I don’t think I… should I? No one’s complained…”
He shuddered, maybe with laughter, although he didn’t smile. He rose to his feet, reaching up one hand to hold onto the beam above his head.
“I think you should.”
“You’ve no right. You don’t even want me…”
“I want to make you orgasm.”
She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with anyone, with him. She should be dying of shame, and yet if he stopped it now, she’d explode… So she drowned in his hot eyes and whispered, “How would you do that?”
“Oh lots of ways… all the ways I thought of last night while your breast pressed into my naked skin. I think I’d kiss you lots — your mouth is shaped for kissing. I’d catch your little tongue when it sneaks out to wet your warm lips, and I’d lick it and bite it. I’d hold your lovely breasts in my hands and kiss your nipples, caress them until they stood out like organ stops, begging for more.”
Steam had begun to belch harder from the engine. Miri knew how it felt. Her imagination followed every word Caratacus spoke and her whole body was on fire.
“I’d open your legs, bathe my fingers in your wetness. And if you let me, I’d put my cock in you and fuck you until you screamed with joy.”
Miri moaned, pressing the heel of her hand hard against her pubic bone, wishing the thin shabby fabric of her gown wasn’t there. She couldn’t see him now for the steam, so she just closed her eyes and listened to his voice.
She gasped out, “Why didn’t you do these things last night?”
“I had an idea you’d appreciate me more for being allowed a night’s sleep.”
“You could have had me any time…”
“A fuck for fourpence? I don’t have the money, so you have to have the orgasm.”
She snapped her eyes open. “My payment?” Suddenly, she was outraged, as ugly reality swept over the delicious fantasy. Caratacus emerged through the cloud of steam and kept walking.
“No. Mine,” he said and, seizing her damp face between his hands, he covered her mouth with his.
Hope you enjoyed it!
For me, one of the most fascinating things about steampunk is the number of completely different styles and imaginative storylines that have emerged from this once-obscure sub-genre. Writers as diverse as William Gibson, Cherie Priest, Dru Pagliossotti, Gail Carriger, Bonnie Dee, Ciar Cullen, Katie MacAllistair, have all come up with amazing steampunk stories of one kind or another, all involving the iconic costume, goggles, airships etc, yet all completely unique books. And I want more!
Marie Treanor lives in Scotland with her eccentric husband and three much-too-smart children. Having grown bored with city life, she resides these days in a picturesque village by the sea where she is lucky enough to enjoy herself avoiding housework and writing sensual stories of paranormal romance and fantasy.
Marie’s website: www.MarieTreanor.com
Join the party on her new blog: Marie Treanor’s Romantic Theme Party: