Excerpt from Vampires of Noctra: Blood Bounty

Vampires of Noctra: Blood Bounty

#MM #pirates #bdsm #historical #vampires #darkfantasy #erotichorror #gayerotica

VON1_BloodBounty_smA vampire with a raging thirst for human blood and erotic pleasure; a man with a secret mission to find and destroy the undead. But lusty midnight passions defy logic. Boundaries and duty hold no sway on the decks of the Night Stalker.

Captain Dontè Lucienne is the vampire captain of the Night Stalker. His crew is human. Men who serve the vampires of Noctra, providing sustenance, as well as loyalty. They are fighters as well as lovers, and devoted to their vampire masters. They would destroy any who tried to kill their captain.

Skye Templeton is a man on a dangerous mission. Plucked from the swelling seas by the crew of the Night Stalker, he’s exactly where he needs to be. Will he come out alive? Or end up as fodder to the lust of the vampirate captain? His duty is clear—at least until he come to know this lusty crew and their magnetic captain. Until he comes under the supernatural, relentless spell of the Night Stalker.

EXCERPT

Donté stroked his tongue over Vasily’s bulging pecs, tugged on a nipple, chewing at it lightly. Vasily’s cries crescendoed and dropped, rose again and again, like surging waves lapping at the hull of the Night Stalker. Needy, in delirium, far removed from reality.

Donté’s fangs sank into the supple muscle of Vasily’s chest and the young man cried out, spurting his seed into Donté’s hand. The vampire supped on his youthful, vibrant lifeblood, his cock still buried in Vasily’s ass.

Extracting his fangs, Donté swirled his tongue over the puncture marks, leaving faint red indentations in his wake. He studied Vasily’s chest, admiring the tracks decorated across his warm human flesh. Every sailor in the vampire captain’s crew sported the vampire piercings upon their skin, each crew member having been personally handpicked by either Donté or Donté’s vampire sire, Captain Sterling Savoir, to serve as members of their respective crews.

Human, well-mannered, beautiful young men, all committed to serving the vampire masters of Noctra Island.

Donté traced the piercings, listened to the thundering heartbeat, the shallow breaths of his lover for the night. This was the second time he’d fed from Vasily in less than a fortnight and he would savor tonight. The young man’s blood was too rich, too addictive. If Donté fed from him once more before the next full moon, he was likely to draw the young man too close to the crossover. He dared not take the chance.

Easing his still hard cock from inside Vasily, Donté lifted from the bed and walked over to the table. It was early yet, hardly a stroke after midnight, and he planned to savor his young sailor until the first misty fingers of dawn cut through the night. At the rate Donté was going Vasily might not last if Donté didn’t slow down. Sips only, no more than a pint of Vasily’s blood or he’d push him too close to the edge. Donté poured some of the finely aged French burgundy into a goblet.

He took a moment to glance up, pinning the other bound man on the opposite side of the room beneath a hard stare.

“Do you see what you’re missing?” Not quite all of his crew were as well-mannered as he liked. “You could have been where he is, Velvet, if you hadn’t disobeyed my command.”

Velvet, a gunner’s mate of unique precision and fortitude, was stretched out, hands manacled high above his head, his hard cock and heavy balls harnessed, a lead weight swinging with each surge of the ship, two more weights tugged at his distended tits.

Velvet was as beautiful as any of the men on the ship, and most of the time he listened to orders. Tonight called for discipline in Velvet’s case. A hair trigger temper requiring a strong hand, he’d been less than humble, so certain he’d be the one to entertain the captain tonight. Well, Velvet was entertaining the master all right, but not in the way the rebellious young sailor expected.

Donté would not tolerate jealousy, or assumption, among his crew. The captain treated all of his mates equally and he would not have any of them attempting to usurp his authority and causing dissension on the ship. One day, Velvet would learn his place. Or else spend more time on the wall than in the captain’s bed.

Donté sauntered over to Velvet and trailed his cool fingertips over the man’s sweat-soaked chest. He hefted one of the weights in the palm of his hand and then allowed it to drop away. Velvet’s long drawn out hiss as it dragged against a tit satisfied Donté that the action reminded the man of his unhappy state.

Dropping forward, Donté razed his sharp teeth over Velvet’s flesh. Lines of red tracked his path. But he didn’t sink them into Velvet’s flesh. He didn’t feed.

“Please, Master, I’m sorry for what I did. I’ll never do it again.”

“I wish I believed you, Velvet. But this isn’t the first time, is it? Not even the second. You’re smart enough to make first gunner, but your temper and lack of self-control are your downfall. Be thankful I didn’t turn you over to Margan and have him assign you to the bilge pump tonight—wallowing in stinking water for a night might teach you a lesson. That might have been a more fitting punishment. We’ll see what a night of discipline on my wall will do for your manners.”

Donté swung away, ignoring the pleading look in the beautiful sailor’s whiskey-colored eyes. Swift discipline and heavy bondage was the only thing Velvet understood. For at least a short time. Sterling handled this one with a firmer hand. Sterling would have had him strapped to the main mast, a discipline wedge shoved up his ass, and a hundred lashes to stripe his back. Donté’s master, Savoir was a much sterner taskmaster when it came to discipline. Unfortunately, Sterling and the Black Star hadn’t been due to leave Noctra for another month and, as usual, this beautiful gunner had gotten Donté to agree to take him on. Velvet’s blood was some of the richest among the human residents of Noctra, and his skill with the cannon exceeded by few. If only his temperament better aligned with his name, they all would be much happier.

Yet both Sterling and Donté liked a challenge now and then, which is why Velvet was allowed to remain. Velvet might be a bit of a scallywag in many ways, but he was just too luscious to exile…or kill. Donté walked over to the big white cat lying on a stretch of crimson and cream Persian rug in a corner of the room. He leaned down to pet the huge Bengal outcast.

“You’ll keep him in line, won’t you? Too bad he doesn’t have your understanding of self-preservation.” The snow-white, almost totally stripeless tiger leaned into the stroke of the vampire. Few animals on the mainland accepted the touch of a vampire. But Khan was different—he was as cursed as any vampire, and his connection to the vampire was unique.

Donté turned his attention back to Vasily still stretched out on the bed, eyes closed. Picking up the goblet, Donté moved back to his lusty donor for the evening. Gently lifting Vasily’s head, he tipped the goblet and allowed some of the wine to trickle into his mouth.

Vasily’s eyelids fluttered opened and he gulped at the wine until the goblet was empty.

“That’s better, sweeting. The color is returning to your face. Are you feeling more yourself?”

Donté set the goblet on the nightstand and picked up the wet cloth from the mauve-colored porcelain basin and bathed Vasily’s stomach and flaccid penis. Returning the cloth to the bowl, he leaned toward Vasily and pressed his lips to the young man’s mouth. Vasily’s lips parted and Donté thrust his tongue deep inside. The rattle of the chains binding Vasily to the bed bled through the needy moans as the sexy young sailor shifted and arched, begging for his master’s touch. Donté heard a whimper from the other side of the room. Then a deep, warning growl from Khan. Donté ignored Velvet. There would be time enough to decide what to do about him later. For now, he was simply a decoration on his wall, reminded of his place by Khan.

“Would you like something to eat before we continue?”

Vasily gazed up at him with worshipful eyes. “Whatever you want, Captain.”

Donté couldn’t help smiling. Vasily was a good boy and very respectful. A week of serving on the Night Stalker and Vasily had no qualms about turning his back on his past life. Of offering his blood and service to the Noctra vampires.

Donté rose and stepped to the table at the center of the room where a tray of food rested. He didn’t partake, but he had to maintain the strength of his two human lovers. He picked up a thick slice of bread and a small wedge of cheese and returned to the bed. He hand-fed Vasily slowly, punctuating each serving with drugging kisses in between until his sweet supplicant finished the bread and cheese. By then, Vasily’s cock was thick and hard, bobbing against his flat abdomen. Yes, he was revived and appeared more than ready to serve his master once more.

Donté picked up the oil to prepare Vasily’s passage once again. A snarl curled his lip when a knock sounded at the door. Donté glared at the root of his irritation. Who dared to interrupt? Swift punishment would be exacted for the defiance of his standing orders…unless it was an emergency. He set down the bottle of oil to the side and rose from the bed.

“Enter,” he roared with the force of a fierce gale. After a moment of hesitation, the door slowly opened. It was Jupiter, his first mate, who edged his way into the cabin. He looked straight at the captain, neither sliding a sidelong glance toward Velvet, nor toward the bed where Vasily, his second mate, was stretched out.

“Permission to speak, Cap’n.”

Donté waved a hand in the air. “What is it? This better be important.”

“We’ve spied someone in the water, sir. The men are about to bring him on board. I thought you’d want to be informed.”

All of Donté’s crew had preternatural eyesight—one of the dark gifts of human service to the vampires of Noctra. Although the black sloop skimmed through the ocean in the dead of night, it might as well have been daylight for their sharp eyesight.

“Does he look promising?” Donté dressed quickly, donning a pair of black breeches and then pulling on a white linen shirt.

“Hard to tell, sir. He was a ways out. Margan send two men out to retrieve him. Looks to be a survivor from another downed ship.”

Was there any other kind this far out to sea? Most of Donté’s crew were survivors from sacrifices to the dangerous, unpredictable seas. Many on the very verge of drowning or being eaten alive by hungry sharks, or worse. Men who’d been thankful for the captain’s beneficence in saving them from a fate far worse than their untimely death in the surging waters.

There’d been a storm the previous night, which might cause a ship to founder. Donté straightened after pulling on the second black leather thigh-high boot.

“Have Liam see to my men, Jupiter.” He glanced over at Velvet. “Leave him for another hour and then release him. In the meantime, take gentle care of Vasily. I’ve fed well and he may be light-headed. I don’t want him up and around before he’s recovered.”

Jupiter nodded. “Yes, Cap’n.”

Donté returned to the bed, leaned down, and kissed Vasily. “Another night, sweeting.” Then he strode out of the cabin, along the passage and headed to the main deck.

As Donté stepped onto the deck Margan and Onyx hauled a very bedraggled man onto the deck with help from several of the sailors. The stranger collapsed against the railing, salt water splashing onto the deck. It was hard to tell much about him considering the exhausted state of the man, but from first glance he certainly looked…intriguing.

The crew made way for the captain to get through. Several of the men held torches, providing a soft glow of light. Donté nudged the half-drowned man with the point of his well-polished black boot. The eyelids of the young man splayed out on the deck fluttered opened. What stunning blue eyes, was Donté first thought. Clear and sparkling like the sea, framed with long sooty lashes. Yes, definitely worth an interrupted hour of his time.

The young man staring up at Donté looked shaken, yet alert.

“What’s your name, lad?”

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An Excerpt from Deadeye

Deadeye

(#darkfantasy #erotica #MMF #MM #bisexual #romance #paranormal #erotichorror #western)

deadeye_smDark and deadly adventure awaits in Deadeye.

Vitus and Caecilia must embrace a world of lustful and devious demons in order to succeed in their mission. And Justus, an incubus, half-breed son of the demon lord of Infernia and a Dreamweaver Sorceress, must shed his dark shadow in order to accept his destiny as a Nacraecian Dreamweaver Sorcerer. Three who meet, three who must face their duty, three who risk everything to be free.

CAUTION: This dark fantasy, dark romance, story contains explicit sexual situations and strong language. Content may be objectionable and beyond comfort zones to some readers and includes dubious consent, multiple sex partners, bisexual activity, some elements of BDSM, involving hot demons, sexy cowboys, seductive soiled doves, as well as titillating satyrs, dominating gods and goddesses, and confronting flesh-craving zombies. Whew! You must be over the age of 18 years of age to read this story.

EXCERPT

Vitus entered the Dark Seducer Saloon, looked around and then walked to the curved mahogany bar. He lifted his saddlebags off his shoulder and dropped them onto the counter.

“Whiskey,” he said.

The bartender brought him a glass, set it down, and poured out a measure. Vitus’s arm shot out to stay the bartender as he was about to replace the bottle back on the shelf.

“Leave it,” Vitus said.

The bartender nodded, set the half-full bottle onto the bar, and stepped away.

Vitus downed the shot, poured another, then turned away from the bar to face the stage. His attention was caught by the performers there. He downed the whiskey. Intrigued by the stage act, he scooped up the bottle and the glass, grabbed his saddlebags, and sauntered toward an empty table.

The young man on stage was quite beautiful and quite obviously from the tone of his skin color, demon. With him were two pale human beauties—one man, one woman. And a tall, portly gentleman with a black waxed handlebar mustache and neatly trimmed beard, orange fire in his eyes.

The demon was naked, the young woman and the other young man were fully clothed, but looking nervous and scared.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the older man began, “Lucy and James lost heavily at the tables and, as agreed, they will perform for us this evening as they have nothing else with which to wager.” He turned to the young couple. “Well? Prepare yourself for the fucking of your lives. And I expect good entertainment for our paying guests.” He waved to someone off stage and two scantily clad women stepped into the spotlight, each going to one of the pair.

As Vitus watched, Lucy and James were slowly undressed by the women, making a good show of stripping them for the crowd, until the quivering pair were equally as bare as the demon. James was escorted to the iron frame at the center rear of the stage. He was shackled arms and legs to the frame by the saloon girls.

“Which shall it be first, Justus, lad? Lucy or James?” asked the older man.

Justus stroked his demon’s cock. Lucy’s eyes widened at the sight. He swaggered across the stage to stand in front of her. Vitus watched her body visibly loosen, the trembling lessened, as she stared into Justus’s vivid blue eyes. Vitus knew exactly what was happening. Justus was using his demon’s glamour to quiet her before the actual seduction commenced.

“I’ll have the girl first,” he said. Reaching out, he clasped the woman’s arm and yanked her forward. A fiddle player sitting near the stage began playing as Justus took Lucy into his arms, plastering her naked body to his. For a moment they rocked back and forth in place. Justus rubbed himself against her; he reached around to cup her heart-shaped ass. He turned until her back faced the audience. As they undulated, he slipped a long finger between her cheeks, slowly sliding it into her anus.

Her gasp was audible. The digit sank deeper and deeper into her tight channel as the couple undulated and danced on the stage. For the next act, Justus brought her to a halt at the center of the stage. He whispered something in her ear and she shifted her legs slightly wider. Justus slid his cock between her thighs, working his way slowly between them. Finally, the audience could see the twin heads peek from beneath her firm young buttocks.

Justus turned sideways, so the audience could watch as he began to work both his finger and cock inside and against the woman in a seductive manner. She closed her eyes, her head tilted back as she gave herself up to his masterful control.

“Fuck her!” came the catcalls from the audience.

But Justus was a performer who had learned from the best. He stretched out the anticipation until his audience was just as completely seduced as the woman on stage.

In the audience soiled doves, gunslingers, and gamblers found their partners, even as they watched the performance on stage. Pants lowered, skirts raised, men with women, men with men, women with women, and every combination in between copulated with abandon.

Justus’s complete focus was on the woman—on preparing her for when he finally did choose to penetrate her with his cock. His actions mirrored the rhythm of the music.

“Don’t do this to her,” James pleaded, trying to break free of the chains that imprisoned him. “I was the one who cheated, not her. Please let her go.”

“Too late for that,” the old man with the black beard said. “You wagered, you lost. She agreed to pay the price along with you. I could have simply released you to find your way on the flats. At midnight. By the time you reached the forest you’d have a fine party of hell-zombies waiting on your company. Is that what you would have preferred?”

“No. But, please, Lucy only came with me because I said I’d come here without her. She’s not responsible for what I did.”

“Should have thought of that before coming to Deadeye. She’s agreed, same as you. She claimed her ticket, same as you. Now shut your mouth before I put it to better use. Your turn will come.”

Lucy was now twisting, writhing, rubbing against Justus, pleading for him to fuck her. She moved against Justus, back and forth, her enthusiasm and arousal quite telling in her actions. Justus moved faster, more deliberately. He began to shift her backward, toward a bench near the front edge of the stage. One that would allow the boisterous audience full view of what came next. Although, most of the audience was now engaged in their own interpretations of the lusty demonstration taking place on stage.

Vitus poured himself another drink, lifted it, and swallowed the contents of the glass. A pale female hand covered his larger, tanned one, then removed the glass. She drew his attention away from the stage.

“He puts on quite a show, doesn’t he? And he certainly has a way of firing up his audience.” Vitus studied the woman dressed in white who seated herself at the table. He noted the necklace. She still wore it and the sight of his ring pleased him. A surge of possessiveness erupted inside him, pooling in his groin, arousing him in a way the stage performance had failed. The burn of desire steadily grew brighter. Caecilia reached up to curl her fingers around the ring in almost a protective fashion. Her hand rested about the curve of her voluptuous breasts. She caught his eye, slowly unfurled her fingers and released the ring. It caught the gaslight of the room as the ring dangled against her skin, finally nestling happily in the valley between her breasts.

It took effort for Vitus to lift his gaze to meet hers. He’d not seen her in a hundred years and, as it always did, the sight of her aroused him to heights he found difficult to wrangle into submission. Emotions clashed and sparked inside him. He watched as she poured the whiskey, turned the glass to the spot from which he’d just drunk. She lifted it, licked the rim, watched him, dipped the tip of her pink tongue into the golden liquid, then licked her lips.

“Caecilia.” His tone was one of warning.

She dipped the end of her finger into the glass, then thrust the tip into her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked on the digit. Vitus’s cock jerked, hardened, as he watched her. He damned Apollo, he damned Aphrodite, he damned Diana. But most of all he damned himself for wanting Caecilia as much as he had when he’d first seen her on the banks of the Tiber. She tipped the glass and swallowed the contents. It took every last bit of his self-control not to reach for her, to stroke her slender throat, to press his lips to the beautiful column, to claim what her lips promised.

She smiled, grabbed the bottle and poured another shot of the whiskey into Vitus’s glass. She lifted it and swallowed the fiery liquid. “It’s been a while, Vitus. It’s good to see you.”

“Is it? Why tempt me, Caecilia, when you know what the punishment would be?”

She shrugged. “After all these years maybe I’m just tired of fighting.” She leaned over the table, her plump breasts pale and enticing. “Don’t you want to forget them all, just for one night? Wouldn’t one night of just us be worth whatever punishment they meted out?”

He took her hand between both of his. He stroked his thumb across the silk of her flesh. “You don’t have a clue what it would mean to become a source for Infernia. I do. There will come a time when we’ll be together. I vow to you. One day this weight—this pain—will be gone.”

Something in her eyes shifted. He saw the need, the yearning. He released her hand. She drew away.

“Of course, Vitus. You’re a Roman warrior, after all. You’re used to deprivation. You think to save me from myself, but I think it’s slowly destroying us both. How much of your humanity is left, Vitus? After Apollo? After Zevodious? Can you even feel anything anymore?”

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Just a quick like side note here. The background for the banner is the design I created representing the brand that Vitus carries, with an eye and the letter “Z.”

An Excerpt from Cruel Memories

Cruel Memories

(#erotic romance #gothic #MF #contemporary)

cruelmemories_cover_smTwo men…one her attacker…the other her savior…

Gavin Killian was evil right to the core. His half brother, Devon Masters, was the complete opposite. Ten years ago, it was Gavin who practically destroyed Haley Lancaster when she was seventeen, and Devon who healed and protected her. But in saving Haley, he had sacrificed himself. The cruel memories are what keep them separated, while a marriage in name only binds them together.

Now, Gavin is gone, his violent life followed by a violent death. Haley returns to Falcon Hill one last time, hoping to finally put to rest the past that haunts her. And this time it will be Haley doing the saving because she’s determined to make her marriage real.

But will the dark secrets of Falcon Hill continue to keep Haley and Devon apart? What will Haley do when the truth is finally revealed?

EXCERPT

Haley walked to the fireplace. She knelt and laid a fire from the logs and kindling resting next to it. It was a common, routine occurrence in her own home in Ohio. She felt Dev’s gaze burn through her, yet she didn’t turn around to look at him.

Slowly, she picked up one of the long matches and touched it to the kindling. It took several attempts, but finally the fire roared to life, helping to dispel some of the chill and gloom from the library. Then she rose and turned around to face Dev.

“You have to get out of those wet clothes. You’ll catch pneumonia if you stay like that.”

He didn’t look at her, just stared into the fire and took a long swallow from the glass.

She shifted to stand in his direct line of vision. Slowly his gaze lifted to her face.

“Why did you come back?” he said in a rough, hoarse voice.

“I think you know why.”

“I’m not worth it, Haley. Is Nikki with you?”

Haley shook her head. “No, she’s staying with a friend back in Cincinnati. I thought it best.”

After a long moment he nodded. “Yes, you’re right. She shouldn’t be touched by this place. Anyone who comes to this damned house is cursed.”

“Does that include me, Dev? Do you think I’m cursed?”

He leaned forward, and then reached out to stroke a hand over the curve of her hip, trailed his fingers down her silk-clad thigh. It was only now she realized the dampness of the black sheath had the dress clinging to every curve. Even with the chill, she felt the heat of the man. Haley began to shiver, but she couldn’t be certain if it was the aftermath of the dank weather or the closeness of the man.

Like a sleek black panther he unfolded to his feet, their bodies touching as she refused to step back. Thigh against thigh, his hand still clamped to her hip, his fingers stroking over the damp cloth of her dress. He towered over her, his whiskey scented, hot breath feathered across her cheek. She met him stare for stare. Her nipples pebbled, and this time she knew it wasn’t because she was chilled.

He trailed the back of his fingers down the side of her face, across her shoulder and the trembling was not because she was cold. A fire started to build in her belly, crawling down into her vagina, dripping from between her labia lips to drench her panties.

Could Dev really ignore what was between them?

She tilted her head, her lips parted. He lowered his head. She could almost feel the brush of his lips. She inhaled his male scent. Her eyelids fluttered closed.

And she waited. Long moments passed. His hot breath feathered across her skin. Time stopped. It was almost as though she felt the heat of the summer sun on her flesh, like that day on the covered bridge so long ago. She was seventeen once again and she felt new and alive and in love. With this man.

“Leave, Haley. Leave now, before it’s too late.” And then he was gone. Leaving her standing there by herself.

She opened her eyes and turned her head. The only thing she saw was the library door closing. And she was alone.

But she wasn’t seventeen. And she wasn’t going to let him shut her out.

Not this time.

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An Excerpt from Gulietta

Gulietta

(#eroticromance #darkfantasy, #mfm)

guliettasmallOne explosive encounter with an immortal shapeshifter finds seductive Gulietta embracing her powerful, magical destiny…and so much more…

Kansas City-raised Gulietta. Fathered by a far more magical species than human – the identity of whom her mother never shared. Sexual needs and desires not fully understood. Secrets abound.

Gulietta’s uneasy reality is tossed onto its head when a handsome stranger enters her life and whisks her away. Games played, lives and freedoms hang in the balance. This ain’t Kansas City, and Gulietta isn’t Dorothy, but she may be the hope for the future of the Sabine females in Antius’s court. Will she also be the savior of the immortal shapeshifter, Quintus–apparently the one man who has the ability to satisfy her in so many ways? Or is he the only one? The biggest prize in this game may be love…once all the secrets are finally revealed…

EXCERPT

Kansas City, Six Months Before

 Quintus watched her from the darkening shadows of a damp, garbage-infested alley, having only just arrived in Kansas City on orders from Antius. To approach the woman too quickly would send her running like a doe sighting the hunter who tracked it. He glanced up at the black sky. No, the moon would drive her to him. He slowed the breaths in his huge body, and his cock surged as he watched her pass slowly along the dark, wet pavement.

“She’s beautiful,” the man standing next to him murmured.

“She won’t be happy when she discovers what Antius has planned for her. You should go to her apartment and wait there. I will bring her along when she is more…agreeable.”

Within moments the other man had shifted to wolf form and loped off, swallowed by the darkness. Quintus turned back to watch Gulietta as she made her way along the deserted street.

She was not what he’d expected for the daughter of a Sabine woman and a powerful, lusty satyr. Although, as far as Quintus knew, she was not aware of her heritage and perhaps that was the reason for her easy grace. She didn’t look the predator. She looked human. Thus, his purpose for being there—to make her aware of her ancient lineage. To return her to her proper place at the side of her father, Antius.

She was…striking. A fitting mate for a man of Roman blood. She walked with purpose, her strides measured yet graceful, shoulders back, forcing her firm, young breasts up. Temptingly full. Lean hips, strong flanks. Perfect proportions. Not as tall as some of the women of Antius’s court. Many of them were almost Amazonian in their lusty proportions. Strong, fierce women.

Not this wench. She intrigued him. More dangerous than the others. Her sexual energy, a gift from her sire, undulated, crackling the night air, surrounding her, beckoning lovers to her side. No problem for this female to assuage her sexual hunger.

Man after man passed her, giving her hungry looks that she scorned. She could take her pick of the lot. Humans unable to resist her. Quintus could tell she had not yet peaked. He had chosen the time with care. The only way to bring a female like her to heel was to take her at her most vulnerable moment.

She rode the edge carefully. Quintus had never seen such self-control in a Sabine of the satyr court. They usually submitted to their instincts quickly and effortlessly. This one fought the natural order.

She staggered and clutched at the hard edge of the brick building, hunched over in pain. Her knees started to buckle, but she didn’t drop. It was the satyr blood—it had to be what kept her on her feet. Most of the women of his acquaintance would have shed their clothes long before this, flat on their backs, legs spread, welcoming man after man to quench the lust.

He smelled the earthy cinnamon scent of her and dragged the smell deeply into his lungs, filling his lungs with her aroma.

Another man passed by. Quintus saw her clench her fist. She fought valiantly against her sexual nature. He was impressed by her control. But he knew that eventually she would have no choice. She would give in to the lust. The need for that connection only fucking would provide. Straightening her shoulders, she staggered forward. Two steps and another attack claimed her. Her natural-born instincts would win out.

Quintus heard the soft groan. The breathless siren’s call spun through him. Her need was desperate. Twenty feet more and she would reach where he stood in the shadows. And the full moon would drive her passion. It would be her most vulnerable moment. And then he would take her. Binding her to him in the most elemental way of their immortal kind. Only then would he take her back to Antius. The old satyr would not cheat him of the prize. Not this time.

His cock pulled hard, demanding surcease. His muscles knotted as he readied himself to pounce. A deep growl rolled from his throat. Fangs bared, he gathered strength, calling from his animal core. There would be time for explanations later.

Would she fight him? Or would the need be too fierce? Would she spread her thighs for him without a battle? Did she cry out when she climaxed? Would the juices of her quim taste of honeyed mead, sweet enough to quench his millennia of thirst?

The night reeked of danger, cutting through the scent of her. Could she smell it as well? Did her mother’s warrior blood flow hot and heavy through her veins? Or was she too far gone to be able to detect the danger, her drive now only to appease the lust burning her up?

How soft would the female petals between her legs be? How tightly would her cunt grip him? By the gods, her strength crackled through the air. The need to mate her ruined his mind. Quintus studied the light and shadow of the street.

His preternatural awareness heightened, honed in and caught the scent of immortal attack. But who?

And then he saw what he had missed. A portion of the mist solidified into form.

“Fuck.”

As soon as he formed, the man rushed at Gulietta, shoving her to the pavement. One who would usurp his right to her. Quintus shifted to his wolf form and leaped at the attacker, fangs bared, a growling rage erupting from his throat as he fastened his teeth onto the thick wrist of the satyr.

The satyr howled and struggled to free himself. These lesser satyrs were by no means fighters. The woman was no victim. She curled her fingers and scratched at her attacker’s face, causing him to yelp even louder with pain. Tracks of blood decorated his dark skin.

Quintus used his large furry body to shove him off Gulietta and onto his back. A human corner of his brain warned him not to kill the fool beneath him. Too many questions if his kind where discovered on human soil. Quintus shifted back to human form.

“Leave now, Titus, before I forget Antius’s law and kill you right here. You will not claim what does not belong to you.”

“Damn you, Quintus. You can’t have it all. She doesn’t have a speck of Roman blood.”

“She is not for you. Try it again and the next time you will die and your satyr’s horns will hold a place of honor on my mantel. Now get out.”

He cautiously lifted off the blood-streaked satyr.

“One of these days, Roman, you will pay.” He flung the words at Quintus.

“She’s Antius’s daughter. Do you really think he’d let her mate with you? All you want is the power you think she has or will have. I am here to safeguard her from the likes of you.”

“She doesn’t even know what she is. How can she begin to use her power? She doesn’t even look like one of us.”

“Leave, Titus. Now.”

“This is not the last of this, Quintus.” And then he was gone, a trail of mist rising into the sky and vanishing.

Quintus whirled around only to find that Gulietta was no longer where Titus had dropped her to the ground. Already one block farther along, she was on her hands and knees in front of a man. Her hands at his belt.

Quintus raced down the street, ripped her away from the stranger, and shoved her back into the dark alley. He turned and growled at the man, baring his fangs. It was enough. The man spun around and ran down the street.

Quintus turned back to face Gulietta.

“You don’t need him. I’ll give you what you need.”

Her arms were wrapped around her waist as she tried to hold back the pain. When she looked up at him, her eyes blazed with blue-violet fire. Her teeth clenched tight, her lush, red lips drawn back in a grimace. He understood the war waged behind that look.

The lust was upon her. He saw it in the lines of her body as they softened and yet the sexual aura intensified, the look of the siren predator in every line. Her fingers slowly unfurled to shove her jeans down over her hips. He gripped her hand and felt the red-hot heat of her skin that almost singed him. The glow of sex, ruby silk flesh, the scent of hot cinnamon, spicy and enticing permeated the air as she revealed her sex.

“Then take me, damn you. I can’t stand the pain any longer.”

Quintus shoved her back into the alley as he released his cock from the confinement of his pants. It bobbed thick and tall. Larger than most men’s. But Gulietta was not most women. She would take him. Again and again and again.

She was a satyress and was meant for him.

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Excerpt from Run To Ground

Run To Ground

(#darkfantasy, #MM, #shapeshifter, #werewolves, #eroticromance, #secondchance)
In the savage and ancient breed of mythic wuv, two men fight for their clan, their lives, and to reclaim the passion one threw away…

Tallin Undine was once human, but is now a wuv-beast, a creature of the Zhalazti clan, ruled by the moon, and made through moon-madness and savagery. With his human family slaughtered, Tallin continually struggles to hold on to some bit of his humanity. After being scarred by a former lover, Tallin has clawed his way to some measure of standing. But now, his clan chief has been killed, and the security of his adoptive nation is at risk. His mission is to bring back the man who must battle to claim his position as rightful chief. Yet there’s one problem—Emmanuel Grimshaw is the very man Tallin does not want to see again, who savagely mated him so long ago, then left him to pick up the pieces of his life.

When he was too young to fully control his inner-beast, Emmanuel Grimshaw claimed—and maimed—a man he loved. After fleeing his clan, he’d gone in search of his humanity, and a way to tame the wuv within. But when Tallin unexpectedly arrives, any peace Emmanuel thought he’d found with a human companion vanishes. And it isn’t long before Emmanuel’s inner-beast rises and he reclaims Tallin, binding him once again.
Now, Emmanuel will do his duty, but not without Tallin at his side. A battle for survival and love is about to begin. Who will triumph?

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EXCERPT

Tallin turned away from the place they’d chosen to consummate the werevaria claiming. He forced his animal down. A large paw-like hand settled upon his shoulder, the claws digging into his human flesh. He turned to gaze up at Emmanuel’s man-beast visage.

“You want something that is not our nature,” he said in a deep throaty voice. His red-hued eyes glittered. “I need your help. I need your…commitment.”

Tallin felt the possession of the claws on his shoulder, drawing his blood. The warm crimson liquid that spilled down his shoulder.

“It shouldn’t be this difficult,” Tallin said, “but something is different between us–something has changed. You and I…” He couldn’t help but be truthful, though he would prefer to remain silent and follow orders as he was bred to do. Emmanuel’s grip tightened, but so quickly he transformed back to human form and his claws no longer dug into Tallin’s shoulder. His human grip seemed just as firm.

“Tell me,” Emmanuel said in his human tone.

“It all comes so easily to you,” Tallin said. “Watching you change is breathtaking, almost rapturous, waiting for your beast to emerge. But it’s not so much a beast–wolfish alone–it’s that blend of otherwordly creature that mesmerizes me. When I transform there is no sophistication, no purity to the shift. We are so different.”

“You’re of my line’s blood. You were made by a Grimshaw.”

“I know all that. The blood we share forced my allegiance to your family. That’s why…when you left I–”

“Do you think what I do here is because I fault you on your allegiance to Hirmes?”

Tallin shook his head. It was so much more complicated than that. “It’s not that. You and I–it was more. And now…” How did he come up with the right words? “You say you want to change and make us more civilized so that we can abide among humans. With Hirmes it was different. With you I want monogamy. It’s important in a way it never was before. I know it’s not possible, especially concerning the direness of the situation. And they’re in a position to force your hand in this.”

Emmanuel seemed to consider. “You realize without their loyalty there’s little chance I can succeed in my challenge. I need them at my back. Just as I need you at my side.”

“I know that.” Tallin was being a fool. He had no proper claim. He wasn’t even blood-born. He was rikochetji. These petty human jealousies had to stop or he could cost Emmanuel his life and the clan’s leadership position. “I’m a fool. It’s of no consequence.”

He was a mongrel and mongrels had no standing. They took the scraps that were offered and licked the hand that offered the choicest pieces of reward, even if it was followed by a kick to the ribs. Such had been the way with the Zhalazti and the riko. Such would be the way with Emmanuel.

He tipped his head to the side baring his bloodied throat. “Your will, Alpha. I’m yours to command.”

Emmanuel seemed to study him for long moments, his eyes went to the puncture marks on Tallin’s neck. “We are not a civilized race at heart, are we?” he said as he trailed his fingers through the blood, then brought them to his lips and painted them red. He leaned forward and kissed Tallin. The primal taste of Tallin’s blood melded them together. He pulled back. “You are not a mongrel in my eyes. You are my equal. Because I seek to be chief makes you no less.” He gripped Tallin’s head. “I have always loved you. I need their loyalty, their allegiance. The history of our kind leaves me no choice. But, Tallin, know this–you are mine in a way none of the rest can ever be. You are my mate. I left because of the depth of my emotions and my inability to deal with such strong passions. The beast would not rest when you were near. I couldn’t control it.”

He stroked the scarred side of Tallin’s face. “My lack of control almost killed you. I’m back to save our clan from a brute. I can’t allow my personal human feelings to sway what I must do to secure my pack. You brought me here; you knew what it would take to secure their commitment. We all make sacrifices for the well being of the clan. Tell me you didn’t accept our fate when you came for me.”

“Do what you must, Alpha. I’ll support you.” Emmanuel was right. This had to play out, and in order for Emmanuel to show a strong front he needed the intimate ties that bonding with these werevaria would give him. One by one he would claim his pack, and at one level Tallin had to respect that commitment.

He felt his beast rear. There was only one way to properly support his alpha. Slowly the shift consumed him. He howled. Emmanuel shifted much more quickly. And then they turned to face the others. The low rumble resembled the roll of thunder across the sky, growing louder and louder.

Emmanuel surged forward, fangs bared as he confronted Valmont, the first who would submit and swear allegiance.

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Silver – an excerpt

Silver

“…intensely sexual… a story comprised of contradictions – justice/revenge, male/female, slave/master, human/machine, dominant/submissive, science/supernatural…”

#GLBT #scifantasy #intersex #erotic
Born to freedom. Molded into submission. Pleasure is her only weapon.

Silver, born female, is now an owned gender-mated trinex thanks to the edicts of the Politico Judicalati and time imprisoned at the Factorium. She must choose between her charismatic power-elite, secretive owner, Minister of Acquisitions & Antiquities, Lel Kesselbaum, and a seductive revolutionary, Entreus, a humanotic who tempts her with freedom.

Not all is as it seems–allies who may be traitors, lovers who are more than they appear. A power-mad government, a machine known as the Elite Logical Life Core that uses human intelligence for its knowledge source. The Factorium that acquires humans as research fodder for their experiments and then spits them out when they are of no further use. Sex used as a tool to unearth enemies and traitors, and intimately align allies. Love that is not simple, relationships that are dangerously complex. This is Silver’s highly-complex world.

One misstep in the fight for freedom could mean death for them all.

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EXCERPT

Minister Lel Kesselbaum was not where common masses would have expected a government minister to be. But most of the Politico nobility held interests far beyond their public duty to serve. He sat in the private office on the second floor of the exclusive Music Box Saloon, overlooking the dance floor below where six platforms replicated music boxes. A scantily clad dancer gyrated atop each one, the sound of light, tinkling music a strange, rather bizarre contrast to the dancers’ erotic undulations.

The Music Box catered to humanotic fetishists. Every employee was at least one percent robotized, several being as much as forty-nine percent, just shy of the slender fraction of a percentage that turned a human into possessable chattel under the laws of the current government. All employees of the Music Box were free citizens and had free choice insofar as it went— Lel made certain of it. They could choose to work at the saloon, or not. But, situations being what they were in Quentopolis, common citizens grappled for what steady work they could find. Working at the Music Box was better than starving in the workhouses. And Kesselbaum’s saloon offered a cleaner, more lucrative means of gainful employment than other sex trade work—or other limited, legal choices that involved harder, often dangerous labor at the various institutions and murky private establishments throughout the city.

Three of the dancers were female-fused humanotics, their names chosen to titillate the interest of the elite patrons. Tonight, Coral Doll was outfitted as a ballerina, Lily Lovely as a Politico Regulate, Candy Sweet as an educatory factor. Then there were the men, Lel’s particular addiction, which included Rod Ebony outfitted as an E.L.L.C. engineer, Dandy Sugar dressed as an earthy fire containment waterboy and Dick Daring rigged out in black leather equipment appropriate for a carriage team.

Each dancer also wore the delicate wire-net cap Lel had designed, allowing them to communicate with the patrons of the Music Box. The round, gleaming, black-and-white checkerboard tables placed around the perimeter of each platform contained small silver-plated communication horns that allowed patrons to listen to or speak to the dancer. A silver vacuum tube connected from the table to the base of the platform, allowing patrons to tip the dancers.

There was no touching of the dancers during public performance at the Music Box. But a patron could request private audience for a weighty additional fee.

As Lel watched, Ebony released the minuscule leather triangle barely covering his thick, rigid prick, apparently in response to a request from table fifteen. The ambassador seated at the table placed several gold coins into the tube that were then sucked into the locked box beneath Ebony’s platform. Ebony smiled at the man, thrust his hips and proceeded to masturbate in as lewd a fashion as he could manage.

Lel’s cock surged to a rock-hard bulge, pressing prominently against the front of his trousers. He was not one to deny himself the pleasures of the flesh, but in recent months, since the acquisition of his trinex, he’d found that his desire to receive service from any of the humanotics at the saloon had lessened. At some level he found that realization slightly troubling. He favored variety—or at least he had before her acquisition. For a man in his position, it was dangerous to focus his attentions on one sex chattel—both to his position in the Dominatae and to himself personally. Let alone to the chattel. By his nature, different than that of other Dominatae, Lel’s unusually voracious appetite and need for sufficient infusion of sexual energy was not conducive to confining himself to one chattel. He’d found in the past it was dangerous to their well-being.

Silver3_smComplicating his current state of affairs was the fact that Silver was still settled at the Factorium for her latest modifications. He found his domicilia uncomfortably silent without her presence. Thus, in her absence, he’d taken to spending more and more time at the saloon, watching his dancers—but in the end not actually playing with them. They could not satisfy his more refined tastes for a special brand of humanotic—one he had designed himself. All he could think of was his trinex and the feel of her tight passage wrapped around his dick. He forced the thought away. He was of the Dominatae, and sexual variety for his class was almost a law.

Silver’s modifications at the Factorium were taking longer than he’d expected, but he was assured the adjustments had been successful and that tomorrow she would be delivered to his residence.

A knock sounded on the door to his private office, and he turned away from the erotic scene acted out on the main floor.

 

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Read another excerpt from Silver

Come Into My Parlor – an excerpt

Come Into My Parlor

( #erotica #darkromance #mystery #contemporary #MF)

Murder. Will he solve the crime or succumb to the widow’s seduction?

The murder victim had been discovered naked and handcuffed to a bed. Pandora Edwina Willmington was Detective Alex Johnson’s prime suspect. He was certain she was guilty as sin. Coming face to face with the beautiful, sensual suspect fueled far different thoughts than escorting the young, wealthy widow to jail.

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EXCERPT

He mounted the steps and rang the bell. As he waited for someone to answer the door, he turned around to survey the well-manicured grounds. Neatly trimmed shrubs bordered the circular drive; the fountain at the heart of the lush green lawn with the naked statue of Pan spouted a steady stream of clear, bubbling liquid. It was peaceful, serene even, but Alex sensed something about the place – an undercurrent of some sort. A click sounded behind him and he swiveled back toward the entrance.

He hid his surprise as the door was opened by a young, dusky-skinned man neatly dressed in tight black pants, black silk shirt, and shining leather boots. He was a head shorter than Alex’s six-foot frame and his dark eyes surveyed Alex with curiosity.

“Can I help you?” he asked with a hint of Latin shrouding the edges of his question.

Alex whipped out his badge and displayed it to him. He waited patiently while the man studied it, attempting to size him up, figure out his position in the household. He didn’t look like the typical butler for a place like this. A creature from an old monster movie would have fit in here perfectly. This guy, no. He belonged on a movie set, or maybe in a bull ring down in Spain. But he sure didn’t belong in this setting.

But then neither did Pandora Willmington, by his estimation, from all he’d heard about her.

He handed the badge back to Alex and stepped back from the door.

“Was Mrs. Willmington expecting you?” he asked as Alex stepped past him into the marble-floored foyer.

Damn, talk about opulent. He shifted around to face the young man who looked about half his age -maybe nineteen or twenty. “No, she’s not expecting me, but I have a few questions I’d like to ask her if she has time.” He whipped out his notebook and a pen. “By the way, what=s your name and who are you?”

“His name is Arturo and he’s my personal assistant, Detective,” a husky, sensual voice that reeked fuck-me, its effect floating downward landing somewhere in the vicinity of his groin, informed him.

If he’d been anyone else he probably would have swallowed his tongue and someone would have had to call for emergency assistance when he turned to look at the owner of that voice. He should have been prepared. He felt like he=d slammed into a brick wall, and his cock rose hard and fast to attention. Nothing could have prepared him for this hot number. Nothing on this planet.

This had to be the infamous Pandora Willmington. He smoothed his expression, attempted to gain control of his misplaced lust. Mine. It was something that shouldn’t have crossed through his mind. He might want her, more than he=d ever wanted anything in his life -but he couldn’t have her. Too bad if he could taste the want, the need to feel his cock burrowing deep into her cunt. He was here to do a job.

He couldn’t help stroking her with his eyes, and his thoughts. Blonde hair clung to the silk of a satin black robe with oriental markings that draped open revealing pale flesh only superficially hidden beneath a black lace camisole. Long legs, bare, creamy, and smooth, culminated in shapely feet encased in black satin four-inch stilettos. Crimson lips, wet, pouty, sensual, kissable, a half smile of invitation, and bedroom eyes the color of expensive whiskey. Way out of his league. He licked his lips, anticipating the taste of her on his tongue.

One slender hand rested at the curve of the banister where she hovered about mid-way up the sloping staircase. Once she was sure she had his full attention she floated down the remaining steps. Arturo hurried to the foot of the stairs and waited. He clasped her hand when she reached the last few steps and gallantly guided her down to the main floor. She stopped next to him, and Alex could see the nipples of her upthrust breasts vividly outlined, pressing against the silk. His cock throbbed painfully at the front of his pants.

She turned to Arturo and brushed against his side like a female cat in heat. One of her hands drifted around to curl possessively over the hard curve of his ass and Alex saw the muscles tighten beneath the thin black material. Arturo’s eyes smoldered and Alex could almost smell the smoke rising between the two of them. He felt like a voyeur witnessing the lustful exchange – and wanted to join in. Arturo raised her hand to his lips and placed a passionate kiss on her palm. Evidence of his arousal was more than prominently displayed against the front of his tight trousers.

Pandora raised a hand to stroke the side of his face. “Thank you, Arturo. You’re superb,” she purred. She turned to gaze at Alex through slitted eyes. “I’ll handle our guest from here.”

Alex was certain he saw a flicker of something in the young man=s eyes as he released her hand. “As you wish, Mrs. Willmington. If you need me, just ring.” He pivoted around, piercing Alex with a burning, hate-filled looked before he strode from the room.

Alex struggled to remember what he was here for and turned back to study the lethal woman that dripped sex. It was a surprise to him after all this time that his previously benumbed senses allowed him to respond so strongly. His ex-wife had done quite a number on him and he=d had a hard time evincing the least glimmer of interest in pursuing another relationship. Until today.

What role did Arturo really play in her life? Had he possibly resented the appearance of Korvanti? Had he been the one to kill him in a jealous rage? That young man harbored a lot of intense emotion below the surface. Or had he followed an order from the mistress of the house by disposing of a problem she wanted gone?

Something to think about. He filed it away.

 

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