Tuesday, September 1, 2015

The Inspiration for Sated

By Lucy Felthouse (Guest Blogger)

When I saw the call for submissions that Totally Bound Publishing put out for their Wild After Dark anthology, I knew I had to give it a go. Paranormal ménage... what could be better? The next thing to do, of course, was to come up with an idea. In short stories, one thing I often struggle with is getting my characters into the required situation in such a short space of time, while at the same time keeping it plausible and not rushed. So, how did I get three characters into bed together, having smokin’ hot sex, within the required word count?

Soon—my brain provided the much-needed inspiration. I’d have a human, a vampire and a werewolf in my tale, and the human woman would be dating the vampire. The werewolf would come along later. Once I’d got that far, the human woman, a gorgeous Indian chick called Aneesa started talking to me. And damn, was she sassy. And horny. Luckily for me, she was a big fan of sex—most especially with her vampire boyfriend, Ace—and the two of them were rapidly checking items off Aneesa’s sexual bucket list. One item, though, remained untouched... until now.

Aneesa wanted to have a threesome....

I don’t want to say any more because I’ll give the game away, but let’s just say Sated is fun, sexy, and also dark in places. I really enjoyed writing this naughty paranormal tale, and am delighted that it was accepted for publication, and that, so far, people seem to be enjoying it!

Happy Reading,
Lucy x


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

Since getting together with her vampire boyfriend, Ace, Aneesa is enjoying a sex life she could never have with a human. Ace has skill, strength, stamina…and is massively adventurous.

Aneesa is checking things off her sexual bucket list at a rate of knots. However, she hasn’t even come close to experiencing the ultimate item on her list. So when Ace beats her to it, proposing a threesome with his werewolf friend, Barton, Aneesa’s definitely up for it.

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

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


Pausing, then pulling me closer, Ace pointed across the room. The bar itself was L-shaped. We were parallel to the longer side, and just past the corner was the man that Ace was indicating. “That’s Barton. And I have never known that guy to be early for anything. Ever. Seems he’s just as eager as you.” He chuckled, then pressed a kiss to my hair.

A thrill shot through me—and not just from Ace’s proximity and that sexy chuckle. Even from a distance, I could see that Barton was gorgeous. He was the opposite to Ace in several ways—dark where Ace was fair, beefy where Ace was lithe, and yet he still pushed all my buttons. Visually, at least. It took much more than just looks for a man to float my boat, so I figured it was time to stop gawping and get over there and meet him.

I shrugged, despite knowing that Ace would see right through my feigned indifference. “Maybe he’s changed, Ace. People do that, you know. Come on, let’s get over there before we end up being late.”

Wisely, Ace chose to keep quiet and continued to hold my hand as we approached Barton. Not in a possessive fashion, but more of an I’m-here-babe-you’re-safe kind of way.

Barton swiveled on his barstool as we grew closer, then hopped off it, his hand held out. He gave me a quick smile before greeting Ace. “Ace, mate! How’s it going?” They shook hands, clapped each other on the shoulder, then broke apart.

Immediately, Barton turned to me. “Hey, Aneesa, I’m Barton. It’s great to meet you.” I shook his hand, enjoying the strength and warmth that he emitted. I noted how he was checking me out—in more of a curious than lusty way. I guessed he was trying to be respectful.

I gave a genuine smile. He was just as cute close up as he’d been from across the room. “It’s great to meet you too, Barton…” I tried not to cringe as I tailed off—it was obvious that I’d been about to say something else, but had decided against it. Mainly because the only two options my brain had supplied were ‘I look forward to getting to know you better’ and ‘Ace has told me so much about you.’

The first was cheesy beyond belief and, considering the reasoning behind our meeting, laden with innuendo. If I’d let that phrase come out of my mouth, I think I’d have died of embarrassment on the spot.

The second was simply not true, which is why I hadn’t said it. Until the whole threesome thing had come about, I couldn’t remember Ace ever mentioning Barton. And the questions I’d asked Ace since then didn’t really count as Ace telling me lots about him.

And so the awkward silence hung in the air for several seconds, before Barton recovered. Smiling, he said, “Can I get you a drink, guys? Aneesa?”

Um, yes please,” I replied, regaining the ability to speak. A double vodka and Coke would have gone down a treat right then, but Ace and I had already agreed we were going to stay sober for this meeting—we needed clear heads to make decisions and to ensure that whatever happened next was influenced only by us, not by alcohol. “I’ll just have a Coke, please.”

Of course. Ace?”

The same, please.”

With a quick nod, Barton turned back to the bar and attempted to get the attention of a member of staff. I took the opportunity to study Barton in greater detail without him knowing. Quite honestly, I really enjoyed what I saw. He was a tad taller than Ace, making him maybe three inches over six feet. Tightbut not obscenely sojeans covered what looked like a very grabbable, bitable backside and thick thighs that were in perfect proportion with the rest of him. A narrow waist flared out to wide shoulders, encased in a short-sleeved T-shirt which showed off his physique. His arms, of course, were muscular, and looked as though even if he hadnt been a werewolf, that he could throw me around in the bedroom. Mmm

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


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Monday, August 31, 2015

Sneak Peek: VIP Room Service by Zenobia Renquist

[Oooh! More hot contemporary erotica from Zenobia! And it's on sale now for 99 cents! ~Lisabet]


She offers satisfaction above and beyond what is requested.

Lexie's job as a maid at a five-star hotel doesn't normally include the unique and risqué form of room service that rich guest Mr. Malena has requested, nor the generous tip he's offered. Submission and exhibition and a ménage. Lexie can't resist. What should have been a one-time thing turns into an introduction into the sensual world of customer satisfaction. This is one workplace encounter that could get her fired...or will it?

NOTE: Title previously published as Wine Service (Professional Courtesy 1).

Lexie backed up a step.

Now, now. Don’t be frightened. Nothing untoward. I promise.”

She snorted. “What exactly is your definition of untoward? I just rode a bottle for your wanking pleasure.”

That’s all part of wine service. As is what comes next.”


I didn’t bring it up last night because of how skittish you were, but there is more to it than stuffing that beautiful pussy of yours with a five-hundred-dollar bottle of Chardonnay.”

Five hun—” She choked on the word. She’d been riding a bottle of Chardonnay that cost five hundred dollars. True, she knew nothing about wines or why one cost more than another—beyond age—but hadn’t known a single bottle could cost five hundred dollars.

Yes. In honor of you and your first night. I thought it appropriate a five-hundred-dollar woman should ride a five-hundred-dollar bottle.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Does it get you hot to think about it?”

You’re insane.” She laughed. “You’re also joking.”

I’m not. Call Franceska if you don’t believe me.” He gestured to the phone.

She looked at the bottle and then at him. “Five hundred dollars?”


Wow.” She’d never had anything that pricey between her legs. Her most expensive toy had barely broken the two hundred mark, and here she’d used a five-hundred-dollar bottle of Chardonnay to get off. “So what else is there? Sex, right?”

If you want, but not what I had in mind right this instance.” He chuckled. “I’m not as spry as I used to be. I need a little more time to regain my stamina.”

You look plenty spry to me.” She eyed his semi-erect dick. It hadn’t gone limp after he came. A few well-placed licks would probably have it hard again in an instant.

Bless you, dear girl. You are good for my ego.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back. “Now then. After riding the bottle comes drinking the wine.”

I’m on the clock.”

Not you. Me. And a little shouldn’t hurt your performance.” He gazed into her eyes. “Unless you’re a lightweight.”

No, but I don’t want someone to smell alcohol on my breath either.”

True. True. But you won’t be drinking.”

So why do you need me?”

He kissed her hand again and ran his tongue up to her wrist. “You’re my glass.”

Want more? Read the full first chapter online at DRB1stChp Blog:

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Smashwords (use coupon code FH44L at checkout to receive sale price)

About Zenobia

Zenobia Renquist is the alter-ego of D. Renee Bagby. Call her Zen or Renee, she answers to both. Air Force brat turned Air Force wife, she was born in Europe, has lived in Japan and in several states of the US, including Virginia, Florida, North Carolina, Texas, California, Maryland and Hawaii.

She moved a lot in her younger years and remembers all too well being the new kid in fish-out-of-water situations. But those experiences only made her better able to adapt, as well they gave her a love of travel, preferring road trips over flying.

Turning her favorite pastime into her career, Renee loves to build worlds and torture her characters for the enjoyment of her readers. She can’t fill everyday with writing alone, and also enjoys watching anime, reading manga, crocheting, knitting (yarn and mail), and binging shows on Netflix. She’s a Whovian (David Tennant for the win!), a trekkie (DS9 because Odo rocked), and a fan of pretty much every Marvel live action movie and DCU animated movie.

She has a wacky imagination and tends to write all over the place. In order to keep up, she only asks one thing—Leave Your Reality Behind to Discover Different and Unique Romance & Erotica.

Visit her website: http://zenobiarenquist.com

Follow her on Twitter: https://twitter.com/ZenobiaRenquist

Sunday, August 30, 2015

Sunday Snog #189: Exposure

My snog today is actually sweetscarcely more than PG.

Just for a change!

This one is from my erotic thriller Exposure, which as a whole is definitely not PG...

When you’re done with my excerpt, I hope you’ll visit Victoria’sSunday Snog page, where you’ll find links to lots more sexy kisses.

Jimmy looks up from his notepad. He suddenly sees how upset I am.

Jeez, I’m sorry, Stella. Just doing my job. I get carried away.”

That’s okay. It’s just—I really don’t like to think about it.”

Jimmy comes around to my side of the desk. “I’m so sorry. God, Stella, it must have been horrible.” He gives me a brotherly hug.

His strength feels wonderful. I relax a little and let him comfort me. He strokes my hair back from my face, murmuring nonsense into my ear. “Poor girl, I’m so glad that you came to me. I’m sorry to be such a dolt. If there’s anything I can do...” Nothing has changed, but for a moment it seems as though the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders.

Then I notice two things. First, his arm is around me and his fingers are brushing against the side of my breast. It’s casual, almost unconscious, but my nipples contract and throb in response. Second, there’s a hard protrusion pressed against my thigh, conflicting with the supposedly innocent nature of this embrace.

I’m sorely tempted to give in and accept more intimate comfort, but I have a feeling that would be a mistake, at least right now. Gently, I push him away, glancing down at his tented trousers as I do so. A blush creeps over his blunt features.

Thanks for your support, Jimmy. The main thing that you can do for me is to keep me out of this as much as possible. Keep it quiet. If Joey from the Peacock found out, he might not be too crazy about having me work there.”

There’ll be an investigation. There might be a trial. Will you testify?”

If I have to. But I hope that it won’t be necessary.”

I’ll do what I can, Stella.” He notes my limp as I stand up to leave, and grabs my hand. “Hey, are you hurt?”

I’ll be okay, Jimmy. Hazards of the profession.” He doesn’t let go of my hand, and I see that his erection has not subsided. I melt a bit at the sight. “Thanks for everything.”

Thank you, for coming out about this. You’ve made things a lot easier for us.”

There’s an awkward silence. He’s squeezing my fingers, hard, but I don’t think he realizes it.

You look fantastic, Stella.”

Thanks, Jim...”

Maybe we could get together some night, for dinner, or something? Catch up? Or talk about old times? I feel bad that we haven’t kept in closer touch.”

I pull my hand away. Simultaneously, I lean over and kiss him lightly on the cheek. “Maybe. You could always come by the Peacock and catch my show.” He blushes again, mottled crimson. “Or maybe I can arrange a special performance.”


Just teasing, Jimmy! I’ll see you around.”

I hobble out of his office, knowing that he’s watching my hips roll beneath my skirt. Sweet Jimmy.

Saturday, August 29, 2015

I’m Not Mary Fucking Poppins!

By Kayleigh Sky (Guest Blogger)

My name sounds sweet, doesn’t it? Kayleigh Sky. Do you see me skipping through fields of wildflowers and dancing under puffy white clouds?

I need to take out an advisory. Check with your doctor before starting this or any of Kayleighs books! Proceed at your own risk!

That last statement I kind of do advise. I put it point blank on my author bio, my Facebook page, my twitter profile, and my website that I Write Dark Intense Stories. What part of that statement makes it sound like I write fluffy little love stories? None, right? So if people pick up my book and still come out scared to death of the world they’d just inhabited, what does that say about my level of darkness? Darker than dark? Darkness squared?

Okay. Just so we’re on the same page here. I. Am. Dark. In high school, I was the kid who’d pick Fahrenheit 451 over Catcher in the Rye, or A Separate Peace over Pride and Prejudice. Not that there wasn’t lovely angst in all four books, but the first of each pair offered a world just like our own, except… not. I do that in Backbone. It’s a future world but still ours. Are you scared of your world? Probably not. Hopefully not really scared. Maybe a little uneasy. Imagine you’re walking down a busy street in a familiar city or town. You have errands, a job to get to, a friend to meet for coffee. You know this place. It’s broad daylight. Pedestrians surround you. A cop is parked on the street, maybe standing on the sidewalk, talking to a shop owner. The sky is clear. All is well in the world. Then you turn the corner and… it’s all the same. Shops and cafes and people. But there’s something slightly off. You slow and people flow around you. They look back as they move on. You see the knowing looks in their eyes. You can’t see what the difference is. Maybe the sides of the buildings lean imperceptibly. Or maybe the doors are a little too narrow, the parking meters slightly out of alignment, the colors a little dull or a little too bright. The changes are minuscule, but you can sense them. A feeling of terror crawls along your skin. The eyes watching you brighten in amusement. You whirl around and race back to the other street where everything was right and good just a moment ago. You breathe in incredible relief to be back in your world again.

Do you like that sensation of instability? Of being immersed in something that isn’t what you thought it was? Then I’m looking for you, my kindred spirits. I’m on a search for my tribe. The dwellers in the dark. I wrote a post for my own blog recently called Who Wants To Brave The Dark with Me? I write stories that distress people. I am grateful that I can pull people so deeply into a story that they emerge back into the real world with relief. That means that they have felt. Maybe not what they wanted to feel. Maybe they wanted a few more spoonfuls of sugar to go with their very dark coffee, but as the title to this post clearly states, I am not Mary fucking Poppins. We all don’t want the same things. I get that. But I also know that I’m not the only dark soul out there. Come out, come out, wherever you are. You are the ones who can bear the pain and the fear of a character’s dark journey because the experience of his salvation is so blessedly joyful. An exquisite pain! You, my fellow tribe members, celebrate the power of love to open the iron gates between heaven and hell.

Do I write romance? Yes, I do. I believe that love saves and redeems. That’s the kind of love I write about. I will take you to a world where salvation is always in doubt because that’s where my guys live. But I also write Happy Ever Afters! The guy always gets the guy and all he ever dreamed of. All he was afraid to dream of. All he never had the courage to believe in. The dark is the place where the heart purges itself of all but the essence of truth. What do you really want? When you turn that corner onto a world you never imagined, what is the thing you most long to hold onto? Will you fight for it? Will you rejoice that the struggle was worth the prize? Then welcome to my world… I’ve been looking for you. :)


Struggling to survive in a deadly new world, Brey Jamieson soon discovers that the man who holds his heart might not be willing to set it free.

A universal vaccine eradicates all known viruses from the human population, but in the wake of this miracle, a deadly new virus suddenly surfaces. As the death toll rises, people riot in panic and civilization collapses. 

Brey Jamieson, a convicted felon, is suddenly set loose in this violent new world. Desperate to reunite with his family, he sets out on a journey across the country but is captured by a brutal man who plans to sell him into slavery. 

Hank Kresnak is a cop in the new world. It is his job to preserve the law. But when he sees Brey, his belief in everything he has built his new life on begins to crumble. Memories of a dark and terrible time reawaken. He was the cop who arrested Brey, and with one look into Breys eyes, he knew his life would never be the same. He was a married man with two daughters, but he couldnt forget a man he barely even knew. Now his wife and daughters are gone, and he must struggle to save the man of his dreams from a nightmare fate.


The man was bent over inside the gas station. Naked. Tied down.

Fuck. A slave.

Hank gave a tug on Trixie’s reins and pushed on through scrubby brown hills. The sky was a high, flat blue and a dry, astringent smell filled the air. Hank breathed deeply, inhaling a faint tickle of dust. Below was a spit of a town—just a gas station and an unused diner.

All familiar.

His life now. But, fuck, he didn’t want to see this. He was a cop, for godsakes. He was supposed to break up fights and put bad guys away. In his old life, he knew the homeless man who rummaged in the alleyway behind the Thai Palace by name. He guarded a social worker named Joy who came to take a five-year-old in pink barrettes out of a crack house where her daddy knifed her mommy to death for forgetting to put ice in his Pepsi. He dodged a TV somebody tried to drop on his head out of a fifth floor window. He took complaints and made reports. He hauled in pimps, drug dealers and drunk and disorderlies. He went after bad guys.

Guys like Thom—who bounced and wobbled in the too-hot sun. Animated. A friendly salesman.

Laughter floated in the air.

Christ, he wanted to go get that naked man. Wanted to grab him and run off with him.

Save him.

Like he couldn’t save anybody else.

He wanted his old life back. The life with the dance recitals, soccer, movies with Beth, game night with the girls, work, bills.

He liked that life. It was a good life.

Then a company called Bio-Gen Tech came out with a vaccine called Pox Vac and for only pennies a shot, almost all viruses—flu, colds, HIV—disappeared. Conspiracy theorists claimed that Pox Vac was really nanotechnology funded by corporations to control the purchasing habits of consumers. To them, that was the only way Pox Vac could make sense. Otherwise, it was un-American. There was no profit in cures. Hank scoffed at that. The girls got their shots. Beth too, but he didn’t. Lazy, he guessed.

It didn’t matter. Life went on—piano lessons, school plays, a trip to the Grand Canyon, work.

Then Beths affair.

He didn’t like to think about that, but it was a part of the end—like summer’s last barbecues and early twilights.

Then people began to die.

They called the new virus Eve. By spring, shell-shocked survivors scattered out of almost-empty cities. Now, three years later, he lived in a half-dead world with people like Thom Donnell, the bulbous, waddling former insurance salesman, because that’s what Thom was before—a salesman. Still a salesman. Gesticulating avidly to his customers between slaps to the naked man’s ass.

It made Hank’s blood boil.

* * *

Brey didn’t know where he was anymore. He thought he used to know. But now he wasn’t sure. His face scrunched up, but he didn’t feel it. All he felt was that bar under his belly, and he wanted to get away from it, but he couldn’t. His position confused him. He didn’t like it. He couldn’t get a good breath in, and his legs shook. He was hot, too.

Lemonade, he thought. That would be good. Under the veranda by the pool. A ball game on TV.

Giants an’ Dodgers.”

No Dodgers.”

He didn’t like that voice.

Metal clanked.

Fuck, that bar hurt.

Sweat stung his eyes, and he blinked grit away. There was concrete beneath him. A concrete floor. Oil stains. Oh yeah. A garage.

His legs shook again. Fuck. Fuck. “I have to go!”

Nobody looked at him, though. His voice wouldn’t come out. Only a raspy breath that he couldn’t quite catch. Noise rang in his ears—booming, raucous, shrill.


He struggled, metal bit into his wrists, and the pressure on his belly made his head swim. He was tired. Too tired for this. He didn’t want to do it anymore. Shame flooded him like hot water—itching, burning and stinging. Surreal. Out of nowhere. His memories of getting here swirled with images of swimming pools, orange and yellow leaves, a cell with bars, a blue strobe light, bare dry hills and a fat man smiling brightly.


He couldn’t remember coming here, undressing or bending over the bar. Panic fluttered inside him, and he began to pant again. Please God, please. I don’t want this. I don’t. But he wasn’t really sure of that anymore.


His breath rasped, and that laugh came again. High-pitched. Shrill. “Wakey-wakey.”

He thrashed. No!

One of the men grabbed onto him and slammed him against the bar. Pain burst inside, and his thoughts scattered again. He tried to grab on. Imagined a pool, lemonade, Goldy chasing tennis balls.


The drone of a TV.

Beautiful things like autumn leaves.

His breath exploded. Oh please, God. Please. I wanna go home! Please, please.

But all that came out was a rasp, a whisper—“Help me”—followed by a voice that grunted in his ear. “Who’s gonna help you, pretty boy?”

Him, he thought, painlessly now, floating away again. Him.
About Kayleigh

Kayleigh Sky is a m/m erotic romance writer.

Kayleighs stories are tales of struggle and pain, loss and despair. Love is won in the battle to rise out of the depths of darkness. Victory is in the sweet bliss of happily ever after.

Once upon a time Kayleigh hid out in a cold dark garage reading a book her parents forbid her to read. She was nine years old. The book? Giovannis Room by James Baldwin, a story of love between two menwell, actually the story was a little more complicated than that, but hey, she was nine.

In the dark of the garage, a light, a passion, a sheer joy for love in all its manifestations awoke.
And love between two menHot!

Kayleighs men are often broken, always brave, and always memorable.

Social Media Links

kayleigh.sky.write [at] gmail [dot] com