Sunday, May 31, 2015

Dual Release Dilemma (Sunday Snog #176 and a Contest!)

I just got back from my trip to the UK to attend the fabulous Smut by the Sea event in Scarborough. While I was away, I had not one but two new releases. So which one should I promote?

It’s a tough decision. The only possible answer is: both! You’ll find blurbs and excerpts for both Fourth World and The Last Amanuensis below. Check them out, then leave me a comment with your email. I’ll randomly select one person from all the people who comment, and give that individual whichever book he or she prefers.

Oh—and since today’s Sunday, one of the excerpts includes a snog. Don’t forget to visit Victoria’s place for more Sunday kisses!

Fourth World: Tales of monsters, myths and magic
Paranormal erotica by Lisabet Sarai (30K words)
Excessica, May 2015

Enter the fourth world - a world of lust and shadows, where anything can happen.

Obsessive passion and dark ecstasy mark these seven stories of paranormal desire from eroticist Lisabet Sarai. An undead couple hunts for beauty and youth in the history-drenched streets of Prague. A sex addict meets his fate in the embrace of a seductive monster. An innocent writer offers her body and heart to a century-old ghost. A spiritual seeker succumbs to temptation in the arms of a fearsome and greedy goddess. A kinky, blood-drenched threesome unfolds in a luxurious Bangkok penthouse. These tales conjure the magic of sex, and its dangers. Expect to be unbearably aroused and occasionally terrified. Do not expect happily ever afters.


The lightest of pressures, the briefest of touches, but it sent tremors through her sex. Instinctively, Beth parted her legs and rocked her pelvis forward, seeking more solid contact. The shopkeeper obliged, slipping one slender finger into the mass of moist curls to her center. Sparks leapt from that finger, raced through her, leaving her weak and breathless.

"Please..." she tried to say, not really knowing what she was asking for but wanting it more than anything. She had no voice, though, no will. She could barely stand.

The proprietor smiled at her reflection, kind, encouraging. "Come here, my dear." He led her to the velvet chaise. "Lie back. Relax."

Beth's mind flailed wildly, even as her body obeyed the man's suggestions. She searched his mild, middle-aged face, seeking reassurance. In response, he knelt in front of her, gently but firmly pushing her thighs apart. Then he removed his glasses, and his eyes were unveiled. Beth thought of the ocean, of the sky, of a gas flame, azure bright, almost transparent. And then of a star sapphire, ever-changing light sparkling in blue depths.

Then he bent his mouth to her sex, and Beth forgot to think.

Sensation and emotion, velvet wetness and diamond sharpness, his tongue a feather and a sword. She writhed and shook, keening like a madwoman. The shawl slipped away from her body. The velour upholstery grew damp beneath her. Beth did not notice. He licked, nibbled, probed her depths, breathed her, drank her, buried himself in her, swallowed her whole. She did not know what it was that he did, only that it brought near-unbearable ecstasy. The world shattered and fell away as pleasure drowned her.

Buy Links

Amazon US

Amazon UK




The Last Amanuensis
Speculative erotica by Lisabet Sarai (5K words)
Fireborn Publishing, May 2015

Poetry is like bloodyou cant hold it back.

The Emperor has decreed that Reason will rule in his lands. Art and literature are banned in favor of military technology. The fearsome Preceptors prowl the capitol, arresting anyone who dares, even secretly, to engage in forbidden activities.

A former teacher and frustrated writer, Adele is grateful for her job as secretary to the enigmatic Professor. During the day, she transcribes his learned treatises on a vast range of topics. Then he calls her to his room one night, to give her a more difficult and intimate assignment, one that risks both their lives.


He told me once, as dawn neared and the candles sputtered out, that I was the most skilled of all the secretaries he has employed over the years. I remember his praise on the nights he does not require my services, when I lie awake thinking about him and our perilous enterprise. It almost melts the lump of cold fear that has taken up residence in my chest.


Sorry, sir.” Picking up the instrument (one of his many clever designs), I apply the needle once more, resolutely ignoring the tiny gasp that escapes him. “Just three more words,” I add, tracing the pointillist curve of an S on the still unmarked spot below his right kidney. 
He remains silent. Unutterably brave. I check the scrawled page spread out on the table, just to be sure—the ink is unforgiving of mistakes—then bend again to his pale flesh. Blood wells up from one of my punctures, glittering like a ruby in the snow. When I wipe the surface with an alcohol-soaked napkin, he quivers upon the mattress. Probably he is reacting to the sting, though I like to imagine it is my touch that affects him thus.

Though I know he'll be angry, I cannot stop myself from stroking his naked arse, tracing the lines of text that march up the swell and down into the hollow between his legs. Some are written in my neat, squared hand. Others are unfamiliar. All are beautiful, a thousand words in reds, greens, purples; opulent as some medieval manuscript.

My employer shifts again, spreading his thighs a bit so that I glimpse the dusky, wrinkled mass of his sac. His living warmth penetrates the rubber of my gloves. I nearly tear them off, just so I can feel his skin against mine. My fingers tingle, drawn to his illumined flesh like steel to a magnet.

Adele!There's no fatigue in his voice now, no trace of weakness, nothing but iron determination. I flush with shame at my irresponsible distraction.Finish the bloody poem.

Buy Links

Amazon US

Amazon UK

All Romance Ebooks



Fireborn Publishing

Don't forget to enter the giveaway! Leave me a comment telling me which book you'd like to win. And don't forget your email!

Sunday, May 24, 2015

Sunday Snog #175: Clean Slate

My snog today comes from “Clean Slate”, one of the stories in my new collection of lesbian erotica, Her Own Devices. It’s short, but very intense!

Don’t forget to visit Snog Central for links to lots more luscious Sunday kisses!

You're so wet, chica!she purred. I was. Her fingers slipped and slithered in my depths like eels in the ocean.I'm wet, too. I've dreamed about this, about you...since the first day you shed your clothing and showed me your marks, I've wanted to strip you bare and make you writhe...

Oh...oh...oh!I was beyond words, though some distant corner of my mind still observed, commented, analyzed. As though impatient, she pushed the panties down around my thighs, then plunged her whole hand into my sopping pussy. I ground my clit against her knuckles and spread my legs as wide as I could. Elastic cut into my flesh, but I didn't care. I opened myself to her clever fingers, wanting more, moremore of the fierce heat she coaxed from my snow-pale body, more of the pleasure that she woke everywhere she touched.

She nipped at my shoulder, where the anesthetic had started to wear off. Pain sliced through me, a startling contrast to the sweet heaviness pooled between my thighs. I turned my head and she fastened her ripe-plum lips on mine, forcing her tongue into my mouth, still twisting my nipple and stabbing at my clit. She smelled like orange blossoms. She tasted of espresso. She pressed her pelvis against my bare ass. The starched fabric of her lab coat rasped against my cheeks. I could feel her dampness, even through the layers of cloth. I felt her want, a mirror of my own.

Somehow we ended up on the tiled floor. Under her coat she wore tight jeans and a purple tank top without a bra. Cradling her full breasts in my pale fingers, I suckled first one taut nipple and then the other while she struggled with her pants. I ran my tongue up along the outside of one luscious mound, to the sensitive spot under her arm. She stiffened and moaned. I heard tearing fabric and understood that she was as desperate as I was.

I straddled her, pressing my lightly furred bush against her black thicket. Skin on skin, at last! My juices mingled with hers as we rubbed our mounds together. Our rich, musky scent hung heavy in the sterile room. I leaned over to capture her mouth, letting my pea-sized nipples graze her more opulent ones.

She relaxed and let me take the lead. I wanted to devour her. I had to hold myself back. I kissed her ferociously, for a long time, until I could tell she was having trouble breathing. you...chica,she gasped when I finally released her. I could only grunt; I was too deep into my lust to speak. I nipped at her earlobe, then swung around so that my cunt was in her face. She spread me wide with trembling fingers.

The first sweep of her strong, hot tongue gathered me and drew me to the pinnacle. The second stroke pushed me off. My body took flight, arrowing up into clouds of pure pleasure then tumbling downward to burst against her face. Everything poured out of me, the darkness and the fear and the shame, flooding her eager mouth.