Sunday, March 11, 2018

Sizzling Sunday: Underground - #paranormal #erotic #incubus

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I’ve been sharing sexy bits from my back list over the past month or two. Today I thought I’d give you an excerpt from something more recent. My Sizzling Sunday offering today comes from my paranormal erotic short story “Underground”, part of the Unearthly Delights anthology.

This is a pretty dark tale, about the relationship between a mortal woman and an incubus. In writing it, I touched something deep inside myself. I hope it touches you, too.

By the way, since this is the second Sunday in the month, it would normally be Charity Sunday. However, I’m on a foreign trip right now, so I can’t do the promotion I’d like. I’ll put up a charity post next Sunday, 18 March. That means that you can still comment on last month’s post, and add to the donation total!



Thus far tonight, despite the dagger, there has been no blood—just his mouth on mine and his probing thoughts. You are sure? comes his question, as clear as if he’d spoken aloud. I’ve become accustomed to his presence in my mind, the quiet authority that soothes me on the rare occasions when fleeting terror breaks through my lassitude.

I cannot nod—my muscles no longer obey me—but I mentally broadcast my assent. Even now, after all our encounters, I am not certain who he is, what limits he may have, how dangerous he could be. That doesn’t matter. I’d never refuse him.

His kiss sucks the breath from my lungs and the energy from my limbs, leaving me gloriously weak. Liquid pleasure ripples through my languid flesh, flowing in to replace the restless hunger that normally animates my body. I sink into the clean, sunshine-smelling sheets. My pulse sluggish, my breath stuttering, I close my eyes and let myself drown in that intoxicating kiss.

The world grows fuzzy, yet every sensation is heightened. His skin is silken. His mouth is hot as the sun, wet as rain. Tonight he smells of summer flowers and January snow. His hands roam over my nakedness as he kisses me, stroking, coaxing, delicate but insistent. Each touch is an invitation to release a bit more of my self to him.

When he finally stretches out on top of me, I am barely breathing. My heart beats no more than a dozen times per minute. I should be unconscious, my life hanging by a thread. Instead I’m acutely aware of him—the pressure of his hairless chest against my breasts, his winter scent. That, and the ripples of phantom bliss I feel despite my paralysis.

Then Z slides his cock into the hungry void between my sprawled thighs. Fire streaks through me. Answering energy surges back to him in a delicious, dizzy rush. I’d thought I was close to depleted, but I’m wrong. I have more, much more to give.

Z’s fingers might be gentle, but he wields his cock with all the brutal force I crave. Even in my debilitated state, I find myself close to climax as he pounds my cunt. He hovers over me, supporting himself on his arms, skewering me again and again. I’m far too weak to clench my muscles and hold him inside, but my slick folds cling to his cock as he withdraws before each savage thrust. Each time he enters my flesh, he takes more of me.

I surrender gladly, rejoicing in my weakness. Never have I felt so utterly helpless. Possessed, overwhelmed, almost erased. It’s terrifying and thrilling, desperately erotic. My sight is dim, but still I see his eyes, glowing above me as though lit from within by blue-green flame. No smile softens his features, not even now as his cock pulses in my paralyzed depths and his rhythm grows ragged. My surrender excites him. The knowledge that I please him, that I fulfill his needs as he does mine, floods me with a tingling warmth.

Darkness gathers, as it always does. His feverish pounding is all I know. As his speed increases, my heart slows further. He’s almost at the crisis point. His climax will trigger mine, that glorious release into emptiness I crave more than anything else.

At the last moment, as always, I know he’ll relinquish his hold on me and pump a bit of life-force back into me, enough to keep me in the world for our next encounter. Anticipatory tension seizes my spirit, though my body remains limp and unresponsive. Soon…

His ferocious thrusts push me still deeper into ecstatic immobility. I cannot read his thoughts the way he reads mine. Still, I sense him holding back. He aches to consume me completely, and in that instant, I want to give him that final gift.

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