Friday, October 30, 2020

My Spookiest Story - #Halloween #Necrophilia #Giveaway

Underground cover

Happy Halloween! And thanks to everyone who has been leaving comments and entering my giveaway. I said I’d draw winners today, but I think I’ll wait until tomorrow, once the big day is over.

Meanwhile, for my last Halloween-themed post this year, I’m sharing a bit from what I think might be my spookiest story, Underground. This tale, originally written for the paranormal anthology Unearthly Delights, is also available as a standalone book. The heroine of this darkly erotic piece craves release at the very edge of death – and finally finds what she needs in the arms of an incubus. 


Discover the ultimate erotic surrender

The long years before I found Underground and Z seem like some bad dream—an endless series of fetish groups and kink clubs, personal ads and bar hook-ups, as I searched everywhere for someone who could understand and satisfy my particular needs. S&M folk like to believe they're tolerant and accepting. They weren't ready to tolerate me, though.

Z doesn’t need blades or blood to take me where I want to go. His unnatural power alone would be enough. He understands how the ritual excites me, though—the slow glide of metal across my breast or along my thigh, the rush of bright pain, the flare of desire as ruby droplets gather in the knife’s wake.

I never told him about the blades and the blood. He just knew, as he seems to know so much else about me. 

X-Rated Excerpt

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.

Buy Links

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Are you brave enough for this book? Leave me a comment and you could win a copy. Meanwhile your comments continue to serve as entries in my giveaway!

Thursday, October 29, 2020

Virtue needs vice – #BDSMRomance #EroticRomance @c_castleton

The Roughened Petals cover


Samuel: The end justifies the means is Machiavellian. I’m de Sade: the end is entirely mine. When I’m hard, I’m no gentleman. Sex is that perfect balance of pain and pleasure. Without that symmetry, sex becomes a routine, not an indulgence.

Linnea: Sir said my virginity was a virtue. He said virtue needed vice, such as the extreme pain he gave me, for me to gain the ultimate pleasure as his Slave. I thought it was just a game. No skin off my nose. So I signed the contract Sir offered me.

Buy Links

Amazon UK:

Amazon US:



A quarter of a million quid? That’s one dotted straight line from slut to harlot. It will most definitely make a whore out of me, I tell myself over and over again, however an expensive one.

Even in fiction I don’t remember reading a book where a woman accepted money in exchange for sex, and I failed to think she was a prostitute. So if I’m going to judge myself by that same logic, then that makes me one as well. That is, if I accept Sir’s offer. The operative word being “if”. No matter which way I turn this around in my head, no matter how it’s termed – whore, slag, prostitute, slut – I can’t see the offer in a positive light. Sir called it an incentive, but the wording doesn’t matter. You can call a spade a shovel, but it’s still a spade. Sir wanted a contract with me even if he didn’t use that word. Simply put, he wants sex, outrageously kinky hot sex, and is willing to pay the price. Isn’t that what prostitution is? A contract between two consenting adults involving sex and – most usually – money? With the payer having the upper hand over the payee?

My throat scorches with anger. I feel insulted that he would offer to pay me while he denies me. It cheapened the experience I had and want to have with him. Why on earth did he feel the need to offer me money? Did he think I was a chattel he could buy after I rebuffed his advances to take me out of the club? I bite my already-bitten-to-the-quick thumbnail, remembering the wanting look in his eyes. I bloody, totally, fucking want him, too. I’m tempted in the most biblical sense. My Adam, in the Garden of Eden, but reversed. The money he’s offering is the kind of apple that could make such a huge difference in my life. I could pay off my student debts, my car instalments and stash the remainder of the money away for future investments. I certainly have no shortage of things I could do with that money. But, above all else, it means I’d get him. I’d get to live out a forbidden desire that keeps me awake late at night.

I’d have my Sir night and day.

Do whatever you want with it. It will still mean you’re a whore, that annoying voice at the back of my head whispers. I grit my teeth, angry that I’m even considering his offer.

Just thinking about it takes my breath away. The very idea of being paid for sex makes my body tingle with excitement and exhilaration. I mean, how much lower can you get in a relationship? It’s something forbidden, especially in 21st century. Bloody hell, it’s the century women are celebrating their suffrage! And that in and of itself is so seductive.

All the same, I am not a bloody prostitute,” I murmur with some inexplicable fondness.

About the Author


C. C. Castleton is a Kenyan of Indian and British descent. Her ancestors arrived in Kenya between 1896 and 1920. C. C. studied sociology and political science, works as an actress, model and freelance journalist. She and her husband both love globetrotting, a love now shared with their miraculous baby. The Castletons are at home around the globe, a legacy they love to attribute to their migratory ancestors.

Her full name is Charulekha Christiana Castleton. The last C she wears with honour and pride from Mr Castleton, a Kenyan of aristocratic British descent, whose ancestors settled in Kenya in the late 19th century. After Mr Castleton introduced her to the delights of the London exclusive clubs, C. C. was inspired to start writing about the BDSM scene and those delights she experienced and came to cherish.

Lastly, thank you, dear reader, for reading my work. I sincerely hope I didn’t disappoint you. If I did, let me know on my Facebook page username @CCCastleton or email me at castletoncc5 [at] gmail. Visit my Page and send my Page messages at

Follow me in Twitter @c_castleton

A Final Message from Author C. C. Castleton

If you enjoyed this story, I hope you’ll consider writing a review. Even a brief review helps boost a book’s visibility and sales. Also, if you’d like to join my street team, and get the chance to read and review my books before anyone else, please contact me by email (castletoncc5 [at] gmail) and put “Castleton Review Team” in the subject line. You can take this opportunity to tell me something about yourself. I love knowing whatever you yourself choose to tell me, rather than my directing you in a pre-set form to fill out on what I want to know about you.

Thank you!

~ C. C. Castleton

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

Dirty Laundry - #FreeStory #Vampire #Erotica #Halloween

Liu the vampire
Photo by Anh-Duc Le on Unsplash

"Excuse me. Do you have anything that can eliminate this stain?"

The low, musical voice was fraught with urgency. With a weary sigh, Sybil stuck her thumb between the pages of One Hundred Years of Solitude. She turned her attention to her customer, a slender young man with Asian features wearing tight jeans and a look of concern.

"Let me take a look." She slipped a bookmark into Marquez' masterpiece then returned to focus on her companion. The guy passed the garment over the counter. As her dark hand grazed his pale one, a bolt of electricity made her gasp. She shook her still-tingling fingers.

"Sorry," he said, plump lips curving into a half-smile. Her stomach did a little flip. She didn't normally find Asian men attractive, bu this guy had some kind of pop-star charisma.

"It's okay. There's always a lot of static here, because of the dryers." Sybil spread the fabric out on the linoleum surface. It was a shirt in Renaissance style, yellowed with age. The cream colored satin graded almost to gold at the collar and cuffs. A rust-brown splotch defaced one billowing sleeve.

"You can't wash this. I'm not even sure that dry cleaning would be advisable for something so fragile." She slipped her hand inside the garment and spread her fingers, holding the fabric up to the light. "Look. In some places it's already translucent."

"Oh dear." The stranger shook his head. "That is my favorite shirt."

"If you wear it, it's likely to tear." Sybil's fertile imagination immediately supplied an image of her companion with his hairless, muscled chest visible through artfully arranged satin rags. Her pussy dampened under her Indian print skirt. His crestfallen expression added sympathy to her simmering lust. "If you like this style, you might try Trash & Vaudeville on St. Mark's Place. Wonderful vintage clothes, and pretty cheap too."

"Thank you. Perhaps I will." Even when he smiled, there was a pervasive sadness about him. Sybil had the urge to comfort him, to take him in her arms and cradle him against her ample breasts. The way her nipples tightened at the thought was far from motherly, however.

She scanned the otherwise empty laundromat, stark in the fluorescent glare. Pitch-black night pressed against the plate glass window. The floral scent of fabric softener hung in the humid air. One dryer halfway down the left rank hummed, emitting a rhythmic click as a button or buckle tumbled against the metal drum.

"Is that your load?" she asked, wanting to keep the conversation going. He nodded. "I haven't seen you here before. Do you usually do your wash during the day?"

"No, no - I just moved here a few months ago." He hoisted his obviously firm butt onto the stool on the other side of the counter. "I was pleased to discover there was an all-night laundry in the neighborhood." A jet black lock of hair fell over one eye. He tossed his head , flipping it back into place. The casual gesture was somehow supremely sexy.

"You work during the day?" Sybil smoothed the skirt over her lap, acutely aware of her peaked nipples brushing against her white peasant blouse. Arousal buzzed between her thighs. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her neck. The place seemed even steamier than usual.

"Um - not exactly." For the first time he looked directly at her. His eyes were as black as the night outside. A delicious shiver crawled up Sybil's spine. "What about you?"

"Oh, I go to school, days. NYU MFA program. I've worked here since I started a year ago. It's not exactly my dream job." She shrugged, trying to slow her racing pulse. "But I've always been a night person."

"Yes," the young man sighed. "I am as well." He speared her with those coal-dark eyes, staring without blinking, as though he were reading her soul. Sybil squirmed in her chair, unable to look away. Did he see the fantasies her wicked mind was spinning? Her pussy grew slick and swollen. His nostrils flared. Did he smell the ocean scent rising around her?

For an endless time he held her there, suspended in his gaze. "What is your name?" he asked at last, without breaking the visual connection.

"Sybil," she whispered. He reached for her, grasping the hand that lay on top of his soiled shirt. Once again electricity sizzled through her. This time he didn't let go. Sparks teased her heavy breasts, making them tingle and ache. Current rippled through her belly to vibrate in the wet space between her legs.

"I am Liu," he said. Sybil did not see him move, yet suddenly he was behind the counter, still grasping her hand. His energy pulsed through her taut body. He leaned close. He smelled of sandalwood and earth. His lips grazed her earlobe, completing the circuit.

Pleasure surged through her. She sank to her knees, unable to bear the intensity. He followed, joining her on the floor. She felt his fingers combing through her wiry curls, his cool breath on her cheek.

"You are so lovely, Sybil," he murmured. "So ripe and full of life. I want you so much." She heard pain in his voice. Pain echoed in her chest when he released her and pulled away. He sat back on his heels and gazed on her, sorrow etched into his beautiful face. "I cannot allow myself to surrender to this desire, however."

", Liu...I want you too..." Sybil went wild. She dragged her blouse over her head and tossed it away, then untied the long wraparound skirt. The voluminous cotton tangled in her legs. "Damn!" She tugged at it but finally gave up, having to content herself with crumpling it to her waist. Her string bikini tore away with a single yank. Musk gusted out from between her parted thighs.

Canvas bags of dirty laundry lay piled beneath the counter, waiting for the daytime staff who handled drop-off service. Sybil stretched out on the makeshift mattress, arms above her head, breasts elevated, legs falling open to reveal her pussy. The lewdness of her position only excited her more. "Take me," she begged. "Now!"

"No, not tempt me!"

Sybil hefted her breasts and squeezed the rigid tips, plump and dark like morsels of succulent chocolate. "Come on," she pleaded. "No one can see us. No one will know." She slipped a finger into her moist cleft and gasped at the sensations produced by that small intrusion. "I'm so wet, Liu. Come see. Come taste me!"

The young man groaned. All at once he was naked, his jeans and sweatshirt strewn on the floor around his lithe form. Sybil had time to blink just once before he was upon her, nuzzling her neck and stabbing his cock blindly against her sex.

"Let me..." Sybil reached between them, circling the smooth, cool rod of flesh and guiding it between her lower lips. He slid inside, gliding through her slick folds and making her writhe. She clenched down on his invading bulk. Waves of energy rippled through her, dancing over her skin, surging through her veins. He jerked, driving his rock-hard cock as deep as it would go, then pulled back and speared her again. Pleasure was too pale a word for the feelings that swirled through her.

"Sybil," he whispered, his lips near her ear once more. He traced the line of her jaw with his tongue, then licked and nibbled his way down to the hollow of her throat. All the while he slammed into her, fierce, relentless, as though he'd split her open.

Sybil arched up, grinding her pelvis against his narrow hips. He seized her full buttocks, scoring them with his nails as he sank his irresistible cock even deeper. "Oh, God!' she gasped, her eyes screwed shut in concentration. "I'm nearly there." Liu thrust faster and harder, battering her with pleasure. All the while his strange lightning flickered through her.

Her pussy was molten. She gripped his steel-muscled arms, straining toward release. Razor sharp teeth sank into her shoulder. Pain exploded, brilliant as a sunrise. The first quivers of climax shook her frame, even as she felt blood welling up from the wound.

She opened her eyes, seeking her lover's gaze. His eyes were pools of night, threatening to drown her. His formerly-pensive expression was replaced by a manic grin that exposed gleaming, vicious fangs.

"Do you still want me, pretty one?" he growled, crushing her with the force of his cock. "Now that you know who I am?"

Sybil was too far gone to answer.

The fire swelled inside her, sparks circling, making everything bright. He pressed his lips to her torn flesh. She felt his suction between her thighs, in the dark cauldron his cock still stirred. He pulled the blood from her, pulling her to the edge at the same time. His ferocious hunger fed her own, pushing her off the precipice. She tumbled into searing pleasure, convulsing under him even as he sliced into her breast and drank deep.

The feeble light of dawn brought Sybil back to her senses. She found herself sprawled naked across the piled laundry bags. She tried to sit up. A languid weakness infected her limbs. She could hardly move. Dried blood crusted over her breast, a few shades darker than her skin. She palpated the painful spot on her shoulder. Her fingers came away reddened and moist. She should have been afraid, but all she felt was sweet satisfaction.

Finally, she managed to roll over and rise to her knees. Her thighs were sticky and sore. Between them, her pussy tingled with echoes of pleasure.

After struggling into her blouse and untangling her skirt, she crawled to the vending machine and bought herself a Coke. The sugar and caffeine revived her to some extent.

She seated herself behind the counter, watching the second hand on the clock sweep time away. Five forty five. Elena, the day manager, would arrive at seven. Meanwhile, Sybil tried to think rationally about what had happened. Her thoughts just slithered away, losing themselves in the fog of remembered delight.

Vampires did not exist. But oh, the electric sensation of his teeth entering her flesh! And the dark fury of his cock, tearing her open! She wanted all that again, God help her. She wanted him, whoever he was.

Would he return? Was he gone forever, terrified by his lapse of discipline? She hobbled over to the window and peered out into the brightening day. The sidewalks were empty. Where did he go, when the sun drove him into hiding?

The laundromat was silent save for the tick of the clock. Sybil surveyed the small, bare space, as though he might be hiding somewhere. Her glance fell on one of the dryers. A crumpled heap of clothing showed through the circular window.

His laundry! He'd left it behind. Sybil grabbed a basket and extracted the contents of the dryer - not silk or velvet as she expected but ordinary things, tee shirts, sweat socks, boxer shorts... Automatically, she began to fold the items, piling them on the counter. Maybe, just maybe, he'd come back for his clothes. And he'd have to come at night, wouldn't he, when Sybil was on duty?

Maybe, he'd even come back for her sake. Perhaps right now he slept, in some shadowy room sealed against the light, dreaming of her.

The way she was dreaming about him.

Don't forget to leave a comment with your email. Every one counts as an entry in my Halloween giveaway!


Tuesday, October 27, 2020

The world already ended once ... #SciFi #PostApocalyptic #Giveaway @CitizenN8

Centricity cover


The world already ended once. Now it's up to an outgunned negotiator, a disavowed spy, and an immersion-addicted hacker to stop it from happening again.

Centuries after the Fold, civilization is fragile. In the megacity of Naion, people live stacked in arcologies, most never going outside because the air is another enemy. Instead, freedom comes from technology: bodytechs modify the human form while synthetic intelligences whisper through brainware.

Now a new bridge between man and machine has emerged, one that could destroy humanity’s second shot at survival—or save it, depending on who gets to it first....

Adasha Denali is one of the government’s best dispute resolution specialists, but when a scandal threatens to destabilize the city and end her career, she’ll need more than words to escape the fallout. Venturing out of her office and into a fight for the future, she’ll team up with a disavowed spy, learning the hard way that betrayal wears many faces, and one of them may be her own.

Neon Nik is an immersion-addicted IT freelancer struggling to pay off debts to circling loan sharks. Threats of dismemberment become the least of his problems when a surprise inheritance throws him into a vortex of corporate kill squads willing to burn the city down to find him.

Engineered spies, high-tech mercenaries, and immersion hackers collide in this first gripping installment of the Centricity Cycle.


Nik smiled and the building smiled back, its fa├žade all black teeth angles and white gum signage held together with cables and fat tendrils of epoxy. Poetry curled along the bulging geometry, hand-painted in dead Persian. He’d never bothered to have his software translate it. In an age of information bloat, ignorance was a proactive sport.

Above the entryway a single word blazed: HALE.

Two store fronts down, a woman rested against the shell of a mutilated cleaning bot. The glow of her cig warmed her blank expression. Another silhouetted figure pissed into a gap between buildings.

Hands in his pockets, Nik rolled his too small shoulders in his too big jacket. Soft with age, the leather made no sound. Canopy environmental systems kept temperatures chilly or warm but never quite comfortable. He coughed and thought about clearing his throat onto the sidewalk, decided not to—didn’t want to waste the residue of his last Cinnamon Fire—and crossed the street to Hale. Underfoot, a trampled stew of discard formed the menu of some future archaeological buffet.

The air inside hinted at decomposing animals in heating ducts. Ironic, considering this was the Canopy’s premier breather bar, where patrons sucked down spiked air cocktails.

About the Author

Nathaniel Henderson was born in 1983 in Albuquerque, NM, USA. At a young age he moved to Tulsa, OK, where he spent the next fifteen or so years surviving adolescence. After graduating from high school, he packed it up and headed out west to the picturesque Santa Cruz, CA to attend UCSC. After a year of wrestling with computer science, he transferred to San Francisco to study computer animation and special effects. The career didn’t stick, and he set off to teach English in South Korea, Thailand, and finally Tokyo, Japan, where he currently resides.


email: citizenhenderson [at] gmail [dot] com







Centricity Amazon Link: 


Nathaniel Henderson will be awarding a $40 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC  to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.


a Rafflecopter giveaway

Review Tuesday: Prophecy of the Mayan Undead by Fiona McGier - #Vampires #Fantasy #ReviewTuesday

Mayan Undead cover

Prophecy of the Mayan Undead by Fiona McGier

Smashwords, 2020

Brilliant neurobiologist Keesha Brown is running for her life, though she doesn’t know who she is fleeing from, or why. All she knows is that they always seem to be one step ahead of her. She wakes up to find herself tied up in the trunk of a car driven by two thugs. Though her agile mind still searches for a way out of her dilemma, she fears her time is up. Then all hell breaks loose. A hero appears and crushes her abducters, but not before they shoot and fatally wound her.

Century-old vampire Yuri Kozakov has been cultivating an intellectual relationship with the dedicated researcher; he hopes Keisha can answer his questions about his own origins. Meanwhile he finds the feisty dark-skinned beauty stirs him in distinctly non-intellectual ways as well. When she fails to arrive for their first real date, he realizes she must be in trouble. He manages to track her to lonely country road and to destroy her kidnappers, but it’s too late to save her. His only option is turn her into a creature of the night like he is. On the verge of dying, she accepts his offer of eternal life as a blood drinker, experiencing an ecstatic, arousing communion with her handsome savior.

This is how Fiona McGier begins her novel Prophecy of the Mayan Undead. If you think this sounds like your typical vampire erotic romance, think again. Ms. McGier happily shatters all the Twilight-engendered stereotypes and tosses the pieces to the winds. To start with, her heroine Keisha is sassy, opinionated, sexually liberated and so smart she intimidates everyone around her. She doesn’t waste time worrying about her lost mortality, but applies her new powers not only to the scientific problem that has occupied her for years, namely how to increase human intelligence, but also to the puzzle of the vampires’ existence.

Yuri is Norse-god gorgeous and inexhaustibly virile (of course...) but he’s not the brooding, moody alpha you might expect. Indeed, he’s in awe of Keesha, as well as in love with her, and though he’ll protect her with his life, he’s perfectly delighted to let her take the lead, both in her research efforts and in the bedroom.

Together with two far more ancient vampires, long-time lovers Casomiro and Apolinar, they track the origin of vampires on earth to alien beings who visited the Mayan empire centuries before. These aliens transformed some humans, who spread vampiric spores around the earth. The Mayans worshiped the interstellar visitors as gods, turning their need for blood into the foundation of the culture’s cruel rituals.

Mayans? Aliens? Not your usual pseudo-Gothic Bram Stokery! The author is delightfully creative in her mixing and matching of genres. Things get even wilder in the second half of the book, which features a female Chinese vampire who’s also a scientist – looking for ways to make the “human cattle” more docile and stupid. Abused all her life, repeatedly raped and humiliated, Niu Ying has a heart of stone and a bitter, vengeful spirit. Nevertheless, she falls in love with a representative from yet another extraterrestrial species, a highly advanced race who nudge the beings of lesser planets toward greater maturity.

Ms. McGier’s sex scenes between Niu Ying and the blue-furred, laid-back creature outside time called Frank are some of the best parts of this lively book.

Finally he moved away from her, and she watched through barely open eyes as he removed his jumpsuit. All of his skin had the same light blue tinge, but the parts of him that had been under the jumpsuit were also covered in a soft, darker blue fur. Ying reached out a hand to stroke his chest, then her hand moved lower and she grasped the organ that was much wider closer to his body, and thinner further away. There were horizontal ridges, leading to a head that was a knotted ball of veins. It was also responding to her every touch, twitching and moving as she stroked it.

She looked up at his face and saw passion, combined with an infinite tenderness. He crawled up onto the cushions to lie next to her, leaning over to kiss her lips again, as his long fingers began to stroke the skin on the insides of her thighs. She gasped with pleasure, as skin cells that had never been touched sprang to life, and began to tingle and throb.

So what happens next? I don’t want to spoil your fun by telling you too much, but by the time you get to the end, we’ve got visitations from two alien species, a showdown at the United Nations, and a pretty effective attempt at saving the world.

Does this sound silly? Prophecy of the Mayan Undead is unquestionably erotic romance, but it’s also fantasy. Some of the outrageous twists might seem implausible, but as a reader, you need to reserve judgment and hold on tight for a crazy ride. I guarantee you’ll have fun.

Sunday, October 25, 2020

'Tis the Season for all things Spooky... @AuthorHKCarlton #Halloween #EroticParanormal #EroticHorror

Lustful Possession bundle 1
The Lustful Possession Series


H K Carlton

A seemingly harmless paranormal investigation sparks a series of haunting events that ultimately sends an international team of supernatural investigators to Ireland and to one of the most haunted destinations in all of Europe… Castle Cairnnon.

Lustful Possession — A saga sweeping several generations of characters, in an unsettling and at times horrific tale with many twists and turns, and a stunning conclusion you won’t see coming.

Travel through time and unravel the mystery of Cairnnon Castle...

Please note: Though this collection of short stories is predominantly dark erotic paranormal—at times verging on horror—it runs the gamut in sub-genre cross-overs and eras—from contemporary to historical time-travel, and back again. The series also incorporates both m/f and m/m couplings, plus scenes with multiple-partner interaction including m/m/m and m/f/f. Must be read in order.

Part 1 - Meet Me in the Dark

(m/f, paranormal, erotic, contemporary, ghosts, possession)

Crishtin Davenport thought she was attending a simple Halloween event—a good scare to get the blood pumping. Little does she know her actions that night would unleash an ancient evil.

Part 2 - Dark Foursome

(m/f, paranormal, erotic, contemporary, ghosts, possession)

A foursome takes on a whole new aspect when a fledgling couple, is hijacked by two randy spirits, who then use their corporeal bodies to recapture the sexual pleasures they enjoyed while inhabiting the physical world.

Part 3 - The Fall of Cairnnon Castle 

(m/f, time-travel, Ireland, historical, paranormal, dark erotic, verging on horror)

The saga takes a sudden medieval time-travel twist. Cairnnon Castle is one of the most haunted places on earth and home to one of the most evil entities ever documented. When an enthusiastic troop of paranormal investigators descends on the ancient stronghold, all hell breaks loose.

Meet the O'Cairnnon's - a fate most do not survive

Part 4 - Rising From the Darkness

(m/m, paranormal, erotic, contemporary)

U.S. paranormal investigators return to Ireland to commemorate the 25th anniversary of the Fall of Castle Cairnnon. But what they find instead might set the paranormal community on it’s collective ear.

Part 5 - Dark Seed

(paranormal, erotic, contemporary, m/f story with m/m interaction)

The investigators' astonishing discovery at Castle Cairnnon, can only be described as a miracle. Or is one blessing, just another curse.

Part 6 - Bending Darkness

(m/f, paranormal, erotic, time-travel, historical)

The Cairnnon curse threatens to turn one woman's dreams of happily-ever-after into a hellish nightmare.

Part 7 - Dark Defeat 

The stunning conclusion to the Lustful Possession saga (paranormal, dark erotic, time-travel, historical, an m/f story with f/f and m/f/f interaction)

Hell-bent on saving her children, a mother will stop at nothing to defeat the evil that stalks her family, or at the very least, she’ll die trying.

It's Time to Bundle Up!

Out Now!

Lustful Possession Bundle 1

which contains the first 3 books

Meet Me in the Dark, Dark Foursome &

The Fall of Cairnnon Castle


Buy Links

eXtasy Books

Universal Link (including Amazon)



Enjoy a snippet from my favorite book in the series — :o Oops! Can I say that? ;) — The Fall of Cairnnon Castle.


Cairnnon Castle, Ireland—The Present

The earth underneath me quakes. The sky above me falls. It rains down on me. Pain explodes inside my head. My ribs break. I am crushed.

A deafening rumble offends my ears. My body is tossed and crumpled, battered by debris. It goes on for an eternity.

And then...

Silence. Stillness.

The pain is immense. Like nothing I’ve ever endured in my life.

Oh, God! Please! I implore wordlessly. I cannot speak, scream, or moan.

My eyes are closed. But beyond me, there’s brightness, so vivid I detect it through my closed eyelids. I try to open them, but none of my faculties are functioning. I am heavy. My lungs are burning. It hurts to even take shallow breaths. I concentrate on the unenviable task of simply inhaling in and out—an action I have obviously taken for granted all these years. The dust is choking me. I try not to cough. I will split apart if I do. My ribcage has already splintered with the weight upon me.

A low hum begins. It is annoying, but as it goes on it becomes comforting, harmonious.

As the fire in my chest subsides, I am lethargic, sleepy, and content.


I know what this is. It is elemental. Inevitable, from the moment we take our first breath.

I wait for it...

Death comes.


I am in and out of consciousness.

Just come,” I whisper. Speaking is laborious, yet somehow it happens. “Just take me.”

The incessant drone becomes vibration.

I sense it, a presence. Above me. Surrounds me. Becomes me.

The pain subsides by degrees. Warmth seeps into me. I sigh at the pleasure of it. I hadn’t realized I was so cold.

Without words, it communicates with me. Death is one with me.

You enjoy that.”

Yes. Thank you.” My gratitude is profound.

You know what I am.”

It is a statement. It is a part of me. It knows what I am thinking.

I don’t need to articulate. “Yes.”

You are not afraid.”

No, you comfort me.”

For a moment I sense confusion, and I am bewildered by it. It is not my uncertainty. It is illogical. Death would not emote. But my thought is distracted.

The lovely heat spreads, radiating through every part of my broken body.

Ahhhh, that feels so good.”

Everything in me tingles, from the top of my head right down to my feet. There is no pain. Not even my lungs hurt anymore. My inhalations become rapid instead of shallow. My blood rushes. I can hear it traveling through my veins. My pulse pounds in my head. My body throbs. My breasts tingle and my loins catch fire.

I squirm. My body tightens. The heaviness in my lower body is nothing but carnal.

I am not even being touched, but I am being consumed and stimulated on every level. Mind, body and spirit.

It fills me, inside and out.

Unable to stop myself, I feel my hips list in that dance as old as time. I am going to come.

Onnhhh!” I am bombarded by one blissful, gut-wrenching wave after another of exquisite, relentless pleasure. I want to weep at the intensity of it, but I am helpless.

It has to stop, but I don’t want it to end. I thrash, uncontrollably experiencing an all-over body orgasm like nothing I’d ever experienced in life. Is this heaven? A powerful tug, deep inside, sends another round of sweet undulation through me.

I cry out.

What am I, Nevaeh?” Death demands.

I pant with my last breaths.





The Lustful Possession Saga books are on sale until October 31st at eXtasy Books along with all backlist titles, including Editor's Choice Historical Romance, The Devil Take You and fan favorite, Mafia Romantic Suspense, The Always Cambridge Series.

Thanks for having me back Lisabet!

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