Halloween is hurtling toward us. With starting a new job and trying to finish my latest novel, I haven’t had time to prepare. Certainly I haven’t had a chance to write any new paranormal stories to celebrate what has always been my favorite holiday.
So for today’s Book Hooks hop, I’m sharing the beginning of a chillingly erotic paranormal tale from my backlist, Underground. This intense story about a relationship with an incubus might not be to everyone’s taste, but I think it’s one of the best pieces I’ve ever written.
Note: this excerpt is rated R for graphic language.
So maybe it’s not totally sane. I’ve always been fascinated by madness.
As for safe, where’s the thrill in safety?
You can’t, however, deny that it’s consensual.
Ducking into a blank alley, one of thousands in this city, I make my way to the metal door near the end. The keypad gives off a faint green luminescence. I tap in the combination and the door swings open; my pulse is already climbing. My boot heels ring hollow as I descend the industrial steel steps, and the thump of the bass rises to meet me. Excitement wells up, flooding my cunt, even before I’ve buzzed the final door and been admitted to this most particular and perverse playground.
The techno soundtrack punches me in the solar plexus. My heart stutters like I've been shocked by a defibrillator. Delicious weakness sweeps over me, a premonition of what’s to come.
A few black clad figures shuffle to the hypnotic beat, clinging to one another as though drowning. Beyond the dance floor, naked bodies are draped over couches, shackled to walls or splayed wide on the bare concrete floor. Familiar scents reach me—pussy, cum and blood.
Some of those who frequent Underground are actual vampires, or so I’ve heard. I believe it. Others just like to play with knives.
Then there's me.
He is waiting for me in his usual spot by the bar. In contrast to the sunken-eyed Goth creatures who haunt this place, Z looks healthy and normal. Silver-threaded brown curls tumble over his forehead, almost obscuring his eyes, which are the turquoise of a tropical sea. He's fair but not pale, with full, claret-red lips that always seem ready to smile, but never do.
Outside of Underground, we don't communicate. We don't coordinate our encounters. He does not send me messages in the times between, when I'm recovering, or when I'm struggling against my resurgent need. He neither summons nor invites me. Still, I know I'll find him here when I finally stop resisting and descend those stairs again.
Indeed, even here we hardly speak. His utter stillness draws me to his side. When he takes my hand, my pulse flutters and slows, while my sex grows slick with inevitable arousal. He leads me to one of the private rooms, settles me upon the clean white mattress, peeling off my ragged black dress and laddered stockings. Ready for him as always, I wear nothing else.
His fingers are warm against my throat. I smell ice and lilies. He traces my collarbone, circles my beaded nipples, trails his fingertips down the hollow between my breasts to my flat belly. Liquid pools in my cunt and leaks onto the sheets. My clit swells into a throbbing second heart. Lust rages through me. I want to hump the palm cupping my sex, to grab his hand and force his fingers into my slit. I want to clamp down on his fist and drench him with my juices.
Instead I lie motionless upon the cool cotton, as if he'd bound me hand and foot. I wait, as he has taught me.
Desire turns inward, spiraling into a blazing knot in my pelvis, then shuddering up my spine. I watch him shed his unexceptional clothing. His cock rears up from the grizzled nest in his groin, twitching with suppressed power. His naked flesh glows like clouded moonlight. He rakes a fingernail across my aching nipple and captures my gaze with his extraordinary eyes, coming as close to a smile as he ever does. I will myself to stillness, slowing my breath, letting myself drown in those twin lagoons of blue fire.
The nail bites deeper. Blood wells up from the shallow wound. Fear strikes me like summer lightning, before I remember. I want this.
“Are you ready, Elena?”
He knows the answer already. But he always asks.
Kinky Literature - https://kinkyliterature.com/book/4592-underground/
Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07HYDVL65/
Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07HYDVL65/
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/898486
Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today's Book Hooks!