For Women Only

By Kayelle Allen (Guest Blogger)

Science fiction erotic romance from Loose Id Buy Now!

When I wrote At the Mercy of Her Pleasure (the prequel to For Women Only), it involved the hero's brother Khyff being used as bait in a devious plot by the Conqueror. Khyff suffered at her hands, and she allowed him to be abused by others. Because so much of Khyff's life had been negatively impacted by the Kin, a feline/humanoid race, I thought he would never overcome his hate and distrust of them. Enter Kin Ambassador Mehfawni Ruh, whom the Conqueror wanted out of power. Who better to destroy her than a man who already hated her people?

Khyff worked as a security consultant for the company For Women Only, which protected celebrity clientele like the ambassador. The Conqueror set everything in motion for the two to meet, and sat back to watch the mayhem unfold. Like many of us who think our lives are under control, things don't always go as planned. Writing Khyff's and Mehfawni's story taught me the importance of having plans A, B, C, and D ready, and how to deal with a stubborn character who insists he will never fall in love with "one of those aliens."

My experience as one of the first women in a Navy squadron gave me the insight of an outsider, and the drive to claim rights without "rocking the boat." But there are times when the best thing to do is batten down the hatches, brace for the wind, and start bailing water before the ship becomes an anchor. Writing Mehfawni’s patient concern for Khyff's broken spirit showed me that sometimes, what you fear as the worst is truly what you need the most, even when what's coming seems like it will surely swamp your little boat in a tidal wave of things gone wrong.

Blurb

Khyff is a master of pleasure with a tortured soul. Can Mehfawni redeem the man her people destroyed, or will he destroy her for trying?

Warning: this book contains smokin' hot sex, humor, and angst. This combination has been proven to be addictive. Author assumes no responsibility for the reader's battery consumption in adult toys while reading this book.

Excerpt

-- Setting up the scene ---

Khyff and Mehfawni have had an initial round of sex, and eager to feel the smoothness of a human tongue, she decides she wants to shower first. It opens from Khyff's point of view as the feline-alien beckons him to follow her into the bathing area, and switches to hers when he joins her.

* * * * *

Khyff debated following her or lying on the bed, then padded toward the bathroom, still undecided.

When he reached the door, she was leaning against the shower wall with two of the body jets aimed at the dark triangle of hair between her legs. The vision of all that furskin, dark with water, her thighs wide apart...

Mehfawni closed her eyes, head back, and dragged her claws from her shoulders, down across her plump breasts, along her belly and down to her thighs. She slipped one hand between her legs, playing with herself.

Damn. With me right here.

His heartbeat roared in his ears; his throat tight with heat. A sigh escaped him.

At the sound, Mehfawni rolled her head toward him lazily and smiled, her mouth pouty and lush. She extended her free hand, beckoning him closer. "Want to come and help me?"

Khyff went.

* * * * *

"No need to pleasure yourself." He reset the controls for mist, then stepped inside and braced his hands the wall on either side of her ribs. His breath warmed her cheek when he pressed his mouth against her ear. "I'll be glad to take care of that for you."

"I haven't had sex in days, Khyff." She slid her claws into his wet blond hair, raking it back from his eyes. She pressed her brow against his and kissed the rounded tip of his nose. Humans had such cute noses. "I was beginning to think there were no humans I'd be interested in bedding, but I confess, when I saw you at that party, I knew you were the one I was waiting for."

What a white smile he had, with all those teeth almost the same size. No fangs at all. How did he manage to eat meat, poor thing? But it sure made for a unique kiss.

Mehfawni rested her head against the cool tiles of the wet shower wall and opened her mouth while he kissed her. He certainly liked kissing and he did it so well.

When Kin kissed tongue to tongue, the slight barbs on them sometimes stuck together, but with Khyff... He probed her mouth deeply, then pulled back for shallow kisses, licking along her lips, flicking the tip of his tongue over her fangs. His tongue's smooth surface aroused her curiosity. Would he lick her like that on her lower lips and clitoris? What would it feel like between her legs? Would it be like a small, flexible cock?

Raw heat tightened its claws inside her.

Misting water trickled along Khyff's head and neck as he knelt in front of her. The light refracted in the droplets and turned the cloud of hot water behind him into a rainbow. A symbol of promise.

She growled with enjoyment when he set his fingers against her mound and slid them down between her legs. Such a nice firm touch. He handled her almost as if he knew where she liked being fondled. A little to the right and up toward-- "Oh!" She threw back her head, gasping in the wet air. He did know! "There, Khyff."

"Like this?" One fingertip flicked at her gently.

"Oh, yes, there. Right there." Air hissed in over her fangs. She rose on tiptoe, seeking his fingers.

He looked up at her from where he knelt between her widespread thighs. His blond hair was dark with water. It clung to his head and curled over his brow. His human ears showed. She touched one, her claws carefully withdrawn beneath her nails.

Still watching her, Khyff leaned forward and blew on her wet labia.

Despite the heat of the steaming water, she shivered.

"Your clit is beautiful, Fawni." Khyff massaged her outer lips on either side, pulling them between fingers and thumbs. "It's all swollen and dark. I'm going to love licking it."

She squirmed, arching her back to put her lower lips closer to his mouth.

Khyff turned his gaze on her. "Your labia flare outward and they're moist and hot." He pressed his mouth against her and made tiny kisses down each side of her in turn. Taking his time. Taking too much time...

"Hurry, Khyff!"

"Shh… Easy, love." He stroked his hands down her inner thighs. "In time. Anticipation is good. I want you hot."

"I'm burning now, Khyff. Believe me. I'm more than hot."

He set his hands in the hollow where her upper thighs met her body and cupped one palm over her mons. "Not hot enough."

"You can do more?"

Khyff's unforced smile enflamed her already-kindled passion. "Oh, yes, Mehfawni. I'm going to mouth you until you think you'll die from pleasure." He lowered his lashes and lifted them slowly. "And then I'm going to keep it up until you know you have."

Bio: Kayelle Allen's motto is "romance lives forever." She enjoys hiking, movies, reading, and SciFi conventions. A multipublished, award winning author with character-driven, plot-heavy SciFi Romances, her world-building skills include alien languages and 10k years of future history. Kayelle is known for unstoppable heroes, uncompromising love, unforgettable passion. Find her on the web in these places:

Homeworld http://kayelleallen.com

Facebook http://tinyurl.com/facebook-kayelle

Twitter http://twitter.com/kayelleallen

Kayelle's Coffee Corner http://coffeetimeromance.com/board/

Kayelle on AReCafe http://www.arecafe.com/members/kayelle.allen/

Romance Lives Forever - Group http://groups.yahoo.com/group/romancelivesforever

The Edge of Peril - Inside the Immortals' World http://groups.yahoo.com/group/edgeofperil/

Each Has A Point

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Ghosts and Lovers

By Jaime Samms (Guest Blogger)

Paranormal erotic romance from Pink Petal Books

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Hi, everybody I know Lisabet's away, so a few of her friends have decided to drop by and…er…blog sit. Yes. That's it. Blog sit. It certainly isn't a party, and most definitely not a sizzling one. You know. If anyone should ask or anything. I know you must be thinking, if it isn't a party, then why are all these characters, who aren't Lisabet's characters, here? Well. There's a simple explanation for that. At least, I know why mine are here. You see, they never seem able to let me go anywhere in the blogosphere without they have to come too. Just to see what's going on. Just to try and show off their stuff. They like attention, and I'm just the facilitator. At least, it feels like that some days. Even after their stories are written, sometimes, I feel like I am a window onto the wider world for my characters. Or, perhaps, that they are a window for me, into an inner world where story muses dwell and occasionally, gift me with their view of the world.

So without much more fan fare, might I introduce Tim. He's blind, which may or may not be why he see ghosts. We never did figure out if that had anything to do with it, but I don't really think it matters. The ghosts don't seem to care…

Blurb

Tim has seen more since he lost his eyesight than he ever did before, but he's in very real danger of overlooking the one man who's been watching him a long time.

Timmy has lost one family member after another, and now he's losing his eyesight, as well. It's no wonder he holds tight to the ghostly lover who always seems to meet him in the park in dead of night when he's tired of being alone.

Lately, though, Tim's been hearing other, less friendly voices out of the dark, and his long-time friend and neighbor, Mark, is worried. When he tries to intervene and suggest Tim start acting more like the blind man he is, Tim refuses his help only to find he can't hang onto his ghosts without paying a very personal price.

When his ghost lover finally says good bye, Tim finds he maybe should have listened to Mark after all, only now, it might be too late.

Excerpt

"What happened?" Was there concern in the voice? It was hard to tell. Tim closed his eyes and tried to remember what his visitor looked like. He was only a husky voice these days.

Tim could remember his sound, his smell, remembered his name, but how he looked was slipping away. Tim drove his memory back, imagined dark eyes, intense, unwavering, a gaze only for him. It seemed so far away now. "Okay, well," Finality. His visitor was getting ready to leave.

"Nothing happened."

"Then what are you doing out here?"

"Look—" Tim cleared the nerves from his throat and tried again. "Looking for you."

"What makes you think—" The question hung, half asked, in the damp air. Tim wondered if there was fog tonight.

"I would find you?" Tim turned his head to where he imagined he might see the speaker's face, if he could see anything in the dark. "You're always around, Gordie."

"How do you know?" Suspicion? Fear?

Tim leaned away, reached up to find an arm and moved his hand up to the shoulder, not quite daring to go further. "I heard you. You took tomatoes from the neighbor's garden and you slept on our porch with the cat." He gripped the flannel shirt under his fingers and leaned closer, lowered his voice. "You took my father's shirt, and you sometimes climb up into the tree outside my window." His voice was barely a whisper now and Gordon's nearness sent a shiver through him. "I bet you watch me sleep."

There was a snicker, and Gordon jerked Tim's hand free of the fabric, crushed it in a tight fist.

Tim grimaced, but didn't utter any sound.

"I watch you do a lot of things, Tim‐tim."

"Why do you watch?" Tim asked, trying not to let the pain into his voice. He felt his way through the thick air, the threat, his own uncertainty, to find lips. "When you could do it with me?" he whispered against those lips.

Gordon drove him to the ground under his weight. "What do you want me to do with you, Tim‐tim?"

Tim didn't mind the reassuring weight holding him down. It was warm when they did this, and almost felt like what they did together mattered. He ran a hand over the smooth, cool skin of his companion's cheek, sliding his thumb along the side of his nose and over his lips. He raised his other hand to the man's forehead and slipped his fingers over the lines of worry there, down his face, gently over his eyes, exploring with his hands what the darkness hid. "Kiss me."

"Kiss you?" The body above him rose a little, and Tim clung to a handful of flannel and tiny buttons.

"I always wanted to, when you used to come at night and peer in the windows. I wanted to sneak out and talk to you, meet you. But I never did."

"Why?"

"You stopped coming."

"No. Why did you want to meet me?" There was a hint of wonder in the question, and Tim relaxed his grip to reach up and read the emotion with his fingers, in the slack set of the man's jaw, his lax lips. He touched Gordon's bottom lip with his thumb and smiled.

"Because you could have snuck into anyone's porch, peeked in anyone's window. You kept coming back to mine. Maybe I wanted to know why."

Gordon kissed his thumb and leaned close again, kissing along Tim's jaw to his chin, pausing just before their lips met. "Because you left your curtains open." His hand snuck under Tim's t‐shirt. "All that pale flesh on display. You did that on purpose."

"Maybe." Tim squirmed to get the hand where he wanted it, in full contact with his chilled side. As Gordon's hand roved over his stomach and chest, he closed his eyes, and the image of his partner's face came back to him. Long black hair and narrow features, dark eyes, a sharp nose and thin, almost pointed chin. Most of all, he remembered the lust, shining from his eyes and accenting his smooth, hairless features. He saw again the fine lips curved in a satisfied smile as he watched. Tim's hips lifted, creating friction that met with movement against him and made him moan. He turned his head, searching for lips and tongue. He found them, as eager for contact as he was.

Gordon thrust a hand inside his jeans, and they both squirmed for contact, Tim shivering as cold fingers wrapped around his hardness. He ground up into Gordon's grip, jerking his hips against Gordon's erection, and moaning into his mouth.

Memories washed through Tim, of spreading himself, naked on his bed and waiting for the telltale shimmer of moonlight on glossy leaves as Gordon climbed the tree outside his window to watch him. The excitement of knowing he was under scrutiny always made it better for Tim. Even when the view out his window began to blur as his eyes lost their focus, just knowing there was someone there turned it into something other than a solitary, lonely activity. The sensation of eyes on him became addictive, made it easier to forget for a little while all the other things that weren't right in his life.

"Tim‐tim." Gordon's voice in his ear brought him back to the present. "Come for me, Timtim. Like you used to, moaning, with your head thrown back, your throat exposed." His mouth travelled down to cover Tim's throat with possessive, hungry lips. He licked at Tim's Adam's apple, sucking the skin between his teeth, then travelled back up, close to his ear. "Come in my hand, Tim‐tim."

Even as he spoke, his own hips moved, faster, harder, against Tim's body, crushing his buttocks against the cold ground. Gordon's fist clenched hard around Tim as he came, groaning into Tim's neck and jerking spasmodically against him.

"Don't stop," Tim gasped, hammered his hips up into Gordon, moving his cock inside the tight grip, clamping his teeth around a harsh shout as he finished and sagged. They lay, for a while, Gordon's lips roving over Tim's face and throat, and Tim's hands traveling up and down, swarming over Gordon's body while the flush of orgasm cooled.

When they finally parted, and sat up, once again side by side, the smell of Gordon's coat, his sweat and their sex mingled, filling Tim with a sad longing. Gordon had drifted out of his life a long time ago. He sighed and stood.

"One of these days, Tim‐tim," Gordon said through a cloud of cigarette stench, his voice immediately level with Tim. "One of these days, someone else will find you instead of me."

"Nah." Tim stood, snugged his jeans back in place around his hips, and oriented himself back the way he'd come. "You'll always find me first. Or I'll find you."

"How do you know?"

Tim glanced back over his shoulder. He couldn't be sure exactly where Gordon was, but he felt the other's presence somewhere behind him. "You hum."

"I what?" Gordon removed the jacket from Tim's shoulders. "I hum?"

"Yeah." Tim put a hand on Gordon's chest and felt the deceptive solidity through the soft material. "I can hear it. The less I see, the better I hear you. It's like…" he smiled and let his hand fall. "I don't know what it's like, but I like it."

"I knew I should have left a long time ago," Gordon muttered, but Tim heard the teasing under the words. More seriously, he asked, "Does anyone else hum?"

"No." Tim shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Sis yells. It's all she ever did, even before she was a ghost. I don't get along so well with her as with you."

"We never used to get along, when—"

"When you were alive?"

Bio: Jaime Samms has been writing for various publishers since the fall of 2008, although she's been writing for herself far longer. Often asked why men, what’s so fascinating about writing stories about men falling in love, she's never come up with an easy answer. She's always written stories about men in general, and about men in love when she first started noticing these things. For a long time, she thought she was pretty odd.

Right now, you can find her work on her website, for starters. If you flip through the pages of her site, you’ll find plenty of free reading. she also writes for Freya’s Bower, Loveyoudivine Alterotica, Pink Petal Books, Dreamspinner Press and Total E-Bound.

You can find her on the web in various places:

Jaime Samms' website

Jaime's Livejournal

Facebook

Twitter: jaimeSamms

Dark Obsession

By Suzanne Rock (Guest Blogger)

Vampire erotic romance from Red Sage Publishing

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Ever since finishing Dark Deception (the first book in the Immortal Realm series), I’ve wanted to write Javier and Catherine’s story. Javier is a stubborn vampire, and when he finds Catherine posing as a sex slave in the court of the fey king, he has trouble reconciling the gentle senator of his memories with the strong, sexual woman she has become. How he comes to terms with Catherine’s new independence, and how Catherine forgives and learns to accept Javier’s faults, are the basis for this story. I hope you enjoy it!

Although this is the second book in the Immortal Realms series, it can be read as a stand alone novel.

Blurb

Long ago Javier chose to walk away from the one person who mattered in his life. Now that he is free once again to roam the Earth, he becomes obsessed with making up for past mistakes. His mission is to gain Catherine's vote for the vampires on the Immortal Council, but when he sees her he realizes he wants much more. He wants her heart. When she disappears from the Council’s halls, he tracks her down, determined to make her remember the past -- and the love they once shared.

Catherine can’t let her passion for Javier rekindle -- no matter what the cost. Much has changed since he abandoned her so long ago. With the Immortal Council fragmented and her werewolf king abducted, Catherine has little patience for Javier's empty promises. Still, he is persistent, and she sees the value in having an ancient vampire for an ally. They strike a deal: she will submit to his every carnal desire if he will help find her king. Unfortunately, things don't go as planned, and their erotic interludes ignite the passionate anger of Catherine’s only fey ally. Now, all three of their lives are in jeopardy. To survive, Javier must build an intimate bond with the only woman who has ever rejected his love, and a man who’d like nothing more than to see him dead.

Excerpt

He was here. Catherine slipped into the servants’ tent and closed the canvas flap behind her. After a quick glance around the empty space, she fell against a nearby tent pole and tried to catch her breath.

Javier had found her. She had no idea how he had managed to track her this far south, but he had, and now her whole plan was in jeopardy.

She wiped away a tear of frustration. Javier had abandoned her almost two centuries ago. Now he waltzed back into her life, expecting things to pick up right where they had left off. He should know that things had changed. Life wasn’t the same as it had been when they were both young senators in Barcelona. It was more complicated now, and more dangerous.

Of course, Javier wouldn’t see it that way. Within hours, he’d probably sweep into this tent with his usual bravado and demand to know why she’d run away from him back in Barcelona. She didn’t really want to answer that question, or any of the others that swam in that thick skull of his. What would she tell him, that she left him because she had finally grown up? That after a century of hoping and praying for his return, she had given up and moved on with her life?

She wouldn’t give that pompous windbag the time of day if he was the last male in the Immortal Realm. It didn’t matter how gorgeous he looked, or what wicked things he could do with those fangs. He couldn’t just sweep into her life and expect to control it.

No one could.

She moistened her lips as his image flashed once again through her mind's eye. Javier’s appearance hadn't changed much since she had last seen him. His white robe couldn’t mask his broad, muscular shoulders or his black fathomless eyes. His dark, olive skin stood out against the white cloth and radiated power and confidence. It was a heady aphrodisiac for a wolf. Her natural instinct was to submit to such an alpha presence. And those eyes… it was as if he could caress her soul with a glance -- just like he often did when they were a couple.

She shook her head in frustration. He was vampire, forbidden in every way. They were lowly, obtuse creatures that put their own needs before anyone else’s. At one time she thought Javier was different from the rest, but he proved her wrong. She had to remember her ex-lover's true loyalties. They weren't with her. That was for sure. If they were, he never would have left her to face the bigoted Immortal Council alone. At the end of the day, all vampires were scum of the Earth. She was better off without them.

Only, how did she tell him that and not piss him off? An angry vampire -- especially one with Javier’s talents -- could ruin everything. The best course of action was to gently put him in his place and then disappear, just like he did to her all of those years ago.

A sudden breeze brushed through the opening in the tent. It drifted through her silk robe and brushed over her skin. Cold speared her core despite the hot desert sun. He was looking at her. Strong vampires like Javier could walk in between seconds, in the space of Ancient Immortals. As a werewolf, she couldn't do the same, but she could protect herself from his touch. She could put distance between them. She could run out of the reach of his magick, just as she did in Barcelona. Unfortunately, that would mean abandoning the mission, and she couldn’t do that. Unlike Javier, she had more to think about than just herself.

Catherine straightened and pulled out the small bloodstone from her robe. The red jewel’s glow pulsed with power in her hands. She’d had two of them made a long time ago. One for her, and one for the other human senator who had helped her pass sanctions against the vampires. Javier had insisted. He knew better than anyone what his kind was capable of doing. He knew their actions would bring her trouble, so he showed her how to forge the stones from an ancient magick. It gave her a warning when a vampire was near, and let her know if a vampire’s thoughts were focused on her. It didn’t give her a lot of warning, but it gave her enough so that she could protect her body from the deadly fangs. Over the years she had improved upon it until it could protect her from the simpler vampire magicks, like glamour. Unlike others on the Council, she had never believed that all the vampires were dead. She knew better.

Unfortunately, all of the shielding spells in the world wouldn’t protect her heart. Javier was obtuse, yes, but he was also charming, and he knew her well. He could use that knowledge to bring her to her knees if she let him.

She stared at the bloodstone as its pulsing heat warmed her hand. It sensed Javier. He was looking for her, the fool. In a moment of weakness, she had let him take a strand of her hair. It would allow him a stronger control over her body if he found her. Perhaps it would be enough to overcome the bloodstone’s protective power. Perhaps.

She let the stone fall between her breasts. Courage. She couldn’t run away, not this time. There was too much at stake. So what could she do? She couldn’t protect herself with a magickal shield or risk exposing both their identities to the king. If Feroas so much as suspected that a werewolf and an ancient vampire were in his camp, they were all in grave danger. The mission would have to be abandoned. Months of planning would be washed down the drain because a pig-headed vampire wouldn’t take no for an answer.

She turned her head and eyed the garlic on the table, left over from the noonday meal. It was a long shot, but she had no other choice. If the bloodstone failed to ward off Javier’s magick, her body would become his to command. She couldn’t let that happen. With a shaking hand, she reached out for a large, round bulb.

Catherine...

The word ran through her like water, stilling both her arm and her mind. She was so close to the garlic. Just a few more inches… she tried to reach for it, but her arm wouldn’t move. The bloodstone burned bright against her skin in warning. She watched the stone’s glow pulse for a moment, then fade completely. Javier had somehow managed to breech the stone’s protective barrier. It was useless to her now, just another trinket to remind her of her failures.

Catherine…

If she wanted to control her body once more, then there was no choice left but to use magick. She tried to pull enough of her thoughts together to weave the protection spell that Javier taught her, but the temptation to relax was too great. She dropped her arm and sagged against the tent pole as molten fire slipped up through her core, bringing with it a surge of desire. Her pussy clenched and her nipples pebbled in anticipation.

"Javier." She arched her back against the pole as warm, silken ribbons embraced her body and turned her muscles to water. "You found me."

I’ll always find you, querida.

“You’re a fool... Feroas…” She hissed in a breath as unseen hands ripped her robe open and revealed her breasts. Pleasure washed over her skin and invisible palms cupped them. Her nipples responded to the familiar touch, and her desire dampened her thighs. She closed her eyes and struggled to form a coherent thought. “We’ll be discovered.”

Incompetent fey kings and cheap rocks can’t keep me away from you, Catherine. You belong to me. Now and always...

Catherine’s jaw clenched as she fought her ex-lover’s magick. It was no use. That single strand of hair gave him too much of an advantage. She’d have to give in for now and wait for an opportunity to escape.

Submit to me, and I will make your darkest fantasies come true.

Raw, sexual energy bathed her body and blanketed her mind. Helpless, she stopped fighting for control and succumbed to the erotic sensations.

Bio: After over a decade in the scientific world, Suzanne needed a creative outlet. She tried scrap booking, cooking, crocheting, painting, and piano, none of which held her interest for very long. Then one of her friends suggested writing. Thrilled with the idea of creating her own worlds, she opened up her lap top and never looked back.

When Suzanne’s not writing, she can be found playing with her two daughters, testing her husband’s latest kitchen creations, or curled up with her favorite romance novel in her central Massachusetts home.

http://www.suzannerock.com/

http://www.facebook.com/suzanne.rock

Unspeakable Words

By Sarah Madison (Guest Blogger)

M/M erotic romance from Dreampspinner Press

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I write M/M romance because I enjoy the power dynamics between two male characters. There is so much potential for built-in angst and drama—will the relationship threaten their careers? Will it be accepted by their families or even, ultimately, themselves? There’s a saying, “Once you’ve read M/M romance, you won’t look back.” I have to admit, I was one of those readers whose head was turned by the innate hotness of two good-looking guys getting it on. The writer in me, however, loved the potential complexity available to me as a story-teller. Many times, for the sake of dramatic storytelling, a writer has to come up with contrived reasons why two characters can’t be together right from the start. Not so with most M/M romance. I also love that it allows me to explore different aspects of my own personality without overtly inserting myself into the story that I want to tell.

Blurb

Special Agent John Flynn is everything Jerry Parker is not: dangerously handsome, coolly charismatic, and respected by his peers. Special Agent Parker is dedicated and meticulous, but his abrasive personality has given him a reputation for being difficult. When new information on a cold case appears, Parker is assigned to work with Flynn, and the sparks fly as their investigative styles clash. Contact with a strange artifact changes everything when it bestows unusual and unpredictable powers on Flynn... and the two men must learn to trust each other before a killer strikes again.

Excerpt

He sensed Flynn’s presence behind him before he heard him speak.

“Something smells good in here.”

Jerry turned to say something offhand but then completely lost track of what he’d intended to say. Flynn was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, wearing a towel slung low around his hips so that the bones of his pelvis showed. The hair on his chest was not too much, just right in fact, tapering down his long torso until it disappeared beneath the towel. He was drying out one ear with another towel, his hair standing up in startled spikes. On the chain around his neck, he wore a simple, tiny silver cross, the kind that a pre-teen girl might wear. His left shoulder bore the ugly, puckered mark of a bullet wound, the shiny scarring of skin suggesting that the wound wasn’t all that old. Jerry knew from his record that Flynn had been shot in the line of duty about six months ago but the record didn’t say much more than that.

Flynn had shaved but his jaws still held the suggestion of a beard. It was probably as close as he ever got to being smooth-cheeked. A hint of soap and the smell of clean, damp skin and aftershave wafted in Jerry’s direction before being lost to the smell of coffee and bacon. The combination of odors struck Jerry viscerally with a little bolt of lust that surprised him.

“Breakfast will be ready in a minute,” Jerry said tersely, turning away to get a second mug down from the cabinet.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” Flynn said, slinging the towel in his hand around his neck.

Jerry shot him a look. He wondered what kind of game Flynn was playing here. He obviously was aware that Jerry had checked him out; it was evident in the little smile that played around his lips. Was this his way of saying he was so secure in his sexuality that it didn’t bother him? Jerry suspected that was the case.

“Oh. Right. Never mind. This is how you always start the day. What’s in the oven?” Flynn looked amused, something subtle in his eyes that suggested it was at Jerry’s expense. He also looked completely comfortable there in his stupid towel with his hairy legs and his bare feet.

“Frittatas,” Jerry said crisply. He blamed the heat of the oven for the flushing of his face.

“That’s some egg-thingy, right?”

Jerry found his eye drawn to a single bead of water dripping from one of Flynn’s sideburns, making its way in a crooked line over his collarbone. He swallowed before speaking. “Philistine. Yes, some egg-thingy. Best eaten hot. You’d better get dressed.” He cleared his throat.

Flynn gave him a little half-smile and left the room. Jerry watched the way the damp, soft terrycloth of the towel clung to his ass as he walked away. He took a sip of coffee and made a face as he realized he’d forgotten to add cream. Yep. It was going to be a long day.

Bio: Sarah Madison is a veterinarian with a busy practice, a great boyfriend, a large dog, and an even bigger horse. She enjoys hiking along the Appalachian Trail with her German Shepherd and competing her horse in the sport of combined training and eventing. She recently rediscovered her love of writing when she began writing fan fiction several years ago and has won several awards for her fan fiction stories. This gave her the impetus to pursue a lifelong dream of writing original fiction for publication. Writing has become a passion that sometimes takes precedence over everything else. In fact, when she is in the middle of a chapter, she usually relies on the smoke detector to tell her when dinner is ready.

You can contact Sarah at akasarahmadison [at] gmail.com. Website: http://www.sarahmadisonfiction.com

o Cover image as a separate JPG, resized to 300 wide if possible. Alternatively, you can send me the URL to an image of about this size. (attached) Thanks! Sarah Madison http://www.sarahmadisonfiction.com/ http://akasarahmadison.livejournal.com/ http://twitter.com/akasarahmadison

A Good Bargain

By DC Juris (Guest Blogger)

M/M erotic romance from Breathless Press

Buy Link: http://www.breathlesspress.com/erotic/a-good-bargain.html

This story came about after a conversation with a friend of mine, who is also one of my most avid readers. His question, after reading something of mine, was, "How come all the m/m stories I've read feature young hunks? What about us older studs?" I had to agree with him, for the most part, so I wrote him a story with an older stud…and a young hunk.

Blurb

Awkward and unsure, David has finally reentered the dating scene. A hot, young stud-muffin named Brandon seems like the perfect start, but things get complicated when Brandon makes a startling confession. Is Brandon the right choice for David, or did David just get way more than he bargained for?

Excerpt

"There's this odd look of mayhem on his upside-down face..."

"I love this part." David chuckled, watching Brendan Gleeson's character hanging by his ankle from a tree.

Brandon inched closer, laid his hand on David's thigh. David bristled under the touch for a moment, forcing himself to calm down and relax. This was what he'd wanted, after all—to start dating again, to experience another man again, to have something more than fond memories and his Fleshlight to look forward to every night.

Brandon moved his hand, slid it just down to the inside of David's thigh. Waves of fiery need pulsed through David. He tried hard to concentrate on the movie, but all he could think of was Brandon's willingness. Brandon sighed and snuggled against David's shoulder, slipping that hand a little higher.

Throat suddenly dry, David thought of all the reasons not to have sex: they'd only just met, Brandon was most likely barely even legal, what kind of example would this be for his son? David sucked in a breath as Brandon spun around and hopped over so he sat in David's lap, knees straddling him.

Brandon leaned in for another kiss, this time not so soft and gen- tle. Demanding lips met David's, and he gave in, opening his mouth and groaning as Brandon's tongue slipped inside to twine with his. Brandon worked the buttons of David's shirt open, dipping his hands under the fabric and running his fingers through the hair on David's chest.

Fuck. Oh, fuck. That touch. David's resistance melted, and he arched up against Brandon's hands, tangling his own in Brandon's long, dark hair, holding Brandon's head tight. Brandon somehow managed to unbutton his own shirt and he pressed their naked chests together, sliding his arms around David's back; fingernails raking him from shoulder to just above his waistband.

David broke the kiss with a fevered gasp. "Jump."

Brandon grinned. "Booyah. Drop trou, baby." He stood and dug into his pocket as David frantically worked his jeans opened and pushed them and his briefs down to his ankles. "Wow. Nice package, babe."

David shrugged. At seven inches hard, he'd never considered himself well endowed. "It'll get the job done."

"And then some." Brandon held a condom and a small tube of lube in his teeth as he shed his own clothing. He turned and presented his backside to David, holding the lube out behind him. "Wanna do the honors?"

David's hands shook as he reached for the lube, and it took him several tries to finally open the damned bottle. Brandon stood there patiently the entire time, giggling as David squirted out the lube and began spreading it around.

"Feels good," Brandon purred. "Get me ready, baby."

David blushed and lowered his head. He'd always liked sexy talk, but to say Alice hadn't was the understatement of the century. He slipped two fingers inside Brandon's tight opening, his own cock fairly bursting as Brandon rocked back against him, making sweet little noises.

Brandon cast a glance over his shoulder, eyes heavily lidded. "I'm ready for more if you are."

David nodded without speaking. He didn't trust his voice not to break or crack with excitement. He pulled his hand away as Brandon turned and dropped to his knees, looking up at him with a wink.

"But first..." Brandon lowered his head and David cried out, un- able to still a thrust of his hips as Brandon's hot, wet mouth enveloped his cock, taking him deep.

Bio: A Southern transplant who has retained none of his accent but all of his charm, DC Juris is an out and proud transgender bisexual living in upstate New York with his husband, four dogs, three cats, and a menagerie of Halloween props just creepy enough to keep people guessing about his sanity. He's still hopelessly single when it comes to the woman in his life, and he'll gladly entertain offers or applications for the position! In the rare event that he's not writing, DC can be found surfing the internet for random research, killing things on his Xbox, reading, taking pictures of the world around him, or playing Farmville, to which he admits a complete and totally blissful addiction. You can keep up with him at www.facebook.com/dcjuris, or www.dcjuris.com.

Destruction of the Great Wall

By R. Ann Siracusa (Guest Blogger)

Romantic Suspense from Sapphire Blue Publishing, LLC

Buy Link: Sapphire Blue Publishing

Destruction of the Great Wall is the third book in my Tour Director Extraordinaire Series.

The first book in this humorous romantic suspense series was written as an experiment to see if I could write funny and in first person. I’d never tried either and expected it to be a one shot deal. Instead, I fell in love with the voice and the characters, and they wrote the novel themselves without me knowing where it was going. The second book came about because I was taking a trip to Italy with thirteen members of my extended Italian-American family, including two grandchildren. Knowing the way Italians make group decisions, the trip was going to be a predictable disaster. I figured I should at least get material for a book.

Well, a group of Italian-Americans taking a tour of Italy was a natural for Harriet Ruby, my tour guide extraordinaire. And if Harriet was in it, I needed Will Talbot on the trip with a spy story for him to chase after. So I came up with a story idea, did an outline and wrote the first three chapters before the trip (which provided many funny incidents that spiced up the novel). And once Harriet and Will began to develop their romantic relationship, I had to go along for the ride and wrote the third book, Destruction Of The Great Wall. After all, someone had to type it for them.

Blurb

I’m Harriet Ruby, Tour Director Extraordinaire. At last, one of my fondest wishes has come true. Will Talbot, my favorite Super Spy and the love of my life, wants to include me in his covert mission to recover a list of double agents for the US government.

Wow! Usually, I want to know everything, and he can’t tell me anything. Now, I’ll be part of the action. I am so-o going to love this!

Not that I have a big role. I only have to pretend we’re husband and wife when he accompanies me on my China tour. The tour group members are strangers we’ll never see again, and we can spend three intimate weeks together. I mean, how hard can that be?

Surprise, surprise. My parents show up on the tour as replacements for some cancellations. Now, we have to lie and tell them we’re married to protect Will’s cover.

And then, other problems erupt when someone tries to kill me and terrorists kidnap me and my mother to lure Will into a trap. Not to mention the damage my assault rifle does to the Great Wall. O, man. It wasn’t my fault. Really!

Excerpt

“What’s the matter with you? You’ve never been uptight about having sex with me before.”

“Right, but I’ve never had my parents listening in the next room, either.”

“Jesus, Harriet. Sex is a perfectly normal human function. And they think we’re married.”

“Well, we’re not, but it doesn’t make any difference under the circumstances. It’s just the thought of…well…you know.”

Apparently, he didn’t know. He snorted with disgust and levered himself off the bed. “Then let’s get out of here. Beds are dull, anyway.”

“I know that.” We’d made love on every possible kind of surface there was, some of them more than a bit uncomfortable, I might add, and within the hearing distance of all kinds of people.

It never mattered before as long as our professions weren’t compromised. This was different.

I scrambled after him, compelled to defend my reactions. “This is my first hang up with sex, you know. I’m entitled to at least one, aren’t I?”

Will didn’t dignify the comment with an answer. He merely tossed me my bathrobe. I didn’t own a nightgown and hadn’t unpacked my pajamas, but I did have a short dressing gown. I shrugged it on over my birthday suit and shoved my feet into the slip-on sandals that served as slippers. He took my hand and tugged. At first, I thought he intended to leave the room in the altogether, but he stopped and stepped into a pair of slacks and flip-flops.

Without a sound, we left the room and scurried down the hall to the stairs. By that hour, most of the guests were either asleep or in the bar. Still, my heart tippy-tapped at a hundred miles an hour with trepidation and excitement. I didn’t question where we were going. Wherever it was, I could hardly wait.

Hand in hand, we crept down three flights of stairs to the level with the crew’s quarters and out onto the deck, sliding along the wall in the shadows. The chill hit me like a blow in the gut. “Whew, it’s chilly out here. I hope you aren’t planning to spend the night outside.” He hadn’t even bothered to put on a shirt. Poor baby. I would have to warm him up by sharing body heat.

He chortled softly. “Oh, I definitely plan to be, hmm…inside.”

“Smartass. You know what I mean. Where are we going?”

“Right here.” He let go of my hand and went to the railing where the lifeboats hung suspended over the sides of the ship. There he untied the rope holding the canvas cover taut against one of the tiny craft. “In you go.” He motioned me with one hand, lifting the canvas with the other.

“In there?” I thought about some of the other places we’d had sex. I didn’t mind outdoors, but I preferred soft. I peeked under the canvas and my enthusiasm waned a bit. After all, two nights wasn’t such a long time. “It’s stuffy and smells like an arm pit. Are you sure about this?”

With one arm, he lifted me off the deck and flipped me over the side into the lifeboat.

“Hey!” I landed in the bottom with a loud thunk.

“Shh. You’ll wake everyone.”

“I couldn’t help it. I can’t see, and you pushed me.”

Without saying anything, he let the canvas cover fall back over the boat with me in the bottom. In the blackness, I moved my fingers from side to side until, underneath the perimeter seats, I touched something bulky and slightly softer than wooden planks. Life jackets? I pulled out several, wondering what was taking him so long.

Without warning, a thin sliver of light shimmered as the canvas lifted above me. My breath caught and, for a split second, my heart thumped with the fear that someone had seen us and come to investigate. Then Will’s silhouette appeared, a dark shadow illuminated from behind by light from the cabin windows.

“Just me. Who else were you expecting?”

The boat lurched and tipped as he swung his leg over the side. Off balance, I rolled and he landed on top of me.

“Shit. These rigs are small,” he muttered.

“Get off me, you big oaf. You’re hurting my back.”

Gripping his hips, my fingers splayed on his cool bare buns. Wow. He’d taken off his pants before he got in. I hoped he hadn’t left them on the deck. A passing thought about how we were going to get out of there whisked through my mind and out into the ether.

Trying not to make a racket, we maneuvered around in the dark to find a moderately comfortable position. “This isn’t working very well. Try piling the life jackets on the floor to level us out a little.”

With me more or less sitting on the center seat and lying back onto the life jackets, and Will more or less on his knees on the bottom, he covered me with silken heat. His tongue teased my puckered nipples and moved lower. I shivered in spite of being warm enough. Actually, the heat level had risen to hot in there. He had a world-class erection, and I wished I could see it.

“You first.” He pushed open my legs. Extending two fingers, he moved them slowly in a figure eight over my clitoris. Wow. He placed his other hand lightly over my mouth as I cried out. In seconds, I arched and bucked. The boat rocked, creaking and groaning, on its precarious cables. A flood of relief crashed through me. My teeth sank into his fingers as I smothered a near-scream.

“Ow, that hurt, Harriet.”

Still breathless, I pulled him down on top of me and guided Mr. Johnson inside me, rock-hard, pulsing and ready. My body hummed. A thousand fires ignited. One thrust and the world began to fall away again. Awash in a tide of sensual pleasure, I forgot about everything, including the uncomfortable board at the small of my back.

Bio

R. ANN SIRACUSA has been writing fiction and non-fiction for over thirty years. While working in her chosen career of architecture and urban planning, and raising a family, she made time to travel and to write. This talented author combines those loves into novels that transport readers to exotic settings and immerse them in romance, intrigue, and foreign cultures, and give them a good laugh.

Today, she is retired, lives in San Diego, California, and writes full time (which is as many hours as an Italian husband, three grown children, and eight grandchildren will allow on any given day). Her first novel, a mafia thriller, was published in 2008, and since then she has had seven e-Books published by Sapphire Blue Publishing, six in the humorous romantic suspense series Tour Director Extraordinaire.

Visit her at her Website and Facebook Page as well as her Amazon Author Page.