The Midas Bride – an excerpt

The Midas Bride is now available at Amazon.

(#contemporary #shapeshifter #fantasy #fairytale #magic #eroticromance #MF)

Once upon a time there was a modern woman who wasn’t looking for prince charming. Not anymore. But there was indeed a prince who needed to find his princess bride or suffer the full effects of the curse brought down upon his family. He tossed a magic coin out into the world in hopes of finding his true soul mate–the one woman who could tame the beast inside his soul and halt the curse. Only her love could save him. But will a greedy witch find her first and destroy his one chance at happiness?

EXCERPT

Tira slowly awoke to a sense of firm, warm hands exploring her body. She tried to get her brain to focus, but it just wouldn’t listen. Yet her body responded with heated fervor as though the touch was familiar to her. That underlying sexual need that had been with her for the last twenty-four hours now seemed to blossom.

The room was dark and she realized she was naked. Then demanding lips descended to claim hers and she melted beneath their hot possession. This had to be a dream and she’d wake up in a minute. Every nerve in her body responded to the dominating, masculine presence. There was no way to think clearly right now.

A hand cupped her soft breast, fingers teasing a nipple to a hard peak, grazing the surface. His tongue delved inside her mouth, exiting and tracing her lips before diving back inside again. So many sensations, she couldn’t begin to process them. Only pleasure. Deep, mind-boggling pleasure shot through her. And the sense of coming home—that this was exactly where she was supposed to be.

She felt naked, hot flesh against her own as he shifted on the bed to stretch out beside her. A splayed hand branded her skin in the valley between her breasts, tracking a slow path downward, across her midriff, stopping and teasing at her naval. Shudders of pleasure rippled through her time and time again.

She lifted a hand to trap his head, felt the texture of thick, long, silky hair and her fingers tangled within the mass.

Her head dropped back and his mouth fastened on the pulse at her throat. A muscled leg wedged her thighs open, a knee pressed firmly against her mound and another shudder of pleasure raced through her body. She gasped at the sensation.

Her hand brailled its way along the mountains and valleys of his body. Hard, solid flesh, no give and take. She explored the crevice of his thigh and groin, dipping over the smooth, warm contours of his skin and encountering the jutting peak of his stiff erection.

It was as though she had reached a summit and she breathed a sigh of pleasure as she surrounded his firm, silky flesh with her hand, claiming his body by some right she didn’t fully understand and didn’t want to take the time to interpret. At least not right now.

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Also available at Amazon, related to this story, is The Lion and The Rose.

Man or beast? Mikelas, half man, half beast, caught between worlds, desperately needs his bride. As tradition demanded, he invoked the magic of the ancient marriage coin, but his Midas mate didn’t answer, and without her, he is doomed to revert to his animal form forever. At one minute to the stroke of forever, a new scrying is performed and Rosemarie Edwards receives a very special gift meant only for a woman of Midas blood.
Rosemarie doesn’t believe in fairytale love—she doesn’t have faith in humanity at all. Certainly not with the memories of her tragic past shrouding her from any hope of future happiness. But an attractive messenger with an intriguing gold rose and a special invitation will send her on a savagely sensual journey that will change her life from a black-and-white existence filled with painful reminders to the full Technicolor of devastating desire.

One night of sizzling animal passion in what she thinks is a dream leaves her with a throbbing, visible reminder of the claim of her dominant mate. How did it happen and why does she respond so intensely to the scent of the golden rose? Only by accepting the mysterious invitation to Midian will she find the answers she needs and maybe discover that there can be a happily ever after.

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Vinnie’s Ghost – an excerpt

Vinnie’s Ghost

[#gay_romance, #erotic_romance, #contemporary]

Vinnie’s Ghost is releasing December 11th, but you can preorder it now on Amazon. Here’s a peek at Lee and Stroker’s story.

The delivery of a letter could mean everything to two lonely men, connected by the life and death of a man who meant something special to each of them separately.

Lee Fellowes is a wounded warrior, ex-Army vet, whose best buddy died in his arms. As buddies do, Lee and Vinnie had shared intimacies—Vinnie even shared some of his steamy letters from his state-side lover, Stroker Smith, a man who makes surfboards, and communes with the sea. Now, Lee returned from the front lines and suffering from PTSD, goes in search of Stroker to deliver Vinnie’s last letter. What he never expects to find is a passion that can heal his wounded soul, fill his heart, and free his spirit.

Can these two men, who both cared for another, each wounded by that loss, find healing, peace and love together? Or will their separate burdens of loss keep them from finding a true and lasting love in each other’s arms?

EXCERPT

Stroker shucked off his shorts, and once again he took Lee’s hand. He led him outside, along the narrow sandy path lined by beach grass, and down onto the private beach. This part was fairly secluded and quite deserted. Tonight, no one else was around—the revelers were all at the other end where the fireworks were going off.

“Come for a swim,” he urged Lee. He’d try anything to take that desperate look off his face. He led Lee toward the water. “You do know how to swim, don’t you?” He’d never actually seen Lee in the water.

“Yeah, I know how. It’s awful big out there. Endless.”

“It is. And sometimes it can be savage. But that’s nature, isn’t it? That’s life.” He led him deeper into the water.

“It’s lonely,” Lee said softly, and Stroker almost missed his words.

“That’s deceptive.” Stroker moved closer to Lee. “Being out here is a challenge, but it’s not so unlike being in the army. There’s the individual who has to count on his own abilities and knowledge in order to survive.” Stroker swept his hand out in an arc, drawing Lee’s attention to the faint glow of the bonfire down the beach. “But there’s the community too. We aren’t alone in this world. Never alone. Each step, each falter, brings us closer to our destiny. Sometimes we fight it, but if we stop trying to control, to do it alone, quit trying to swim against the current, it can get a lot easier.”

“I don’t know how to do that. Not anymore,” Lee said. “I used to. There’s things I wanted to do with my life, but I’ve lost the way, and maybe the desire too.”

Stroker turned Lee to face him. He cupped his face. “There’s always another wave—another door to open—however you want to look at it. You wipe out; you try again. You never stop trying. You never stop searching. I’m not sure I realized how true that is until tonight.” He leaned forward and kissed Lee. For a moment Lee didn’t respond, but then he opened his mouth, and Stroker thrust his tongue inside, tangling it with Lee’s. There seemed some measure of desperation at first, but then the kiss turned hungry, then demanding. Stroker eased away. He drew Lee farther into the surf.

When they’d reached a point where the water was waist deep, suddenly Lee turned more assertive, and he yanked on Stroker’s hand and spun him around. The sparkle of light flashing across the sky highlighted his expressions in dark and light. He was about a head taller than Stroker, but right now the way he gazed down at him, he seemed so much bigger, stronger.

“You’re right,” Lee said. “Another wave, another door, maybe another chance. Out here, tonight, it seems anything might be possible.”

Lee yanked Stroker forward until they were chest to chest and the cool ocean water rippled over them. One of his hands circled around Stroker’s prick as the other cupped the nape of his neck. He leaned forward until Stroker could feel his lips against his ear.

“I want to fuck you,” he said in a raspy, deep voice.

“Yes,” was about the only word that Stroker could manage to utter. He also knew Lee didn’t mean inside, in Stroker’s bed. He wanted to do it right here.

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Preorder now on Amazon; releasing December 11th.

Making My Creative Day Surmountable

Surmountable and Individualistic

Dizzy. I feel dizzy. Yes, I know. In this day and age it’s a real trial to stay on task and not be distracted by the hundreds of other things that are on your plate. Where is a moment t catch my breath? I wake up at about 5:30AM and my day doesn’t end until around 9 PM, if I’m lucky. It’s crazy.

The Basic Supply List To Sort Myself Out:

  • bullet journal (because I can design and customize my own layout and because I’m a visual kind of gal. And I need reasons to buy all the cool journals I like to use.
  • Sticky notes (the program on the computer, and the physical form of little colorful squares of paper. Because I simply have to clear my head. Too many characters, too many to-do lists. I simply must get the business stuff out of my head. Paper does the trick because I only have so much computer screen to work with. And filing it into a spreadsheet puts it out of sight, out of mind. And again, only so much room on the computer’s desktop. And, frankly, I’d rather have a cluttered physical desktop, than a computer screen desktop. It’s a thing with me.
  • My vintage fountain pen, and I found a turquoise V5 Pilot pen that works for me, too. I use peacock-colored ink in my fountain pen. It’s a fun color to work with.
  • Outlook for email and some of my longer-term deadlines.

surmountable_19Having a lot of balls to juggle each and every day really takes some determination. A mixture of contract work having nothing to do with writing, photography, graphic design of banners and covers, writing, outlining, editing, proofing, brainstorming, and on and on. I have a mix of tasks I need to accomplish in any given day.

I am a list writer. My desk is covered in handwritten lists that eventually get transferred somewhere else. Excel spreadsheets are something I only use for part of what I need to keep track of, such as books published, price, length, etc., on that end. To-do lists I tend to keep on my desk as constant reminders. The ideal schedule I’d like to strive for is posted on my wall. The visual of the schedule can help rein me in if I get too far off the mark.

There are days when I look at what I would like to accomplish, and the amount of time in any given day that I have in order to accomplish, so the to-do list and the schedule posted are critical to being productive.

Marketing is a part of the plan and finding time on most days to do that, again takes times to map out. Fitting time in to write, to create, to promote, to read, to research, and the many bits and pieces that come along with that often makes me dizzy and I can freeze in place. Particularly because that is just one part of what I need to balance in any given day. Visualizing the to-do list the night before can help with that. Because then I can wake up the next morning with a clearer plan to approach the day.

I have about 20 slips of paper on my desk right now with various notes I’ve made through the week on tags/hashtags for various things I’m looking to promote. I have several title ideas for new stories. I have a list of books that are on Kindle Unlimited and dates those end, I have a Christmas grocery shopping list that I keep adding to. I’ll be sorting these out this weekend and transferring the information to various Excel spreadsheets, my bullet journal, my calendar sheets that are split into categories of things that need to be accomplished throughout a month.

Oh, yes, the calendar. I have come to the conclusion I can’t use just one calendar; it gets far too cluttered. I’ve split things up to more manageable pieces to help focus. Too much on one calendar makes everything a blur and feels very overwhelming to me. I generally don’t use my online calendar to keep track of short-term goals, maybe because I’m a tactile, hands-on kind of gal. That’s more for reminders of birthdays, anniversaries, yearly events and such. And I like shuffling – cards, paper, whatever, because shuffling in and of itself is a form of reminder or nudge for me. And I do like to compartmentalize things.

My day is surmountable though it doesn’t seem like it at times. Perhaps to someone a little more structured and straightforward it looks totally convoluted. But, it works for me.

Books Released Tracker. I mean, really, don’t I stare at a computer screen for enough hours in the day? I need to break it up. That’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it. And again, I like buying journals and using them for a variety of different things. And it gives purpose to a journal buying binge. Because I have so many stories available and promotion I need to do for those stories (and yes, I’ve tried using Excel, but it didn’t work for me as well), I’ve taken to using a separate journal book and I have it set up somewhat like a bullet journal with an index at the front, and each book has a page with details on where and when I promote it, so I’m not duplicating the same information on the same social media sites too closely together. Could I use an Excel spreadsheet for this? Sure. But I don’t. Lots of reasons, but I just don’t. Anyway. In the journal  I can see when I posted excerpts on my blog, Facebook promotions, Instagram images, etc., for that book at a glance. It’s working for me.

img_0923Then there’s my Daily Deeds book that I made, tailored for me. Because I like to create things, and I like writing things down so I can remember what I did. It will show me what groups I’ve posted to specifically in a drill down, what I have accomplished on a given day such as free units offered, book editing completed, formatting accomplished, etc.  Daily Deeds is basically a tracker with details of what I’m doing, and details such as posting on Facebook, I’ll list the exact groups I post to, so I don’t repeat it and I can look back and review that list before posting something again. Or it might detail something that wasn’t on the to-do list, but did get accomplished out of order, or because it suddenly become urgent to get it done.

I will say the holidays throw a wrench into the mix and stretches my daily management abilities to the max.

Health must factor into the fray. I find the best thing for me to do since I’m at my desk  most of the day to work is I do a mix of 45 minutes at the computer, 15 minutes away, even if it’s just walking to the other end of the house, or doing little 15-minute chores that take me away from the computer.  Two days a week I’m out in nature, walking, hiking, photographing. And these two days are what can make the rest of the week surmountable. I can clear my head, in the quiet, I let my mind wander, I clear my head, and I am rejuvenated once again to return to task.

So I take control, I make it surmountable, I individualize for me, I may get repetitive, but for me, that’s sometimes necessary – for my personality, for the ways in which I can accomplish. That’s really the bottom line – to accomplish. I have to make my life work for me. I will prevail, and will use whatever it takes to do that.

Sylvie’s Gift – An Excerpt

sylviesgift_cover_medSylvie’s Gift

(#eroticromance #MF #contemporary #submission)

Sylvie Taylor has never experienced sexual fulfillment, never felt uncontrolled desire. Her best friend, Allison Hunter, has kept secret her taste for the dark side of passion. Introducing Sylvie to sensually seductive Daimaen Sinclair, a Master of the game, has Sylvie yearning for the forbidden.
But someone has made an attempt on Sylvie’s life. Can Daimaen protect her, or is he the reason someone wants her dead?

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07JQCZ6QQ

 

EXCERPT

Sylvie woke from her erotic dream to the harsh sound of the ringing telephone. She reached out without opening her eyes. “Hello?” she mumbled.

“Well, good morning, sleepyhead.” Allison was awfully chipper this morning.

Sylvie opened one eye and looked at the clock. Ten o’clock flashed at her in blue lit digits. She sat up quickly, and the blankets fell away exposing her to chill air. Shock filled her as she realized she was completely naked. She’d never done that before. “OhmyGod!”

“What’s the matter?” There was immediate concern in Allison’s voice.

Sylvie tried to recover smoothly. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I…ah…just remembered something.”

“Daimaen’s not still there, is he?” Allison was still suspicious.

“No, he’s not.” She needed to get Allison off the phone. Sylvie’s emotions were in turmoil. She had to try to sort out what happened last night.

“Soooo. Tell me, was he what you expected?”

“Allison, I just woke up. I can’t talk about this right now. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Now wait just a minute, you aren’t getting off the hook that easy. Meet me for brunch later.”

“All right, later.” Anything to get Allison off the phone.

“Eleven-thirty at Sandi’s, okay?” Allison was not going to let it go.

“Okay, eleven-thirty, Sandi’s. I’ll talk to you later.” Sylvie quickly hung up the phone.

She lay back against the pillows, pulling the blanket up tight beneath her chin. Her body felt amazingly relaxed, yet sensitive, all at the same time. How could she have let that happen last night? That man should be outlawed. It was like he’d hypnotized her, and she realized she’d have done anything he asked.

She closed her eyes, remembering the erotic evening, the feel of his hands on her body, inside her. She was getting wet again, just thinking about it. How had he done that? No man she’d ever been intimate with had been able to bring her to release. Yet Daimaen Sinclair, a stranger whom she’d just met, not only brought her to climax once, but twice.

Her eyes widened and she gasped. He hadn’t even removed his clothes. He’d done it with his voice and his hands. Whoa, Daimaen Sinclair was a dangerous man. Certainly, dangerous to her. How had she let him take such total control of her? That never happened—she’d always made sure she was the one in control. Her dates had never
questioned it. Maybe that’s why they’d always been so forgettable. Unlike last night.

She pushed back the bedcovers and reached for her robe. She needed a cup of coffee. Maybe it would help clear the fog from her head so she could think straight.

She halted abruptly as she entered the living room. Her dress, which she vaguely remembered leaving on the floor, was now neatly folded over the back of a chair. The untouched coffee tray had been removed as well. She padded into the kitchen. Everything was neat and orderly. The timer on the coffeemaker had been set and coffee brewed, ready for her to pour. Sylvie knew she hadn’t prepared it the night before. Daimaen had to have done it.

As she moved farther into the room, she noticed a note next to the coffeemaker.

Sylvie, thank you for a memorable evening. I have a meeting to attend on Saturday, but I’ll call you on Sunday. Think of me, D. The handwriting was dark, bold, and masculine, just like the man. She read it several times. She brought it closer to her face, closed her eyes and inhaled. There was a faint hint of his remembered scent. Her
heartbeat quickened, she had to sit in a chair before her legs completely gave way. Damn, just reading the note and that faint scent had her aroused.

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Black Friday Deal – Free Today Only

One more deal this week. Download Sylvie’s Gift on Amazon for free today, November 23rd.

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Sylvie Taylor has never experienced sexual fulfillment, never felt uncontrolled desire. Her best friend, Allison Hunter, has kept secret her taste for the dark side of passion. Introducing Sylvie to sensually seductive Daimaen Sinclair, a Master of the game, has Sylvie yearning for the forbidden.

But someone has made an attempt on Sylvie’s life. Can Daimaen protect her, or is he the reason someone wants her dead?

 

Public Lives, Private Pleasures – an Excerpt

Public Lives, Private Pleasures

…a complexly layered tale, rich in detail, with characters who will grab your heart…

#erotic #contemporary #MM/M #gayromance

publiclivesprivatepleasures_medDescended from an old, very influential Virginia family with conservative views, Adrien has no desire to carry on the family’s political tradition. Still, he’s forced to hide his gay identity to protect the budding political career of his younger twin brother, Marsh, who wants to take up where their father, Senator Douglas Langtry, left off. There’s no room for mistakes, no matter how much Adrien hates living that lie.

It’s not until Adrien meets sexy Latin choreographer, Frankie Raphael, that his apathy evaporates, and he begins to questions his choices. Beautiful, passionate Frankie offers Adrien a glimpse into a world he’d only ever dared experience through the safety of the lens of his camera. Desire for Frankie makes his personal sacrifices seem suddenly unacceptable.

Dare Adrien jeopardize his brother’s political aspirations for a chance at his own happiness or will forces beyond his control slam the door shut on a life he’s only ever dreamed of? If he chooses to come out, their public lives be forever altered by the shocking revelation of their private pleasures.

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DN7RPPF

EXCERPT

It was as he was washing his hands that he happened to glance up in the mirror and then stilled as a pair of blazing green eyes captured his attention. He wiped his hands on a brown paper towel, tossed it, and then turned. For the moment the bathroom was empty except for Frankie and the man with the gorgeous green eyes. And the black silver-tipped cane.

“We’ve met before,” Frankie said. Yes, he was familiar, but if it hadn’t been for the cane, Frankie might not have recognized him. Long black hair that was now slightly disheveled and hanging loose about his shoulders almost hiding his face. Black mascara and liner that emphasized his eyes, pale complexion. Tonight he wasn’t wearing a conservative suit, but a pair of black jeans and black T-shirt that showcased his trim physique. The jeans outlined the thick bulge of an erection. The shirt was tight enough for Frankie to glimpse the outlined temptation of pierced nipples. God, he was even more tempting than the other night. He had to have this man. “Tad,” he said.

Tad’s eyes widened. Frankie could now see the green was ringed with gold, and he stepped toward the man. “You remembered,” Tad said.

Frankie smiled. He reached out a hand to trace a nipple through the fabric of the T-shirt. He gripped it with two fingers, twisted lightly, heard Tad suck in a breath. His pretty pupils dilated, almost obliterating the gold. “Yeah, I remembered.” He tugged, and Tad staggered forward. “God, I love your eyes. I’m surprised to see you here. I wouldn’t have thought it was your sort of hangout.”

He kneaded the nipple rhythmically, watching Tad’s expression, saw his gaze grow heavy with lust. But still he made no move.

“I-I come here now and then.”

“Do you? I don’t recall seeing you here before.” He released the tit and slid his hand suggestively down the front of the shirt to rest at Tad’s narrow hip. His fingers splayed at Tad’s waist, slid around to cup Tad’s sweet, tight ass, pulled forward until they were groin to groin.

“Oh, God,” Tad said and released another shuddering breath. Music pulsed in the background, making Frankie’s body throb.

“Do you want me?” Frankie asked. “Because I want to fuck you. Come home with me.” He led, his hand gripping Tad’s more firmly, leading into a slow grind. The cane clattered to the floor, and Frankie took Adrien’s weight easily. Feet slid across the floor, away from the cane, circling slowly, undulating to the music. Frankie felt Tad weakening, the rise in his body heat, the smell of arousal permeating the air in the bathroom, blending with his own scents. “I-I can’t.”

“Do you want to, Tad?” Frankie pressed him closer, both his hands now cupping Tad’s ass. “Do you want to do it right here? Right now?”

“W-what about your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend? Oh, you mean Kurt?”

The one you were—”

Frankie peered closer at Tad. “Were you watching us, Tad? Is that it? Do you get off watching people?”

Frankie saw the red flush creep up Tad’s neck and flood his face. “You were watching us. Which would you prefer—the handjob or the blowjob? Or maybe both.”

Suddenly Tad jerked back. He stumbled and righted himself, drew in deep breaths, and then turned to face Frankie once again.

“You don’t know the first fucking thing about what I want.” There was so much pain attached to the words that Frankie almost winced. Pain dripping with desire.

Frankie leaned back against the sink, studying Tad. He narrowed his gaze. “Who are you, Tad? That’s not your real name, is it? What are you hiding, I wonder?” He tugged the black leather billfold out from his back pocket and pulled out a card. He replaced the wallet and then moved to Tad. First he bent down and snapped up the cane and handed it to Tad. Tad leaned heavily on the cane.  Then with one hand Frankie pulled at Tad’s waistband. With his other hand he slipped the black and silver business card down the front, fitted it snugly between the moist, hot flesh of his abdomen and the rock-hard penis. Frankie took his time about fitting the card into place. He stroked a finger slowly along the veined erection, over the ridge of Tad’s glans. He smeared the liquid of preejaculate across the head before removing his hand. God, but he wanted this man so damned bad. He was a tenacious hunter, and he had the scent.

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Home For Christmas – Excerpt

Home For Christmas

homeforchristmascoverDestrie Two Rivers and Benedict Webster–an orphaned half-Indian and a wealthy rancher’s son. Men who were boyhood best friends, turned secret lovers when they were eighteen. And then one nightmarish night they were discovered and Destrie almost died as a result.

Now, eight years later, just before Christmas, Destrie, an Army sniper, returns to Wyoming on leave to attend the funeral of his foster father. Both men have changed and the distance between them seems wider than the Continental Divide with no way to breach the chasm. But just as the creek where they first made love runs powerful and constant, Destrie and Benedict’s passion for each other still burns undeniably deep

and everlasting.

Re-igniting their unquenchable desire could prove fatal. Until the heavy guilt and shocking secrets of the past are revealed, neither of these two men can truly come home for Christmas.

EXCERPT:

“How’s Laine holding up?” Benedict asked.

“It’s not easy for her, but I think she’ll be okay. They were married for fifty years, and she always said Ray was her best friend. You’ll look in on her?”

“Of course.” Benedict’s voice sounded rough. The white peaks in the water surged; Ray’s ashes had disappeared.

Destrie looked down and noted Benedict’s hands as his fingers curled around the brim of his hat. Destrie could feel his tension, saw it as he flexed his fingers, rubbing over the rim.

A working man’s hands, rough and calloused. Reddened by the winter, his hands were littered with tiny cuts. Destrie dropped the urn and spun to Benedict. He cupped Benedict’s roughened jaw, leaned forward, and kissed him.

Benedict’s hands clutched at Destrie’s leather jacket, dragging him forward. Destrie tasted the bitterness of farewell, and he couldn’t let go. He couldn’t be the one to walk away—not this time.

Tongues clashed, mouths hungered as they held on to each other, knowing this could very well be the last time they would ever see each other.

Benedict yanked free and stumbled back. Just as he’d done in the alley, he bent over to pick up his hat. And soon it would only be the memory that remained.

Suddenly, Destrie reached out and grabbed a shank of Benedict’s pale blond hair. He yanked up. Benedict yelled as he was brought up swift and hard by Destrie’s grip. Destrie saw his gaze widen. Throwing his body against Benedict’s, he shoved him back against the immovable, wide, ancient tree.

He held his lover there, hand wound tightly into his thick hair. Benedict stared into his eyes. Destrie saw the range of emotions as they crashed through him, the color of Benedict’s eyes changing so rapidly. Sky blue deepening to storm gray. Pinpoints of black that dilated as he began to yield to the savageness that overtook Destrie. Finally understanding. He knew what Destrie wanted without his saying a word.

Destrie yanked back, practically pinning Benedict against the rough bark, shoving his coat down over his shoulders. Benedict’s thick coat dropped to the ground. His hands reached for his belt, and he quickly unbuckled and unzipped his jeans, then shoved them and his underwear down over his hips. Legs spread, balancing himself in the slippery snow; the lowered clothing hung just below his ass.

Destrie released his hair and spun him around. He kicked Benedict’s legs as wide as they would go. Reaching down, he grabbed a handful of snow and held it in his warm palm until droplets trickled between his fingers.

He couldn’t wait. He and Benedict were almost the same height. He used the snow to lubricate Benedict’s hole. He heard Benedict gasp when the icy water was pressed into the passage of his hot anus. He shoved back when Destrie’s fingers speared inward, then quickly out. More snow and Benedict’s ass colored from pale ivory to ruddy rose.

Suddenly Benedict whirled around. He shoved Destrie back full force. Destrie stumbled and landed in the snow. He didn’t feel it; his full attention was the man towering over him, a look of steely determination on his face.

“Did you think I was going to make it easy for you?” Benedict said.

He dragged Destrie up by the lapels of his jacket. Spinning around, he slammed him back against the tree and possessed his mouth, thrusting his tongue deeply between Destrie’s lips.

Destrie was so taken aback by the dominant act, at first he didn’t respond. Benedict’s hands were at his waist, ripping the tails of his shirt from inside his pants, reaching for the opening, unzipping them, and then he shoved them down. His mouth ravaged across Destrie’s lips, over his lean, darkened jaw, back to his mouth, down to his throat. He sucked his way downward to the opened collar.

Anger and frustration warred with passion and lust right there next to the creek bank. The cold, frigid winter was no match for the hungry, blazing furnace of their need.
Benedict lifted his head and looked into Destrie’s black eyes. “Now, you have me.”
Destrie didn’t wait to even catch a breath. With little effort, he shoved Benedict back against the tree. He was hard, so fucking hard. He positioned the head of his cock at Benedict’s opening.

“You’ll feel this, lover. You’ll feel it, and you’ll never forget it.” He surged forward, burying his thick prick inside Benedict’s rectum. Benedict grunted as Destrie’s cock tunneled deep inside him.

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Currently a #kindleunlimited selection.

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07JD61V3R

 

Morganna’s Sacrifice – An Excerpt

Morganna’s Sacrifice (Vampyre Falls, Blended Species Bk 1)

(#MMF #darkfantasy #vampires #fairies #BDSM #contemporary)

MorgannasSacrificeMorganna’s lover, Keelan Moonhunter, a seductive dark elf, disappeared from their province in the Faerie Realm years ago without a word. She assumed he’d simply grown weary of her and sought his pleasures elsewhere. To help her deal with the heartbreak, Morganna pacted with the goblin alchemist, Syril Grimstarker, for a potion that would mask all the pain—at least for a time. Little did she know, however, exactly what evil secrets Syril held.

Until the night her long-lost lover, Keelan, saves her from the sadistic hands of the vampire Romulus. Now, Keelan’s a vampire with tortured memories and living in a place called Vampyre Falls. He whisks her away to the human world to protect her, and there, she meets the mysterious vampire, Daffyd Angelus, who once saved Keelan’s life. Morganna senses deeper ties between Daffyd and the dark elf she still loved. And Keelan reveals why he disappeared so long ago.

The only hope for any future together could hinge on sacrifices Morganna will be asked to make in order to remain in Vampyre Falls. Is her love strong enough to turn her back on everything she has known to stay with the one man she knows is her soulmate? Even if he is a vampire?
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EXCERPT

Keelan lay back on the bed as the echoes of sensual pain surged through him after the encounter with Daffyd. His mind wandered as he felt the weight of the blue pendant against his chest.

“How do you feel?” Keelan glanced up at Daffyd who stood next to the bed, holding a goblet. He offered it to Keelan, his black gaze traveling expertly over his naked flesh. “This should help.”

Keelan’s body responded to the imperative look, his cock rising to rigid attention as he accepted the goblet and drank down the herb-laced blood. The thick liquid zinged through his system and he felt his strength returning. The bed shifted as Daffyd sat down next to him. His cool hand brushed lightly across the cuts and bruises on Keelan’s torso. Leaning forward, he licked at the tantalizing droplets of blood leaking from one long wound.

As his tongue dipped and swirled along the seam, Keelan hissed sharply at the stinging, yet seductive sensation that erupted inside him. The chasm of dark desire yawned wide to draw him down toward the blackness. “I’ve never tasted Fae blood quite as rich as yours.” His heavy, deep gaze slid up to embrace Keelan’s from beneath long, sooty lashes. “Do you regret your choice in joining me?”

Daffyd had saved his life, had accepted him into his world without question. There was no room for regret, even as a pretty fae face flickered at the corner of his mind. Keelan tamped down the memories of his former life in the Fae realm. That was all behind him now. After what had happened to him, what he now was, he could never return. He stroked Daffyd’s strong jaw. His skin was cool and smooth, unblemished as fine porcelain. Carefully, he leaned up, feeling every bruise. He pressed his lips to Daffyd’s.

The vampire pushed him back, his own body anchoring him to the bed. His mesmerizing, fathomless eyes pinned Keelan beneath a swirling black look. “Do I give you what you need, Keelan?”

“Yes, Daffyd. I don’t regret allowing you to turn me. And you must know you give me what I require. What my body and mind demand.”

Daffyd’s glance lowered to the pendant he always wore. “But you still think of her.”

Keelan looked away. “I can’t help it. I loved her—I still love her.”

“But you need me.” He pressed his sharp nails into Keelan’s broad muscular chest and Keelan arched up into the pain. Because of his experience, he needed it now and his cock grew thicker, more rigid than before. He wanted Daffyd to track his nails down his torso, to draw the lines of blood and then to feel his tongue on his flesh as he savored the taste of him, drawing the exquisite forbidden passion from his body.

“Yes. You saved my life and I’ll never forget that. And I need you.”

“She wouldn’t understand, would she? About this hunger for pain that has now been ingrained into you.”

“I wouldn’t want her to know.” Morganna was such a passionate creature, so finely tuned to her environment, to happiness and love. He could never draw her down into his world.

“So you stay here to protect her. From yourself.”

 

Find out more about Keelan’s inner turmoil here, where I wrote Keelan’s motivations.

 

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