Friday, July 29, 2011

Who really has the power?


My most recent book Power Shift is the fourth book I’ve written with BDSM themes. For those of you who don’t read BDSM stories, let me assure you that all my books  are very romantic, very emotional and very sensual stories even if there are scenes involving light bondage, domination, submission and yes, some ventures into mild sadism and masochism. When my characters have sadistic tendencies, they’re not sadistic just because it gives them pleasure to hurt someone. They’re definitely not cruel. Their pleasure comes from knowing that their partner needs, wants, even craves sensation, and that in giving it to her, they’re giving her pleasure, too.

I’m fascinated by the whole idea of the power exchange and who really has control in a relationship. In Power Shift, Gabe is a Dominant who wants to be in control. Has to be in control. It’s often felt that it is really the submissive who has the power, because she (and I say she only because this book features a male Dom/female sub) gives the power to the Dom. If the submissive doesn’t submit, the Dom can’t dominate. But even so, there can’t be submission unless the Dom uses the power. So it’s not just one giving something to the other—it’s an exchange.

The exchange of power is based on mutual trust and respect. Part of that respect is respecting the partner’s fears and doubts, needs and wants. It’s about connecting on a different level.

In Power Shift, for the first time I explored a Dom who needs to give up control. Reagan has an instinctive sense for what Gabe wants and needs. But Gabe is in denial. Gabe believes he has to be in control, always, and he refuses to give it up to Reagan. For a Master Dom, Gabe still has much to learn. As he says, the journey never ends and there is always more to learn, especially about ourselves. Gabe learns that there will be times when Reagan needs and wants to submit to him, to give up control. But there will also be times when she needs to take control, when he needs to shift the power to her. Does he need to give up the power —or does she need to take it?

The fluidity of this in a relationship where both partners are in tune with each other’s needs and wants struck me as a power flow. This flow of back and forth, giving and receiving, seemed to me more like a shift of power than an exchange. When both partners are open to each other, when they care and trust and respect each other, they know what the other needs and want to give it. Or take it. And if there’s love and commitment, trust and respect, it will balance and shift back and forth.

And that is what I think draws me to write stories involving BDSM ― the journey of self-discovery that makes for a character arc rich in growth and learning and, ultimately, makes for a deeply satisfying story.

Here’s a small excerpt from Power Shift:



His hands on her bare back stroked up and down and she pressed in closer, still wearing her panties, which, yes, were pretty ones, a pink thong with flirty ribbon bows at the sides and at the back, and which were also quite damp now. She scraped her fingernails across his scalp, eliciting a groan and then she lifted her mouth from his, kissed her way over his scratchy cheek and jaw and bent her head to his shoulder. She opened her mouth on the fleshy part, sucked a little and then gently bit down.

His body twitched hard. “Christ,” he gasped, his hands tightening on her. “Reagan.”

She smiled, licked the spot and moved her mouth, using her teeth again, a little harder, driven by some unknown force, some unknown need to do this to him. He jerked and shivered and then his hand fisted in her hair and he yanked her head back. The sharp bite of pain on her scalp sent thrilling sensations right to her core. Another secret trigger.

She gazed back at him, their eyes meeting in the dim light, meeting and holding...and holding. She smiled a little, almost challenging him. His eyes flickered, his lips parted...she couldn’t read the expression on his face but a tiny frisson of alarm worked its way through her. He was big and strong and dominant, and she was playing a risky game with a man she barely knew. And yet...she felt safe.

Sort of.

It wasn’t Gabe she was afraid of but rather the intensity of the feelings he’d excited in her, a sharp arousal like she’d never experienced, a fierce lust, an almost protective tenderness. It was all kind of...confusing.

His eyelids lowered, so sexy, his mouth softened. “I’m not sure if I like that,” he said.

“What are you going to do about it?” God, where did that come from?

His eyes darkened, the long dark lashes sweeping back up. “Behave, Reagan. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

He was right. But whatever it was, she wanted it. Her mouth softened and pouted a little, wanting more kissing. “I’m a big girl,” she said. “I can handle whatever you dish out.”

He studied her, assessing her, and she held his gaze as long as she could before she had to drop her eyes, just briefly, blinking at his chest. And in that instant, she was on her stomach again, face down on the bed and his hand landed on her ass.

She cried out in surprise as heat flashed over her flesh. He hadn’t hit her hard, but holy shit, it got her attention. Her head lifted from the bed and she looked back at him, hair hanging in her face. “What was that?”

“A spanking.” His hand rubbed the spot in a warm caress and she blinked, and then he tapped her again. Heat simmered over her buttocks and her pussy went liquid. She moaned.

“I’m not sure if I like that,” she gasped. But holy hell, she did.

He was the sexiest man in the world, honest to god. Nobody had ever talked to her like that, so frankly, so erotically, nobody had ever spanked her like that, nobody had ever turned her on like he was.



Here’s  where you can find Kelly:












Thursday, July 28, 2011

Do You Believe In Soulmates?

Because I write erotic romance, I deliver happily ever after or happy for now endings. That’s what it’s all about. Romance readers are looking for escape—and possibly even reinforcement of their beliefs. To know that regardless of the conflict, the main protagonists will embrace love in the end.

As I’m working on a book, I realize that I’m writing my characters’ story as if they were meant to be. That they have spent their entire lives waiting for the moment when they meet. The planets align perfectly and that’s it.

Soulmates.

The term soul mate was first used by the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge in 1822. It was two words at that time. Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be any evidence of the term again until the 50s. At least that’s what my research shows. And later on the term was made popular by us romance writers and, of course, Hallmark! LOL And that’s when it became one word—soulmate.

Now just because the word isn’t ancient or wasn’t thoroughly used until the mid-twentieth century that doesn’t mean the concept wasn’t there all along. It was. I dare say every man and woman on the planet since the beginning of time has dreamt of finding their one true love. So we romance writers didn’t create soulmates just to snag readers. It’s a case of art imitating life.

Deep down inside, we know what our readers want. How? Because we share their wants and needs.
There are a lot of women out there, myself included, who consider themselves to be logical thinkers. As a logical thinker I question the idea of soulmates. Now don’t get me wrong, I still love romances. That’s why I write them. The concept of soulmates is pretty amazing. But do soulmates actually exist?

Let’s face it. Love isn’t as easy as we authors make it appear in our books. Not that we don’t put our characters through sheer HELL first. LOL We bring them together and tear them apart so readers will be on the edge of their seats just waiting for that HEA, which makes it all the more satisfying when it happens.

But again, that’s a case of art imitating life. There are ups and downs a plenty for every relationship. No matter how much you love someone, no relationship is ever perfect, is it? That conflict may very well be what keeps the embers of love burning, too.

So, what does everyone think? Do soulmates really exist? And how do you know?

I write it. I don’t live it. I’m still waiting on my soulmate—if he truly exists. In the meantime, I’ll keep writing romances and make my hero and heroine look love square in the eye. My newest release, Strip Down, from Ellora’s Cave is all about a cop and a stripper—an unlikely pair for sure. But they were meant to be.

BLURB: What’s a topless dancer to do when a cop tells her to “spread ’em”? Cooperate, of course. Which is exactly what Jazzmyn Monroe does when her big-city dreams land her in a world of trouble and the arms of sexy detective Ryder Muldoon. Jazzmyn is no angel, but she doesn’t expect the rip-roaring, passion-filled rollercoaster ride given by one of L.A.’s finest.

An honest cop with a target painted on his back, Ryder is forced to go rogue if he wants to stay alive, and the hottest woman he’s ever laid eyes on is the key to his plan. It’s supposed to be just business with a side of sex. If only it were that simple. Jazzmyn’s sinful curves and aptitude for red-hot loving ramp up his libido…and a whole lot more.

Available at Ellora’s Cave:

Available at Amazon:

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Princesses, Slaves and Sex

I love romance so much that I write romance books. There's nothing better than sitting down with a good book, getting to know the characters and get invested in their relationships and trials. I've written a few books and you can find them on my website.


A few years ago I started writing a book about princesses living on an amazing planet called Gemariah. First is Ava, the feisty girl who survives the slave pits only to find herself becoming a sexual plaything for the king. Ava's book is Princess Slave and can be purchased at Amazon and Smashwords and will be available at other stores soon.


Then Regina runs off to a pleasure planet to have a little fun before her father marries her off to an old fart. Regina is looking for pleasure but only finds trouble. Regina's book is Runaway Princess and will be available this weekend.

Amera was beautiful beyond belief and had her choice of suitors, that is until her father marries her off to the first available man. But he's not interested in her, until she finds out his secret, then it's on. Amera's book will be available in six weeks.

Super smart Miki would never find herself in a situation like Regina or Ava. She's too smart to fall into a trap. Then she meets her match when the king of Cardith comes hunting a wife.

Lena and Zia, the twins, find love with the same man but neither is willing to share. Fireworkds ensue as they fight it out.

Lorelei, the good girl, never did anything wrong until she meets her man. Then it's all bad girl all the time.

Blurb for Princess Slave

Princess Ava Timna is prisoner of the king of Zebulun, doomed to become his sex slave. Escape means certain death but staying only delays the inevitable, the loss of her virginity. To her people, her virginity is sacred, something to be treasured and given as a gift to her future husband. Giving herself to King Ean isn't an option. He's known for defiling women and casting them aside. She expects abuse and harshness at his hands, yet his gentle touch leaves her breathless and aching for more.

King Ean of Zubulun has a secret he’s not willing to share. He's not who others believe him to be and his secret identity changes everything. Keeping Ava prisoner weighs on his conscious. Keeping her means giving in to the lustful fire burning in his loins, knowing all the while he's lying to the one woman he wishes could be more than his princess slave.

Excerpt for Princess Slave


Dark, lifeless eyes stared up at Ava, condemning her to a fate worse than death. The twenty thousand Zebuluns in the stands surrounding her fell silent. Ava looked at the woman lying dead at her feet. The knife still protruded garishly from her side. Blood still flowed from the wound.

A week of eating drugged food, what little they had allowed her, and drinking tainted water left her weak, but the fight for her life had cleared some of the fog that puzzled her brain. Horror washed over her. She’d just killed another being.

The hollow echo of one person clapping bounced off the stadium floor. Ava looked up, staring toward the royal box filled with Zebulun’s highest-ranking officials. If this were her planet, she would be in that box, but not for this type of atrocity. Her people would never stand for such a wanton display of violence and death. But she was no longer the intended ruler of her people, her life held little promise, and now this.

The sound of spectators joining in the applause sickened her. The misfits of society sounded their approval of her kill. Ava bent low, closing the eyelids of the one she’d stabbed.

Hands grasped roughly at her arms, pulling her to her feet. Revulsion wormed its way into her empty belly as she looked over her shoulder at the dead body. She’d reacted automatically when the woman rushed her. The knife felt cold in her hand as it slid into her opponent’s side. Now every part of her was icy as steel, and she wished she’d been the one to die on the field today.

Before she could protest, the guards placed her on a golden stool and imprisoned her with shackles. She wanted to fight the restraints but knew better. Her chest ached with mourning for what she’d lost. This week would have been the beginning of her entrée into becoming queen. The introduction into ruling royalty would have taken years, but not any more.

The palanquin holding her lifted. She clenched the muscles of her torso, forcing herself not to faint. The stadium gates opened, and the stench of too many bodies assaulted her. Thousands filled the stands, screaming at her and yelling impossible suggestions to her.

“Let me fuck her ugly cunt,” a Uralian with black teeth yelled.

“Tie her down,” another hollered.

“Let me have a go.” The voice was deep and booming.

Ava wouldn’t cry, no matter how bad the situation. She would block the worst from her mind and think only of the gardens outside her rooms at the imperial palace on Gemariah. Panic struck her heart.

Her perfect world reduced to this.

The Gemariahians were a peaceful race who valued people. Love and learning were central to the peace that her forefathers had achieved on her planet. It was nothing like Zebulun where the worst was displayed for all to see. Misfits of all races and worlds made this detestable planet their home, bringing their wretched practices with them.

Fear raced though her. What would these people do to her? She pulled against the shackles holding her still. Terror built and threatened to spill out. She didn’t want to die at the hands of these bastards.

Purchase Princess Slave here.
Interested in finding out more about Sara York? Check out my blog.

Also, don't forget to visit the TRS Party site on Thursday where I'll be giving away a copy of Princess Slave and Surprise Sleepover during the release party.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Cretan? No, she didn’t! Oh yes, I did! By a.c. Mason


A Cretan is a native inhabitant of Crete. Where is Crete? It’s an island that is part of Greece in the southern Aegean Sea. I don’t want to talk about the modern inhabitants of Crete. I wish to talk about those that lived there a long time ago. A people known as the Minoans.

What is a Minoan you ask? Minoan: relating to the Bronze Age civilization on Crete that lasted from around 3000 to 1100 bc. They are who I’ve based my immortals around. I’ve blended some history and fantasy to create my highly structured patriarchal society about to be turned on its head. The series is called The Minoan Reins and book one is called Night Reins.

Some equestrians might be wondering right about now if there is a horse connection? That isn’t the meaning of reins I was focused on. I’m referring to: any means of guiding, controlling, or restraining somebody or something.Do you like handing over control or taking command?

Night Reins blurb:

Vampire slayer Tazrein Noir willingly served humanity... until the pull of the night destroyed the one good thing she had left. Now she struggles between the power of light and darkness within her. And the dark may be winning.

Mr. Elson is a Minoan General--one of the immortal dynasty of Crete, now also head of security for Pseira Industries. Haunted by the sins of his father, he spends his entire life as a light for honor, justice and sacrifice. Yet without his fated mate, he'll become all the things he fears...

Lordel Pseira is the ruler of the Minoans, as well as the very modern CEO of Pseira Industries. On the verge of succumbing to the darkness, without his light, he shall be lost...

Lordel's light is Mr. Elson's fated mate: Tazrein.

Deception, passion, and death hound Tazrein's every move. The Minoans want her blood to unlock the key to save their dying race. The Knights of Mortis want her dead so she cannot fulfill destiny. And the vile Nox want her for themselves so they can rule over all.

Sacrifice and blood. Sex and love. Destiny and fate. The balance hangs in Tazrein's hands...and in the eyes of the two men she fears she cannot live without, despite her continued existence hanging in the sweetly seductive balance between them both.

WARNING: This book contains a hot race of immortals known as the Minoans, vampires and evil creatures. A sassy heroine. More tasty treats for her to pick from than a candy store. Graphic sexual encounters of the following nature M/F, M/M, and M/F/M. BDSM references. Violence: Imprisonment and torture.

Excerpt From Night Reins:
Days without hunting always left Tazrein Noir on edge. She needed the physical relief that made her corner of the world a safer place. With her modified Tanto blade tucked in her handbag, she was ready to make puddles out of vamps. There was a vamp-friendly bar by the harbor. Just the place for her to go for a good release.
A heat wave had set in. She strolled down the street. Decent folk didn’t go there after dark. Aside from the industrial complex and office towers, the harbor was a dead zone. She took off her jacket and unbuttoned her blouse. A little tit always helped lure her prey. Besides, the best way to catch a predator was to lay out a good offering.
As she rounded the corner, a vibration hummed in her eardrums, her personal vampire early warning system. A bouncer stood to the side of the entrance.
She stopped in front of the large doorman.
“I.D.?” he asked.
“Oops.” No way was she giving her name or address. “I forgot it at home.” The ringing in her ear grew to a constant buzz. “I guess I’ll come back another evening then.” She whirled around.
“Wait.”
“Me?” She played coy, turned toward him, and quirked an eyebrow.
“Yeah.” He soaked her in from head to toe. “Let’s not worry about it tonight. I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“Aww, you’re such a peach.”
“My pleasure.” He rested his stare on her cleavage.
Men. Most of them weren’t too bright. Flash a little skin, and they forgot to use the bigger head. With a dopey grin, he held the door open.
As she slipped inside, the bang of the door behind her sent a thrill of excitement through her. Empty stairs led down into a room lit with red lights. Vamps were such products of their own clichés.
The teeming crowd of young women saddened her. She couldn’t save them all. Never. Like her, many of them went there seeking the creatures that frequented these places.
The new age song gave the lounge a sophisticated atmosphere, though anyone in their right mind would know this was the bottom of the barrel. Many years ago, the truth about vampires sank in. They were corpses. Dead physically and emotionally, but able to synthesize what mattered by feeding off the living in every way. Newly born vamps enjoyed the numbness––the hollowness made murdering people for food easier. But, then the older fiends missed the emotions. The chance to feel drove them to kill for sport, inflicting pain on their victims. The inner surge of feelings they got from humans was a vampire’s private addiction.
When they were in her mind, she sensed their arousal as they tormented their prey. They sought emotional authenticity. Love, happiness, fear, pain, sadness, anger, and jealousy were the emotions humans possessed, and what vamps had long ago sacrificed for immortality. Ironically, the longer the creatures lived, the more they hungered to experience these sensations.
Since at times she too worried about her own humanity, she understood why it grew to be an obsession.
As she stepped onto the floor, a human male grabbed her, and pulled her into the corner of the room. A struggle would call attention to her, defeating the purpose of her outing.
“Little Bo Peep, have you lost your mind?” His southern twang gave Mr. Tall, Blond and Handsome charm, but he didn’t behave like a gentleman.
Tazrein stared at the grip on her forearm. “Excuse me?” This man had evidently lost his mind. “Do I know you?”
“No, ma’am.” His lean jaw clenched. The scent of polyester and paper weaved in the air.
She’d wager on him being in law enforcement. “Then remove your hand from me or I will.”
He huffed, released her, and made eye contact. Pale sapphires stared into her. You are tired and will head home this instant.Now this was interesting. He attempted to use the power of suggestion to get her to leave. If vampires could hardly influence her, it was doubtful a human could.
She laughed.
“What?” he asked, his brows creased together.
“Nothing. I just think you’re probably tired and should head home.” Bet that would throw Mr. Wannabe Hero off. “This place isn’t safe for you.”
His eyes narrowed. “For me?” His white dress shirt glowed in the black light. He wore jeans well. “You have no idea the mess you’re in, Bo Peep.”
“I’m in exactly the kind of mess I came here for.” She leaned into him.
He didn’t withdraw, his hand wrapped around her. “Let me get you out of here, I’ll make it worth our while.” His pitch was hoarse. He pressed his length to her leg.
“Coming here always proves worthwhile for me. Good night.” She stepped back, spun, walked over to the bar, and sat down.
Already, the vultures circled.
“What can I get you?” The bartender smiled, fake fangs showing, a wanpire aka wannabe vampire. He wore tacky black clothing, face painted white, mascara, eyeliner, and nails painted. A death worshipper. The freak had no clue.
“Tequila, a triple round of shots.” She handed him a fifty-dollar bill. Cash left no trace. “Keep the change.”
“For you alone?” A lean, dark haired vamp moved in next to her, his pearly whites gleaming. A blue dress shirt and black slacks gave him a professional appearance, but rotting human fragrance saturating him killed any appeal of his devilish good looks.
“Yeah,” she said. “It’s called a pity party.”
“And why would a beautiful woman like you need one of those?” The velvet tone of the vamp’s voice served to draw victims in.
She smiled at the easy flattery. “I got a call for an interview, but I’ve got no one to celebrate with. The usual sappy story.” Some truth mixed with lies, which made the information she gave vampires believable without compromising her.
The server set the shot glasses and filled one after the other, with a pouring stream of liquor.
“I can’t have the pretty lady drinking alone. Set me up to match.” He pulled out a hundred dollar bill and set it down.
“You don’t have to.” She waved him off.
“I know. I want to. It’s not every night I get to rescue a damsel.”
Most wouldn’t note the use of night over day. He wasn’t a young fiend. Hence, he sought the challenge in the room and not the easy target.
“I didn’t realize I appeared in need of saving, like a helpless lamb surrounded by wolves.”
“Not in the least. More like a panther about to give this wolf a run to the finish. Shall we?” He lifted the shot glass to his lips and downed the liquid.
“Bottoms up.” She brought the rim to her mouth and sucked back the fiery fluid.
“Tell me your name.” His mental touch entered her mind.
She long ago learned to protect her psyche from the manipulation. The intrusion felt like ice water dripping down her scalp. Things were about to get exciting. She loved when they used all their skills to get their way. “Rein.”
“What a sad name, unfitting.” He pressed his index and thumb to her collarbone trailing down between her mounds before squeezing her breast. “Beautiful and real.”
Warmth surged up her core. “Thank you. And you are?”
“Archie. You’re ready for round two.” As he lifted the glass and tossed back the drink, he bid her limb to do the same. “Move in closer to me.”
She shuffled forward. The sense of him controlling her movements swirled a thrill of heat inside. How exhilarating. He willed her to gyrate her hip against the length of his erection.
“Last one.” He raised the shot, and she mirrored his actions. He blinked, sliding away his brown contact lens, which revealed a red haze in his eyes beneath. “You want to come back to my apartment.” Even vampires wore facades in an attempt to blend in.
She nodded at his command.
“Good, it’s not far.” He pointed to the south end.
The cool touch of his fingers slipped through hers.
Goose bumps rose along her arms. He led her up the stairs and out into the night. Peace came over her.
Parked a few yards ahead, on the other side of the deserted road, was a blue van, with emergency plumbing written in white on the sides. The vehicle belonged to the misfits she sometimes called her friends, Gem, Vincent, and John. Hadn’t she told them not to hunt without her?
“What troubles you?”
She forced her lips into a smile. “This is going to sound lame, but I’ve never gone back to a man’s apartment like this.”
“I know.”
“Huh, how?” She tensed her shoulders.
“If you were that type of woman, I wouldn’t be interested. Don’t worry. I’m a gentleman. I won’t do anything you’re not asking for. I’m going to make you feel things you never have, and we’ll both get off. Trust me.”
Strangely ominous.

Mason
a.c. Mason
Darkness ♀♂ Desires
www.acmason.com

Monday, July 25, 2011

Dirty Slang by Em Petrova

Erection, hard-on, cock, shaft, rod…What’s your favorite moniker for the penis? As an erotic romance writer, I often find myself in a slump when it comes to choosing words for my sex scenes. Most publishers have guidelines about what terms are appropriate, but recently I wondered what dirty word might spew from my fingertips and onto the screen if I were given free reign.


Here are a (not-so) few of my favorites:

Russell The One-Eyed Wonder Muscle

Gristle Missile

Pumping Pole of Penile Power

Bone-Her

Harry & the HHenderson's (Hendersons are the balls)

One-Eyed Fred

Dip Stick

Meat Wrench

Nightcrawler

Blue-veined Junket Pumper

Love Pump

One-Eyed Wonder Weasel

Johnson

Trouser Snake

Tool

Thrill Drill

Sex Pistol

Pocket Rocket

Friction Whistle

The Pink Oboe

Purple-Helmeted Warrior

Vlad The Impaler

One-Eyed Snake

Pork Sword

The Colonel

Captain Scarlet

Which is your favorite? Here’s mine. I’ll use it in a sentence…

*Lea took Drake’s pink oboe in hand, and before she ducked her head, she watched his pupils dilate in bliss.*

Leave a comment and try a sentence of your own!

Em Petrova

~where words mean so much more~

http://www.empetrova.com

Runes
Trefoil
Forbidden
Runestone
Tattoo Dream
My Sexy Valentine
Isolde’s Wish
Deux
Trois
Market Place
Bound for Romance
The Tempest: coming July 29th

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Now Available: Sheer Bliss by Leigh Ellwood


I am pleased to announce the release of SHEER BLISS, the first in my new Love is Bliss series. This novella features wolves and were-panthers, and I hope you enjoy it! I was inspired to write the story after several trips up and down the Jersey Turnpike, and the multiple visits to the state for various book events. I am a beach person at heart, so I wanted to incorporate my love for the shore and my interest in paranormal romance. I don't have many paranormals in the back list, much less shifter stories, and I wanted to correct that.

SHEER BLISS will be followed by TRUE BLISS, which will come after my next Dareville story. Enjoy!

Buy This: All Romance, Smashwords

Living in Bliss, New Jersey has it perks, unless you’re a shifter looking for love or a human looking for peace and quiet. Not only does Calla Savitch, owner of Shear Bliss salon, have to deal with warring panthers and werewolves with overlapping appointments, she’s fed up with their constant matchmaking attempts. The last thing she wants especially is a hook-up with the one shifter who broke her heart years ago.

Handsome were-panther Caleb Houlihan still nurses the guilt of Calla’s heartbreak, but when presented with a second chance to woo her he is reluctant. Calla may forgive his youthful indiscretions, but when she discovers his aunt’s true motive for wanting them together, will she send him packing?

On this stretch of the Jersey Shore, it’s a different “situation”!

~*~

Still in cat form, Caleb took to the sand with graceful stealth, staying to the shadows behind the light posts lining the edge where the sands met the residential area. Closer to Calla’s beachside home, he caught a familiar scent in the air—shifter, yet unmistakably female—and followed it directly to the brick wall that separated Calla’s property from the public walkway to the sea.

Interesting, Caleb mused to himself, and wondered if Calla herself had the ability to give off such a scent considering her alleged genetic makeup. He hadn’t intended to come here—he’d originally started in this direction to track down Trisha and her friends at The Wall, a favorite night club situated on the shore. If necessary he could shift partially—covering all the essential parts—and order the girl home if she appeared to be having too good of a time to threaten her betrothal to Malcolm Weaver.

And if I keep telling myself that, I can justify spying on Calla Savitch as a happy accident, he thought as the entranceway to her backyard came into view. On light paws, Caleb bent low and crept closer to the wall, picking up bits of conversation drifting from her porch. He stilled and kept out of view, tuning out the roar of the ocean behind him.

“So, how goes the search?” asked a woman sounding way too sultry to be Calla.

A barking laugh broke the short moment of silence that followed. “It’s not so much a search as it is a complete lack of interest.”

“Cute, Calla.”

Breathless silence followed. Though curiosity burned through Caleb’s senses, he didn’t dare raise his head even a centimeter over the top of the wall. He inhaled the crisp, heady scent of she-wolf and knew immediately the other voice belonged to a Winston—most likely the uninhibited Maya. He knew the two women were close, but the direction of their conversation—coupled with the amorous heat given off by the shifter—implied to Caleb a more unconventional relationship than friends might have suspected.

He closed his eyes to better detect their movements. He heard hands smoothing over skin, quiet sighs of pleasures, and finally a juicy, smacking liplock. Sweet Calla, I hardly knew ye. With Maya, of course, he expected a fondness for both genders—the she-wolf was a self-proclaimed trisexual.

Try anything sexual.

Caleb grinned to himself, remembering her drunken proclamation at a past Indian Summer Ball. He then wondered if the breakdown of his fling with Calla all those years ago precipitated this broadening of his old flame’s sexual horizons.

Sighs turned to steady moaning now, and by damn if Caleb didn’t begin to harden in panther form. That’s it, he decided, and shifted to human form. Given the vibes thrumming from the back porch, Caleb doubted either woman would spot him peeking.

Still crouched low in the sand, he bent his fingers over the brick and lifted his head to skim the yard area. In the glow of porch light, Calla and Maya stood locked in a tight embrace. Calla, willowy and pale in her nightshirt, rested one hand on Maya’s bare bottom, kneading the ample flesh while her other hand cupped a breast. Maya’s hand had to work as well, though with their position Caleb couldn’t readily see where the she-wolf touched her…friend. Wherever Maya devoted that attention, though, Calla appeared to enjoy it. Caleb’s keen eyesight picked up on the rapid flittering of the woman’s eyelids, her face twisting with ecstasy as she moved with Maya to deepen and prolong their kiss.

It seemed to go on forever, and Maya finally broke free and moved to Calla’s side, pressing her breasts against the other woman’s shoulder. Here Caleb made out Calla’s inviting shape underneath the skimpy shift—rock hard nipples denting the fabric, which dipped at the delta between her quivering thighs. Unconsciously he grasped the base of his cock, and his fingers curled around his sac, tugging and massaging to full arousal.

Maya lifted the hem of Calla’s short gown high enough to reach the waistband of her floral-patterned panties. She slipped her hand underneath the slim triangle—Caleb watched fingers flex and bend as Maya presumably worked Calla’s pussy and clit to a near-liquid state.

“Let’s go inside,” he heard the she-wolf buzz in Calla’s ear. “We can do so much more, comfortably.”

No sooner were the words said, though, when Calla’s heavy-lidded expression slowly sobered. She seemed to awake from a dream and turned to Maya as though seeing her for the first time. Her hand fell limp from Maya’s backside and she gently extracted the she-wolf from her private parts.

“You are definitely tempting me tonight,” Calla said, appearing to ignore Maya’s look of confused disappointment, “but I’m sorry. I’m just not feeling it right it.”

“I didn’t get that impression a second ago,” Maya said accusingly.

Calla, however, just smiled and offered a chaste kiss to Maya’s nose. “Come by the salon for a freebie. I’ll make it up to you.” Without another word, she backed into her house and slid the glass patio door shut.

“Calla?” Maya called after her, but her plea met with the quiet swish of a curtain blocking her—and Caleb’s—view of Calla’s kitchen. The she-wolf growled and turned sharply away, storming down the path toward the ocean. “I doubt it’s the kind of ‘freebie’ I’d want,” she grumbled.

Still in human form, Caleb pressed his back to the wall and hoped the aborted seduction preoccupied Maya enough not to detect his scent. At it was, he expected her to shift back to wolf form once she hit the beach, and dash into the dark.

Instead, Maya fulfilled half his prediction. Not seconds after shifting, those white socks trotted over the sand to where he hid. Caleb glared uneasily into bright blue eyes and the best approximation of a canine grin.

Hello, Caleb.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

What's next

Seven weeks have come and gone since the release of The Widow's Revenge.  If you haven't gotten your copy yet, please click on this link http://www.eredsage.com/store/TheWidowsRevenge.html.  I wish I could say I've been hard at work on my next book.  Unfortunately, I've had to take a break from writing to move and attend two conferences (yes I played games for four days at one of the conferences, but all writing and no fun makes for an exhausted writer and bad stories).  So now that all the hoopla is over, including the week long cold I brought back with me from my last conference, 'what's next?'  I have five different manuscripts in the works.  Three short contemporary romances and two erotic pieces that are currently novella length.  At least one of the erotic stories will become my next book, since I haven't yet found a home for the short contemporaries.  I wish I could ask all the readers of this blog to tell me which erotic they want me to publish, but the decision isn't up to me.  My publisher will decide which book will follow The Widow's Revenge.  With any luck and some hard work on my part, I should be able to answer the 'what's next' question in a month or two.  Until then, I'd love to hear from you about your favorite stories or perhaps the answer you hope to see when we finally find out, 'what's next?'

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Cheryl Dragon: Part 2 Three-Way Games




Want to try a shorty by Cheryl Dragon?

Resplendence Publishing Proudly Presents the First Title in Our All-New Line of Short-Shorts, Erotic Gems! Only 99 Cents Each!

Three-Way Games
 Ménage (m/m/f)

Blurb:

Blackout! When the lights go out secrets are uncovered. Steph has a phobia about the dark and runs across the hall into the arms of her gay best friends. This sexy pair of gamers have backup power and her naked form programmed into their latest video creation on a huge TV screen. Their secret lust for her revealed, the passionate exploration heats up. Safe in the dark with her men, Steph doesn’t care if the lights ever come back on!



Excerpt:

The second the lights went out Stephanie Kissle bolted up in bed. Her heart pounded despite the logical explanation. In the middle of a big city, it was never truly dark except when the power went out. Still she grabbed for her flashlight from the nightstand and ran out to the hallway of her apartment building where emergency lighting greeted her.
To her further relief, she ran into her neighbors from across the hall. The sexy and slightly geeky duo, Elliot and Nate. Elliot’s glasses were a little askew, but his hair flopped in his eyes as adorably as ever. Nate, the taller and darker haired of the two, ran his fingers through his mop of boyish curls. They were her friends and her secret lust. Both were twenty-seven and currently wore nothing but boxers so she got a delicious look at Nate’s curly chest hair and Elliot’s hard muscles.

“You okay?” Nate asked her.

“Sorry, it’s so bizarre. I have a thing about the dark.”

Everyone in the building said Elliot and Nate were gay, and Steph saw no reason to doubt it. She had weekly dates with Ell to do laundry, while she and Nate did the grocery shopping together to make it more fun and max out on savings. Truth be told, she was in love with her gay boyfriends and her female friends kept trying to set her up to get her out of the rut.

“Well, come in our place. We’ve got backup battery power, and we can always rig a generator.” Ell opened the door and nodded her inside.
They followed her, and she felt safe in the warm glow of their huge TV and torch lamps. “I hope you don’t mind. I just get freaked out. My older brother loved horror movies and my parents didn’t care if I watched, but they were tough about no nightlights. Not the worst childhood trauma.” She sat on the sofa and smiled.

The duo sat on either side of her. “No problem, you’re welcome any time. Of course, we had to watch out for you. Some of the old geezers might’ve tried to grope you. It’s for your own protection.” Nate looked at her body.
“No robe?”

She looked down and felt her face burn. A lace white tank and matching panties. “I’m really not a slut. I just hate hot summers so I dress light.”
“So do we. Just less lace.” Ell winked at her.

She looked at the TV and froze. “What’s that?”
“Sorry.” Nate grabbed for the remote.

Steph got it first. “No. Why does it look like me?” A woman about her build with long brown hair and dark eyes lay stretched out a bed on the TV. It was a video game but looked a little like porn.

“It’s only one option. We’re making a new video game, and she’s a potential heroine people can play,” Ell explained. “I agree, she needs some work. Not as hot as you but close.”

“She’s naked. What sort of game is it?” The figure on TV had a big bust.
“It’s part of the mature content. She’s a zombie hunter and must replenish her strength by sleeping with humans. How many, how graphic, and so on is up to them. It’s a compliment to you.” Nate slid his arm behind her on the old sofa.

Vaguely, she remembered they did do some work on video games, reviewing and designing, but she had no clue she was in them. Glancing down at Nate’s boxers, she saw his cock straining the material. Elliot showed the same reaction. That was the real compliment.
“Aren’t you two together? We never talked about it, but I always sensed a sexual tension. You’re not gay?” Steph tried to slow her thoughts, but her body was way ahead. Her dreams might not be so farfetched after all.

“We are together. But not strictly gay.” Nate leaned in and kissed her. A jolt of happiness hit her. They wanted her.
Her pussy moistened, and her hands ran over their chests as she responded. Not leaving out Elliot, she leaned to him and let her tongue tangle with his. “I thought I was crazy crushing on two gay guys.”

“It’s sort of hard to date this way, but when you find the right one, you just know.” Elliot tugged her tank down and freed one breast.
Nate made sure the other one also felt the cool tingle of their cranked air conditioner before they sucked her nipples. Arching her back, Steph knew for certain they weren’t totally gay. They squeezed her tits with as much eager playfulness as any of her high school boyfriends.

“Kiss each other,” she said.
Nate smiled up at her and gave her a hard kiss on the mouth. “I love requests.”

Then he pulled Elliot in closer, and they kissed with her nipple in between, tongues and teeth grazing her tender flesh until she moaned. Reaching for their erections, she stroked them through their boxers.
“At least, I won’t be alone in the dark,” she said.

The men stood and ditched the underwear fast before standing her up and tugging her skimpy clothes to the ground. Steph was lost in their hard bodies. The lean muscle was normally covered by jeans and T-shirts. But her hands couldn’t stop teasing their hard members.
They steered her to the oversized coffee table made of wood with lots of drawers on the side. She went willingly onto her back and felt like her video persona on TV. The men turned off the big screen and knelt in front of her. Ell started kissing her left calf and Nate nuzzled her right inner thigh, but soon, they’d kissed up to her pussy. She’d never had two tongues on her, but she spread her legs as wide as she could and tangled her hands in their hair.

“I wanted you both. Please, I need more.” She wasn’t experienced with this by any means, and her last boyfriend was over six months ago. There was no doubt what she needed from them.
Nate slid up to lie next to her, licking her sensitive breasts until she gasped. Elliot showed off his skills eating her until she felt a pressure behind her clit. He went after every inner fold with his rough tongue. When his finger slid over the nub, she cried out as if it were her first time coming. Elliot licked her pussy until Nate nudged him.

Elliot opened a drawer and produced condoms and individual lube packets. Steph trusted them, but they were Boy Scout ready. Nate stretched out on his back and slid on protection before letting her climb on top. She slowly eased his cock in, keeping her eyes locked on him so she never forgot her fantasy come true.
Once she had all of Nate deep in her, she leaned forward slightly as Elliot’s strong chest pressed to her back. “You’re sure?” he whispered.

“Not up for it?” she teased.
He kissed her as his thick fingers rubbed lube to her ass and tested her a little. Steph relaxed and let his finger in. No way was she missing one bit of her fantasy scenario tonight. She had to have them both together.

“Stay just like that.” Ell put on a condom and carefully filled her ass with his thick erection.
Nate tugged at her nipples, and she smiled down at him. “So good. We should’ve done this before.”

“We thought we were big brother types to you. Guess we were wrong by how wet you are.” Nate lifted his hips.
Steph shivered as Elliot pushed that last inch in. Two pulsing cocks deep in her was as good as she’d imagined. Tight and a little overwhelming but that was what she wanted with them.
“You okay?” Elliot whispered.



That's my latest and greatest:)



Writing a Series and Paying it off


The fun of a series is exploring it and, when the time is right, bringing it full circle. Denise is the last in the Raiders’ Bodyguard Service series…(Don’t worry, I have another BDSM series coming that is more open ended).

When I started Abducting Andrea , I didn’t plan on a series but the spark of the story was the attack on Andrea’s cousin Denise. So I wanted to give the readers the whole story.


There were a couple detours. Andrea’s best friend Penny (a BBW) found her hunky hero and broke free from self doubt in Pushing Penny.


Then Penny’s brother Brian made such a splash in her book’s opening that readers demanded he have his own story. So Backing Brian gave us huge rope and some super hot men on the cover;)


But then it was time to come back and pay off the danger in book one by getting back to Denise…who happens to need two bodyguards to keep her in line! It remains to be seen if I satisfied the readers. Some might want the series to go on and on...but this was one designed around a certain group of people and I wanted to end it with the right story....Don't worry, I've got a new BDSM series coming that is more open-ended so it can go on and on:)

Doubling on Denise


Blurb:

An ex who won't let go is a real nightmare for Denise. When he gets out of jail on a technicality, she turns once again to the only men who can protect her and know her secret desire for BDSM.

The Temple brothers are two of Raider's finest bodyguards and had a perfect record until Denise fired them a year ago. Now she's back and begging for help. Little does she know how well they understand her submissive side and how long they've wanted to show her the safe and proper way to serve her true Masters.

Excerpt:

A cell phone ringing in the middle of the night was nothing new for Jack Temple. He woke and answered it in a haze that quickly lifted though it was five in the morning. Adrenaline took over as Jack listened then ended the call with Mr. Raider, his boss. The man was to the point, as always, and the new assignment wasn’t one to be accepted or rejected. It had to be done immediately; Jack and his brother, Zach, were the only ones for it.

Not that Jack wanted to reject a case with the gorgeous Denise Edington. Zach might not see it the same way, but the brothers didn’t always take the same view. It made them a good team in many ways.

Jack walked across the hall to his brother’s room and knocked. Opening the door, Jack ducked. Zach was a grumpy sleeper. A shoe flew over Jack’s head. They were fraternal twins on different ends of the spectrum in personality, but both proved excellent bodyguards.

“What?” Zach growled.

Jack flopped on the bed.“We’ve got a job. Guess who?”

 “Who cares? It’s a job. I’ll get ready. Time for breakfast?” Zach asked.

 “No. It’s local, but we need to relieve a team at six. You want to know who it is.” Jack grinned. As different as they were, they agreed on the big things including women. Not many would understand their connection, but Denise might. She was the one who’d gotten away and unique in her own right. Not many women wanted to get away from them. It only made the brothers want her more.

“Then who is it?” Zach clutched his pillow.

“Denise.”

Zach’s head lifted. “What the hell? Why? She didn’t fall in with another asshole Master wanna be, did she?”

“No, the old one got out of jail. Carl is a free man.”

Zach opened his eyes fully. “Out? He broke out or they let him go?” He rolled from bed and stretched.

 “The system worked the wrong way. Some high-priced lawyers found a technicality and a judge who bought it. So he’s out. Denise’s filthy rich uncle is all over Raider’s and he pays enough to keep the company on retainer to protect his family. Denise is just scared.” Jack wanted to throw on jeans and go now. He’d never even kissed Denise, but he and Zach both knew she was supposed to be theirs. She had a Raider team with her right now, setting up a perimeter to watch the house from outside as well. No chances were taken when it came to Carl.

 “Why us? She fired us last time. Old Mr. Raider might be forgetting things,” Zach laughed.

“Not likely. She requested us.” Jack watched Zach’s smile widened. The rush of power spread. Denise was untrained and had fallen in with the wrong crowd. But she was a natural sub and needed them. Her trust fund and rich family gave her a princess complex, but really, she wanted to please. They’d seen through her and had called her on it—for her own safety, of course. A stalker ex was one thing. A stalker Master was another. But Carl was worse than both.

“Requested us? We were blacklisted by the Edington family.” Zach shook his head. “She’d have no clue we were the ones who forced a confession from the goons Carl hired to kidnap her. Why us?”

Jack nodded. “The secret is still safe. I’m guessing she realized we’re good for this particular problem, and we didn’t out her.” Denise had tried to break up with Carl when he’d gotten too rough at a club, and Carl had tried to woo her back. The family had suspected he was after the money. “They don’t need to know about her sexual preferences. They want her safe along with their fortunes. But what Carl had planned for her was worse than any club. I don’t want her to know.”

“I agree. We stopped it. I can’t believe attempted kidnapping and assault with extortion wasn’t enough to keep him in jail. Carl sent a ransom note before the goons he hired tried to take her.” Zach pulled out a set of fresh clothes.

They both knew what had gone down, but getting inside a criminal’s mind to anticipate his moves would take both of their perceptions working together. Carl was mean enough for anything. Denise needed them fully prepped. “Carl is still desperate to hold onto her. The Master thing was all an act, and he used it to seduce her. The power went to his head.” Jack checked the clock. He needed to get in the shower.

“She’s never been trained or belonged to a club. She’s not that type,” Zach growled. “At least, we brought down the kidnapping and human trafficking ring. Sex slaves, selling subs to strangers. It’s sick.” Zach punched a pillow.

“It was a hell pit. We can’t tell her what they had planned.” Jack loved Denise’s innocence. She might be one of the rich and fabulous in Los Angeles, but her family protected her. Her naughty, wild side had been mostly fantasy until Carl. She didn’t need to know he’d planned to let strangers humiliate and torture her into obedience until he’d gotten the ransom. Then they might have sold her for all they knew.

“She’s stronger than you think. Fired our asses for asking the right questions about Carl. Like we’d out her secrets. Mr. Edington, your niece is a lovely blonde with curves for days, and she loves submissive sex play.”
 
“Carl was still in her head. She dumped him and ran home but still didn’t want to get him in trouble. Anyone can call themselves a Master and play with people.” The brothers had learned their skills at a local club for the training and connections but had never gotten into the voyeur scene. They preferred to be at home in private for play. Two masters could scare off some subs, though some loved it, but the men had kept searching for the right one.

Until Denise. She was the one they agreed on. She’d be permanent if they could just get her. Even having each other wasn’t always a given. The system had yanked them apart at will. He couldn’t think about the future too much. Now, he needed to think about Denise’s safety.

Jack got off the bed.“I’ll hit the shower. We can drive through and get coffee on the way.”

“Hey,” Zach said.

Jack turned. “What?”

 “This is it. If she’s open to having us, we need to make our move.”

“We have to protect her first. She might be scared away from the life thanks to Carl.” Jack couldn’t handle losing her again, but moving too fast was dangerous with an untrained sub.

“We’ll give her what she needs and really wants. The right way.” Zach grinned.
“What? She doesn’t have some creepy new boyfriend, does she?”

“No, still single and trying to put her life back together from the info I’ve gotten, but she keeps secrets. Being a rich California girl is hard work. Raider’s said the family feels she was back to her old self in the last few months, and now this. They’re pissed. No, I’m not sure we should push her.” Jack headed to the bathroom.

Starting the shower, he took a deep breath and stepped into the shower. Zach was pushy and could be rough, while Jack had more finesse and patience. But with Denise, it was different. She wasn’t a trained sub eager to please and prove herself. They needed to draw her out and do it carefully.

Zach had consulted with their Master friends on the topic over the last six months, always so confident that Denise would be theirs and come back to them. Jack had to admit, his brother was right. Denise didn’t have to request them now. It was a good sign. Jack just couldn’t get ahead of himself.

Stepping out of the shower, he forced himself into a professional mode as he toweled off. Denise was a client. If Jack got his hopes up too high, he’d lose focus. Hell, he’d suffered enough pain and loss in his life that it didn’t scare him. His parents, his grandmother, even Zach at times once they were in foster care.

They could live without Denise if they had to; endurance was something they’d built up. Their career was one place Jack went above and beyond and would never screw up. They’d succeeded and it paid the bills. But they wanted Denise. Jack believed she was their reward for a hard childhood. If the chance came, they’d take it.

The mental pep talk worked for Jack. His love and fear for Denise remained buried deep down. Zach couldn’t contain himself as well as Jack and jumped into things without a care in the world. It worried Jack sometimes that his brother could be so all or nothing.

With Denise, Zach had hit a new level. A new fixation. Jack shared it, but Zach was convinced Denise belonged to them already, as if it were fate.

In the club circle, multiple subs for one Master were common, but two Masters for one sub was strange. Jack would never be harsh enough to please or push a sub and Zach could go full tilt into a fantasy and not read subtle reactions. They were a balanced pair. When they’d try to go solo or played with two girls, it was never as good. Dom brothers sharing a sub got questions in the club circles. This worked for them. But would Denise go for it? Be up to satisfying them both?

Denise might think they’re freaks. As a Dom, it didn’t matter to Jack so long as she tried it and loved them. All their needs could be met if they stayed open. No doubt they would be better for her than Carl.

The fear lingered in Jack. If Denise had been completely turned off of Dom/sub sex play because of Carl, they had to respect her limits. She might not be ready, or she might have rejected it as evil. If she’d seen the pit she could’ve ended up in, he wouldn’t blame her for never letting anyone dominate her again. Not sexually, not playfully, not anything. The line between a new level of ecstasy and going too far was easily trampled by a bad Master. She’d picked very wrong the first time. Had Carl turned her off forever? With Carl free, there was no answer to that question yet.




 Check out all of the Raider’s Bodyguard stories here:


I try to make it easyJ

 Check back later for more ménage…a short short releases today!!