Wednesday, 7 December 2016

Top Sex Blogger, omg


I had a special birthday gift this year! - I was listed among the Top 100 Sex Bloggers of the Year by Molly's Daily Kiss (click through for the full list). This is after making the 2015 list too!

I'm a bit surprised because I hardly count this as a sex-blog - I think of it as a writing blog with some sex. And art. And silly stuff. But THANK YOU Molly!



Monday, 5 December 2016

Blue Monday: Ashe Barker guests

Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's excerpt is from the short story
The Audition, by Ashe Barker. It's one of eleven SF/erotica tales in Love and Lust in Space, edited by Jennifer Denys


They say your screams can’t be heard in space… Unless you have a partner or two! Eleven authors take you on a trip where any pairings are acceptable, locations vary from spaceships to strange and futuristic worlds, and interesting and exciting objects can be used in sex play.

If randy astronauts, virtual reality lovers, sex in near-death situations, a commitment-phobe human woman and her alien lover, and reproduction in space experiments don’t do anything for you, you are clearly not human!

So try the stories in the alien worlds half of the anthology instead. Here you’ll find alien Doms, a mysterious gladiator saving a stricken princess, sex performers, a paid assassin on the run, an illegal sonic dilda’tor and a pleasure booth. Space has never been so exciting!

Love & Lust in Space is edited by Jennifer Denys and features stories by H K Carlton, Dee Maselle, Ian D Smith, Rose Wulf, Jordan Monroe, Ashe Barker, Morgan King, Dylan McEwan, Ella Grey, Jennifer Denys and Beverly Langland.



The Audition:

“Turn around and bend over the bed. Your upper body will rest on the mattress and you will arch your back to raise your bottom for us. You will part your thighs to display your cunt to the best of your ability, but at various times one of us may pull your bottom cheeks apart or open your pussy lips to allow another a better view. We will penetrate both your pussy and your anus, though we will use a lubricant, if required, to ensure your comfort. No one will speak to you during this process, and we will not answer any questions, so if there is anything you need to ask me this is your final opportunity.”

Lucy had started to sob. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

A hand cupped her chin. Lucy assumed it was Thane. “I know you hate what is about to happen to you, but if submission is within your psyche, however latent the desire, it will surface in the next few minutes. Already your nipples are swollen and hard, and I wouldn’t mind betting your pussy is moist, is it not, Lucy?”

She shook her head and tried to back away from him. “No, no... I...”

“We shall see. If that’s all, please bend over the bed and once I tell you we are satisfied with your position you will remain still. Remember the cane, Lucy. You really don’t want us to have to resort to such measures, do you?”

“N-no...”

“Then let’s not go there. The bed. Now.”

With a despairing sob, Lucy turned and stepped forward until the edge of the mattress nudged her upper thighs. She bent at the waist and turned her face so her cheek rested on the cool, padded surface. Then she shuffled her feet until they were about eighteen inches apart.

“More, Lucy. We require you to spread your legs much wider than that, please.”

Lucy complied, accepting the inevitability of this degradation. She was helpless, could only accept what was happening to her, and hoped these aliens were telling the truth that she would not be harmed. She screwed up her eyes behind the soft fabric and yearned for the monotonous drudgery of her previous life.

“Arch your back. Yes, that’s good. Now maintain that posture until I instruct you to move. Nod if you understand.”

Lucy bobbed her head once, and gritted her teeth.

The hands that touched her first were cool, and oddly gentle. They caressed her pussy lips before pushing back the delicate folds which concealed her clit. Lucy gasped and tensed as a finger flicked the tip of the sensitive nubbin, then slid along her slit to her entrance. She groaned as it eased inside her.

The digit buried within her cunt remained still as other hands parted her arse cheeks to expose her anus. She concentrated on not wriggling when cool lube dribbled over her tightly puckered hole but couldn’t contain the soft whimper as a finger was worked inside. Whichever male it was stopped, waited for a few seconds, then resumed his questing.

Sensation overwhelmed Lucy. None of the men hurt her, their fingers were gentle as they caressed her sensitive folds or stroked her inner spaces. As she lay motionless and biting on her lower lip a second finger slid inside her pussy alongside the first, then both curled to press on a spot, which seemed to be located right behind her clit. The fingertips applied a firm pressure within which caused her sensitive bud to swell against the relentless stroking and tugging from the outside. Lucy’s pussy contracted hard, the convulsions rolling through her body as the heady stimulation swept away her senses. Her instincts screamed at her to move, to shy away from the intensity of sensation, but the memory of the sound made by that cane held her in place as surely as if she were bound to the bed.

The mattress shifted continuously on either side of her as men sat, then stood, moving about to gain the access they required. The finger was withdrawn from her arse to be replaced by another, then a second.

The sounds of her arousal were unmistakable, her wetness creating the slick contact, which drove her to the brink of orgasm again and again.


Buy Love and Lust in Space at:

Sexy Little Pages
Amazon (ebook)
iTunes (ebook)
Amazon (paperback)


USA Today best selling author Ashe Barker is multi-published and regularly hits the Amazon best seller lists in erotic romance, BDSM and historical. She has been an avid reader of fiction for many years, erotic and other genres. Ashe still loves reading, the hotter the better. But now she has a good excuse for her guilty pleasure - research. 

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Facebook
Goodreads
Ashe's Website

Friday, 2 December 2016

When I was 49...


That's it, I've officially Brexited my Forties. It's the Big One!
Since every year I take a look back at what I've managed for the first time since my last birthday, here's how I kept things fresh when I was 49:

For the Very First Time:

  • I bought an exercise DVD. (I nearly killed myself for about 3 weeks, then gave up)
  • I obtained a PAC code to move my phone number: TECH-WIZARD AWARD TO ME!
  • I scaled a climbing wall:

"Okay, that was fun, never again"

  • I visited Brittany and the standing stones of Carnac

Merlin's Tomb. For sure.

  • I fell in love with the amazing Machines de l'Ile 
  • I visited Sicily and the Tombs of the Capuchins and walked on an active volcano - in a blizzard!
  • I played Sardines and used a Ouija board, thus completing my 1920s credentials
  • I got my car stranded in the snow (and was rescued by a guy in a Land Rover and a kilt!!!)



I discovered tea with whiskey in it, possibly the greatest medicinal breakthrough of our time:

It's the only thing keeping me alive right now



  • I gave a workshop at Smut By the Sea 2016
  • I watched a movie on IMAX (yes, seriously)
  • I shot an airsoft gun
  • I finally got to see Newgrange in Ireland:


  • I voluntarily held both a chihuahua and a baby (but not at the same time). I was quite taken by the chihuahua, tbh.
  • I visited the John Rylands Library in Manchester for a witchcraft and demonology exhibition
  • I went to the once-in-a-lifetime Hieronymus Bosch 500 Exhibition in the Netherlands
  • I discovered on the same weekend that the wrong sort of smoke makes me paranoid - and I don't mean a bit edgy: I mean "Oh my god I'm having a psychotic break, what if this never stops?!"- rpt ad nauseum for several hours paranoid. Not nice at all.
  • I was contacted by a film-maker interested in adapting one of my books!

What am I looking forward to as I turn 50? The publication of In Bonds of the Earth and The Prison of the Angels, of course! And, most of all, getting rid of this damn cold...

Wednesday, 30 November 2016

Kitchen sink drama


No, it's not some particularly ineffective attempt at drowning myself...


I'm trying out my whizzy new snorkelling mask for size!


Monday, 28 November 2016

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's excerpt is from Hare Coursing, one of three very short stories I have in 69.


“Don’t you think Erik’s hot?”
   
She lifted a brow. “He’s not bad, I suppose.”

“What about me?”

Both the men flanking her were as lean and fit as hounds, and they’d been flirting with her for half an hour now. She’d once seen a pair of dogs chasing a hare like that: one at each shoulder. “You’re okay too.”

“Which one of us do you want to disappoint, then?”

“Maybe,” she said chirpily, “I want to disappoint you both.”

“Oh ... I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Are you wanting us to fight over you?” Erik’s grin suggested he was not in a fighting mood. His fingertips had been on the small of her back for the last ten minutes, stroking her gently through her party dress. She hadn’t objected.

“Now that’s an idea.”

“Winner takes all?” Brandon’s voice dropped to a sexy growl. He ran the back of his finger over her cheek and she flushed.

“You’d like to see two guys fight for the right to fuck you?”

“Oh,” she protested, not quite happy with Erik’s choice of words but finding the discomfort compelling.

“Stripped down, maybe? D’you want to watch us wrestle? That’s pretty kinky of you.”

“I’d win, of course,” Brandon pointed out.

“Feck off,” laughed Erik. “Don’t listen to him. I’d kick his butt.”

“But it’d be a pity to waste so much energy, wouldn’t it? When there are so much better ways to spend it.”

“Make love, not war, eh?”

“You guys are bad!” She squirmed happily.

“I mean, think of the possibilities. Two men. That’s two mouths kissing you, love. Four hands, touching you all over. Two big solid cocks for you to ride as long as you liked.”

She shivered. 

Brandon leaned in and kissed her cheek, softly. “Two men sucking your breasts at once,” he whispered.

“A hand on your hot button,” Erik murmured in her other ear, tickling her with his warm breath. “Another up your sweet wet pussy. Two others on your ass, stroking you in all the right places.”

“Oh!” she said, her body full of heat and confusion. With a man at either side and the wall of a flowerbed behind her rump, it was impossible to turn away.

“D’you like the sound of that?” Brandon asked. The lift of his hand drew her attention down to where her nipple had pebbled against the thin cloth of her dress. “It looks like you like it.” One finger circled the stiff point delicately, sending tingles of pleasure through her flesh. She stared, mesmerised – and then Erik turned her face toward him and kissed her, just as softly, his tongue brushing against hers in time to the other man’s caress of her tit.

No matter how the hare had zigzagged from side to side, there was always a hound there.

“Um,” she gasped, pulling back after a long moment. “We shouldn’t.”

“You’re right. You might drop your glass. Here – let me take that.” Erik slipped it from her unresisting fingers and planted it in the earth behind her. His body leaned in against hers as he moved, and she felt the hard jut of his erection. She knew she should be protesting. But Brandon still had her right nipple, flicking it, and she couldn’t think past that thrill of sensation.

“Please,” she said incoherently, turning to that man – and then it was his turn to kiss her. His mouth was smoky with rolling tobacco, his tongue warm and slow. She felt Erik cup her left breast too and a moan rose from the depths of her being.

“There,” Brandon said when he had finished kissing away her words and her breath. “Now, you did like that.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “But...”

“But...?”

“I feel bad.”

His hand moved down from her breast, trailing over the shallow curve of her stomach, stroking in circles as it approached her pubic mound. “You feel fucking marvellous.”

“That’s not what I meant.” But her voice was uneven, and her hips tilted in response to his caress.

“Come on,” Erik murmured. “You must have thought about it. Two guys. Both focused on you, both trying to outdo each other - giving you everything you ever dreamed of. It must be a turn-on.”

“That’s just dirty,” she said, and whimpered as Brandon’s finger tickled the thin cotton shielding her swollen clit.

“Too fucking right, it’s dirty. Dirty is good. Dirty is his cock up your wet pussy while mine slips in and out between those amazing lips. Dirty is him licking you out from the front while I do it from the back. Dirty is both our cocks rubbing all over your beautiful tits. In fact it’s so dirty,” Brandon growled, butting softly up against her, his arm wrapped right round her waist, “that the thought of it is making both of us hard as rock. And I bet it’s making you wet.”

She arched her back, pushing her breast into Erik’s cupped hand. “I’m not wet.”

“No?”

“Shall we prove it?”

Brandon gathered her skirt with his fingers, lifting it until he could slip his hand in the front of her panties. “Oh you liar,” he admonished, grinning, finding her split swollen and slippery. “Dirty little liar.”



Buy 69 at
Amazon UK
GooglePlay

Sunday, 27 November 2016

YEE-HAH


Since I'm all about the cowboys this week (I spent yesterday fighting the evil Earps in a Western/horror game too) ...

Friday, 25 November 2016

Go West

That awkward moment when you spot your characters wandering round in someone else's TV series...


I'm totally loving Westworld at the moment - it's high-concept speculative fiction, very violent, very twisty-turny, with lots of nudity (male and female), a fairly diverse cast and some strong female roles. It asks awkward existential and moral questions about humanity. Like the theme park it depicts, it's stuffed with clever detail that makes you feel pleased with yourself for working it out (which the writers actually point out through a character, the clever-meta-clogs).


It has a ton of cast eyecandy :-)


But I was both delighted and genuinely freaked-out when doppelgangers of my current characters Milja and Egan showed up and then went out on a quest together!


Elsie Hughes (Shannon Woodward) is a prickly, smart programmer of androids.


Ashley Stubbs (Luke Hemsworth) is the security chief with the muscles and the gun whose job it is to protect everyone.


I'm now way too invested in those characters and really hope they survive to have WILD, ON-SCREEN SEX together. Which sadly isn't looking too likely at the moment...

Eeek!

Wednesday, 23 November 2016

King for a day!


I took some time off yesterday to meet up with the lovely D L King, erotica writer and legendary editor, on her trip to the UK. We went round the utterly brilliant Harry Potter Studio Tour near London - that's the queen chesspiece from HP and the Philosopher's Stone behind us.

I've already blogged tour photos on a previous occasion, but you can see more of D L's pics on her Facebook page too :-)

Monday, 21 November 2016

Blue Monday: Samantha MacLeod guests

Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's guest is my writing twin Samantha MacLeod (she loves Vikings and chainsaws too, what are the odds?) who, hot from the release of The Trickster's Lover, is back with the newly-published sequel, Honeymoon:


Mythology expert Caroline Capello agreed to marry Loki, the Norse god of fire and lies. She didn’t realize the most dangerous part of their marriage might be the honeymoon...



I felt Loki’s chest vibrate as he laughed. But he hesitated, watching me with an unusual intensity burning in his blue eyes.

“What is it?” I asked.

He leaned so close I could feel the cool skin of his cheek pressed against mine. “Do you want to try something different?” he whispered. His breath on my neck made my skin prickle as his hands ran down my back.

Something different. I shivered. He’s a two-thousand-year old, shapeshifting, trickster god. 

That could literally mean anything.

“Sure,” I said. “Honeymoon, right?”

 His eyes danced, and then he kissed me, slowly and deeply, for a long time. My body tingled against his, shivering and trembling as his hands moved across my hips. I had no idea what he was doing, but his tongue and his lips were so distracting, I didn’t care.

He pulled away and I sighed, blinking, trying to focus. His face seemed different, somehow. Softer. He took my hand and moved it slowly to his chest—

I jumped. “What the—”

Loki tilted his head and arched an eyebrow. My hand cupped the warm skin of a perfect, round breast. His body moved against mine, softer. Curvier.

“Something different,” Loki whispered.

“Okay,” I said, slowly.

I pulled back, but he pressed his lips against mine. Those, at least, felt the same. As we kissed, I ran my hand very lightly over the unfamiliar swell of his breast, and his nipple grew hard against my palm.

“Oh, very nice,” he whispered.

I shivered again, flushed with heat and desire. And then something felt very different; there was an unfamiliar pressure, and an ache, between my legs. I pulled away from his hungry lips and turned to his ear. “What did you do to me?” I whispered.

He smiled and wrapped his fingers around mine, pulling my hand from the curve of his breast and down the length of his new, female body. To the space between my legs.

I gasped. “Oh, fuck!”

He laughed against my neck. “What do you think?”

I looked down. There was a very long, very stiff cock erupting from my pubic hair. I could feel it; it was so hard it almost hurt. I swallowed. It felt strangely vulnerable to have my arousal be so obvious.

I took a deep breath and met his eyes. “I don’t know what to do with this.”

“Oh, you know exactly what to do with it,” he whispered, his breath soft and warm against my skin. He stepped back and lay on the bed, his legs spread.

I blinked. “You’re a...a woman.”

Loki laughed again. I’ve never been attracted to a woman before, but watching the curves of Loki’s breasts, the swell of red hair between his legs, my new cock stiffened and throbbed. Oh, damn, I thought. Maybe I do know what to do with it. 

“Well,” he said, arching his hips, “don’t keep me waiting.”

I bit my lip and climbed on the bed. He wrapped his legs around mine and then reached between my legs. Electricity surged through my body as he touched me, making me gasp. It felt so good, so fast. My hips pushed against his, and he guided my cock into his pussy.

I moaned, low and deep in my throat, as his entire body embraced me. “You’re so warm,” I said. “And so—oh—” He started to move his hips against mine, and I completely lost my train of thought.

“Now, typically,” he said, his voice thick, “it’s considered gauche for the cock to come first.”

I moaned again, biting my lip and trying to slow down. My legs trembled, and I just wanted to thrust against him, to push deeper and deeper. “I—I don’t—” I gasped as he grabbed my thighs.

“Just breathe,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe as the waves of pleasure crashed over me, making my entire body shake. I tried to slow my hips, to remember why I was trying to slow my hips, but Loki was moaning and thrusting against me, and I couldn’t think any more, I could only feel, feel his new body beneath me, feel the familiar burn of passion and arousal as his skin touched mine, as our bodies danced and flickered together—

Loki cried out, a primal, animal gasp of pleasure; his new body spasmed and tightened around me. And I lost control. My hips thrust faster and faster against his, my head tilted back, my eyes closed, his name ripped out of my lips. My orgasm came from somewhere deep inside my body, and it crashed through every muscle, drowning me.

I blinked as my mind attempted to recover from the oblivion of that orgasm. Loki’s smell surrounded me, his salt and woodsmoke. I took a deep, juttering breath and realized I’d collapsed on top of him. I opened my mouth to apologize and then gasped; I was still inside him, and so sensitive it almost hurt to pull apart.

“Oh. Wow,” I said, falling back against the pillows.

 Loki propped himself up on his elbow and smiled at me. “Not bad. For your first time.”

I laughed and shook my head as the room slowly came back into focus. “So that’s what it feels like.”

“That’s what it feel like,” he said, leaning to kiss my forehead. “What did you think?”

I closed my eyes and waited for my heartbeat to stop thundering in my ears before I responded. “Different,” I said, finally. “Intense. And, uh, fast.”

He laughed, bringing my fingers to his lips. “You get better at controlling it,” he said, kissing my fingertips gently.

My body shivered again, and I felt a low tightness spreading across my abdomen. I reached for his chest, cupping the curve of his breast.

He laughed, and his eyes sparkled. “Want to try it again?”

I shrugged, leaning to meet his lips. “Sure.”


Buy Honeymoon at 
Amazon US :: Amazon UK

Born and raised in Colorado, Samantha MacLeod has lived in every time zone in the US, and London. She has a bachelor’s degree from Colby College and an M.A. from the University of Chicago; yes, the U. of C. really is where fun comes to die.


Samantha lives with her husband and two small children in the woods of southern Maine. When she’s not shoveling snow or writing steamy sex scenes, Samantha can be found teaching college composition and philosophy to undergraduates who have no idea she leads a double life as an erotica author.

Samantha MacLeod's website
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Saturday, 19 November 2016

Loki and Sigyn

James Doyle Penrose (1862-1932): The Punishment of Loki
If you like Victorian art of naked men in bondage, rather than women, there are - sadly - a rather limited number of mythological themes to go to. Prometheus is one, as I've blogged before. Another is the Viking story of Loki.

William Pogany: The Children of Loki (1920)
Loki is a fascinating character (even before you reach the Hiddleston era). He's the sworn blood-brother to Odin the Allfather, and present throughout the tales of the gods - with an honoured place in their halls, and constantly at their beck and call to get them out of trouble with his Cunning Plans. But he himself is a giant not a god, so often he's working on the gods' behalf against his own kin. And very often the troubles he saves them from are of his own making. He is a mischief-maker, a trickster and a shit-stirrer. He's also not terribly masculine by the standards of the time - a thinker not a warrior, and one who often shape-shifts (considered a terribly effeminate type of magic) - sometimes into female form, wherein he even gives birth. When he fathers monstrous children by a giantess they are instantly recognised as terrible danger to the gods and imprisoned.

Niels Jacobsen (1861-1941): Loki Chained to the Rocks 

Eventually Loki himself goes too far - he causes the death of the beautiful god Baldur and then gets mean-drunk and talks smack to all the rest. They decide to chain him up forever beneath the earth.

W. G. Collingwood: Loki Bound (1908)
To punish him even further one of his sons is killed to furnish the ropes that bind him.Then the goddess Skadi hangs a snake over his head to drip agonising poison in his eyes. Because gods are sadistic like that.

Loki and Sigyn (1863) by Mårten Eskil Winge
The only god to side with Loki is his wife Sigyn, who stays with him.
Loki and Sigyn, by Gebhardt

She catches the venom in a cup to save him as much torment as possible.

But every so often the cup gets full and she has to turn aside to empty it out. Loki then writhes in agony - which is where earthquakes come from.

Sigyn, by Arthur Rackham


But there is good news for Loki! At the end of the world he will break free from his bonds and - accompanied by his three monstrous offspring, the ice- and fire-giants and the hosts of the Dead, he will slaughter the gods at the Battle of Ragnarok and burn the whole damn place to the ground.

Loki breaks free at the onset of Ragnarök, by Ernst H. Walther (1897)
Which is nice for him, but a bit of a shame for those of us who enjoy picturing him in chains. And, er, the whole wide world, obviously...

Wednesday, 16 November 2016

WIP - The Prison of the Angels update

Joys of research: boy have I found some Crazy on the web. 

I've never written a novel so fast. Part 3 of The Book of the Watchers: The Prison of the Angels is already standing at 35K words. It helps that I know the characters so well by now, I guess!

The action so far has gone from here:

Minot in North Dakota
To here:

"Photo by DAVID ILIFF. License: CC-BY-SA 3.0"
To here:

Setback: I watched Angels and Demons and saw that Dan Brown had beaten me to all the best sites in Rome, damn him...

My go-to sites are Wikipedia (of course), Bible Hub, the Vatican, (for its rather wonderful virtual tours) .... and oooh look: 101 Lokis

Milja's character has evolved in quite radical ways - anyone who complained that she was 'too reactive' in Bk 1 isn't going to have a leg to stand on now. Egan has turned out to be kinky AF. Penemuel has acquired a personality that surprised me. Poor Azazel is still struggling to cope with human ways.

I'm in the process of finally answering a bunch of questions that have been deliberately left hanging since the first volume -

  • "Why did the Nails work?" 
  • "Why have only three out of four archangels made an appearance so far?" 
  • "What does God Himself think about all this?" 
  • "What is Uriel plotting? Why do the other archangels shun him?" 
  • - and most disturbing of all: "What the hell is Egan's problem?!" (OMG OMG OMG)

I've introduced the Blasphemous Plot Revelation.

I'm a pantser, of course. At this stage my characters are approaching a big action scene. I don't actually know what the result is going to be or how Milja is going to get out alive ... but I do know that things are going to go REALLY BADLY WRONG at this point.

I can't wait to find out how :-)

Monday, 14 November 2016

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!

Because I am currently up to my neck in Viking mythology for my WIP, here's a excerpt from my short story about Norse witchcraft, The Grief of the Bond-Maid - which, unusually for me, is mostly fantasy with a bit of M/M/F sex.

Sjofn is a seidr-witch and a slave to the cruel rune-wizard Vegtamr. He hangs himself as a sacrifice to the god Odin, a ritual that will bring him back in nine days more powerful than ever. Sjofn siezes that chance to escape from the Hanged Man's control once and for all, and enlists the help of a pair of warriors to journey into the magical world and destroy him before he returns to life. But they have secrets of their own, and the journey is deadly dangerous, and time is running out ...




When she blinked the tears from her eyes it was daylight, and they were kneeling breathless under an ordinary ash tree in a narrow stone enclosure, and Bjarni was standing up from the headless corpse of a week-dead wizard. There was no yawning gulf beneath their feet. The runes on her skin were only ink, not fire. Sjofn lifted her tear-streaked face to Thorkell and without thinking, kissed him: hard and fierce and frantic with relief.

    His response was instant: he rose to his feet, pulling her up against him, and pressed his kisses hungrily upon her lips. He only stopped when Bjarni came up behind her, and then he pulled away enough to grin – a grin like the sun coming out through clouds. Both men were laughing: she was laughing now too. Bjarni’s arm swept round her to clap Thorkell on the back and suddenly Sjofn found herself sandwiched between the two men as they embraced, hot and sweating and loud with delight, their words all boasts and praise and exultation. She craned her neck so she could look over her shoulder and kiss Bjarni too.

    His eyes flashed. Swiftly his hands cupped her bare breasts, squeezing her like he thought she might be about to vanish. Both men were pressed up against her, their big hard bodies like a protective fortress, and now their breathing was turning quick and shallow again, the joy of victory changing to something else. Sjofn gasped as she felt their arousal.

    ‘Wait,’ Thorkell insisted. ‘Not here.’  He took possession, scooping her up in his arms and turning away toward the gate in this, the innermost circle. Sjofn circled a forearm about his neck and relaxed into his chest as he bore her away. She watched in dizzy wonder the granite boulders marching past her vision, until shadow gave way at last to warm sunlight and he carried her out into the meadow. His steps were quickening: she could feel the haste in his pulse. But he lowered her to her feet gently and kissed her lips one more time before he started to tear at the fastenings of his clothes.

    ‘After strife, joy,’ he grinned.
 
    She twisted in his one-armed embrace. Bjarni was striding down the dark track they’d left in the grass, bare-chested now, his own armour and clothing littered to either side where he’d discarded them piece by piece. Red hair stippled his chest like flecks of blood; Sjofn reached out and ran her eagerly fingers through it. He was slippery with the sweat: they all were.  He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her like he was drinking from a mead-cup.

    ‘Sjofn ... slayer of wizards. Our warrior-witch.’

    From behind, Thorkell gripped her hip with one hand and slid the other under her, searching out her hot wet places. She gasped, and Bjarni caught her breasts again. There was no hesitation this time, no pause for negotiation, none of the slowness of seduction. But she understood how they felt, what they needed: they had fought to the edge of exhaustion and the brink of death, and now they were half wild with joy and the need for release. She felt just the same - Thorkell found her slippery and eager for his touch, and he groaned with delight.

    Pinned between the two men, Sjofn was lifted right off the ground as Thorkell sought entry for his stiff cock. She clung to Bjarni’s neck, mewing as Thorkell worked at the awkward angle. They found some kind of grace only when Bjarni reached in from the front, took the other man’s erection in his hand and guided it inside her. Then Thorkell lowered himself into the grass and lay back, his big hands on her waist, holding her above him, settling her astride his shaft. Each thrust of his hips pushed him deeper into her. Bjarni knelt before them, touched with wonder the dark lines of the serpent marked on her skin, then stooped to lick her breasts and suck at her nipples, and slid down even further to lie on his belly between Thorkell’s spread legs. She felt his lips on her thighs and her pubic mound. He parted her labia with his hands and licked at her clit and she nearly wrenched herself off Thorkell’s impaling column, so exquisite was the shock. As one man lifted her up and down on his cock, the other gave worship to her sex. She looked down into his eyes and he arched his brows at her.

    Suddenly he was no longer licking her clit, but nuzzling lower. Thorkell swore in delight and Sjofn’s physical loss paled under the realisation that Bjarni was sucking his balls, was licking at the root of his cock as it thrust into her sex. She squealed. Bjarni took this as admonition and rose again to lick at her clit, and this time it was too much to bear: she began to fall down the long slope of orgasm, and her cries wrought upon Thorkell to pound even faster into her, until he was crying out too and spurting hot and deep inside her.

    When they had both quieted, Thorkell shifted his hips and pulled out, laying her back supine upon his torso. She looked down her body and saw his engorged cock jutting up between her thighs, the flushed skin glistening and wet. The next instant Bjarni took that long weapon right down his throat, sucking the spilt cream, and she felt Thorkell’s moan of satisfaction through her whole body.

     Then it was Bjarni’s turn. Kneeling up over them, he stooped to kiss Sjofn and she tasted her own tang, before he kissed Thorkell over her shoulder. His own cock was as stiff as a spearshaft, and when he put it to her open sex it went in eagerly, its passage eased by the slick of Thorkell’s seed. ‘Oh yes,’ he grunted.

    Bjarni’s cock rooted deep inside her. Thorkell’s hand sought out her sex-lips and spread them, rubbing her clit between two fingers. His other hand tugged at her left nipple. Pounded between such a hammer and such an anvil, she had no chance to resist: she came again, weeping with terror that there should be such pleasure in the world, before Bjarni emptied his horn inside her.

    Then they rolled slowly apart and lay tumbled in a row, grinning. Sjofn shut her eyes, feeling the sweep of fingertips as they lazily stroked her; her head swimming with the scents of crushed grass and fresh sweat - and her heart, at last, full of peace.



The Grief of the Bond-Maid is currently available in this paperback anthology: Cast the Cards

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