Monday, 25 November 2019

Blue Monday: Meet My Husband

Mondays are days on which I post a sexy excerpt for your entertainment!

Today I've got a bit of publishing news to go with the snippet because my story
Meet My Husband is going to be the first in the lineup of Hot to the Touch, edited by Cole Riley. It'll be out from Cleis in April 2020 - AND OMG LOOK AT THE TABLE OF CONTENTS! It's like all my old co-smutters getting together for a party 😍😍😍


Meet My Husband - Janine Ashbless
Ghost Swinger - Amanda Earl
The Dinner Party - Remittance Girl
Because of Bingo - Rebecca M. Kyle
Bob & Carol & Ted (But Not Alice) - M. Christian
Homecoming - Teresa Noelle Roberts
Snakefruit - Anne Tourney
Him - Sommer Madsen
Speed Play - Abigail Ekue
Between Two Lovers - Thomas S.. Roche
Reminder - Jeremy Edwards
Sleeper Car - Max Lagos
The Benefit of the Doubt - Cole Riley
One Last Fling - Kristina Wright




It doesn’t matter what you heard in the past, because Hot to the Touch: Views from the Polyamory Lifestyle is changing the rules. Three isn’t a crowd anymore—it’s the most erotic party your x-rated mind can imagine!

This new collection from well-known editor Cole Riley propels readers into the heads, hearts, and libidos of lovers committed to the Poly Life, open relationships, open communication, and open bedroom doors. With stories from those just beginning to explore the poly lifestyle to those that have years of experience pleasing multiple partners—in or out of the bedroom, together or separately—this collection will arouse your senses and make you yearn for your own menagerie of sexual partners, lovers, and so much more.



Jeff cleared his throat, his eyes flicking back and forth between them. He was on Andrew's home territory, after all. “Look, I'm going to be straight here. She adores you. She still fucks you. You've got this…” He gestured around at the garden, the house, the sunny afternoon. “This great life together. I've got to wonder: what am I bringing to the table?”

“Andrew doesn't run,” Cassie said. “And he doesn't go see Whitesnake.”

“And,” said Andrew, “I don't do kink.”

Jeff looked at him dubiously down the neck of his bottle, which made Cassie giggle.

“I don't spank,” her husband said. “Pain squicks me out. I can't fake dominance. Sorry, just not my thing. Poor Cassie finds it very frustrating. Not a kinky bone in my body.”

“Oh—not exactly true,” Cassie said, poking him in the leg with one finger.

Jeff's puzzled frown met his amused smile at the level of his eyes, crinkling the skin. “Yeah?”

“He likes to watch,” Cassie said.

Andrew spread his hands in a gesture of acquiescence. “Well. I'm a lecturer in Fine Arts,” he excused himself.

“His girlfriend's a nude life-model. And a pole-dancer. She likes to flash it about, and Andrew loves to go watch her showing off.”

Jeff pointed a finger. “Wait. You've got a girlfriend too?”

“Didn't Cassie tell you?”

“Uh-uh. Is she, uh…with you too, Cass?”

“No.” This wasn't a lie, though she felt her cheeks warm. Cassie didn't lie to her lovers. Spanking didn't count as sex, she had decided. It wasn't as if she was into other women—she just enjoyed paddling Kayleigh's pretty ass. It wasn't sex if she never even got her hands dirty, was it?

“And you're okay with that?”

“I like her,” Cassie said. “She's a nice kid. She likes to go to horrible modern art exhibitions with Andy while not wearing anything under her skirt.”

“Kid?”

She rolled her eyes. “Kayleigh's twenty-eight…and a single mother. Sorry, at my age almost everyone seems young. Even you.”

“There's only seven years difference,” he reminded her. “And you're not old yet.” He winked. “I've seen you naked, remember?”

She blew him a kiss for his gallantry.

“How did you two hit it off?” Andrew wondered. Cassie waited for Jeff’s version.

“Uh…We were at a Sunday park-run. I'd only started a few months beforehand, so I was very much part of the main herd. The thing I've found is, if you can spot a fine ass and try to keep it in sight, it somehow makes things a lot easier. I saw this fine round little pair of cheeks come twinkling past me and I just thought, I'm following this. So I did—all the way to the finish line. Hypnotized, I was. My best time to date by miles. Then I said Hi.”

“And did I want to go out for a late breakfast?” Cassie added.

“And that was when she said she was married, over scrambled egg on toast. But that it was alright. Because she was allowed. Which seemed just really weird to me.”

“But you fucked her anyway,” Andrew noted with an amused twinkle. Cassie felt her blush deepen.



Hot to the Touch is available for pre-order here:
Amazon UK 
Amazon US
Barnes and Noble
Indiebound

Wednesday, 6 November 2019

Book launch - Monday 11th November


COME AND SEE ME!

I will be taking part in the book launch for The Forgotten and the Fantastical #5 next Monday 11th November - hosted by editor Teika Bellamy; all welcome; fantasy NOT erotica; FREE CUPCAKES!

Also features me utterly failing to convey a Geordie accent 😝

It's going on at the Five Leaves independent, radical bookshop in Nottingham, 7pm - 8.30pm. 

The fifth in the series of The Forgotten and the Fantastical brings you wolves and glass and altered reality. A grandmother remembers what it was like to be in the belly of a wolf; a newly wed wife is revolted by her billionaire husband; a mother protects her child from the cunning Folk of the Mound, and women young and old go in search of a better life.

Features new writing from: Becky Cherriman, Noel Chidwick, Carys Crossen, Donna M Day, Rosie Garland, Kim Gravell, Katie Gray, Sarah Hindmarsh, Jonty Levine, Keris McDonald, Angela Readman, Louise Richards, Marija Smits, Aliya Whiteley.


"Mind-blowingly gorgeous – filled with wickedly powerful girls and women, playing games with words and songs and gender roles. It feels like reading a collection of stories that were expurgated from the Grimm collections for being too radical. Utterly loved it." - Cassandra Parkin (author of New World Fairy Tales)




Monday, 28 October 2019

Blue Monday: Lea Bronsen guests

Mondays are days on which I post a sexy excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's guest publication is a little different for this blog, because
Lea Bronsen's new book Carnivora Part 1 is not not erotica or even romance but a dark thriller - though it does contain sizzling sex, as she explains here and demonstrates below:

"I’ve always been fascinated by dark psychological thrillers that mess with your mind and keep you on the edge of your seat. I toyed with the genre writing my debut novel Wild Hearted, but labeled it a crime drama. Its sequel, Carnivora, evolved over six years to become a full-blown hold-your-breath thriller that deals with grave issues such as kidnapping, child sex trafficking, and self-harm.

Telling five parallel stories with as many voices, it gives you the perspectives of a police informant, a hunted gangster, a mad avenger, an inconsolable girlfriend, and a psychotic kidnapper. I pull no punches weaving these stories, so be prepared for a dark, gritty, and graphic read – a little dirty on the erotic side – that I hope will play with your strings and stick with you for a long time."

Fight evil with evil.

TOMOR
Crime lord Tomor is serving a life sentence behind bars. Without warning, he’s abducted by mysterious men. A sick manhunt is on, with people around him dying like flies. He will need all his street flair and gangster skills to prevent his loved ones from ending up on the death list.

LUZ
Luz grieves the loss of her lover while striving to take care of their baby. The last thing she needs is to fall for the new neighbor.

DAVID
A year after he betrayed his adoptive father and sent him to jail, David is slowly rebuilding his life. Then everything falls apart again: he learns that Tomor has escaped, and his police connections lead him to a child sex trafficking ring involving cold, powerful men.

The cops are in over their heads with “Project Carnivora” … Perhaps the only one who can help bust the pedophile predators is an equally vicious devil: Tomor, the country’s most hunted criminal.


I ask, “How much does your husband have left in jail?”

“Four years, now. Means he’ll be out in two. That’s such a long time. I miss him every damn day.” With a deep sigh, the axe woman pauses and keeps her fork in the air as if searching for words.

“I understand.”

“He’s always good to me. Treats me well, you know. Nicely.” She clears her throat. “Makes me feel good.”

Yeah?

Oppressive silence.

Outside, happy birds chirp away, celebrating the end of the rain.

She puts her fork down and clenches her fists. Her large chest heaves, making soft waves of gray hair move around her shoulders.

I breathe slowly, too, and wait for the punch line.

She throws me a look, hooded eyes speaking of forbidden things. “You know what I’m talkin’ about?”

I’m not sure how to react. Just hold her gaze.

“You know what it’s like to be lonely,” she whispers.

I do.

She stands, circles the table, pushes my plate away, and places her legs on either side of mine. With a quick hand gesture, her flannel shirt opens, displaying huge hanging breasts. The smell of hot sweat floats between us, but instead of hindering my attraction, the scent intoxicates me. I’m unable to put my eyes anywhere but on these full, tempting tits. How can a poor bastard locked up for a year without a female resist?

My cock stirs. I know what that means.

With a deep intake of breath, I push my chair back and stand in front of her. Can’t meet her eyes ‘cause I’m afraid they’ll tell me she’s compensating for the loss of her husband. Don’t want grief mixed into whatever is happening. Just like I don’t want Luz mixed into it, either. This has nothing to do with her. What’s going on now is purely mechanical.

I reach out and fill my palms with warm, soft boobs. Fuuuuck, it’s been so long. I love feminine skin. With my thumbs and index fingers, I roll and squeeze the protruding nipples.

She gasps and throws her head back. My cock stiffens and presses against the zipper. Can’t help it, I’m in need. My hips shoot forward, into hers, and push her ass toward the table. The cutlery rolls to a side.

Breath hitching, she places her hands behind her. I can only imagine the hot wetness of her cunt, dripping with lust. Gets me even harder. I have no feelings for that woman, but I’m gonna need to bury myself inside her soon, very soon. I close my eyes and knead her generous, tender tits in my palms, making her mew.

She moves her hands to my pants and unzips me. My blood pulses faster. She grabs my length, pulls it out between us, and with expert fingers strokes all the way from the balls and up. Violent heat rushes through me. I laugh. This situation is un-fucking-believable and delicious at the same time. When she massages the tip, I groan loud, seeing stars behind my closed eyelids.

“I love cock,” she moans. “I haven’t had cock in years.”

Well, you’re gonna get what you’re gonna get.




Available from


Put the book on your to-read shelf on Goodreads

See photos that inspired the book on Pinterest


Lea Bronsen
likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After a deep dive on the unforgiving world of gangsters with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between romantic suspenses, dark erotic romances, and crime thrillers.


Meet Lea Bronsen on



Monday, 21 October 2019

Blue Monday: Kryssie Fortune guests

Mondays are days on which I post a sexy excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's guest author is Kryssie Fortune, with an excerpt from her spanking new historical, The Viscount's Pet:

When her brother tries to force her into a marriage with a detestable baron, Julianna Halstead flees the family estate she has helped manage since the death of her parents. But as she makes her escape late at night, Juliana’s carelessness nearly results in her being trampled by a galloping horse, and the steed’s handsome rider takes it upon himself to correct her right then and there.

Though having her bottom bared and soundly spanked on the side of the road leaves Juliana blushing crimson, the punishment arouses her intensely and her body’s helpless response cannot be hidden. To make matters worse, the gentleman over whose lap she was so firmly chastised turns out to be none other than Viscount Stonehurst, someone she has known since childhood.

When Stonehurst learns of Juliana’s predicament, he decides to make her his bride. She will be no ordinary wife, however. She will be something much more shameful. But even as she is leashed, collared, and put on display in a cage wearing only a tail, then brought out to be used in ways no proper lady should enjoy, will Juliana come to love her new life as the viscount’s pet?



Letting him plug her darkest entrance still felt scandalous and taboo. Her submissive side found it raw and erotic, so primal it was intoxicating. Wearing her tail helped her sink into pet space and freed her from any concerns and inhibitions.

Stonehurst stood with his back to the window, silhouetted by the light. He turned stern and commanding—her master in every sense. “Do you trust me never to hurt you or push you too far?”

“Of course,” she answered instantly.

He passed her a small wooden box. “Take a look at this, puss.”

Puzzled, she lifted the lid and pulled out a bundle of leather straps with buckle fastenings at each end. A ball with fine whiskers attached hung in the middle. Uncertain, she ran her fingers over it.

She hardly spoke when in feline mode, just mewled or purred as she wound between her beloved master’s ankles. She wasn’t sure about wearing a gag, but her cunny tingled at the thought. “You want to silence me?”

Part of her wanted to back off in horror, but if she was honest, she loved it.

Stonehurst kissed the tip of her nose. “Think about it for as long as you like, sweetheart. The decision is always yours.”

Reassured, she dropped to her knees and crawled to her cage. Pausing in the doorway, she gave her derriere a sassy wiggle. His hungry groan made her feel feminine and flirty.

Their evenings were unusual and naughty, but she thought them perfect. She held the ball to her lips and licked it. It didn’t taste of sour glue or even of chemicals, so she slipped it into her mouth to test it.

She felt more vulnerable than ever, but Stonehurst would never hurt her. Her jaw might ache if they used it too long, though. Next, she pulled the straps around her head. It wouldn’t be too tight, and her feline side loved her spider-thin whiskers.

Taking it from her lips, she emerged from her refuge and rubbed against Stonehurst’s calves. He stroked her hair. “Has my sweet little kitten decided? No pressure, puss, do what seems right.”

She blinked as she looked up at him then nodded.

“Good girl,” he approved, “but if you hate it, remove it. Although, in here, I like my kitty having whiskers.”

With a swish of her hips that waggled her tail, she sat on her haunches and sucked the ball back into her mouth. She sank to all fours, her head lowered for him to fasten the buckle. Pawing at her face, she gave a contented purr. She’d never been more cat.

He hooked a leash into a metal loop stitched into her collar. “Cats use their whiskers to sense their surroundings. I can help with that.”

He pulled off his cravat and folded it into a makeshift blindfold, and fastened it around her eyes. The darkness disoriented her.

He tickled behind her ear. “Show me what a well-behaved kitty you are. Let’s take a stroll. Try to stay close to my legs, but I’ll spank you if you trip me.”

Rubbing against him, she trailed her whiskers against his breeches. She concentrated on every sound, determined to please him. He must have brought the riding crop from Grace Street over with their sex toys. He guided her around the room by planting a series of light slaps to her thigh.

After a couple of circuits, he removed the blindfold. “Well done, puss.”

His praise delighted her. As a reward, he teased her by dangling a long piece of fur over her head. She liked that when she batted it, the bell on her collar rang.

After a while, he changed tactics, dragging it along the carpet. She pounced like a lioness. Her new bell tinkled as she caught it with her first leap.

He rubbed her cheek. “I think your reactions have got faster. Give it back and I’ll beat you next time.”

Her inner animal snarled, and she hugged the trophy two-handed to her chest. She’d won it, and her
wildcat side intended to keep it, even if he spanked her for it. Maybe she wanted his palm beating on her posterior and the intense orgasms that followed.

When he tried to take it, she growled, wiggled her hips in mock attack mode, and slapped his arm.

He gave her behind a sharp smack. “Bad kitten. Behave or your master will spank you in earnest.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she twined about his legs like a she-cat in heat, but she refused to relinquish her prize.

He swooped without warning, grabbed her by the waist, and hauled her across to the sofa. When he sat, he draped her over her knee. She jiggled her hips, all sass and sensual invitation.

“Twenty hard spanks, but if you drop the fur I’ll stop. You got that, kitten?”

Gagged, she couldn’t answer, so she clutched her trophy tighter. His dominance thrilled her, and she submitted completely. Reality faded. All that mattered was pleasing her master. Fucking him afterward, too.


Buy The Viscount's Pet at:

Amazon USA
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Amazon AU

OR READ FOR FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED

Kryssie Fortune writes the sort of hot sexy books she loves to read. If she can sneak a dragon into her paranormal books she will. Her paranormal heroes are muscular werewolves, arrogant Fae or BDSM loving dragons.


Kryssie likes her contemporary heroes ex-military and dominant. Her heroines are kick ass females who can hold their own against whatever life - or Kryssie - throws at them.

Kryssie's pet hates are unhappy endings, and a series that end on a cliff hanger.

Her books are all stand alone even when part of series. Plot always comes before sex, but when her heroines and heroes get together, the sex is explosive and explicit. One review called it downright sensual.

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Monday, 14 October 2019

Blue Monday: Queenie Black guests

Mondays are days on which I post a sexy excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's guest author is Queenie Black, whose new BDSM story Hard-Pressed is out now and on tour.



Master Lucien has one night at Club Hard.

One night…to show bodyguard Rose Dainty that he can be the Dom she needs,

One night…to show her that submitting to him doesn’t make her weak, that true submission requires strength and trust.

Will pushing Rose to her limits prove to her she can trust him with her body and heart, and can she let go of her deepest fears long enough to enjoy her surrender? `

They both have everything to prove and everything to lose.


Oui, You can.” He withdrew his fingers and squeezed my bottom, drawing a trembling cry from me as all my nerve endings came alive again. “That’s my beautiful little subbie.” He went back to his playing and soon I was writhing again. He got me nearly to tipping point and then stopped. A frustrated sound left my throat.

“Did you just growl at me?”

I had no idea, all I could focus on was the growing need. Why had he stopped?

Lifting me off his knee, he turned me so that I was sitting on his lap.

“Ouch.”

He grinned. “Tender?”

My nod didn’t draw any sympathy from him.

“Breathe in.” He released my hands, bringing them around gently. I hissed as the blood rushed into them. Lucien gently massaged them, moving from my shoulders down to my fingers, easing the discomfort. It should have switched me off, shouldn’t it? But the slow burn at my core remained undiminished.

When the tingling had stopped, he stood. “My turn.”

Turning me, he bent me over the couch and told me to brace myself on my palms. “Hold on. Spread your legs … a little wider.”

I obeyed, widening my stance, aware only of such deep wanting and the sweet knowledge that Lucien was the only one who could assuage it.

He laid one hand on my shoulders, pushing them lower.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful! Look at these breasts.” He stroked them, played with them as if he had all the time in the world, as if I wasn’t desperate to come. By now, I was so far gone all I could do was whimper and beg.

Hyper-attuned to everything he did, I heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper, the soft chink of his belt being unbuckled, the hiss of his zipper. He leaned forward and whispered in my ear all the wicked things he was planning to do to me, his hot breath popping goosebumps up all over my body. I shivered. Fabric brushed against the backs of my thighs and he notched the crown of his cock at my entrance.

“Yes,” I moaned. “Please.”

He slid in an inch, slowly made it two…

He was big. I was still trying to process the feel of him when I felt him shudder and he growled. “I can’t wait, Rose. You can take me. All of me.” And he slammed home, stealing the breath from my lungs, stretching me to capacity. I squeaked and went up on my toes while I tried to adjust to the shocking invasion.

Lucien braced his left hand next to mine, caging me under his body and with his other, gripped my hip so tightly I was bound to have bruises. It didn’t bother me. I wanted to wear the marks of his possession.

And then I could do nothing more than weather the damn storm. Pinned down in such a submissive stance, feeling the push and drag as he took his pleasure, the fire where my bottom kept rubbing against him was like a thread of lightning straight to my clit. My inner muscles tightened involuntarily.

“Oh yes, m’amour, like that. Squeeze me tight.”

Lucien was in me, around me, so I could no longer tell where he stopped and I began. My mind whited out as an orgasm moved through me in a slow tectonic roll. I lost touch with the world for endless moments.

As everything settled back into focus, the first thing that I noticed was that Lucien’s left hand was now entwined with mine. I felt wobbly, newborn, emerging into a world that had resettled in a fundamentally different form.

Merde,” Lucien swore roughly as he ground against me and came so deep, he set off another wave of aftershocks.


Buy Hard-Pressed at:
Amazon USA
Amazon UK:
Evernight:
Smashwords:
Kobo
iBooks:

Queenie Black says: "I’ve always loved writing and I won my first prize for a short story when I was still at primary school. I’m an avid reader of romance and erotic romance and can usually be found with my nose in a book. The dynamics and sheer variety of human relationships fascinate me, and this is what I like to explore in my writing. I live in North Yorkshire with my husband and cat where I enjoy running and Tai Chi."

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Monday, 7 October 2019

Blue Monday: Eli Gilić guests

Mondays are the day on which I post a sexy excerpt for your entertainment!

Today I have a special guest excerpt from Eli Gilić's new collection, Slaves to Desire. I think this may be the first translated erotica I've ever featured!



Slaves to Desire is a unique, beautifully written erotic short story collection that deftly weaves fact and fiction. Originally published in Serbian, Sinful Press is over the moon to present the English language version of this amazing collection in both digital and print. To celebrate, Sinful Press are making the ebook version available for just 99p/99c throughout October.

Charles Baudelaire, Rasputin, Anna Karenina, Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet and Ophelia, Fyodor Dostoevsky, George Sand, Frederic Chopin, Vincent Van Gogh, Antonin Artaud, Maria Izquierdo, James Joyce, Federico Garcia Lorka, Salvador Dali.

Can Rasputin find redemption through the sins of others? What awaits Anna Karenina on the other side? Does passion still flow through the veins of the lovers from Verona? Can Hamlet and Ophelia escape their fate? Is Van Gogh’s loneliness a blessing or a curse? And can Dali dispel Lorca’s fear?

Eli Gilić deftly weaves fact and fiction to bring some of the world’s great writers, literary characters, artists and composers to life as they reach the heights of passion and the depths of despair in this mesmerising erotic short story collection.


Excerpt from The Writer’s Apparitions (Fyodor Dostoevsky)

12/15/1880:

Polina appears by the foot of the bed. My memories have invited her apparition. My frail pecker was stirring sadly as I recalled occasions when she let me smack her buttocks and then forcefully take her. In such moments I really was her master. I insulted her, bit her and pulled her hair while roughly ploughing her. I immensely enjoyed her weakness and my absolute power over her. And Polina experienced great pleasure in the humiliation and pain.

“You were my master only when I wanted to you to be. I let you behave like that, thus you never really ruled me.” She is mocking me now. “I was always the one who held the reins in our relationship, even when you humiliated me. You are no different from my grandmother. After that first time, she caught me running uninhibited in a shirt only when I wanted her to see me and give me a good spanking. I delighted while she ranted because I still didn't behave like a girl from a good family and didn't utter a sound under her blows. When I grew up, I ran around in just a shirt to infuriate her. I even rode around the estate like that, enjoying her horror at the thought of the peasants who could see my naked legs and contours of my breasts under the thin fabric.”

“I know that, you witch,” I exclaim. “You told me all that. Get lost! Why are you visiting me?”

“Because I love seeing you so withered. Tell me, Fyodor, would you have the strength to spank me with a cane now? Here, I will take the position.”

Polina goes down on all fours on the floor and lifts her dress. She is naked underneath. The wench spins her bottom, enticing me. But I don't pay attention to her. I close my eyes. “Go away, please,” I say quietly.

“Oh, you want to spank me, but you don't have the strength. You are shrivelling. I am hot and wet, Fyodor. I want you to spank me and take me passionately. Just like before. Can't you gather enough strength?”

“I know that you are an apparition. Go away. I am not swallowing it.”

I can hear the rustling of her clothes. In the next moment, the bed dents and I feel a warm hand around my manhood. I open my eyes and see Polina smiling sweetly.

“You liked to call him rooster. And that name was appropriate for your swaggering member. Come on, revive him for me. I am burning with desire to feel him pecking in me.”

“You are not real.” I refuse to comply. Her apparition has tricked me a number of times. I won't allow her to do it again. I will not. “Go away.”

“Can you say that even my lips are not real, Fyodor?” she whispers. “Don't you remember how they made you lose your mind?”

She lowers her head and her warm lips envelop my limp manhood. Polina looks me in the eye while she swallows it. She tightens her fist around it and her tongue circles around the tip. My pecker is shaking, awakening from the dead.

Polina's eyes are glued to mine while she moves her head up and down. Her tongue is dancing on the tip and licking the entire length. Her fist is moving faster and my manhood is hardening hesitantly. She groans happily with her mouth full, tightens her lips around my shaft and moves her head faster. My arousal is growing; I am thrusting my hips to sink deep into her mouth. A guttural growl escapes me as she soaks it with spit. Her eyes are sparkling triumphantly. Her fist tightens even more and her head glides up and down quickly. She is swallowing almost the whole length and emitting gargling sounds. I close my eyes and raise my hips to meet her mouth. I raise my hand to grasp her head and push her down even more. But I don't feel her head. Instead, I touch my own manhood.

Taken aback, I open my eyes and see that I am alone. Polina has vanished, leaving me with a revived pecker that is eager to discharge. Rage surges through me. I shout, grab the jug from the bedside table and throw it at the wall.


Buy Slaves to Desire:
Amazon
Apple iBooks
Google Play
Kobo
Barnes and Noble


Eli Gilić is a writer and translator from Serbia who has spent much of her career translating best-selling novels for the Serbian market. She has also penned an erotic cookbook called Eat, Tease and Please.

Eli lives near a forest in Serbia with her three four-legged friends, and she spends her free time growing organic food, climbing mountains and jumping from waterfalls.

Slaves to Desire is her first short story collection, and it was originally published by Laguna, the biggest publisher in Serbia, before being translated into English for Sinful Press.

Wednesday, 2 October 2019

Phalloween reading



Damnit, why didn't I think of that pun?!

I'm delighted to announce that I'll be back in Leeds next Monday night for a reading at the Cocktails and Fucktales October special: Phalloween.

I had a great time on my last visit and the people involved are lovely. Here's the deets:

Monday, 7 October 2019 from 19:00-22:30

Thursday, 19 September 2019

The Forgotten and the Fantastical, Vol.5

Publication news! (Not erotica this time)


I came across Teika Bellamy's The Forgotten and the Fantastical anthology series when I met her at a FantasyCon, and I knew straight away I wanted to write for it. These are collections of fairy stories; some re-workings of old tales, some entirely original. Some are dark, some are lyrical, and many - but not all - are about women and/or motherhood (a particular focus of the imprint, Mother's Milk Books). I read three volumes and was impressed by the exceptional quality of each collection. And they have BEAUTIFUL covers!






So I wrote My Son, My Daughter, a story about a desperate but clever mother who is about to lose her firstborn to the fairies unless she works a way out of it.  It riffs off the traditional Northumbrian story of My Ainsel.

If you pre-order TF&TF#5 direct from the publisher, you get £1 off the list price!

Monday, 16 September 2019

Blue Monday: Checkout Girl

Every Monday for the last few months I've posted an excerpt from one of the stories in Lust in the Dust.

Now we've reached the very last one! Checkout Girl by Quiet Ranger is a fitting end to the book:  romantic, surreal and emotionally wrenching. Boy meets synesthesic cyborg half-girl...



She tentatively reached out and stroked his damp hair. He closed his eyes and in his imagination saw wires plugged into flesh. Tubes feeding and removing unknown matter. He jerked back from her touch, a hand left wavering between them. Her smile faded, she looked like she might cry and when she spoke her voice was low.

“I’m not a monster.”

He felt like a monster himself. She had been nothing but friendly ever since he got here. “I’m sorry. You’re right, you’re not a monster.” He searched for the right thing to say and came up empty so instead just told the truth. “You’re the first person I’ve met in years and I’m so glad I found you.”

She tried again, hesitantly slipping her hand into his. He leaned closer and when she didn’t try to avoid him he kissed her. Lightly. Tenderly. She sighed into his mouth and brought her arms around him. Fingers digging into his back. They kissed long and hard and for the first time in years he forgot about grief and hardship and fear, and lost himself in the scent and taste of her. She drew back and he was concerned he had somehow crossed a boundary.

“Is this OK?”

“God, yes! It's been so long. Um… I’m sorry if this sounds weird, but… would you feed me another peach?”

He fished the last piece out of the tin and with now clean hands offered it to her. Eyes moist and shining, she took it and his fingers into her mouth. Greedily sucking as the sweet fruit slid down her throat, and keeping eye contact all the while. She continued staring hungrily as he withdrew his fingers, now completely free of juice. Her hands gently tugged the jacket away and caressed his hips. Her nails traced their way over his lower stomach, brushing him in a tantalising motion. Moving ever nearer towards his stiffening cock. She lazily tangled her fingertips into his pubic hair, and he saw her eyes fill with delight at the way his breathing quickened, the more she toyed with him. He was flushed and moaning. Wanting… no, needing more, but without the courage to ask for it. Finally she took pity on him and squeezed the base of his straining erection. He inhaled sharply and slammed his palms down flat either side of himself, fearing he might lose his balance.

“Look at me, Michael.”

He obeyed, his eyes widening and his breathing increasing as she drew her fingers tightly up towards the tip, then back again. She became gentle and stroked him in a languid, unhurried motion that quickly drove him to distraction. He reached tentatively for her top and she helped him remove it, then blushed deeply as he ran his hands over her breasts, trapping her nipples between his fingers, feeling them stiffen.

“Kneel up,” she said hoarsely and he hurried to comply. She guided him into her mouth and began to work him, sucking hard and running her tongue in circles until he felt giddy, all the while making muffled noises of pleasure as if she were at a banquet. In no time at all he was coming — and at the same time the till began to behave in a very erratic manner. Numerals flashed across the display too fast to read. The cash drawer slammed open with a ding. Claire seemed to convulse and a flurry of coupons were spat into the air and rained down about them.


Buy Lust in the Dust:


It's the end of the world as we know it.

Peace and plenty are ideals barely remembered. Everything we used to rely upon has crumbled away, and pleasure is something few can afford. Every joy has to be fought for. When all the trappings of a civilised life are taken away, all we can hope to truly call our own are our bodies and our hearts. In the ashes, we make alliances where we can, and find solace and humanity in unexpected places. And maybe even a little hope for the future…

Lust in the Dust brings together ten erotic short stories set in times where civilisation and the rule of law have crashed and burned. The aftermath of a terrible war, a zombie invasion, a cityscape over-run by nature, a medieval fortress. Wherever there is life, there is lust.

Edited by Janine Ashbless - with stories by S. Nano, Elizabeth Coldwell, Raven Sky, Sommer Marsden, Cara Thereon, Jones, Gregory L. Norris, Nicole Wolfe, Janine Ashbless, Quiet Ranger.

Friday, 13 September 2019

A time to reap, a time to sow

New toy! It's a hedge-trimmer on a stick 😍


And today these arrived...


I reckon that's about 350 bulbs to plant. OMG!
That'll keep me busy ... especially as I have to prep the whole bed first. That's a lot of compost to dig in!

Monday, 9 September 2019

Blue Monday: The Basque of the Red Death

Every Monday I'll be posting an excerpt from one of the stories in Lust in the Dust.

The Basque of the Red Death is my own story contribution to the anthology. Okay, I'll just apologise for the terrible pun in the title now, and promise you a dark Poe-etic story of class-based biological warfare...


"Take me with you, my lord!" I begged, when it became obvious that the whole palace was in a frenzy of packing. He stood in his room surveying the spilled contents of his wardrobe. "Don't leave me here to the Red Death!"

Prince Prospero looked surprised at my plea. We'd hardly ever exchanged more than a few words. I was nothing but the gardener's boy after all; my most significant tasks were looking after the pigeons in their cote and carrying daily baskets of firewood up the many stairs to the hearths in the royal chambers. "Why should I take you, lad?" he asked; not harsh, but genuinely perplexed.

On the other hand, I've a strong young body and a pleasing face, and servants gossip. They know things they shouldn't. I took my chance and dropped to my knees before him, laying a hand upon his breeches.

Prospero shivered like a fly-struck horse and made a little noise in his throat.

"Please," I whispered, my mouth so close to his crotch that he must have felt the wet heat of my breath through the wool. "Let me do this." My fingers plucked at the ties of his garment, and he did not try to stop me. Of course such things are forbidden by Holy Writ and the law of the land alike, but what did I have to lose?

The royal cock popped out, half-hard already, into the eager embrace of my hand and lips. My prince was not at all badly wrought, I noted, as I fell to feasting on the swell of his helm. His privy hair was trimmed and perfumed and the girth of his shaft full enough, within a few moments, to be pleasing to my mouth. I'd always choose a thick cock over a long one, but it turned out that Prince Prospero was well-enough endowed in both categories to leave little room for criticism. Or indeed, breath. And I doubt that he had cause for complaint either—could he have ever had a server more motivated to please?

In other circumstances I might have enjoyed the rush of blood to my own pizzle and given it a sly fondle whilst I slurped, but the stakes were too high this time. Besides, we were in a fearful hurry—any other servant might walk in on us. So I applied myself with single-minded eagerness to his pleasure, sucking him deep into my throat. Prospero sank his fingers in my unruly brown locks and pulled my head close, grunting a little under his breath, and I had to grasp his thighs to steady his stance as he rose up on the balls of his feet; I could feel the hard slabs of muscle working beneath my palms as he thrust. That felt good, and his royal sceptre plundering my mouth felt better.

Yes, my prince. Give me your hard strong cock. Fill my throat. Fuck this poor gardener's boy like he wants, like he needs. Show him how a prince uses his weapon. Now, now, now.

When he erupted forth I made sure to take some down the wrong way and choke a little, in compliment to his munificence. My streaming eyes lifted to his as he withdrew.

He cleared his throat, tucking the royal jewels out of sight. "What's your name, boy?"

"Jakob, my lord." I wiped his aristocratic seed from the corner of my lips with the back of my hand.

"Well, you're a fine lad. Go pack your things; we leave after Vespers."


Buy Lust in the Dust:

It's the end of the world as we know it.

Peace and plenty are ideals barely remembered. Everything we used to rely upon has crumbled away, and pleasure is something few can afford. Every joy has to be fought for. When all the trappings of a civilised life are taken away, all we can hope to truly call our own are our bodies and our hearts. In the ashes, we make alliances where we can, and find solace and humanity in unexpected places. And maybe even a little hope for the future…

Lust in the Dust brings together ten erotic short stories set in times where civilisation and the rule of law have crashed and burned. The aftermath of a terrible war, a zombie invasion, a cityscape over-run by nature, a medieval fortress. Wherever there is life, there is lust.

Edited by Janine Ashbless - with stories by S. Nano, Elizabeth Coldwell, Raven Sky, Sommer Marsden, Cara Thereon, Jones, Gregory L. Norris, Nicole Wolfe, Janine Ashbless, Quiet Ranger.

Friday, 6 September 2019

Sins of the past


I'm not doing much writing these days but it's lovely when past naughtiness catches me up! My contributor copy of Dirty 30 Vol.3 (which contains my short Western story Sourdough) has arrived and I 💖 it!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to editor extraordinaire Rose Caraway!

Why am I not writing erotica at moment?
  • I'm transforming my garden
  • I'm putting a lot of creative effort into a LARP I'm running next year
  • The general state of politics, society and the world has, I'm afraid, caused my misanthropy to entirely overwhelm my desire to tell stories. All the above activities feel like fiddling while Rome burns, yes, but at least I don't have to think about Rome while I'm doing them. 

Maybe things will change ... I do hope so.


Monday, 2 September 2019

Blue Monday: Better Than Therapy

Every Monday I'll be posting an excerpt from one of the stories in Lust in the Dust.

Better Than Therapy by Nicole Wolfe is an OMG bitter-dark zombie comedy with a clever twist. What can I say? It made me laugh, so maybe I'm just evil...



My zombie ex-boss burst into the kitchen, so I shot him through the head. I’m fairly certain he was a zombie, at least. Andrea chose that time to collapse. I rolled her onto her back and saw her lips were blue and a weird, gray fog had filled her eyes. I picked her up by the shoulders and she latched onto my arms. She made a weird slack-jawed sound that was half-hungry and half-pleading. She was too weak to overpower me, so I locked her in the kitchen’s walk-in freezer.

I found the hotel’s maintenance men barricaded in the boiler room. Most of the housekeeping staff had fled back to their families, half the restaurant staff had stayed, and nearly all the guests had run out and been eaten. The smart ones stayed in their rooms. I convinced the maintenance crew, Dick the bartender, and a guest who happened to be an Air Force sergeant to help me clear the hotel of zombies. It took us the rest of the night, but we did it and shared top-shelf drinks afterwards.

I took the top floor suite with the sauna as mine. I brought Andrea there after everyone else had collapsed from exhaustion or drunkenness. I wanted one last night with her. We hadn’t spent much time together in the last few months and I wanted to tell her everything I’d been afraid to tell her before. I doubted her brain could process my words by now, but I knew I had to get it out of me. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to move on, or put a bullet in her head, if I didn’t.

I tied her hands behind her back with a belt from a complimentary bathrobe so she couldn’t grab me. She didn’t resist, and it was easy because she was even more lethargic from being in the freezer for hours. The trickiest part was stuffing a washcloth in her mouth so she couldn’t bite me. After that, she leaned stiff as a board against the desk and moaned with her mouth full of terrycloth.

She looked pretty all tied up and gagged. I’d fantasized about tying her up many times, but I knew she’d laugh at the idea. Now she was all mine to have however I wanted. Her lover was a headless corpse. It was just us. I had planned to shoot her after I told her all the stuff that had been on my mind for months, but I couldn’t do that now. She was all I had, and all I wanted.

I caressed her face and she tried to reach my fingers with her mouth. I jerked my hand away, even though the gag kept her from biting me. I couldn’t risk infection. I wanted to celebrate our reunion in bed, but there was no way to do it without exposing myself. I had no condoms or latex gloves. It was our first romantic night together in a long time, and we couldn’t do anything...




Buy Lust in the Dust:


It's the end of the world as we know it.

Peace and plenty are ideals barely remembered. Everything we used to rely upon has crumbled away, and pleasure is something few can afford. Every joy has to be fought for. When all the trappings of a civilised life are taken away, all we can hope to truly call our own are our bodies and our hearts. In the ashes, we make alliances where we can, and find solace and humanity in unexpected places. And maybe even a little hope for the future…

Lust in the Dust brings together ten erotic short stories set in times where civilisation and the rule of law have crashed and burned. The aftermath of a terrible war, a zombie invasion, a cityscape over-run by nature, a medieval fortress. Wherever there is life, there is lust.

Edited by Janine Ashbless - with stories by S. Nano, Elizabeth Coldwell, Raven Sky, Sommer Marsden, Cara Thereon, Jones, Gregory L. Norris, Nicole Wolfe, Janine Ashbless, Quiet Ranger.

Wednesday, 28 August 2019

Old England




His clothes are dirty shade of blue 
And his ancient shoes worn through 
He steals from me and he lies to you 
Old England is dying

Today our unelected Prime Minister got the Queen to suspend Parliament, in order to push through Brexit.

RIP British Democracy. The end of our civilisation is just that one step closer.