Showing posts with label Guest post. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Guest post. Show all posts

Thursday, 20 August 2020

Guest post: Ashley Lister on Blackstone Towers

Blackstone Towers Blog Tour – Day Seven 

First, I’d like to thank Janine for allowing me to bring my blog tour here today. This is day seven of the blog tour and I’m very excited because I’ve written a really fun horror novel and I want to tell you a little bit about it.

(I’ll be honest and admit I’m introducing myself in the same way each day, in case these words encounter someone who doesn’t know me or who hasn’t been following the blog tour. If you’ve already read my introduction on one of the other blogs, or if you simply don’t care who I am or what I’ve got to say, skip to the bit under the picture of the book cover).

By way of introduction, I should begin by saying my name is Ashley Lister; I write horror fiction and some of the crudest poetry known to mankind; and I’m here talking about a horror novel I’ve written which will be published on August 22nd. It’s called Blackstone Towers and this is what the story is about:

The talismans of the magi control seven realms of the mortal world. One can grant the bearer immortality; another gives its owner unfathomable wealth; a third gives the holder unerring foresight. There is a talisman to control reality, success, the deliberate and the accidental, and a talisman that governs the balance between love and hate. The planets are now aligning, and one worldly resident of Blackstone Towers knows the talismans urgently need collecting and destroying before they fall into the wrong hands. The only problem is establishing whose hands are the wrong ones.

This is a novel that includes zombies, ghosts, daemons and other generally scary creatures. The first question people ask when you write a novel that includes such features is, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

Naturally, this shouldn’t be the first question anyone asks me. I think the first question should be, “That sounds awesome! Where can I buy a copy? And can I look at your back catalogue too?”

However, we don’t live in my ideal world so I’ll answer the popular question first: do I believe in ghosts?

The honest answer is: what time is it?

I’m writing this in daylight. I’ve got a portly dog on my lap and the soundtrack for Guardians of the Galaxy is playing in the background. Of course I know there’s no such thing as ghosts or the supernatural. If something does unexpectedly make a noise, the chances are that it’s the farty little dog on my lap.

However, tonight, I’d have a different response. I don’t believe in ghosts. But I also make sure I turn on every light in the house if I’m going for a late night pee. I used to work for a funeral director (I mentioned this earlier in the week) and I’m only just beginning to realise it probably wasn’t the best occupation for someone with my susceptible disposition. One night, and this was two in the morning night, I’d been called to drive the funeral director’s ambulance to a rural farmhouse.

It was very sad, as all deaths are. A relatively young man had passed away from cancer.
The funeral director had met me at the farmhouse and he helped me get the body into the back of the vehicle. And then I was expected to drive back through unlit and unfamiliar country roads, alone save for the dead body in the back of the ambulance.

I saw things on that journey home that could only have come from my imagination. As the promise of dawn crept toward the horizon, I saw the edges of the landscape shift as though it was a behemoth, uncurling and preparing to devour the tiny mortals that scurried over the earth.

I definitely didn’t hear anything in the back of the ambulance, scratching at the door that separated me and my travelling companion. I didn’t hear any strange sounds like that and I don’t still hear echoes of those sounds when I’m alone at home in the dark.

All of which is my way of building to my question for today: Do you believe in ghosts? And, if so, why? Answer below, if that’s easiest for you. I’ll be checking back throughout the day. Answer on Twitter if you prefer, using the hashtag #BlackstoneTowers. If you don’t use Twitter, and don’t like the comments box, please feel free to email me at me@ashleylister.co.uk. I’ll be collecting all the answers and, on the day of publication, I’ll chose my favourite response and send one lucky winner a free copy of one of my novels. 

This is day 7 of a 9 day blog tour and, each day up to the launch, I’ll be on a different blog, as detailed below. And, each day, I’ll be asking a different question. Please feel free to follow me, answer as many questions as you like, and if you’ve got any questions about the book or anything else, I’ll be happy to answer.

Also, if you fancy coming to the online launch, where I’ll be reading from Blackstone Towers and sharing some of my ribald poetry, drop me an email and I’ll send you an invite.



Thank you again to Janine Ashbless and to all you readers. I look forward to hearing what you’d do with the gift of foresight. And, if you want to pre-order a copy of Blackstone Towers, this link should take you through to the Amazon page

Monday, 30 March 2020

Blue Monday: Lea Bronsen guests

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

Today's guest is
Lea Bronsen with her dark erotic romance Shade Addiction. Can I just say how much I love that tagline?



Ex-boxer Mike Logan struggles to put a brutal past behind and make ends meet as a bus driver. When a young runaway settles for an all-night ride, he seizes the chance to do a good deed—get her home safely. But first, they’ll drive around and talk.

What he doesn’t anticipate is that this broken night angel is also a sexy little minx needing a lot more…and not just the gentle kind.



Hours later, I carry my lunch tray through the employee restaurant at the bus terminal to my usual table in a corner. I’ll eat alone. Being the broody kind doesn’t get me many friends, but I don’t care. My struggle is simple: Make it another day, then another, putting more time between me and the tragic event from all those years ago until one day, I’m freed of it all, six feet under.

The door opens, and there she stands, wild and beautiful, with a rainfall of black-purple curls over a red leather jacket, fishnet stockings, shiny high-heels, and a mini skirt.

Fuck me!

She searches the room, and we connect. My heart jumps to the goddamn roof, before questions assault me. How did she get in the secure building? Why did she go through that trouble to find me? And what does she think she’ll get from seeing me again?

My panicky attempt to reason doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see her. I am. I’m heating all over, every hair on my body standing.

She walks toward me, seemingly uncaring that a dozen of my male colleagues glance from her to me until she plumps into a seat in front of me and steals my plate.

Dumbstruck, I sit and watch as she scarfs down mouthfuls of meatballs, salad, and bread. I should ask her responsible stuff like how things are going at home, whether she made up with her parents, but all I can do is lean over the table and whisper, “What do you want?”

She wipes her mouth and flashes me a smile. “You.”

That sends a dart of heat to my groin, but I have to keep my cool. Can’t let her get to my head. She’s way out of my league, for fuck’s sake. I don’t want to hurt her, but best stop anything from growing in her little head before it’s too late. “It can’t happen,” I say, leaning back and crossing my arms. “You’re too young for me, and I’m definitely not your kinda guy.”

“Well, then I’ll just get what I need from my ‘friends’.” She makes quote marks in the air and rolls her tongue on her lips. “They know how to treat a girl, see.”

Oh, no, can’t let that happen! Anger shoots to my brain. I can’t stand the idea of her messing with other men, of someone other than me drooling on her. As crazy as it sounds, a voice inside me screams, “You’re mine!” 

Without a word, I slip out of my seat, trying not to overturn the table between us, take her hand, and lead her through the restaurant. Heads turn, but I ignore them.

Out the door, in an empty hall, I press her against the wall, chest-to-chest, stomach-to-stomach, and hold her hands above her head. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re playing with.”

“I’ve missed you.” She squirms in my tight grip and rubs against my cock so it rises to attention. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You’re insane,” I growl. “Out of your fucking mind.”

Staring at my lips, she flutters her black eyelashes once, slowly, lazily. “No, Mike. It’s true. I haven’t been able to function without you. I need you. I need a strong man like you, a real man. I told you, the other night.”

My inner voice yells, “But you don’t know me!” yet her words make me sway, my limbs feel like Jell-O, and my resolution goes down the drain. I should insist that she leave and stay the fuck away from me, but…I can’t. I’ve missed her too, and God knows I need a hot chick like her. I’m so damn tired of being alone and feeling miserable. If she can bring a little joy into my life, why would that be such a bad thing? We’re two consenting adults.

“Fuck,” I growl. “We can’t do this here.” I release her, grab her hand, and bring her to a small restroom down the hall. She trots happily by my side, wiggling her sweet ass. Part of me says I can’t wait to get inside her, the other warns she’s only nineteen. Then again, she’s been with several guys, so she’s no newbie in the business.

After locking the door, I plaster her to a wall again, in a corner, this time lifting one of her legs and pressing my erection between her thighs. She throws her head back, spreading that stunning purple hair on the wall like a peacock displaying its feathers, and moans.

Sounds like she likes it rough.

Yeah?

If that’s what she wants, that’s what she’ll get, and rather from me than from an insecure, pimple-faced kid using the opportunity to hurt her just so he can feel like a man. I can do her hard, but in a controlled way. “You got a condom?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

Well, one way or the other… I rub my stiffness against her pussy, back and forth, in a rhythmic and insistent manner. With my free hand beneath her shirt, I cup her breast that fills my hand so nicely and stroke the full, oh-so-soft flesh before squeezing its firm bud.

Lips parted, breaths heavy, she mews while rocking against me, meeting my rhythm stroke for stroke. Sweat makes her blushing face shine.

I move my hand to her shoulder bone, rubbing on my way up to her throat and leaving red marks on her skin. Her breathing comes out ragged, needy. Reaching her face, I insert a finger between her teeth, and she sucks on it—then bites.

“Ouch.” The sting makes me even harder.

“Kiss me,” she begs. “I want to feel you everywhere.”

Fuck, she’s hot. I oblige, covering her mouth with mine and driving my tongue inside to conquer and devour hers. She squeals, her rocking against me more insistent. I move both my hands to her butt and lift her in the air so I can increase my rhythm and rub every single inch of her pussy, clit and all, back and forth.

There, she arches her back like a bow and jerks in my hold.

Good girl. 

She screams, but I swallow the sound, my excitement at such an unbearable level, it takes all my willpower and focus not to shoot in my pants.


Available from



Put the book on your to-read shelf on Goodreads


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, 3 February 2020

Blue Monday: Zak Jane Keir guests

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

Head of the pack for 2020 comes Zak Jane Keir and her new collection Eroticise This!


When the storm clouds are gathering…
When nothing is quite what it seems…
When you don’t know who to trust…

Will love or hope or kinky sex save the day? Can we find that spark of erotic joy, no matter how frightening the circumstances? Do we dare to hope for something better?
Six sexy short stories about the mess we’re all in, and what might happen in the very near future.

Eroticise This - sexy stories for troubled times began as a manifestation of Rule 35 in action. (Rule 35 is the corollary to Rule 34, which states that, if something exists, there’s porn about it. Rule 35 insists that, if you can think of it and there is no porn about it, it becomes your job to produce some.)
It’s a collection of six short stories, the first three of which are directly inspired by some of the political events in the second half of 2019. The second part of the book contains speculative sex stories which are set in potential near futures.

Zak Jane Keir would like to reassure readers that the closing story offers a note of optimism.


BEFORE RISING - an excerpt

‘How do we… Where do we go?’ she asked, and then gave herself a mental shake. She was still Sammy, still Mistress, she was in charge here, and Scrap was facilitating her pleasure. ‘I’d like some dungeon time; arrange it,’ she said, and Scrap bowed his head for a moment. He was wearing black rubber shorts, the pair she liked to see him in. And now they were in a hallway that looked very much like the one which ran between the dancefloor and the playspace at Club Mischief. She was carrying a whip; Nicola’s rose-gold whip. She didn’t want to be carrying it; she flexed her hand and found the whip she now held was made of black and violet leather, smooth and supple to the touch. It was very like the one she had seen and coveted at the last Kinkmarket, but had been unable to afford.

The playspace wasn’t particularly crowded, though Sammy was aware of the usual background sounds of conversation and faint music from the main room. The big A-frame was free, and she led Scrap over to it and cuffed him into place. His skin was warm to the touch and she rested her cheek against his shoulder blade for a moment. Every sensory stimulus was real: Scrap’s body; her feet in heeled boots, even the familiar scent of Club Mischief, with its mixture of incense, beer, bodies and leather. Her sub gave a little anticipatory purr.

She had a flogger, the red suede one with the thick, soft tails. She started to wield it lightly against his shoulders, setting up a steady rhythm. He writhed in his restraints, and she hit a little harder. She saw his back reddening; she switched to the heavier black flogger and turned her attention to his arse, which was now bared for her. She beat him for quite some time, moving on from floggers to paddles and finally to a cane. The thought of the black and violet whip seemed to cross her mind occasionally, but she didn’t use it at any point.

He was on his back now, spread out in front of her, his cock fully erect and the tip of it glistening with moisture. She licked and bit at his nipples, tasting salt, feeling the flesh yield to her teeth. She mounted him and he was hard and hot and ready. Her pussy muscles clenched on his erect shaft and they ground against one another. It was good, so intense, so perfect; the best fuck they had ever had.

‘Please remove the headset when you are ready. Please remove the headset when you are ready. You may experience temporary disorientation on removing the headset. Please do not exit the pod until disorientation has passed.’

Sammy heard herself whimper in protest at the nagging, mechanical voice. Her mouth felt horribly dry and there was a slippery dampness between her legs. Her hands shook slightly as she pushed the headset up and away and sat up, blinking in the warm, yellowish light. It was over.

Buy Eroticise This at:  

Amazon UK
Amazon US

Zak Jane Keir is a veteran writer, with over 30 years of telling stories about sex and kink and ‘a little bit of politics’ behind her. She has worked on various adult magazines as well as publishing several novels and quantities of short fiction. She has recently embarked on compiling a history of the UK fetish scene, work on which was interrupted by a compelling need to write something sexy about the current political climate…

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Monday, 16 December 2019

Blue Monday: Jennifer Denys guests

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

Today's guest is Jennifer Denys, with a new Naughty Xmas story: Naughty Christmas Present


This is a tale of unrequited love . . . but will it be requited by the end? Of course, it will — this is a Christmas story after all!

The question is, how will Gren, a troll and bartender at Pogue’s Bar, prove to the beautiful blonde Siren, Ligia, that he is the man for her? When unexpected circumstances bring them together, he jumps at the chance to give her a special Christmas present and show her that he is everything she needs. Will his present — a session in his personal S&M playroom – be enough? Or could her Siren song cause his death in the process?


The Siren turned her body to lounge back on her elbows, spreading her knees wide in invitation, grinning at him. She lifted one foot to rub it over his stomach, pushing her breasts forward invitingly, while running her tongue over her lips, trying all her seductive tricks.

Little minx.

He swatted her leg way. Gren was sorely tempted but the gleam in her eye gave him pause. He knew she was trying to get him to ejaculate but he wasn’t going to give in to her that easily. Surging forward he dropped the flogger to the floor and with one thick forearm, he pressed both of her legs against her stomach, pushing her back on the bench with a thud, and delivered several swift hard smacks to her bottom with his other hand.

“Ouch! Gren!” She punched ineffectually against his arm.

“Serves you right.” He stared her down as she struggled to get up. “Stay still. I haven’t finished.”

The Siren subsided. Her expression going from hurt to bemused. She stroked his arm, running her fingers over his bulging biceps. “Okay, lover. What are you going to do next?” Her voice was silky smooth.

He smiled inwardly at her attempt to charm him into doing things her way.

Not a chance, sweetheart.

The troll followed up his spanking by rubbing her hot butt, soothing her while he contemplated his next move. “This is a very tempting position. There are several things I could do while you are on your back like this.”

She guffawed. “I know what I’d do.” She then reached down with her right hand feeling her way until she encircled his cock.

Gren gave her a mock frown. “I could spank you some more. Would you like that?”

Her huff made him smile but the dilation of her eyes told him something different. She let go of him, although her hand caressed his butt instead. “So, tell me what you had in mind.”

“I could get the flogger to finish what I started earlier if you don’t put your hands on the bars.”

The rise of her eyebrow was a challenge and he couldn’t resist chuckling. But at least she did as he commanded.

“Or I could do this.” Ligia’s eyes opened wide as his thumb strayed up to her slit, pressing into her labia. He hadn’t intended doing that, wanting to keep the play to some fun BDSM, but the smell of her arousal was so powerful he just had to touch her.

Immediately his cock shot up, his seed threatening to spill and he clenched his jaw, holding himself rigid. Meanwhile, the woman beneath him squealed, lifting her butt up off the bench. She was pressed back down by Gren’s strong arm as her fingers clasped over his bulging muscles, nails digging in.

She shuddered. “Holy Ghost. Don’t stop.”

Gren grinned. He had no intention of ceasing, not yet. This was a heaven-sent opportunity to touch her as he’d always dreamt and he moved his thumb upward to rub her engorged clit.

Buy Naughty Christmas Present at:

Amazon US 
Amazon UK
Bookstrand  
Luminosity Publishing
Barnes and Noble


Jennifer Denys lives in a lovely historical city. Other than writing, her interests include reading (naturally! She always has at least one book on the go if not one by her bed, one by the bathroom, and one in the lounge); all things historical including genealogy which she has done for many many years; watching films (particularly sci-fi); gardening; jigsaws; and walking. She lives with her pet rabbit who is thoroughly spoilt. Jennifer says she wants to come back as her own rabbit in the next life - unfortunately that would mean she still needs to be alive herself. Maybe there is a time travel story there ......

Keep up to date with Jennifer via her blog:

Tuesday, 10 December 2019

Blue Monday(ish): Kay Jaybee guests

Running a little late due to my holiday, here's the skinny on a BDSM release by Kay Jaybee:

Kay is delighted to announce the re-release of one of her most popular erotic anthologies.
Re-edited and re-covered, Yes Ma’am is back with a vengeance from 22nd November!




Could you write your wildest fantasies on your best friend’s boyfriend, or sell your sexual soul to a woman in black?

Find out how far army cadet, Luke Porter, will go to improve his standing within his regiment, and discover the consequences of losing your temper on London’s Underground in this collection of wrist binding, whip wielding, butt spanking tales of female domination.

Yes Ma'am contains six straight and bisexual encounters of the S&M nature. All six stories deliver a different take on the FemDom experience.


Here’s an extract from “Don’t You Emma”:

... Lee sat back in the leather armchair. She’d told him that all he had to do to get a damn good fucking was to stay in the chair until she decreed otherwise.

As he watched Daisy move around the living room Lee thought, not for the first time, how inappropriately named she was. The name suggested someone meek, gentle and childlike. It didn’t conjure the image of a tall, fit, fake blonde, who could get her rocks off simply by beating your arse until it glowed purple.

She was clearing the space in front of him. The coffee table had already been repositioned to the side of the chair, and the newspapers that usually lay all over the place had been stacked up. All the cushions he’d thrown off the sofa had been neatly placed back where they belonged.

‘You are going to reward me for watching you clean up?’ Lee was amused by this uncharacteristic fit of tidying.

Daisy gave him a stare that would have chilled a lesser man to the bone, but Lee had known her for a long time and all it did was increase the arousal of her promise to give him a good seeing-to.

‘I don’t believe I said you could talk to me while you were waiting.’

‘Come off it, Daisy. You’re only doing the chores.’

Ignoring him, his partner brushed her hands together, and glancing at the increased floor space across the now uncluttered pale green carpet, left the room.

Lee’s imagination had already moved on to what reward he was going to get for being a good, patient boy. He wondered if he’d have to endure a spanking, or if she’d bind or gag him. Flickers of tense longing played in his stomach and stirred his groin.

Glancing at the clock on the corner of the bookcase, he listened to the quiet tick. It seemed to fill the room as he waited with growing impatience for Daisy’s return. He assumed she was fetching her sex toys, or perhaps changing into something less comfortable. It was with a sense of a surprise and unease, however, that Lee heard the front door open and the sound of muffled voices.

Despite only wearing a red T-shirt and some lightweight black combats, Lee suddenly felt rather hot as Daisy re-entered the lounge with company.

The warning glint in Daisy’s eyes confirmed that Lee should stay precisely where he was, his legs outstretched before him, his arms resting on the chair’s soft padded arms, his mouth shut.

His dark brown eyes moved from his lover to the girl with her. About 25 years old perhaps, with long ginger hair that hung in two perfectly tied pigtails. Slim, but with enough of a curve to catch the eye, her green gaze had a keen, eager to please gleam, that just hinted at mischief.

Lee swallowed very carefully. Daisy hadn’t, had she? Not really? He opened his mouth to ask her if he was right, or if his imagination was running away with him. No sound came out though. He didn’t want to risk her saying he was mistaken and ruining the fantasy that roller-coasted around his lust driven head.

The girl, without taking off either the boots or the long winter coat she wore, even though it was a warm summer’s day, answered his unspoken question, as she lowered her head and knelt on the cleared floor before Daisy; her mistress.

‘Oh my!’ His words were barely audible. Daisy either hadn’t heard them or had dismissed them as unimportant. Lee concentrated very hard on breathing; forcing himself to sit still and not lean forward in the chair....


Buy Links:
Amazon UK: 
Amazon US:
Amazon AU: 
Amazon CA:
Barnes & Noble:
iBooks UK: 
iBooks US:
Kobo:
Smashwords:


Kay Jaybee was named Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the ETO
She received an honouree mention at the NLA Awards 2015 for excellence in BDSM writing.
Kay Jaybee has over 190 erotica publications.
Details of all her short stories and other publications can be found at her website 

You can follow Kay on –
Amazon
Twitter 
Facebook
Goodreads
Brit Babes Site

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:

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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.


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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, 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.

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.

Monday, 19 August 2019

Blue Monday: Mourning Doves in Limbo

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

Mourning Doves in Limbo by Gregory L. Norris is the second zombie story in the anthology and this one puts the Undead squarely onstage, in a M/M story of love, grief and horrifying choices:



They fucked, and so much more.

“Stop it,” Tom said playfully.

“No,” Gray fired back. “You have sexy feet.”

Feet? Seriously?”

He didn’t understand, but he allowed Gray’s personal lusts to be explored and play out. Between sucking each of Tom’s toes as though they were smaller versions of his cock, Gray pointed out their many good qualities — how his second toes were longer than his big, like the feet on classic statues; how handsome they were, perfectly in proportion to the rest of his athletic physique. Huge feet, hairy legs, Tom’s above-average cock with its helmeted head and the balls to match — there was so much to appreciate in the man’s body, below the waist.

Tom drew Gray back up from his feet and tackled him onto the bed. “How about you come up for air and focus on the rest of me?”

“If you insist.”

They kissed again. Tom’s cock reanimated to life under Gray’s strokes. Tom reached down and temporarily stilled the building momentum.

“There’s this place I know for sale, out near Echo Ledge,” Tom said. “I drive past it on patrol all the time. Been on the market for a while. I bet we could get it for a steal if you wanted to.”

“We?” Gray asked. He nestled into the warmth of Tom’s arm. “I like the sound of that. Does that mean you’re my boyfriend now?”

Tom whistled a warm sigh. “I was your boyfriend from the moment I set my sight on you, only you didn’t know it.”

He delivered a mildly painful smack to Gray’s bare ass. Gray squealed. Tom flashed one of those crooked yet smoldering smiles Gray recognized for their mischief, an instant before the policeman rolled him over, onto his stomach. Tom then pecked little kisses down his spine, licking his way to Gray’s ass. There, he feasted.

“Eat me,” Gray moaned into the pillow. “Oh, Tom… eat me!


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.

Monday, 12 August 2019

Blue Monday: Hollywood

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

The most "lit-erotica" tale in the anthology, Hollywood by writer and photographer Jones, is a dreamlike portrait of a F/F relationship painted in a near-hallucinogenic palette of reds and blacks: flames and ash. 


“You're safe now,” Ruby said, moving over her. And everything was happening; everything seemed happening and possible all at once. Everything was vanishing around them, flowers and trees, birds burnt up in a lick of flame, massive swaths of land and sky were poisoned, everything rusted, so hot and broken, red light all the time, at morning and the hard sharp edges of evening, the sound of World War 3 always at the door, dust. Like stars, everything they could call theirs burst out of existence and still their hearts hummed and hammered like tiny engines and Ruby kissed her. Slid her arms around her waist and pressed her lips to Miami’s. Miami kissed her back long and full of hesitation, half taken breaths. They smiled at the end, into each other's mouths.

“No matter how massive this is, it is inevitable, necessary, that we try to understand it through our bodies,” Miami said, and Ruby laughed, still kissing her, kissing her again. Miami shivered as Ruby's fingers touched the nape of her neck. All the space between them collapsed in want, a hard weight deep in the center of them. Searching fingers gently ran the length of Ruby’s throat and shoulders, the dip of her spine. Miami’s hands stopped just above Ruby’s hips, then floated back up under the hem of her t-shirt. Ruby leaned in closer, feeling Miami’s length against her, breathing her in she gasped softly, Miami’s hands gathering around her breasts, her skin coming alive from the touch, palms and grazing over her nipples so long tendrils of pleasure slid through her. Exerting a little more pressure, Miami ran her hands over Ruby’s stomach, hard fingers, nails, and another moan escaped them, deepening their kiss. Soon Miami’s hand was cupping Ruby’s sex, and Ruby knew that she could feel the heat and want of her through her jeans.

The heavy sheet rustled, the fold and laughter of linen as Ruby pulled off their clothes, mouths and hands and hips always touching, growing frantic. Almost at once Ruby’s skin was slick with fresh sweat, a deep hard heat burning under her skin. She wanted touch. Miami’s hand tangled in her hair and held her still, kissing her more deeply. Miami let her go only to slide her hands up her back. Ruby pulled cotton over the landscape of Miami’s honey and burnt sugar skin. They locked eyes and Miami smiled at her, mouth red and wet, a fruit begging to be eaten. They touched again, kissing with growing heat, letting clothes fall around them, sheets dripping off the bed as they tied themselves together. They smelled like chlorine and smoke and the cool, sharp no-scent of the house. Miami’s skin was kissed by sun’s gradient, darkest at the tops of her shoulders, lightest on the heavy swell of the underside of her breasts. Ruby touched every part of her, legs and knees, the hill and valley of her hips, the small of her back.

“Is this right? To give up trying to survive, just to stay in this place and fuck you every day?”

Ruby felt herself go weak with want when she heard desperation in that voice, answering her with a kiss. There was so much she wanted to say, but the fire took her words, burned them up. But they didn’t need them. They spoke through kiss and touch, fingers pulling hard across the curl of a hip and thigh.

“Please…” The word escaped Ruby, only a little, only a moment “Don’t stop.”

So Miami didn’t.



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.

Monday, 5 August 2019

Blue Monday: Virtual Insanity

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

Today's tale, Virtual Insanity by Cara Thereon, is where the dystopian future gets really dark...


"Let me go, you fucker."

I was seething. I'd gone out at dusk as always to scavenge, leaving Winnie home to take care of Mom. I was usually very careful, hence the timing and going alone. Today I'd gotten cocky because I was under the mistaken assumption that the last of this section of D-Troop of Russia had long cleared out.

They were the latest country to invade this part of the U.S. — right in time to raze the minimal harvest that grew up in fall. I'd hoped to grab some leftovers to sustain us through the harder nights to come. What was supposed to be a quick trip into an overgrown section of field went sideways. I stumbled out of the brush into a group of gray-geared Grunts out scouting. My shock made me slow to react. They recovered from their own shock fast, the nearest man grabbing me before I could scramble back into the brush.

It was humiliating to be trussed up, my hands tied behind my back as they marched me frog-legged to their encampment. They reverted to Russian, but it didn't take much to figure out what they were saying. The groping hands that slipped beneath my shirt were communication enough.

They escorted me into the main camp. I realized how stupid I was to believe they'd all moved out when I saw how many men occupied the area. As I moved down the line of tents, clumps of dead grass catching in my ratty sneakers, I prayed Winnie wouldn't try to come looking for me. The last thing I needed was both of us dying as whores of war.

One of the Grunts ushered me into the bigger tent of the troop head. I had a moment to look around. It was well furnished for a makeshift encampment. A big bed sat toward the back of the tent and there was a nice carpet to hide the muck. They'd been here a while, or planned to stay.

My heart threatened to jump out of my chest. God, I hoped Winnie didn't get scooped up.

The Grunt pushed me to the ground in front of a long wood table, pressing at the back of my head to get me to lower my eyes.

I snapped my head around and growled. "Fuck you."

"Found a feral one, did ya?" There was hardly any accent to his English, which surprised me

I turned back to glare at the gruff man standing before me, and I realized now why they didn't just take advantage of me back in the field.

He towered over me, forcing me to strain to meet his black gaze. War had aged him, adding lines to his weathered face that made determining how old he was impossible. It was clear he fought more than sat around amassing spoils, given his a lean appearance beneath his puke-green fatigues.

"One of the Unwilling."

That made me sneer. Damn right I was unwilling.

The man reached out to touch my cheek and I snapped my teeth. I tasted the dirt on his fingertips as I bit down. The Grunt wrapped an arm around my neck, but I refused to let go. I'd go down fucking swinging before I'd submit, I told myself!

But a well-placed slap dazed me enough that I let go as quickly as I bit.

He lifted his hand to examine the nipped digits. I didn't think it was possible for his eyes to grow any darker.

"Leave her with me." His eyes raked over me. "Leave the cuffs and rope as well."


 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.

Monday, 29 July 2019

Blue Monday: Ring of Fire

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

The first Zombie Apocalypse story in our lineup is Ring of Fire by Sommer Marsden, a tumultuous tale of trust and need that really burns!


“Alice, are you okay?”

“Please…” I said, surprising myself.

“Please what?” He cocked an eyebrow. His dark brown eyes were curious, but I could tell by the twist of the small smile on his face that he understood. That smile and the fact that he took a step closer, closing the distance between us.

“Take me. Just let me…” I shook my head. I wasn’t making sense. Not even to myself.
His hand cupped the back of my head and he pulled me in for a kiss. I could taste our terrible gritty campfire coffee on his lips.

I kissed him back, desperately, letting myself sink against his bulk. Now that I’d taken a breath, now that I’d exhaled, I realized how very tired I was. How extremely exhausted by handling things and running things and being brave.

Strength is sometimes overrated.

“Just let you what?”

I shook my head again, my eyes pricking with tears, not sure if I could put it into words. “Be. Let me go. Let me…”

“Turn off?”

I nodded. That was good. The best description yet. “Just for a few minutes.”

He kissed me again and I sank into it. I wanted to let go. I knew he could cover me. I knew it from our contact, our friendship, and our previous experience.

I trusted him. In this day and age, that was like handing someone your heart.

He turned me quickly before I knew what was happening. Somehow the burst of anger, the adrenaline, him squeezing my wrist, had all come together to make me wet. Unbelievably wet. But he did believe it, because he pulled me back against his chest, both of us facing that peep hole in the wall. Somehow, they always reminded me of medieval castles.

He pushed his fingers down into my jeans, slid them beneath my panties, and slipped two thick fingers inside me as easy as you please. He pressed them against me, stroking me, before pulling them free and playing my own wetness over my clitoris.

I chewed my lower lip, already so fucking close to coming.

He kissed the back of my neck and did it again. Plunging them in, playing them against my internal walls, pulling free, sliding them along my swollen clit. The kiss turned to teeth and my pussy flickered, gripping him tight. It stole my breath, how easily he could bring me pleasure when a moment before I’d wanted to hit him, to scream, possibly cry.

“That’s it,” he said, lips pressed to my neck. “Let go. It’s okay. Let me do it for a while. I’ve got you…”

Tears pricked my eyes and I hung my head. Joel took the chance to scrape his teeth along my nape, and then down my shoulder. I’m sure I tasted salty. Dirt and dust and sweat; how sexy. Goose bumps sprang up along my skin. He had a small chink out of his left front tooth and that added sharpness brought a fresh rush of wetness between my thighs.

I was lost in my own thoughts and pleasure when his hands began to war with my belt buckle. I tried to help. Then it was a flurry of our fingers. My belt came free, my zipper down, my pants fell open, and then he was batting my hands away quickly. Startling me. Adding more adrenaline and a rush of surprise to the fray.

He moved me, planted my hands on the back of a big discarded arm chair we’d lugged in so we could take turns sitting as we watched. We faced the peek window, not speaking it aloud, but needing to keep our watch even in this moment of frenzied fucking. He yanked my panties down, and a slow moan slid past my lips. He knocked my legs wide with his boot, as far as they would go with my pants tangled around my ankles.

I heard the jingle of Joel’s belt and the roar of his zipper. My ears thrummed with blood. Out in the openness was nothing but fire and smoke. None of them had appeared. Yet.


  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.