Monday, February 28, 2011
Oh yeah. Baddaboom, baby. After years of skuzzy jobs in even skuzzier dives, Mrs. Delavecchio’s little boy Louie had finally hit the big time.
I mean, just take a whiff of the place. Grease and veggies, veggies and grease. A rat’s paradise. Rats wore their wealth on their middles. You could tell how rich a rat was by the size of his belly. Louie patted his ample gut with a sigh of self-satisfaction. Look at that prosperity. Donald friggin’ Trump. Not bad for a guido rat from Jersey City.
He flipped a burger onto a bun with an expert flick of his wrist, then added lettuce, tomato and the special sauce from the recipe he’d brought from home. He sniffed the tomatoes. They were starting to turn. He’d better use ‘em up and make sauce of the rest. His nose knew the difference between good food and garbage. He might indulge in whatever was available, but he never served garbage to his customers. Besides, high-class food meant high-class garbage, and that meant Louie ate well. I mean, look at that belly, wouldja.
The swinging doors clapped open and the blue-haired waitress came in. “Three more orders for Clams a la Louie. Your cooking’s a hit.”
“It’s all the cats in town. They’re big on seafood.” A simple idea, well executed. That’s how you get rich. Bring the taste of the Jersey Shore to Montana. Give the shifters something new, then sit back and reap the profits. Louie’s fat belly jiggled. Proof’s in the pudding, or the clams.
He handed the waitress the plated burger. He liked the humie girl. He liked all humans. They threw their trash all over and kept rats from starving. His breed would have gone belly-up generations back if not for humans. What wasn’t there to like? “Clams coming up,” he said. The waitress took the burger and went out.
Louie went to the fridge for the clams. When he got back, he saw he had a visitor. His long nose wrinkled. “Crocker. Who the hell let you in here?”
“It’s good to see you too, Louis.” Crocker glared down his hooked, prominent nose at the kitchen. He tugged his suit jacket more securely against his gaunt frame, as if to protect it from the grease. Like he had any right to act so hoity-toity, given his own eating habits. At least Louie cooked his food.
“A bar, Louis?” Crocker said. Damn buzzard had the gall to act affronted. “A man of your talents, and you waste them grilling bar food? But then, I suppose such a lowbrow environment would appeal to your type.”
“It’s got its perks. While we’re talking lowbrow, how you like the taste of Rocky Mountain road kill? Better than scavenging the Jersey Turnpike?”
Crocker’s beady black eyes flared up with hate before he managed to snuff it. “I know where the power lies. I follow the bodies. This is why I follow Shere Khan. He’s curious to know what’s become of his personal chef.”
Louie gnashed his teeth. He’d left Jersey to take that job with the poncy tiger, and hadn’t that been a mistake. The bar was small, but honest. You could walk out the door at the end of the night and not have to watch your back. “He’s got dough. Let him hire another one.”
“He misses your broiled snapper.”
“I’ll send him the recipe.”
Crocker started forward, remembered the threat of grease and stepped back. “It’s not about the food.”
“I don’t know nothing. I didn’t hear nothing.”
“Nonsense, Louis. You’re a rat. Your nose and ears are everywhere. Shere Khan is concerned you might have picked up more than sautéing techniques in his kitchen.”
“Shere Khan can kiss my long pink tail. I’m not just a rat, I’m a rat from Jersey. We know how to keep our mouths shut.”
“See that you do,” Crocker snapped. “I’m as happy in my current position as you seem to be in yours. I enjoy tending to Shere Khan’s cleanup, but … ” He looked Louie’s gut up and down with undisguised distaste. “Even I have my limits.”
So do I, Louie thought once the skeletal prick had gone. Here’s something else about Jersey rats: they don’t take scat from nobody. And nobody means a freakin’ stripy cat and the scuzz he’s got circling over him.
He put in the clams to steam, then pulled out his cell phone. Someone picked up on the second ring. “That you? It’s me, Louie. You said call if I hit any trouble. Well, this is me calling. It’s time we put our cards on the table. You and your buddy meet me here at the bar after hours.” He grinned at the words from the other end. “Yeah, sure, I’ll make the crab puffs. Anything for a pal.”
He hung up. News flash, kitty. You don’t get between a rat and his food supply, not if you want to hang onto your ass. And you, Crocker, you frickin’ buzzard, you can choke on me.
The humie waitress came back with an order for Louie’s special nachos. He waved at her and cheerfully went back to work.
# # #
Off Topic Section: I got an email from Siren on Friday letting me know BELONGING will be coming out in print within the next 4-6 weeks. While I’m naturally thrilled, I’m also surprised. The book’s only been on the market for barely three weeks. It’s not even available on Amazon Kindle yet and it’s already going to print? That was fast. Did Siren change their print schedule? Savanna, Rebecca, has this happened with your books? I’m just curious here.
I’ve also heard rumors there are vampire books out there on the market that started life as Buffy/Spike fan fiction. Given the inspiration for BELONGING, I’d love to read one just to see if I can spot its origins. Does anyone know any books for sure that are reworked Buffy stories? I won’t out the authors, I promise.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Moni shares this photo taken during a recent outing with her grandson at a zoo in Wichita, Kansas.
I’ll bet they met at the Interspecies Pleasure Club.
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Night Hawk looked at the carefully worded sign. He didn't understand why Spirit Bear insisted on traveling to the high country and ice fishing. Neither did he comprehend why Octavia had taken Mickey into the bedroom and closed the door. They'd been in there for over forty minutes.
The door swung open. Mickey walked out wearing a smile one hundred degrees brighter than the look she'd given him the last two days. Spirit Bear had shrugged and muttered the word women twice after the door had closed. Something was going on.
"Mickey, can I talk to you?" Night Hawk approached her keeping his eyes on both Octavia leaning against the door and Mickey who stopped midway into the hall.
"I don't know if you can talk. Ordering me around seems to be your preferred method." Mickey shot him a sour look that sent clouds scurrying for cover.
"Spirit Bear left me in charge," Night Hawk began. A loud cough followed by a throat clearing told him he erred again.
"I think you're better off son if you let them tell us what they want us to know." Tongson pointed to Mickey and Octavia. His semi-grin and quick nod told Night Hawk a storm brewed.
What the cause was he sure as hell didn't know.
Octavia pushed off the door frame and walked over to Tongson. "Isn't always easy acquiescing power or control is it?"
Tongson looked up and nodded before looking away. "In this time and place, working as a team serves us better. Please assist Mickey and Night Hawk with packing."
Octavia smiled and patted Tongson's shoulder. "Don't go down to the store. Let one of us be seen putting up the sign. While on lookers are distracted, we'll shadow spell the books that need to be hidden. "
Mickey moved up next to Octavia. "Mistress, I need to let the Mink Clan know what has happened to their catalyst. Two of the clan maybe pregnant as a result of the night Danny spent with the clan."
Octavia smiled. "It is good to see the clans expand, but now is not the time to worry about them. Your animal is not the mink. Nor is it Night Hawk's."
"No, but we are their leaders until others fill our roles. Without a leader, chaos could result."
Mickey licked her lips and wrung her hands together.
"I've sent others to over see while we are gone. Know that all is taken care of." Octavia leaned down and whispered to Mickey.
Night Hawk moved toward Mickey. "I need to know---" He stopped as Octavia's eyes met his. Images and words rushed through his mind. His hands grasped his head as he rocked forward.
Tongson steadied him.
"Octavia, careful. They are young in power. Not like you and I, older than the dirt upon which we stand." Tongson let go of Night Hawk's arm.
"Listen to me my youngsters. A clan of shape shifters seeks the power we hold and wield. My ancient tome is safe until they learn how to call its power and magic forth. I did not duplicate all the information only enough to dupe them into believing they hold the real thing." Tongson pressed two cloth bags into Night Hawk's hand. "Go pull the books Octavia showed you. Double bag them and do not do more than look for the words. Saying or thinking the titles can release a trail that we do not have time to cover."
Octavia motioned Tongson aside. "Be careful my love. Shielding is as important as when we were being sought in the early days."
Tongson's weak smile and quick nod didn't offset the sadness his eyes held.
Another week is come and gone. Another month as well, soon first quarter of the year will be done. Spring will return and warmth with it.
I've got a new book sold and a tentative release date for June. As more solidifies, I'll keep you informed.
Keep the faith that spring is around the corner. Read a few good books with your spice and friends. Share the warmth and keep cozy!
Have a great weekend!
Friday, February 25, 2011
Though he’d been unable to hear the exact words spoken, their tones were deep and just this side of angry. He cringed at the thought of what she might send them in here to do to him. Truth was, while he enjoyed men, giving was more his style.
Minutes seemed like hours as he waited for the fallout of his actions. So what if he’d run away from the old bear dude and interrupted Penn…,er Ma’am and the beefcake at the airport, and well called her Penny instead of Ma’am as she’s instructed. Did that mean he had to pay his dues with sex—hard, vigorous and teeth gnashing sex? The kind of sex that had at one time had him panting for more, but now left him totally uninterested?
If he could speak in his animal form he’d be calling himself three kinds of puss bag. When had hot, hard and raunchy given way to soft and meaningful?
Impatient and nervous, Danny crawled down the side of the bed and inched towards the door hoping that a peek at whoever remained would give him an idea of what he could expect.
Stretching his neck around the jam, he spied Penn…,er Ma’am pushing the extra large airport guy into a high backed wooden chair. She walked around him, every inch of her aura putting off the lady of the manor vibe. When her hands came around the massive chest on the delicious Aussie and eased their way down the rolling abs, delineated by the tight t-shirt, Danny wished his mink face could looked as enthralled as big, bad and burley’s did.
“Burgess, your name feels heavenly rolling off my tongue. Would you by chance have anything else that would be as agreeable in my mouth?”
Oh slinky de-dink. Pe…,er Ma’am could use her words as well as the small hands now slowly unbuttoning Aussie boy’s shirt. One button at a time.
“I surely do, Missssss…”
“Do not speak unless I give you permission, blue…”
Oh hell, by the look on the Aussie’s face, he’d be talking again soon enough as he was thoroughly enjoying the sturdy pinching she was giving both of his small nipples. Not a very good punishment, really. Only, he still wasn’t talking, even after she’d removed her fingers and slid onto his lap to finish undressing him…
“I will find my own way around this lovely body, blue, and discover all the beautiful things it has to show me. Shall we start with these delightfully dusky nips? You may speak.”
Danny backed away from the door and climbed back up the king-sized feather bed. He curled his tiny mink body into a tight circle in the middle, tucking each tender part of his anatomy under himself as far as possible. He couldn’t understand their play. When Burgess disobeyed he’d had gotten a reward, whereas, the last time he’d been played, even the rewards had felt like punishments.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Marissa cringed. What was it with grown women running around a bar making noises that resembled a whoopee cushion? She looked sideways at the bubble-headed bleach-blond and shook her head. Of course. She had just seen another of her tribe of usless females walk into the bar on North Ninth. Better plaster on a smile before they realized she was annoyed by them and refused to tip. Mooney was starting to rub off on her. Not in a bad way, per say, but she used to be able to tolerate her fellow humans better than this. A week of living with her wolfie had left her just a little spoiled. She looked at the clock for the hundredth time. Would her shift never end?
As she sopped up a spilled beer, Marissa tried not to get angry with Lex again. Oh sure, if it wasn’t for him, she’d be in bed asleep rather than tending bar at some dive. If it wasn’t for Lex’s horrible attempt at a love potion on Valentine’s Day, she’d be able to open her coffee shop in the morning and wouldn’t have had to find some temp work. But then again, if it wasn’t for Lex’s incompetence, she probably wouldn’t have moved in with Mooney. She wouldn’t have discovered that she dry wit and sarcastic nature blended well with his entire family. She wouldn’t have finally found her niche in the world. So yeah. She was trying hard not to be angry with the little flee bag. Besides, the sheriff couldn’t keep her shop closed down indefinitely.
“Hey sweet thang! Why don’t you come over here and sit your pretty ass down on my lap?”
Marissa looked, curious as to which member of the whoopee cushion club was going to answer. To her surprise, Billy Bob, the bar’s drunken mascot, was talking to her.
“I don’t think so, Billy,” Marissa said with a fake smile. He was too drunk to notice she was faking it and never tipped anyway.
“Now sweet thang, how you going to get a man if you don’t come socialize with us?” he said, chuckling at his own imagined wit.
“I have me a man, Billy. And socializing isn’t exactly what you have in mind anyway.”
“We-e-e-ll, you might be right,” he replied.
“Well, I am not interested in you as anything but a loyal customer,” she said back. “If you’ll excuse me, I think the party at table three is ready to order.” Marissa scurried away before he could think of a come-back, marginally happy the tripe of whoopee cushions had grown since it gave her a lagitamit escape. She slipped behind the bar and grabbed five bottles of MGD, the preferred drink of the ladies in question- two for each of the new arrivals on one for each of the three who’d already been here.
They thought she was some kind of mind reader for knowing what they wanted without them saying. The fact was, Mooney had taught her mor than just an intolerance for her own kind. He’d taught her how to read them like books. What ever. The generous tip made up for the lack of interesting clientele.
An hour later, her apathy was blown away when none other than Maggie strolled in. She knew from Mooney that she was pretty high up in the shifter ranks, almost the top alpha bitch of the whole town.
What was she doing in a human dive like this?
“What can I get for you?” she asked with a smile.
“Well, well, well. My, haven’t we fallen in standing,” Maggie said with a sneer.
“No,” Marissa said lightly. “I’ve always made my living by serving customers.”
“But now you are slopping beer in someone else’s establishment rather than serving burnt bean juice in that hoity-toity place of your’s,” Maggie replies smugly.
“I don’t slop,” Marissa said brightly, realizing the she-bitch was trying to start a fight. “Can I get you anything?”
“That’s not what I heard,” Maggie’s companion leered. “I heard you like sloppy seconds.”
“Nope,” Marissa said just as brightly to the small, rat-like male. “I tak ‘em first and kill anything that tries to follow too closely behind.” She turned back to Maggie. “So are you interested in the house special? Or did you just come in to pick a fight?” She said this last bit louder than necessary and was rewarded when every eye in the bar turned their way.
“This isn’t over, ape!” Maggie spat, eyeing the room of hostile humans.
“Probably not, furball,” Marissa agreed sweetly. “But you are just going to have to order something or go.”
“You’ll pay for this,” Maggie said hatefully. “No one throws me out of a bar and gets away wit it!”
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Howls and yowls of greeting, shapeshifter lovers, the past week has been a grand one for the paranormal, and spooky uh-oh stories. Some of the highlights are ~
1) The crystalline caves in Arkansas are ringing with energy... earthquake on the way? Or a higher vibrational state arriving... or both?
2) According to the renowned trends forecaster, Gerald Celente ~ trendsresearch.com ~ there is likely to be a *false flag* cyber attack that could take down the ATM bank machines.
3) From Unexplainable.net ~ St. Christopher, patron saint of travelers of all sorts, is said to have had the head of a dog. According to some accounts of Easter Orthodox lore, St. Christopher had the head and features of a fearsome canine. There are two possible explanations for this...
4) From: news.yahoo.com ~ Ark. cities feel unexplained surge in earthquakes ~ “Several small earthquakes ranging in magnitude from 1.8 to 3.8 have rattled the north-central Arkansas cities of Greenbrier and Guy this week, and the cause is unknown. UPDATE: Some contend this happening because a new nasty mining practice.
5) From Yahoo News ~ Temperature swings 100 degrees in one week in Okla. town by Liz Godwin ~ Residents in the Northern Oklahoma town of Nowata experienced a stunning 100-degree shift in the weather this week after a cold front brought temperatures down to a record-setting -31 degrees.
6) The Stargate monument in Detroit’s Hart Plaza is said to be an ancient stargate that was dug up by black ops in Iraq, beneath the desert sands... it was cut in half and shipped to the US. For the entire story listen to William Henry’s current Revelations Radio show at UNKNOWN COUNTRY.
7) Merlin's prophecies reveal guidance from UFOs and aliens, state experts
Submitted by Dave Masko on 2011-02-17
EUGENE, Ore. – The new book “Merlin: Knowledge and Power Through the Ages,” by British research professor Stephen Knight offers a new translation of “The Prophecies of Merlin” that, among other insights about pre-Medieval England, says the wizard used UFO sightings and Alien visits to sure-up the Arthurian legend.
8) Apparently, there is an *ancient road beneath the ocean* from off the Florida coast that runs to the Mediterranean, and off the coast of Spain... Atlantis, anyone? According to a man who has seen them, the Navy took pictures of this road and a city sunk off the coast of Florida that somewhat resembles Aztec buildings.
9) New photo of 'English Nessie' hailed as best yet
Pictures of a mysterious creature surfacing from Lake Windermere have been hailed as the best ever sighting of the English Loch Ness Monster, or "Bownessie".
By Nick Collins 8:25AM GMT 18 Feb 2011
The photograph, which shows an object with three humps breaching the surface of the lake, is said to be the best evidence yet of what some claim is a monster lurking beneath the depths.
So, the curious among you may ask: What is the story behind the story? Well, let me tell you...
New photo of ‘English Nessie’ ~ The Story Behind the Story
Her grandfather glared down his prominent nose at her. A handsome nose, actually. His appearance was not elderly, but he owned that patriarchal air that demanded her respect.
“Really, Sivakka, what were you thinking?”
With a smile that usually enchanted him, Sivakka leaned forward in the throne chair and gave an insouciant shrug. Intentionally, she shook her head a bit rippling her waist length, seal-brown hair.
When his stern expression didn’t alter much, she sang, “I wanted to go for a swim?”
Usually patient, her grandfather frowned as he snapped the thick newspaper he held, then slapped the front with the back of his hand. Despising online news sites, he had everything printed out as if he still received a daily paper.
“I do look all too mysterious, don’t I?” Sivakka tried another winning smile, then hugged one knee.
Raising his brows ominously, her grandfather spread the paper between his hands, so she couldn’t miss the headline or the fuzzy, but revealing picture.
“New photo of 'English Nessie' hailed as best yet,” he repeated in a repressed growl. “Pictures of a mysterious creature surfacing from Lake Windermere have been hailed as the best ever sighting of the English Loch Ness Monster.”
His clipped enunciation left her in no doubt he’d already thought about a suitable punishment for her transgression. Inwardly, Sivakka prepared herself.
Okay, so she’d gotten away with her monthly swims. Up until now. Now, she’d have to pay the wickedly laughing piper. Just too bad she’d become riveted observing the underwater life, and hadn’t heard or felt the swift approach of the kayakers.
“It’s not simply this ridiculous cell phone photograph, granddaughter. Damn, the ubiquitous noisy invention. The satellite cameras are the real danger to us. To our kind.”
Sivakka sighed mentally. He was right. She didn’t bother telling him that she’d taken precautions against that type of surveillance. “Yes,” she hesitated, “our freedom is so restricted, I -- I...”
He paced then, nearly the full length of his library office, and Sivakka could feel the heaviness of his thoughts. The sadness of their plight overwhelmed his soul, and coursed through her.
Halting, her grandfather leaned on the fireplace mantle. “We cannot reveal ourselves yet,” he somberly intoned.
“I know. Not until the First Arrival.”
“These are perilous times, my beautiful granddaughter, for every living thing on our Mother Earth. We cannot help humanity, or any of our animal shifter brethren, if we are extinct.”
Folding her hands, Sivakka waited. His words were all too true. She lived with them daily. It was one reason Sivakka escaped by swimming until she became happily exhausted. In these perilous times, even skinny dipping as a human could get her tossed into the local jail.
After a swing of her hair, an attempt to alleviate her morbid thoughts, Sivakka shuddered inside. She wondered what good life was, if she couldn’t even live it.
As he turned to face her, her grandfather’s eyes luminesced, and a prism of colors swirled over the surface. “I have been remiss in protecting you. Perhaps, I am selfish. Your charming sweet company always brightens my day.”
When Sivakka started to speak, he raised his palm to stop her. “Now I must send you across the pond for your own protection, my darling girl. And, no, it will not be to stay with your Lake Champlain cousins.”
Puzzled in the extreme, Sivakka tilted her head. “Where then, dearest grandfather?”
He smiled, a mischievous gleam flashing his eyes. “You will recall meeting Dante, the werewolf biker we entertained for an evening of dinner, drink and rambunctious conversation.”
Sivakka felt her cheeks redden. For several months she’d fantasized about the rebellious alpha man, her erotic libido inspired beyond what she’d dared imagine before. Of course, once she’d learned of his true love for another, Sivakka had felt only compassion for him, and her yearnings ceased.
“Yes...of course, I remember. Why?”
“Dante has built an underground fortress deep within a forest in the state of Montana. He uses part of the structure for his Interspecies Pleasure Club.”
Sivakka knew her eyes widened, and likely rainbow-luminesced. “Pleasure Club,” she breathed out. She shivered at her core, as if she rolled on an ice flow while shifted to her leviathan kind.
“Yes, quite a den of iniquity, I understand. Of course, you may work for your keep in any manner you desire. However, I thought a serving wench would offer a timely and ideal life lesson. It would provide an opportunity to meet those of your youthful nature. Also, my darling girl, there is a lake nearby. One that is mostly hidden underground. If you are circumspect, you would be free to swim the sun-warmed waters, as well.”
Stunned, Sivakka couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move, either. It was if she’d capsized like a boat and floundered in stormy waters, helpless. In seconds, though, elation surged through her, battling this unforseen turn her in her life.
“Your necessities and wardrobe have been packed. You will leave at midnight, once the stargate has been activated --“
“I don’t understand,” she interrupted, “if it’s safe at Dante’s why aren’t you and...” Her words trailed away because she knew why, to her soul she knew why.
“We must remain. Our celestial brethren are depending on us.” Her grandfather spoke what they both knew. “Scotland, the Highlands, is the sacred meeting place, after all.”
“Grandfather.” Rising, Sivakka ran into his embrace.
“Do you want to know something I never told you?” her grandfather asked, long moments later. He rocked her gently, as he’d done often when she was a child.
“What?” she sniffled.
“I met your grandmother, the very light and love of me life, as you know -- when she was but a tavern maid.”
“He did,” her grandmother spoke from behind them. “The terrible, silver-tongued rogue. Why in one night he had me underskirts falling around me knees...”
“Shush, me love!”
Stepping back, Sivakka giggled at her grandfather’s thunderous brow, his pretense obvious.
“Have no worries.” Her grandmother stroked Sivakka’s long hair placing it over her shoulder, soothing her. “We are only a telepathic thought away, my beloved.”
HAVE A HAPPY SHAPESHIFTING DAY!
~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
Monday, February 21, 2011
Muzzles rise to sky
Desire finds a lusty voice
In love songs to the moon
Scales slither on earth
Hushed as lover’s bed-whispers
Cold blood runs to hot
Skin enwrapped in fur
Tongues flick in sensuous dance
Snake finds new hidey-hole
“For crying out loud! What the hell, Lamar!”
“Hey, I’m in love. People in love write poetry.”
“Yeah, of the ‘roses are red’ variety. Not – what is this, anyway? Pervy haiku?”
“The wolf knows his lit. I’m impressed. Gypsy and I have a contest going. You should see the steamy stuff she writes. I think she’s got a fella. Or several.”
“And you’ve got a dirty mind. “
“Like this is news. What’s the problem, chico? Too highbrow for the country boy? Fine then, I’ll bring it down to your level. ‘There once was a wolf, it is said/Whose hair was a glorious red/His boyfriend the snake/gave his tail-end a shake/And the wolf gladly gave him some – ’”
“That’s it, I am out’a here.”
“Pish. Everybody’s a critic.”
# # #
And now, a word from our sponsor: LOVE ON THE WILD SIDE, the print compilation of COYOTE MOON and BEST OF BREED, should be available on Amazon and the Barnes & Noble site in about 4-6 weeks. I don't have prices yet. I'll announce it when I have a definite date. And now, back to the keyboard. I'm so glad I made Lamar a writer; I can poke fun at my own habits. I love this job!
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Tavia winced as she yawned and stretched. Warmth drew her back beneath the blanket and sheets surrounding her. Snuggling back into her pillow, Tavia closed her eyes and inhaled.
Sharp masculine odors tickled her nose. Intermittent whiffs of sex mixed with the heavy male tang racing across her palette each time she swallowed. A muffled groan and snores brought the prior night’s activities racing back. She tried to keep quiet each time Tongson moved and grunted. A small smile curled her lips as he flopped on his back.
Dark black hair graced his head. His shoulder length locks swirled on his pillow creating intricate waves of pattern against the flowered sheets. Who’d thought a powerful shaman---a magical entity---mixed being kept flowered sheets on his bed?
Tongson loved color. Splashes of differing hues adorned the long wall separating the hall from the main bath. His one sacred piece of artwork reminded him of his vision quest as a cub working to find himself amongst a world that sought to cull out freaks. No, neither she nor Tongson had easy childhoods. Yet they found their calling and acceptance even if it was only each other until the tribal school took them in.
Tavia’s gaze roved lower. Though his upper torso and chest were sans body hair, the thatch adorning his groin served as a backdrop for his seven and half inch cock. Even flaccid, its appeal nudged her hormones a few degrees higher. She fisted her hand to keep from reaching out and touching him.
Last night she hadn’t hesitated to touch, fondle, and taste. Tongson’s rough hands felt wonderful on her skin. Each caress stroked her tingling sensations into stronger and heavier pulses thrumming deep into her pussy. He left no part untouched or fondled.
Wetness chaffed one side of her tight nipple as his other dry callused fingertip circled the other side.
Tavia worked her hands beneath the sheet. More images and sensations from last night poured forth. Slowly she inched her hands across her belly and toward her growing wetness. She dragged the tips of her short nails along the top edge of her trimmed pubic nest. With each swipe, she moved lower, still teasing her wanton need without completely touching her ache. One last stroke and her own wetness coated her fingers.
Tongson turned toward her, his brown eyes taking in her every move. “Need some help?
I could use some.” He shoved the covers aside making his hard on slightly bounce.
Friday, February 18, 2011
“Damn that rangy wolf anyway.” The red welts across her ass, throbbed a reminder that one orgasm was not nearly enough.
Nick’s taunt of “show me what you can do with a ruler” had set off the combative side of her alpha nature. There was no way in hell she’d let him win a war of words, nor would she pass on a dare issued from his lips. So she’d straddled the desk like he’d asked and proceeded to show him what she could do with one little ruler.
She’d become lost in the pure, unmitigated joy of the soft, flat wood striking her skin. The sudden sting led to a warming blush which turned into a tingling delight so intense she was getting wet again just thinking about it. Leaping lupa’s but the pleasure she’d been missing.
Her mistake, however, was not listening to the grunts and growls of the male on the other side of the glass. While each swat of the ruler had brought her closer to release, it had also brought him closer to the change. His nails had lengthened, teeth filled his mouth and the wolf was hammering at his skin to get out. She had ignored his crazed appearance and gone for their games winning stroke—one firm smack in front.
The reverberation sunk past her folds and surrounded her clit with a sensation of unadulterated bliss. The resulting orgasm rocked her to the tips of her toes and had turned her snarky mate into a snarling beast.
“Mangy mutt needs a finger flick to his muzzle,” she grumbled, sitting gingerly on the chair to roll up her stocking.
All hell had broken loose after her spasms had stopped. Nick was a half-formed wolf beating at the thick glass trying to get to her, Dante and crew were pounding at the outside door and she was about to flash the whole lot of them her very satisfied pussy.
Zeva clipped the last snap of her garter to the stocking below and settled her regular uniform skirt over her legs. She would never be late to work again at Dante’s. If there was one thing she’d proven to herself tonight, it was that while playing with Nick in an environment such as this was one thing, the reality of anyone else seeing the show went beyond her sexual limits.
“Happy V-Day, Zeva dear.” Angel called from her Jaguar convertible. The green-eyed monster sat heavy upon Zeva’s chest as she waved back at the stunning beauty that sped from the lot, on her way to meet her super secret lover. It was a Valentine’s Day for the books, that was for sure, but not the first she had spent needy and alone.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Playing Cupid at the Pleasure Club
Sliding deeper into the steam-hot, bubbly spring water, Kessi muttered, “Playing cupid isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
Why she’d ever let Pietro, a full-fledged cupid, talk her into taking over part of his flight route on Valentine’s Day...well, all too obviously, she’d been a gullible mark. Fun, he’d said, and oh-yes! Oh-so joyfully rewarding. In her defense, Pietro did own a silver tongue and could sing so beautifully Kessi vibrated to the ceiling every time.
And, okay, so some of the couples she’d arrowed had made her own heart all shimmery with delight. While invisibly hovering above them, she’d been filled with an utter sweetness and a lightness of being, as she watched them realize their love for each other.
Still, Kessi hadn’t been this frazzled and definitely undazzled for a long, long while.
Momentarily rising, she shook her small wings like a songbird, then folded them against her back. Luxuriating, she gazed around the love-nest room Dante had provided for her.
The werewolf had caught her shooting a heart-activating arrow at that humping-wild beast called Nick. Well, sigh-sadly, although her aim had been true for the rest of her Valentine’s Day targets, she’d only managed to deliver the pink-fire potion to Nick’s rump.
At the last second, the crazed werewolf had triumphantly raised a wooden ruler. Why, she wasn’t exactly sure, except it had to do with some manner of bizarre sex fetish.
Her archery expertise had been foiled. The arrow glanced off the ruler, boinged off a mirror, flashed off a glass window. Then, the tip stabbed into the thickest part of Nick’s left butt cheek.
Some part of Kessi had secretly hoped, as she watched the pink-fire pulse streak toward Nick’s backside, that it would strike one of his furry swinging nuts. Alas, her curiosity about the consequences of love-arrowing a male’s family jewel remained unsatisfied.
Scissoring her legs, Kessi delighted in the over-large, brass tub that had been designed to look like a blooming tulip. Given she was a fae-angel, she’d adored the flower tub and the pillow-opulent room on sight.
Dante had appeared pleased with her air-whirling gratitude, and the tiny kiss she’d pressed to his cheek for his obvious generosity. He’d even had a fruit basket delivered by a polite beta, proving he knew what her kind preferred to eat.
Kessi shimmied her petite body, and let her eyelids drop shut. She yielded to the warmth deliciously seeping into every muscle and tendon. So what, if the werewolf merely wanted her to spread the word about his pleasure club. Right now, his hospitality was exactly what she needed.
How long Kessi floated, drifting in and out of a light slumber, she didn’t know. She only knew the fragrance of daisies, her favorite flower, misted inside her nostrils from all the petals she’d strewn in the swirling bath water.
Startled out of her dreaming reverie, Kessi splashed like mad as she attempted to sit up. With her soaked wings flapping, spraying droplets of water everywhere, she grabbed the edge of the tub to push herself up, and make her escape.
Instead, she met chocolate-brown eyes that glowed with what could only be called extreme desire. She also smelled the oak-tree, potent blood of a fae man. However, not a full blood.
“I am Zhallin.” He offered a nut-brown hand as if he would assist her out like a gentleman.
Kessi stared at his slim, but strong hand, and knew what House of Fae he belonged to. Unless he was estranged, or had been banished from the Scottish Highlander clan.
Inwardly, she sighed. There was no need to ask how he’d gotten inside her room. He’d simply phased through the wall as she could do -- but, would not have done.
“Your ethics are not to be admired. You were not invited,” she tartly snapped. Shoving herself upward, she managed to slide down the tub’s tulip-petal side.
“You would have invited me. If you had known about my presence.” His cock-of-the-walk tone grated on every fibre of her being like a badly played harp.
As she began to slip on the wet tiles, his hands surrounded her waist, steadying her. With her wings still too wet for a fast getaway, and her phase ability sluggish, Kessi zapped his hand.
The sparks from her fingertips bounced, probably only tickling him. Drat!
“Copper,” he explained, amusement coloring his voice.
“Oysters?” she swiped, then resisted the urge to fight his hold.
Her wings would serve her well if she could stall his lust, as evidenced by his trunk-like cock. With only the thin suede of his breeches between them, it happily leaned like a tall piece of lumber against the curve of her hip.
“Oysters with parsley, thyme, savory,” he poured into her ear, “all foods high in copper.”
“Fleeing from giants...are we?” Kessi eyed the copper cuff bracelet he wore, and noticed the copper studs lining his knee-high boots.
Kessi stilled, and became so unmoving she couldn’t feel the rise and fall of her breath. Only the bravest of fae, and other kindred beings, hunted rogue giants.
“I don’t intend to become a giant’s hors d'oeuvre,” he added.
“No,” she murmured, knowing giants avoided copper like the plague. There was another thing Kessi knew as her blood hummed quicker. He told no falsehood. “Let me go,” she calmly demanded.
“You have the most beautiful gold and white wings, lovely one. I could stroke and kiss each feather.”
His breath hotly fanned her ear as he caressed her waist. Even though, his touch was compelling, almost arousing, Kessi folded her arms. She tightened her jaw with resolve.
“Lout. You’re interrupting my time of much-needed rest. I’ve spent all day flitting about the world...to, to bring love into bloom,” she hesitated, since she’d promised not to reveal her cupid like activities to anyone. Dante had seen her, so that didn’t count.
“I promise to make you bloom. Several times.”
His seductive growl clued her in, as did his feral mating scent. A wolf lived inside him. Could he shift?
Kessi dismissed her curious thoughts. “You’re forcing me to use the last of my energy to escape you. Go...go kill some giants.”
He stepped back so fast, Kessi swayed slightly. She clutched the tub’s rim, her head awhirl. And, to her surprise, her body complained about being abandoned.
“Forgive me, lovely one. I misunderstood my cousin. He told me to guard you.”
When he paused, Kessi gazed at him fully. Entranced by his magnificent mane of seal-brown hair, she stared. It was so glossy and thick in texture, she had erotic visions of it gliding all over her.
After sweeping a low bow, he took another few steps back. The glow of his eyes dimmed as he fought to control himself.
“Guard me?” Kessi swallowed, and didn’t loosen her grip on the rim.
“Yes.” He loosed a ragged and hungry breath. “I believed Dante meant that you wished to be -- pleasured. I realize now, he meant for me to watch over you. Protect you.”
“Oh.” Kessi’s head hadn’t stopped whirling. “This is a Pleasure Club. I guess I understand why you believed...” Her words deserted her.
“May I sing you into slumber? I know the ancient songs.”
His sincerity rang through her, the crystalline tones of an angel’s bell. Kessi nodded after a moment, then offered him her hand.
HAVE A HAPPY SHAPESHIFTING DAY!
~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
Monday, February 14, 2011
By Angelina O’vmerci
Sources say Dante’s Interspecies Pleasure Club was the place to be on Valentine’s Day Eve. Sources say the normally quiet and dignified peep shows in the Glass House Gallery turned wild when wolves crashed the party. One bystander was quoted as saying “the sound of breaking glass was hideously loud, but the howling and growling, now that was from a hungry wolf…only not hungry for food if ya knows what I am saying…”
Other patrons spoke of Dante’s anger at the “unruly, can’t admit the truth mutt” causing problems for his bitch, while another claims they pulled the offending wolf out by his tail, half transformed and screaming some nonsense about rulers and wooden desks.
Who was this wolfman? None of the party goers knows for sure and when Dante was questioned all he had to say was this… "Distemper. That boy needs to get his shots.”
We may never know the identity of the wild wolf, but in this reporter’s opinion, he’s bound to be carrying with him one heck of a stick of wood!
Ms. Etiquette Reporting From Alaska
Good Hearts Day to my readers and fans. I've been away longer than anticipated. Before you ask if I'm returning any time soon. Well, that decision remains to be made.
Here's what I've learned:
1) Distance and time do make the heart grow fonder.
2) Going it alone isn't as much fun as submitting and letting two handsome jocks take the lead.
3) Twice the pleasure, twice the fun when there are two instead of one
4) Pain and pleasure mix well when combined in the right quantities.
So Gents and Ladies, widen your horizons. Tell your lover your fave fantasies and see what pleasure you can dream up. You might be surprised how content your heart's contentment is.
And if a few more join up along the way, pleasure multiplied is pleasure increased.
Till next time,
Ms. Etiquette and Hunks
From the desk of The Love Wolfess
Happy Valentine’s Day Howls to You
As I pen this special heart’s day column, my shapeshifter dear ones, our life-nourishing sun descends in a blaze of jowl-licking color behind the darkening mountaintops. There is also a shade of pink that can only be described as Neon Valentine Pink coloring the far horizon.
Is it a good omen? Perhaps, Gypsy Red Wolf knows that answer.
Instead of answering your questions today, I will be offering a solution for those of you who are feeling lonely -- those of you who are experiencing heartache.
In the tradition of Lupercalia, our Wolfen Celebration of Fertility and Love, there will be a lottery mating party at the Interspecies Pleasure Club.
From sundown to sunrise on Monday, Valentine’s Day, come enjoy the Roman-style ballroom. The lottery will begin at midnight and private rooms are guaranteed should you desire.
A sumptuous feast will be served, along with the wine or drink of your choice. Roman fun and games will also ensue. Several different bands will be playing throughout the night. And, wild dancing and howling is encouraged, as always.
While togas are not required, remember, they are easily shed should you joyfully succumb to carnal desires, or want to shift for a run through the forest, and engage in that ‘other’ primal mating experience.
For further details contact: Venus de Moon, the party coordinator.
Sozchy signing off...
Sexcitations, good, good love vibrations to All...
And, just for you, here’s a little poem that found it’s way out of my heart.
~ HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY ~
Even though we are mountains apart
May the passionate howls of my heart
Slide down on silvery moonbeams
And wildly spin your midnight dreams
In favor of my frenzied fierce pursuit.
I would forever be your protecting brute.
Run by my side in forest moonbeams
Let me see your desires, your dreams
As we roll, play, and relentlessly mate.
Lonely for you, I howl demands to fate.
Guts & Butts Gazette, volume 2011-2-14
2/10 - Noxious odor. Police received multiple complaints from building behind Java Joe’s Coffee Shop regarding a noxious smell. Investigating officers found one Lexor Luthor passed out over a Bunsen burner. Mr. Luthor was highly combative once he regained consciousness and exhibited signs of delusion. He was released into the custody of a female claiming to be his caretaker.
2/11 - vandalism. Police received a call of a vehicle being vandalized. Investigating officers found “You Cheeting How” written on shoe polish on the windshield of the complainant’s vehicle in the parking lot of the Pleasure Club. Police were able to gather enough information to make an arrest of the complainant’s ex-husband, whom they found passed out behind the wheel of his own vehicle on the other side of the parking lot. The complainant declined to file charges.
2/12 - Burglary in progress. Police received a silent alarm call from Kat’s Party Supplies. By the time police arrived on sceen, the perpetrator(s) had already left. The store proprietor confirmed that the only thing taken was a case of red crepe paper stringers, a case of white crepe paper stringers, and three cases of silly string.
2/13 - vandalism, criminal mischief. Police received several calls of a high-schoolers vandalizing homes. Police did catch several suspects in the act of papering the home of a this year’s home coming queen in red and white crepe paper. When confronted, the unruly teens proceeded to deploy the silly string at the officers. In all, seven minors were arrested for vandalism, criminal mischief, simple assault and, because they were found in possession of items stolen the day before, burglary. They were all released into the custody of their mothers.
2/14 - public intoxication, lewd behavior. Police received several call beginning about six am of individuals “acting drunk” and wandering the down town business district in various states of undress. It was discovered that all of these individuals had stopped at Java Joe’s Coffee Shop. After considerable effort, in which two deputies became ill, the store was closed and the proprietress taken into custody. No charges have been filed pending further investigation.
Maggie’s V-Day Dish
Good morning, puppies and kittens, it’s le jour d’amour, the day of love, and romance is in the air! Did you all get your flowers and candy and fish and fresh kills from your loved ones? Got those scented candles ready? Let’s see who’s nuzzling up to whom –
Is it moi, or has the tiger population in Talbot’s Peak taken a sudden jump? Especially that big white fellow with the delicious Russian accent. He seems to favor that woodsy biker hangout. Might there be someone there who’s caught his lovely blue eyes? A red-headed dancer, perhaps?
Our resident eligible millionaire, Brand, may be off the market, alas. He’s been spotted squiring a certain razor-penned reporter around town, and it looks like it’s serious. The cat and the bat? Stranger things have happened.
As for you, Devon, you can’t hide from these eyes. I’ve seen you and your escort. Still chasing the cat-tail, eh? You naughty boy. Does Daddy know?
Speaking of naughty boys, there’s a new shutterbug in town who seems to have a fondness for male-tail. Is it a darkroom or a closet you’re hiding in, darling?
A personal word to a certain newspaper editor: oak is not the wood of love. Seriously, dear, you could do with a new desk.
What’s this about peep shows at that woodsy biker bar? With male performers? Note to self: must visit soon, with quarters.
That’s all for the love-fest, darlings. I’m off to my own tryst with my sexy beau. Hugs, licks and kisses, and toodles!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
“Belonging” is now on the market. For those who missed my earlier chest-thumping, “Belonging” is the story of Jeremy, a young man raised by vampires, who falls in love with a vampire, only to discover his boyfriend is carting around some really serious baggage. More serious than being undead, having fangs and drinking blood, I mean.
I never thought I’d write a vampire story. Hell, I never thought I’d be writing romance. I grew up reading SF, fantasy and comic books. I watched Star Trek religiously. Romance novels in those days centered on weepy wussettes who pined after arrogant assholes who belittled them throughout the book and then married them in the last chapter. Not what I wanted to read, and definitely not what I’d write. Write a romance? I scoff at you.
Shows what I know.
At some point in the 1980s the wussettes stopped crying, got jobs, got independent, kicked those arrogant jerks to the curb and found men worthy of them. I discovered Nora Roberts and started reading romance. I was still into SF and fantasy, though the books I’d always favored had a romantic element to them. I was writing and occasionally selling fantasy stories. Still no plans to write romance.
Enter paranormals. Suddenly the fantasies had hot parts. I could get mutants and relationships in the same book. Better still, humor, long missing from both genres, was allowed. Okay, maybe I could write this.
A market call for an anthology sparked an idea and prompted me to try my hand. They didn’t take my story. Another publisher did. All of a sudden I was a published paranormal romance writer.
Hetero only, thank you very much. Chicks and dudes exclusively. Okay, back in high school when I was writing X-Men fan fiction I made Angel gay. That was an aberration. I don’t do slash. No way.
Then another market opened up, and sparked another idea. Two guys, one woman. The guys ditch the woman and end up together. It sold. Just like that I’m a published writer of paranormal M/M romantic comedy. If my English teachers could only see me now.
Still no vampires. The market, in my opinion, had become oversaturated with the fangy fuggers. Sure, I read “Interview with the Vampire,” and drooled over Spike like everyone else with estrogen. Couldn’t get into “Moonlight,” sorry. I planned to stick to shapeshifters. What else could be said about vampires? How do you make it original? Nope. No vampires, no way, no how.
You know where this is going.
No anthology this time, just the raw idea. I look down at my screen and there’s a vampire there and I’m writing about him. Them. Two guys again. What the hell? What happened to all the women?
Okay, there’s a woman. She’s in the next one. Halfway through my vampy tale I got an idea for a sequel. A M/M/F ménage. I never thought I’d be writing a ménage, but …
The moral of the story? Never say never, I guess. My subconscious is a twisted bastard and my muse is an evil bitch. If this keeps up, I’ll be writing that M/M/M ménage idea after all, and damn the pronouns. That one has an SF setting. I haven’t abandoned my background entirely.
One little side note: My original title was “Blood Lust,” but while I was dragging my feet with the final edits Stormy Glen came out with a book with that title and I had to scramble after something else. The moral of THAT story is, stop screwing off and get back to work before all the good titles get taken. I’ll never procrastinate again. Oh, wait …
Categories: Erotic Romance, Alternative (M/M or F/F), Paranormal, Vampires/Werewolves
Word Count: 53,465
Heat Level: SIZZLING
Published By: Siren-Bookstrand, Inc.
This new release is offered at a 15% discount for four weeks.
[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Paranormal Romance, M/M, vampires]
Raised by vampires, Jeremy Teach wants nothing more than to belong to a vampire. After a slayer destroys his family, Jeremy flees to southern California and finds work as a prostitute in a brothel that caters to paranormal creatures. Here he meets and falls in love with Wallace, one of his vampire clients.
However, Wallace is harboring a deadly secret from his long-lost human past that threatens their future together. Can Jeremy learn to forgive, or is their relationship doomed?
A Siren Erotic Romance
Too soon they arrived back at Jeremy’s apartment. He climbed the steps reluctantly, Wallace at his back. What now? Stick with the brain and take things slow, or listen to his cock and go for it?
He unlocked the door and stepped inside. Wallace started to follow then slammed to a halt as if he’d run up against an invisible wall. “What?” Jeremy started before he remembered. “Oh. Right.”
“‘Right,’ he says. The big vampire expert. Private dwelling, scarecrow. I can’t come in unless you invite me.” He took a step back onto the landing and waited expectantly.
Moment of truth time. In his brief seconds of hesitation his brain reared up and reasserted itself. “If I ask you in, I won’t want you to leave. I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
Wallace took it better than expected, with a curt nod instead of a protest. “It is your night off, and I did promise no sex. Just tell me who the bastard is so I can hunt him down and rip his guts out.”
“Whatever bat it was who screwed you up this bad. I know you want me. Your pulse has been skidding all over creation tonight, but you keep fighting it. The marks don’t always show up on the skin.”
Jeremy sagged against the doorjamb. “Her,” he said, “and she didn’t screw me up. Don’t bother looking. She’s gone.”
“Her.” Wallace pressed his lips together. “I should have figured. That’s why I steer clear of women. They can fuck up a guy something fierce. Is that why you stick to males now? Oh, stop giving me the look. You can keep your little secrets. We’ll save it for the next date. There’s going to be a second date, right?”
Jeremy shook his head. “We’d better not. We’d better just keep it professional, and safe.”
“Fuck safe.” A corner of Jeremy’s jacket poked out beyond the barrier of the threshold. Wallace grabbed it and hauled Jeremy back onto the landing. He clamped his hand on the back of Jeremy’s neck and claimed Jeremy’s mouth with his own.
No desperate, beast-blind attack this time. The kiss left Jeremy floundering in something close to shock. Unused to a vamp in full control of himself, he had no idea how to respond.
“I know what your problem is.” Wallace’s mouth moved against his lips. “We’re outside the whorehouse now. Outside your little controlled environment. Out here in the real world you’re not in charge. You don’t know what’s going to happen. That’s what’s making you twitchy.” His grin brushed Jeremy’s cheek. “Too bad. I don’t want the whore. I want you, and that’s who I intend to get. Stop trying to run things. I’m driving the bus now. Relax and enjoy.”
Having little choice at the moment, Jeremy gave in. Past and future faded until only the present remained, brought into sharp focus by Wallace’s firm, full lips and the skillful probe of his powerful vampire’s tongue. Fangs scratched teasingly over Jeremy’s lower lip, the enticement of a nip that never came.
After a timeless stretch, Wallace eased away, leaving Jeremy reeling. He had to take a moment to re-orient himself in the here and now. At some point, Wallace had backed him against the doorjamb. It was the only thing holding him up, as his legs had lost most of their strength.
Wallace nodded over his handiwork, grinning like a fiend. “That’s what I like to see, you all shook up like that.” He dropped his gaze from Jeremy’s face to far lower down. His grin got even wider. “If I took you right now, right out here,” he said huskily, “would any of your neighbors object?”
“Mrs. Schneider would probably call the cops, but not till we’re done. Her TV’s broken.”
“Get her up here. We’ll have a threesome.”
“I’ll make her go easy on you.”
Jeremy happily kept his word because Wallace had kept his. From Wallace’s first touch, his naked body pressed to Jeremy’s, it was clear the vampire was in full control of himself. No mindless gropes, no frantic blood-lust fumbling. He could surrender himself without qualm to Wallace’s expertise.
Except for a vampire’s patented oral fixation.
After Jeremy turned his head away for the second time, Wallace growled and sat up. “All right, scarecrow. What did I fuck up now?”
“Nothing. I can’t help it. I swear I taste rat.”
“It’s all in your head. I downed half a bottle of Scope in there. You want me to brush my teeth again?”
“I don’t think that’ll help. Wait, I’ve got an idea. You willing to try something new?”
Wallace brightened. “The dresser?”
“No, not the dresser. God. Here. Sit up, against the headboard. Yeah, like that. Now spread your legs. Wider.”
“You like giving orders, don’t you?”
Jeremy couldn’t answer. He’d already knelt between Wallace’s thighs and taken his cock in his mouth. Wallace had a thick, heavy penis that required a bit of jaw-stretching, but not so big that Jeremy couldn’t handle it. He grinned mentally at the surprised noise Wallace made, and went to work.
His cock was so hot, almost burning. Normally sucking off a vamp was like swallowing a Popsicle. Jeremy worked his way down with deliberate slowness, savoring every torrid millimeter. He switched his attention to Wallace’s sack, and sucked expertly on his balls. If only his own tongue were as rough as a bat’s, to bring off that extra bit of tactile pleasure. Judging by the delighted sounds Wallace was making, and the hand that suddenly clenched in his hair, Jeremy figured the vamp didn’t mind.
When he had Wallace’s penis sufficiently slicked up and nicely hardened, Jeremy pulled away. Wallace voiced an incoherent protest and grabbed at him to haul him back. Instead Jeremy turned his back and started to lower himself. Wallace hissed against his shoulder as understanding caught up with him. He set his powerful hands on Jeremy’s narrow hips to guide the human onto his straining, eager cock.
Already adjusted to each other, they fit together with Jeremy settled on Wallace’s lap. Wallace filled every square inch of him. He reached around and caught Jeremy’s narrower shaft in his hand and stroked in time to the pumping of his hips.
With all his senses focused on his building release, Jeremy almost didn’t register the scrape of teeth on his sensitized skin. Wallace had gotten caught up in the moment and forgotten the no-mouth rule. He closed his teeth on Jeremy’s shoulder then nibbled and gnawed his way up to the neck, and the pulsing, tantalizing jugular.
Yes, Jeremy gasped in his head. He gripped the hand working his cock and urged it faster while he leaned into the assault on his throat. Bite me. For God’s sake, bite me. Please.
# # #
If you made it down this far, congratulations. Like the pic? Me too. In my opinion, the scariest thing on the streets is a slash fan with Photoshop.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Octavia swooped lower, allowing the last breeze to carry her closer to the building where Spirit Bear stood talking to another male. The other male's aura signature fascinated her. She'd never seen one like it. Red at the inner core with blue and white edges. Why was his outer layer cool and bland?
A sharp shriek caught her attention. A large hawk circled near the tree line adjacent to the airport. So the Yakuza sought to spy on her and learn who the power wielder she sought was.
Summoning her inner vision, she called forth one of her kindred. "Hear me my brethren. He who resembles a brother avian is not what he appears. I ask your help in chasing him from the skies. If a she appears instead, do not hesitate to chase her as well. Thank you."
Many birds, large and small, took to the air. Their calls and cries filled the sky. Soon the growing dark spot dissipated and swarmed the two hawks moving away.
Screeches and shrill replies echoed off the near by buildings. A few human pointed and watched.
Octavia landed near one of the buildings; shifting as she moved into the shadows. Replacing her feathers with acceptable apparel, she called up on her third eye to find Spirit Bear. She hoped he'd caught her message and seen the fight. He needed to hid and dowse his magic until he returned to the protection of his condo.
Spending the night with her ex promised to be different. Sex and lust filled a few hours. Sleep a few more. It was the in between that worried her. Mickey and Night Hawk would defer to Tongson since he was their tribal shaman. Octavia didn’t have to submit to his dominance. Question was would he finally acknowledge her equality and stop resisting her offers of help.
Heat rolled through her as she moved through the parking lot looking at every person who passed. Two men several rows over caught her eye as heat waves rippled off them and flooded to her. Tongson! Who was the bird with him?
Friday, February 11, 2011
If she’d not had to rescue her sister from yet another boneheaded idea she’d not have been late for her shift at Dante’s Interspecies Pleasure Club. Had she not been late, her server shift would not have been given to another and she wouldn’t have ended up locked in a glass box waiting for the patrons to pay a quarter to watch her self-pleasure.
Happy Valentine’s Day to her.
“Zeva, you have to relax, doll.” Angel’s voice came through the speaker in the corner, gum cracking and all, from the box next door. “I know it’s your first time back here, but as wound up as you are you’ll never ring the bell. Shoot, you’re liable to shift mid-lecture and you know how Dante feels about shifting shows…”
“Yeah, I got the feeling it was a big no-no.”
“Oh honey, there’s a whole ‘nother section here for that kind of peep show.”
Appropriately named, Angel was dressed as an angel of mercy. She had a short white uniform, stethoscope and a thermometer the size of a summer sausage. Rumor had it she could perform miraculous acts with that sucker. She was also the only employee who worked the glass rooms full-time. Angel had shared her love of the job while helping Zeva into her costume for the night, that of a private school teacher. It gave Angel a good feeling to know that everyone who left her room, left with a smile.
Zeva envied that kind of job contentedness. She, herself, was still looking for it.
“Oooh doll, looks like you’re about to have some company and I am pea-green over here, that’s for sure. Relax and enjoy!”
Angel’s voice cut out at the same time as Zeva’s heart sped into overdrive. Could she really do this? She was far from prudish about sex and she was happy with her own body, but she’d never done this for an audience before. Masturbation had always been something she’d done alone, with the lights dimmed low and a certain oblivious to the situation mate on her mind.
Zeva leaned against the desk, one leg out to the side and her bare ass atop the cold wood surface. With her back to the door and her eyes closed she took a deep breath. She could do this. She would just envision whoever was now opening the door and entering to be the wily wolf, who’d tortured her practically from birth.
With a ruler in hand and her teacher persona firmly in place, she waited for the sound of money to fill the box, out front. The minutes felt like hours and still the patron placed no money in the slot.
“This isn’t a free show,” she spoke with as much authority as she could muster over the flurry of nerves gripping her stomach.
“Oh, I’ve got money.”
Zeva gurgled and turned, hoping she was wrong about the owner of the deep sexy voice behind her. Please let it be anyone else. Some anonymous playboy only looking for a little Valentine’s peep, even a grizzled old, smoke voiced woman would be preferable to who really stood there…Taggert Nickolas McMahon and boy was he pissed.
“I’ve got enough money to last the rest of the night, Z. Now climb astride that desk, flash me your pretty ass and show me what you can do with a ruler, baby.”