But now a new age is dawning. Rome, with its mighty military and its new gods, thinks little of the tribes of Britain. If Finian and Eilonwy are to weather the storm, they will have to learn to work together, despite their differences. And what role will Aurelia, half-blood daughter of the governor of Corinium, play in our tale? She has seen the future through the gift of her mother's people, but will she have the strength to embrace her fate?
Old foes become new allies, and desire erupts in the most unlikely of places. Because, despite all they can do, Eilonwy, Finian, and Aurelia are all caught in the web of…The Dryad's Passion.
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
“What,” she asked, “was that?”
Finian grinned up at her like a fool, his face full of a joy that echoed her own. “Humans call it an orgasm.”
“And human women…have these…orgasms…often?”
He shrugged, seemingly embarrassed, and sat back on his heels, the movement bringing more of his magnificent body into view. She eyed it with unabashed hunger. “I think they can. I don't know if they do. The woman who…who was my first lover…taught me how to please her. I am very happy that what works for women works for dryads as well, Eilonwy.”
She was suddenly consumed by a blazing fire of jealous fury. Another woman had dared to lie with her beloved? Had she taken his seed within her? Born his child?
She forced the anger away, another thought striking her. “Can…can men have this orgasm, as well?”
A lopsided smile pulled his mouth into an attractive curve. “Oh, yes. We can.”
“And how is it done?”
He made a cautious gesture towards his shaft, which was still rising proudly from its nest of pubic hair at his groin. “With your hands. Or your mouth.” She felt her eyes widen in surprise. That in her mouth? She fought back a giggle. Of course, a few moments ago, you would never have thought Finian would put his mouth where he did. And look how pleasantly that turned out.
“Or, if you allow it,” he continued, his face as red as his hair, “I could…we could…” he stuttered to a halt.
Suddenly realizing what he was trying to say, Eilonwy lay back in the grass, letting her legs sag apart lewdly. Her eyes were drawn to his groin like a flower following the sun across the sky. His male hardness bounced in time with his heartbeat. “Inside me?” she whispered. Despite everything, she felt a tiny stab of worry. How would he…gods, how would he fit?
“Yes.” Although quiet, his voice throbbed with need.
“Then come, my love,” she said, letting go of her fear and allowing her own desire fill her voice. She held out her hands to him. “Come to me.”
Charlie Griffin had sworn to save himself for marriage. When he met hot, sexy Elena Rodriguez, he thought his prayers had been answered. But then Elena is cruelly taken away from him on their wedding night. Succumbing to despair, Charlie sinks into depression. But he hasn't counted on the willpower of one young woman. Jasmine, Elena's daughter, won't let him throw his life away. She will do anything to claim the love of "My Virgin Daddy."
~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~
Charlie was shivering with pleasure and fear. This was not what he had imagined his first time would be like. Rather than the culmination of weeks of planning after a wedding, he was being seduced by his dead wife's daughter. His eyes feasted on her incredible body, seeing for the first time what he had known unwillingly. Long, slim legs melded into a pair of subtly curved hips, the white lace of her high-cut panties emphasizing her slender waist. Above, her stomach was flat, the dimple of her navel winking at him saucily. The delicate fan of her ribs morphed irresistibly into the lovely curves of her breasts, standing out high and proud from the wall of her chest, obviously not needing the negligible support of her filmy bra.
“Thirty-six C,” she said, catching his look. “A little smaller than Mama's, but then,” she shrugged, “I haven't had any babies yet. They'll probably get a bit bigger when I do.”
“It's all right, Charlie,” she said. “Men like to know.” She stepped closer, until he could feel the heat of her body. “Would you like to go to my room?” she asked quietly.
She shook her head. “Too many memories. I know Mama never slept with you there, but...it would still feel like I was trying to take her place.
“I'm not, you know.” Her face, looking up into his, was solemn. “I know I'm not her. I'm me. But I'm a me who loves you, Charlie. And I don't want you to hurt anymore.” She shook her head. “I'm sorry. I'm screwing this up. I just...”
Greatly daring, Charlie laid his fingers across her full, kissable lips. His heart was hammering in his chest. Slowly, carefully, he enfolded his stepdaughter in his arms, until their bodies were pressed together. He could feel her soft curves against his bare chest. His arousal was an iron bar inside his slacks, pressing against her bare belly. Jasmine didn't flinch away. Instead, she made a low, growling noise deep in her throat, and her hands reached around him to grab his ass, pulling them even closer together.
Her eyes, when they met his, were shining. “Are you ready?”
“I think so.”
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
Twenty minute's work with a real shovel put the sidewalk in order, though Nate suspected the whipping wind would drift it all over again with blowing snow before sunrise. Frowning, he took a look at the driveway. Full dark had fallen and cold hard stars glittered in the ink-black sky. He shivered and pulled his cap down tighter around his ears. In weather like this it was easy to believe some of the more lurid tales from American history, where unprepared settlers had to resort to cannibalism to survive.
He re-entered the house, stamping the snow off his boots. “Miss McCormick?” he called. “Heather? I'm back.”
“In here,” her voice called. He followed it down the hallway to a door, cracked open. He tapped on it. “Come in, Nate.”
He opened the door, and stopped, staring.
She was dressed in a robe out of one of her films. No, he quickly corrected himself. She never wore anything that good in any of her films. Not the ones I saw, at least. Rather, it was a gown out of one of his fantasies. Sheer and white, it glittered in the dim light of the bedside lamp, tiny sequins throwing sparks back into his awestruck gaze. It was long, reaching down to her ankles, but the transparent, gauze-like material both hid and revealed her incredible body. He could see her shadowy curves, moving under the cloth like sunken treasure in a deep ocean.
He took a deep breath. He would not, would not, embarrass himself. “Feeling better?”
“Much better,” she smiled. She took a few steps towards him. “Thank you for watching out for me. It was stupid to go out to shovel the walk in weather like this. If I had been thinking straight, I wouldn't have tried it. And I definitely would have stopped once I realized I didn't have the right clothes or shovel to do the job. But I get so damn stubborn sometimes and can't admit I'm making a mistake.”
He felt one side of his mouth curl up in a lopsided smile. “I'm familiar with the idea. I think half the population of South Dakota is descended from people who were too dang mule-headed to realize that living here was a bad choice.”
“Hmmm,” she smiled. She took another slow step towards him. The movement left her only a foot or so away. He wanted to retreat, but his feet seemed frozen in place.
She lifted her hand and let it trace, lingeringly, over the thick sweater he was wearing. “Which leaves us with the question of how to suitably reward you, my hero.”
He swallowed. “Heather. Please. Stop it. I'm not an idiot. I know this isn't one of your films, where the randy housewife gets turned on as soon as the pizza man knocks on the door. Don't tease me this way.”
“No, it's not one of my films.” She looped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. “It's better. Should I tell you the story? A lonely woman moves to a town where she doesn't know anyone. She meets a handsome young man who helps her when he could have let her suffer the consequences of her own foolishness. When she is taking a shower, her body recovering from the ordeal, she realizes she is more aroused than she has been in years. Maybe the fact that she could have died has made her realize just how short life is, and how you should reach for happiness when you have the chance. Or maybe she's just a naturally horny woman whose desires have been unnaturally stunted over the past several years.
“Whatever the case may be, she wants you, Nate.
“Do you want me?”
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
“Um.” He swallowed. “I want to apologize. When I was upstairs yesterday, I opened the curtains because I hoped to see you naked.
“You have every right to tell my parents, or call the cops, or whatever else you think is appropriate.
“I’m sorry,” he finished. “I’m really, really sorry, and I will never do anything like that again. Not to you or to any other woman.”
After, a long moment, she blinked. “An apology. Well. Apparently you’re not a complete prick.” She paused, seemingly gathering her thoughts. “So, Jack.” Her tone was chilly. “Here’s the question. Were you spanking the monkey last night because you were seeing a naked woman? Or because I was naked?”
Jack didn’t need to think about it. “It was because of you.”
“Oh? Do you think I’m beautiful?” He thought he could see something stirring in her eyes.
“No,” he answered honestly. “I don’t think you’re beautiful.
“I think you’re hot.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Lots of women are beautiful. Or want to be. And they’re going to spend the rest of their lives trying to hold onto the way they look right now. And the older they get, the harder they’ll try. Eventually, they’ll be nothing but makeup and liposuction and dye-jobs and botox. I’ve seen it with my mother’s friends. It looks like their faces will crack if they smile.”
Jillian’s lips twitched, and that gave him the courage to go on. “But you, Mrs. Murphy. You don’t seem to care. I mean, you look good. But you don’t have to work at it. You have this grace, this natural flow about you. You remind me of a tiger. Or a leopard.”
“Not a cougar?” Damn it, there was a smile playing around one corner of her mouth. For the first time, he felt himself relax slightly.
“Maybe. You’re…you’re just sexy, Jillian. I’ve thought so for years. And I wanted to see you. All of you.”
“Hmm.” For a long moment, Jillian stared at him. She nodded once, abruptly. “All right. Apology accepted.”
He felt his knees buckle. “Oh, thank God,” he said. He turned for the door. “I’m sure you don’t want to see any more of me,” he said, realizing he was babbling, but unable to shut up. “I’ll see you later.”
He felt his shirt sleeve seized in an iron grip. “Oh, no you don’t.”
Her face was lit by some unnameable emotion. “I said I accepted your apology. I didn’t say that I was done with you.
“I. Own. You.
“So here’s how it’s going to be, Jack. You can walk out of here. And sometime in the next couple of days, your entire comfortable little world is going to come tumbling down around your ears. Maybe it’s an anonymous phone call to the cops. Maybe it’s a letter in the mailbox. Maybe I show up on your front doorstep, and walk to talk to your parents.
“So unless you do what I want, I ruin you.”
Jack could almost feel the blood draining away from his face. “So what is it? What do you want?”
Jillian stepped closer, so close he could almost feel the heat of her body. “Oh, don’t look so scared.
“Do you know,” she asked, one hand tracing patterns on his chest, “how long it's been since I've been in bed with a man who found me attractive? It has to be nearly twelve years.
“So here’s the deal, Jack. You show me exactly how hot you find me. And I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
He stared at her. "You're blackmailing me into sex?"
Gaelic Goddess - Thom Phelan inherits an incredibly sexy fertility goddess from his hated grandfather.
Holy Water - Charlie Schuler returns from war to reunite with a beautiful river spirit who has very erotic plans for him!
The Snow Maid - Bill Carter is rescued from certain death by an immortal nature spirit whose lusty sensuality stuns him!
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
“My parents think I'm strange, you know,” he told Lily. They were sitting companionably on the bank of the creek, tossing pebbles into the clear water, their feet dangling in the stream. The sweet smell of plum blossoms floated by them in the warm breeze.
“I wish you had let Maggie see you when I brought her here,” he continued, somewhat peevishly. “Or Mama. Then they would know you were real, and not an imaginary friend. Mama told me not to talk about you where anyone else could hear me.”
Lilaea ignored the subject, just as she did any she did not wish to discuss. “The turtles are out,” she said with a smile, pointing at three lumpy objects basking in the sun.
Charlie followed her as she turned, and the breeze brought the scent of her hair to his nose. He shifted uncomfortably. Over the past year he had been growing more and more aware of Lily's physical presence during their time together. In fact, it was now a rare day when he did not have to duck into the barn after spending time with her and bring himself to shuddering release.
Today Lily was wearing a dress which seemed to incorporate all the flowers of spring. Thousands of delicate petals were somehow woven together into a multi-hued pastel garment which clung to her body like a second skin. From his vantage point beside her, he could peek down the open neckline and see the swells of her breasts.
She turned back towards him, her eyes wicked, and he flushed crimson.
“What were you looking at, naughty little boy?”
“I'm not little anymore,” he said, stung by her tone. “I'm taller than you are now.” Indeed, that had been a day to savor last autumn, when he finally passed her in height.
Lily flipped a hand dismissively. “All little boys are the same. They all want what they can't have.”
Hardly daring to breathe, Charlie reached out his hand and took hers, their fingers entwining. “I'm not like other boys,” he said.
She turned her head and looked deep into his eyes. He sank into them, feeling as if he were drowning. She cupped his cheeks in her tan hands, the cool skin a balm on his hot face.
“No, you're not." Soft as a whisper, her lips brushed his cheek, making him burn.
~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~
The angel sighed, shaking her head. “I cannot understand.” She raised her eyes to meet Althea's. “I do not fault you. A child is not responsible for her birth. But what your father did, taking a human wife and siring children on her. I cannot comprehend defying God's will in such a fashion.”
“Can you not?” Althea cocked her head curiously. “It's not that strange, you know. Lilith, my mother, had been cast out of the Garden for having the audacity to not submit to Adam's rule. And my father had been thrown out of heaven for daring to question God's will.
“Was it any surprise that when they met, they each found a kindred spirit in the other? And I am sure it made their love all the sweeter.”
“The danger.” She set Lillian down in the stroller. The sleeping infant gave an inelegant burp, and nestled down in her bed of blankets. Under the pretense of feeding John, she slipped the other strap of her dress off her shoulder, not bothering to raise the first. Now naked to the waist, she took her son from Doriel's arms. She sighed contentedly as her son's mouth closed around her nipple and her milk began to flow.
“Someone is going to see you,” Doriel observed. Her voice was low, but her eyes were wide at her shameless display.
“No one will notice who I don't want to notice. I am a succubus. I have more than enough power to hide us from prying eyes.” Little John was not very hungry. After only a minute or two of nursing, he turned his head away from her breast. She extended her thought into his mind, already going drowsy. He was well-content, warm and loved and with a full belly. She set him down beside his sister, hiding a smile. The two were always happier when they were close; a situation Althea was sure would continue into their adulthoods.
“You cannot know what it is like, Doriel. When you are doing something you know is forbidden. The rush of excitement throughout your body.” She set a hand on the angel's thigh, feeling the slow burn of heat begin in her middle. Did she dare? Could she dare? She leaned close, catching her eyes with her own. She did not try to use her powers. Only the most basic one of all. Her own beauty.
“It rushes through you, making an activity which is pleasant into an ecstatic one. When I am bedding Yasna, or Alex, or Maria, or best of all, some combination of them, along with my other wives and husbands, I know there are thousands, millions of humans who would disapprove. Who would condemn our love as unnatural or evil.”
The hem of the dress had ridden high as she spoke, gathered in her grasping fingers. She pushed it even higher, exposing the lovely lines of Doriel's thighs. Her skin was softer and smoother than silk. “Father told me what sex was like, among the angels,” she whispered. “Almost an art of its own. But is there passion? Is there true desire? Is there the sense of spitting in the face of death itself, knowing our days are numbered, and each crumb of happiness we seize is a candle lit in defiance of the darkness?”
Doriel shook her head. Althea could feel her trembling. “No. There is not.”
God, she was soaking. She was as wet as she had ever been for Rachel, or Maria, or Yasna. Or her wonderful husbands, for so she considered them in her own mind. She knelt in front of the angel, parting her thighs. “Let me show you,” she said, pulling down a fragrant wisp of underwear.
“Let me show you.”
How will Owen adjust? Will he embrace his destiny as a god's chosen vessel? Or will he deny the pleasures of the flesh which are waiting for him on…Satyrday Night?
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
Isabel took a sip of wine, her eyes bright. This was how things were meant to be. Owen beside her as her friend. Soon to be in her bed as her lover.
“Oh!” Owen said, brightening. “It looks like Anaya and I might be going out sometime soon.”
“Really?” Isabel asked. She had to close her eyes briefly as a tide of jealousy surged through her, bitter as gall. How dare she try to steal my Owen away from me! She smiled at him, hiding her pain. “How did that happen?”
Owen laughed. “God only knows. We were talking in the office this morning and something just...clicked...between us.” He opened his mouth as if to continue, but dropped his head, blushing as he took another bite of food.
Below the table, a knuckle cracked as she clenched her fist. She raised her shaking hand and took another sip of wine.
Filthy tramp! I know what she did. She pulled down her shirt and flashed her Indian tits at him and he couldn't help himself.
He's mine, damn it. Mine!
She took a last bite of rice, then reached for a piece of bread, sopping up the the juice on her plate.
Two can play your game, Anaya. Without even thinking, she pulled the straps of her dress down, letting the top half of her garment fall to her waist...
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
Phoebe sighed. “Owen, sometimes humans really are most remarkably dense.
“Did you really think you could accept the gifts you have been given, go on with your life, and not have to give something in return? For everything there is a price.”
“And what price will I have to pay?” Owen asked tensely.
“Why, belief, dear child. Faith. Eventually, possibly, priesthood. Fortunately,” she said, the smile in her voice clear, “the laws of your nation are amazingly lax. You can set yourself up as a priest of Bacchus and the only thing that will happen is that people will look at you a bit strangely.
“Some of the women you...serve...will be drawn to you. And your new faith. Anaya. Isabel. Samara. Or Wendy, for example. There's a lusty piece of ass. I wish I had known her when I was male. She would be a perfect choice to help lead your new temple. She could draw in converts by the dozen. Male and female both.”
Owen's temper, already frayed, abruptly snapped. “This is ridiculous!” he shouted. “I am not a priest. I am not going to start a church worshiping some long-gone Greek god. I am not going to have a herd of horny women around me who worship Bacchus and bring in converts.”
Phoebe's voice grew cold. “You don't want it, boy? Fine. Take off the bracelet. Throw it away. Throw it all away. Go back to your tedious, soul-sucking job. Beg for hours as a delivery boy, scrape for tips. Live one step up from poverty, if you can.
“Get your precious diploma. Find a job. Marry a woman with goals as small and petty as your own. Accept mediocrity. Deny the possibility of beauty and power and passion.
“And for the rest of your life, you'll always wonder.
Calvin Smith had an ordinary life as a country vet. But the half-dead wolf he rescued turned to be a beautiful woman. Now, with their mutual attraction increasing, will they be able to reclaim Laura's place in the pack?
Dive into a world where fantasy meets reality. Where the world you know meets the world of what might be. Wolf-shifters, ranchers, veterinarians, and the ordinary people of Larkspur, Wyoming form a tantalizing backdrop for a work of fantasy erotica. Laura and Calvin's journey will thrill you as they learn what it is to truly love.
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
After showering, Laura lay in her bed, her thoughts a whirlwind.
She turned over on the narrow mattress. She ached, with an intensity which was almost painful, to be out in the wild, stalking the nightlife, hunting for a meal.
Suddenly her nostrils flared, catching a familiar scent. Familiar, but at the same time, wholly unexpected. The scent of an aroused male.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the tempting aroma, but it seeped into her mind, elusive and seductive all at once.
She swung her legs out of bed. A drink of water. That's what I need.
She walked down the hall to the kitchen, keeping her eyes away from the door to Calvin's room. She almost staggered as she passed, the scent so strong it took all her control to keep herself from flinging it open.
She pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and leaned back against the door, drinking thirstily. It had been too long since she'd had a man. During her last weeks with the pack, Graham had been too worried to make love often.
I bet Cal wouldn't be like that. He's only twenty-seven. He could be my lover for decades.
She sank to the floor, suddenly tempted to burst into tears. Why does God hate me so much? I didn't ask for any of this. Every time I have a tiny slice of happiness it gets taken away from me.
Her fists clenched, and it took all of her self-control to stay in human form. She wanted nothing more than to shift and to run. Run up into the mountains and kill something small and helpless to fill the emptiness inside her.
Instead she capped the bottle of water and shoved it back in the fridge, and trudged back towards her room. But as she passed Cal's room for the second time, her dark-accustomed eyes caught a glimpse of movement. Her head turned, and she stopped, motionless.
Oh, my God. He's beautiful.
Eyes closed in silent reverie, he lay on his bed, nude, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight. He seemed to shine silver, as if captured moonlight was gleaming through his flesh. One hand was clasped around his rigid shaft, slowly stroking. The other hand held a small wad of tissue, and even through the sudden jolt of lust, she couldn't help but give a tender smile.
Her voice, when she heard it, startled even her. “You're driving me crazy, you know.”
She slowly stalked into the room, letting him see her body. Her breasts swayed slightly with her sensual strut. “Do you think you could jack off and not have me realize what you were doing?” She bent over the bed. She whispered, “Who were you thinking of, Cal? Some bimbo on TV?”
His throat worked as he swallowed. “It was you,” he whispered. “You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life. I can't...I can't stop thinking about you.”
She let her lips curve in a slow smile and set her hand on the inside of Calvin's thigh. Inch by inch, it crept up until her palm was pressing against his scrotum. Calvin eyed her nervously, and she knew what he was thinking. Had his declaration touched her? Or had it insulted her to the point where she would crush his testes in her hands?
“Thinking of me, were you?” She let her voice fill with quiet menace.
“Quiet. You're playing a dangerous game, Calvin Smith. And you don't even know the rules.” She let her hand slide up his length. Oh, it was lovely. “Did you know,” she went on conversationally, her hand now stroking him, “that wolves mate for life?”