Showing posts with label Erotic Excerpt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Erotic Excerpt. Show all posts

Thursday, August 25, 2011

RED HOT PARTY by Cheryl Dragon

RED HOT PARTY by Cheryl Dragon

Book 3 In The Lucky Springs Series

Being secretly in love with your brother’s boyfriend's sister is problematic enough…but when Hamilton Meriwether is caught at a sex party by that same beautiful woman, he's got some explaining to do.

Lolly Martinez grew up sheltered, but being an EMT and working with the brave firemen of Lucky Springs gets her away from her overprotective family. Wanting Ham was nothing new, but suddenly, she has a chance to act on all her fantasies with him and a couple other volunteers Lolly thought were just friends who haunted her naughty dreams. The three hot firemen want her body tied to the fire pole and a lot more. But deep feelings and family pressure complicate the fun for the quad. Risking their lives for each other has always been part of the jobs, but now it's their hearts on the line and that might be the most dangerous situation of all.

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Excerpt:

Hamilton Meriwether loved a good party. Tonight’s was shaping up nicely as far as turnout. The sex was underway, and all he lacked were a few people from the firehouse to complete the experience. While the men were into the hot fun of watching, being watched or sharing, the woman Hamilton wanted was the one he couldn’t have.

As Ham gently spanked an eager waitress from the local diner who was between boyfriends, he looked over at his brother Monty and Alex, Monty’s boyfriend. Alex was the main reason Ham held back. The woman Ham loved was Alex’s baby sister. Saying Alex was protective was like saying southern Louisiana was wet.

“Fuck me!” the girl demanded.

Her ass was nice and pink, and Ham felt the rush of need. Sharing a woman was in the family, his other brother Dominic and his fiancée, Cassie, moved to join Monty and Alex. Ham had been part of it, and still could be, but something had changed. Ham had made it clear he needed his own group, and they understood. Cassie wasn’t into the slightly rough play Ham was. Three men were enough for her. Ham wanted to have a bit of the contentment he saw in that quad. The players for his dream were picked, but the moment hadn’t arrived.

As he slid a condom on and filled the pretty blonde waitress, he closed his eyes. She’d never be Lolly. No one would. He grew more and more restless waiting, but this helped. Talking himself out of his dream girl wasn’t hard. Lolly deserved love, but she’d grown up in a traditional Hispanic family. She might run at what Ham wanted. Alex would freak out. Ham could screw up what he had.

These monthly parties kept him going—playing with women who liked his skills and watching men. But something had to change. He had to figure out a way to make it happen. The moans of his sexual partner were loud and appreciative. Ham’s body reacted as her pussy convulsed. He came and kissed her shoulder.

“Spank me harder,” she said.

“Honey, you don’t want me. You need some dominant master for that kink. I just play.” He eased from her as shouts went up from the back porch. Ham smelled smoke and ran to the scene.

The next-door neighbor had seen the smoke, and the fire department was already there. Ham saw Bruce and Shane using a common extinguisher to put out a candle that had been knocked over.

“No open flames, people. If you can’t follow the rules, you can’t party here. You could’ve taken out the house!” As fire chief, Ham took his job seriously. Lucky Springs was a small town in the middle of Louisiana, but it was his home. They had a small force plus volunteers, but damn it, he’d keep people safe.

The ambulance rolling up made him freeze. He prayed in a way he was never meant to while naked with a condom on his body. His grandmother would be ashamed. And his prayers failed. Lolly Martinez hopped out of the ambulance, and the two guys in fire gear gave Ham a look of sympathy. Bruce had a hopeful glimmer in his eye.

Ham looked for anything to cover up with and grabbed a clean towel. There was nothing to be ashamed of on his dark black body, but Lolly had a crucifix hanging around her neck. Her expression was wide-eyed shock. Beautiful and tall, Lolly had light beige skin and dark almond eyes that she lined. Her plum lipstick never faded, and that long black hair was thick enough to get lost in. Her curves were lush and her body tight. He bet she wore a ten. So sexy in uniform! Ham fought the arousal she triggered in him.

Her eyes were stuck on her big brother, Alex, for the minute.

“I can explain, Lol. Just go back to work. We’re good here. I’ll call you.” Alex stood behind his boyfriend.

“You were just in her.” Lolly pointed to Cassie.

Ham saw this getting ugly fast. The secret ruined, the parties exposed, and all because of a candle. He had to get a grip on it. “Lolly, no one is hurt. Go back to the station and wait for me.”

Instead, she moved in closer and looked at him. “You, too? What hell is going on here?”

“Language,” Alex said.

Ham shot Alex a look. “Really? Now?”

“Lolly it’s not what you think. I’ll explain when I get to the station. Just go. You might get another call. This isn’t where you’re need. You guys, too. Get the truck back to the station.” Ham dropped the towel and pointed back to town.

The men went without argument, but Lolly stood there frozen like a statue. She was looking at him. Ham wasn’t used to her disobeying, and he focused on that thought rather than wondering if she liked what she saw. If he thought about sex with her now, he’d get hard and Alex would lose it.

He was the boss in a small town that only had one main fire truck and one modern ambulance. They didn’t need to be hanging here watching a peep show. “Lolly, I said get back to the station. That’s an order.”

Blinking, she nodded. “Never took an order from a naked boss before. Have fun.” She looked around the room one more time and turned.

The emergency vehicles pulled away, and the chatter started.

“Hold on, hold on,” Ham shouted. “We’re fine. They work for me. Those two guys have been guests here before. No one will say anything. I promise the parties will be safe. Maybe, we should call it a night. Reminder, no open flames. You want romantic candlelight, do it at your house.”

The crowd broke up, and Dominic calmed fears as they left. The core family wasn’t any calmer than the guests.

“We know the guys. What about Lolly?” Cassie said. “I should go talk to her.”

“No, very much not you.” Alex pointed a finger. “It’s my fault she’s upset. Seeing her brother here. Like this. I need to talk to her.”

Monty laughed. “That’s a good idea. Explain to her why you were in a group thing. That’s a conversation you want to have with your sister.”

“Lolly looks up to me. She supported me more than anyone when I came out.” Alex sat with an expression of disgust on his face. “I never wanted her to know about this.”

Ham knew that all too well. “She never found out working with me. It’s too late now. And she’s not a baby, Alex. Lolly is a grown woman who should have the same rights and freedoms as you do. Maybe, she’d deal with it better if you treat her like an adult.”

“She’s the good one. The little angel of the family. I’ve got to protect her.” Alex sighed.

“From sex? It’s not a crime.” Cassie rolled her eyes. “Ham’s right. You’re going overboard trying to shelter her. I agree that she might not want to watch her brother screw his boyfriend or boyfriend’s brother’s girlfriend. But does she have a love life? She’s not a nun. Lolly is a gorgeous girl, and I’ll bet you scare off good men.”

“Don’t you dare talk to her about this. She couldn’t handle a group thing. I’ll go.” Alex stood and looked for his clothes.

Monty hugged his lover. “I really think you should let Ham handle this. Okay, he knows her. She trusts him, and they have to work together. You and she can pretend it never happened. We both know that’s what you want. Forget it.”

Alex nodded slowly and looked up at Ham. “You tell her I’m sorry she saw that. I love Monty, and we’re good. Okay?”

“Yeah, it’s cool. She’ll get over the shock. The other guys have been here so she’s probably finding out it’s not such a big deal from them. She’s a great person; she won’t rat out the parties to anyone. Consenting adults have a right to do what they want.” Ham stopped talking before he made it worse. “I’ll get dressed and head over now.”

“Thanks.” Monty gave his brother a pat on the shoulder then kissed Alex’s forehead. “Stop thinking about it.”

“I can’t,” Alex said.

“I can make you stop,” Monty teased.

Ham finally got upstairs and out of earshot. He knew the sex would continue. Low libido was not a problem in their family. Finally, Ham had gotten lucky in Lucky Springs, the girl he wanted now knew the truth. No more hiding and he was on a mission all his own. Lolly might be stunned, but she knew now. Ham had to smooth it over and ease her into things. Alex wouldn’t like it, but the world had handed Ham an opening and he wouldn’t waste it.

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Wednesday, August 17, 2011

HARDCORE COWBOYS by Stacey Espino

HARDCORE COWBOYS by Stacey Espino

Ride 'em Hard Book 1

Samantha has one week off work to explore the country, not expecting a snow storm to nearly take her life. She never anticipates finding love and salvation in the hands of the three Carson brothers. Her cowboy saviors have no problem sharing, pulling her deeper into their world of erotic pleasures each day she remains on their ranch.

Wyatt and his twin brothers, Cord and Val, need inspiration in the worst way. When Samantha comes into their lives, she gives them a purpose, and fulfills all their desires. There's no way they can let her return to the city. But can they convince the independent brunette to let them take care of her - forever?

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ADULT EXCERPT

“Now lie on your back and reach your arms above your head.”

Samantha complied, the cool coverlet chilling her back, making her nipples pebble. Cord knew what he was doing, tying her wrists in gentle but firm knots before securing them to the headboard. Yes. This was exactly what she craved—to be dominated by her cowboys.

The bed dipped as Val sat on the opposite side. She turned her head to see Cord’s mirror image staring back at her with a naughty smirk. He held up a pink rubber toy, no doubt the butt plug Wyatt warned her about.

“Thought you’d like the color.” Val winked and then applied lube over the rounded tip. “Shift to your side, darlin’.”

She twisted awkwardly with her arms stretched and secured above her head. Cord held one of her cheeks apart as Val pressed the cool, moist end of the toy against her ass. Her breathing picked up, not knowing what to expect. She dare not ask questions and break the rules, not when she was desperate for an orgasm. Many orgasms.

Val twisted the butt plug into her ass with slow, consistent pressure. Wyatt was still standing at the end of the bed watching. His muscled shoulders were so broad. She wanted to grab hold while he fucked her raw. The dark lust in his eyes promised hours of depraved pleasure.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Val kissed her shoulder blade. “That’ll prepare you for later.” He playfully slapped her butt before slipping off the bed. She rolled to her back, cringing when the plug shifted inside her.

“I’ve dreamed of these tits.” Cord leaned over and sucked her breast into his warm, hot mouth. It felt like heaven. Her stomach rumbled and he heard, pulling free from her breast. “Hungry?” He frowned and jerked his head to his twin.

Val returned with some of the food from the buffet. Cord held her head up slightly, and Val slipped sweet, plump blueberries into her mouth, one at a time. The act of feeding her was sensual, loving, erotic.

“Not too much. You’ll get a stomachache once we start fucking you,” said Cord.

Wyatt passed him something out of her sight, and then Cord trailed a brush down her center from her neck, between her breasts, down her stomach, all the way to her clit. She could smell the deep, rich scent of chocolate. He twirled the brush around her clit, teasing her hypersensitive bud. When he brought a chocolate-covered thumb to her mouth, she eagerly sucked on it, savoring the flavor and the illicit act.

“What’s your favorite thing besides that old mare of yours, Cord?” asked Val.

He narrowed his hypnotizing blue eyes at her like a wild animal about to strike, his thumb still between her lips. “Chocolate.”

How would she ever survive the night? Cord started at her neck, licking and sucking, hitting every hypersensitive nerve on his descent to her breasts. But he never tended to her aching nipples, only slid his firm tongue down her center, following the trail of melted chocolate. She squealed when he passed her stomach, the tickly sensation making her squirm, but she stifled the sound as soon as it escaped her lips. Immediately, she turned to Wyatt, still rooted in place. Was that a scowl or was she just paranoid?

She knew where Cord was heading next. Her cunt burned and ached, and they’d only just begun. She wanted to be filled but knew they’d only deny her if she spoke up and asked for what she needed. When his tongue met her clit, she bolted upright, arching into his face. Her body had a mind of its own, her nerves and tense muscles controlling the woman.

“She’s ripe,” said Val as Cord continued to eat her pussy.

She tugged on her binds, desperate for a respite from his wicked tongue, but he didn’t even give her time to catch her breath. The exquisite torture continued on and on and on, as if he wanted her to submit, wanted her to break the rules.

“No more!” she cried. As soon as she closed her mouth, her eyes darted to Wyatt. He had a smirk on his previously stoic face, and he left the room briefly before returning. Uh-oh. “You set me up, Cordell Carson!”

He rose to his knees and licked his thick lips, glistening from her natural juices. With his golden tan, his blue eyes were so much more dominant on his face, his hair naturally highlighted with new blond streaks. So handsome. So tempting. And she had an identical copy of him for her enjoyment, and Wyatt. “Someone had to get the party started.”

“Roll her over.” That smooth, deep voice rolled straight down her body, settling between her legs. Wyatt held something in his hand, but before she could get a good look, Cord flipped her to her stomach. “Naughty, naughty, Samantha. Whatever should I do with you?”

Spank me.

“You ran away from us, but you’re never going to do that again, are you?”

She shook her head, not sure if she was allowed to answer or not.

“That’s right, you won’t. And for all the suffering you put me through, you’ll be punished.” Wyatt held up his choice weapon—a leather-covered paddle. She could see the excitement glittering in his eyes. What she really wanted was his big, strong hand, like last time.

“Put us through,” Cord added. They all wanted to punish her?

She braced for the impact of the tool on her rear, but she was surprised to get a gentle hand warming circles over her skin instead. When the hand moved, the paddle came down. Something about the sound of the contact, the fleshy, solid impact was exquisite to her ears. The vibration traveled straight to her already stimulated clit. The sequence continued, harder, a mix of pain and pleasure—nothing she couldn’t handle, nothing she didn’t want.

When Val kissed her cheek, he gave her a warning. “Get ready, sweetheart. I doubt you’ll be able to keep quiet for long with this turned on.” He flicked something on the butt plug, and it began to vibrate. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. The sheer intensity drove her mad.

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Tuesday, August 16, 2011

HOLDING ON TO HEAVEN by Keta Diablo


When the blazing fires of revolt ravage the countryside, Lauren and Sage McCain are trapped amid the flames of destiny. The Civil War has crumbled a Nation, and the Dakota Sioux uprising has turned southern Minnesota into a violent battlefield.

Holding on to Heaven is a story of love between two men and a woman, love between siblings, and love that crosses all boundaries and forges all cultures.

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Excerpt:

Set-up: Ah, the romance and strong attraction begin. Creed and Lauren race against one another. Here's their thoughts before the horse race and the events that happen during it.


* * *

Through the pounding heartbeat in Lauren’s ears she realized she wanted him, wanted him like she’d never wanted another. Damn, had she lost her mind? The man reeked danger and abandon, would take her body in the blink of an eye and, no... it wouldn’t be in the blink of an eye. It would be wild and crazy and passionate, all the things she’d yearned for, craved, in the dark solace of her dreams. Lord, how she wished she’d never laid eyes on the decadent man.

Brand’s calm voice pulled her from her tumultuous thoughts. “Time for that race, Lauren.” He rose and offered her his arm. “I’m placing my money on you.”

“I wouldn’t advise that.”

“You can beat Creed. Concentrate, and no matter how much you want to see if he’s about to run you over, don’t look back.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek and nodded. “It’s going to take a miracle to win, isn’t it?”

“Miracles happen every day.” He brought his fingers to her face and brushed her cheek. “Ride like you rode against me today and you have a chance.”



* * * *



An indefinable feeling snaked through Creed’s gut when Brand walked forward with Lauren. Anna pressed her voluptuous breasts into Creed's side and wished him luck, but he scarcely heard her words. Tired of Anna’s continual demands of late, the time had come for them to go separate ways. He’d known Anna for years, but only in the last several months had he succumbed to her fleshy curves. The woman had tried every wile known to female to rein him in, and all had failed. Although warm and eager, Anna had never held his interest for more than an hour or two. He realized now no woman had ever intrigued him like Lauren McCain.

He had tried to ignore the jolt of lust rushing through his veins when she watched him during the meal. It had taken all his reserve to act detached while she sat beside his brother flashing her cat-like eyes. He didn’t like the feelings she aroused in him. They left him sullen and edgy. Jesus, what in hell was wrong with him? He barely knew the she-cat with a tongue sharper than barbs.

Now, with every step she took toward him, the blood rushed to his groin. He wasn’t prepared for the vision she presented, the snug riding pants and filmy blouse. A dark brown ribbon held her hair at her nape and tumbled down her back in a veil of burnished copper. The color of those silky tresses reminded him of autumn leaves. Her eyes were brown and slanted up at the corners. Above them, her brows were perfect and articulated her mood with an arch or a downward slant. How had he missed that nuance when he committed to memory the other lovely features of her face?

Tall for a woman and thinner than smoke, he longed to run his hands down the small of her back, her perfect bottom and . . . hell, he had to stop thinking about fucking her all the time. He meant to beat her in the race, and beat her he would. Smiling to himself, he savored the thought of what it would be like to take her down a notch from her lofty perch. Only then would that smirk be wiped from her face—the I’m-better-than-you-sneer she loved to flaunt.

“Miss McCain, I hope you haven’t gorged yourself.” Inwardly, Creed smiled when color stained her cheeks. “I’d hate to see your mount weighted down for the final race.”

“Don’t worry about Adobe or me.” She spat the words and mounted. “We’re more than ready to leave you in our dust.”

The gold flecks in her eyes sparked. For a brief moment he forgot about the crowd and longed to yank her from the saddle and introduce her back to the dust she spoke of.

“To your success.” Creed raised his tankard of ale, downed it and set it on the ground near his feet. He spoke to Mason as he swung a leg over the saddle, his words confident and bold. “Let’s be about it then.”

The crowd broke into rowdy whistles and then fell silent at Mason’s words. “On the count of three. One...two...three!”

The horses bolted at the retort of the pistol. Adobe and Creed’s black mare ran neck and neck to the opposite end of the field. Thick clumps of sod flew through the air from Adobe’s hooves as he sailed over the bundles in perfect sync with Creed’s mount. He dragged his gaze from her expert riding skills and concentrated on the race.

Someone obviously had warned her not to look over her shoulder. She rode low, close to the stallion’s mane her lush body one with the horse. The very air enveloping them groaned with a competitive edge he’d never felt before. The spitfire intended to beat him at any cost.

Although fleet of foot, his mare lacked size against the stallion. When they reached the bales at the far end of the field, his time had come to overtake her. Her stallion navigated the crazy-eight with ease, and so did the mare. His moment was at hand. As the mounts crossed over and headed for opposite sides, she dug her heels into Adobe’s side and drove him into the mare’s withers. His horse stumbled to her stifles, her frightened whinnies echoing through the air. Lauren pressed on without as much as a backward glance.

The mare found her footing and like her rider, rage spurned her onward. She made up for the precious lost seconds the reckless stunt had cost them, but not enough to charge over the finish line before the stallion.

The crowd went wild as the riders swept past them in a swirling haze of dust. Damn, the cheating bitch had won. Halting near the corral, Lauren dismounted and bolted from her mount.

Creed dogged her heels, so close, he saw her knees quake. “You cheated!” He advanced and poked an accusatory finger into her chest. “You could have killed me with that crazy stunt you pulled!”

She backed away, visibly shaken. “Whatever are you talking about? You lost, fair and square.”

He screamed so loud, she jumped. “Liar!”

“Your clumsy mount lost her footing and plowed into Adobe!” Their gazes locked, and in that infinitesimal moment, he lost pace with his breathing. “You, Creed Gatlin,” she said her voice quavering. “Were bested by a mere woman so live with it.”

“You’re no woman.” He didn’t know if he wanted to ring her slender neck or toss her to the ground and slam into her until she admitted that she cheated. “You’re a spoiled little bitch!”

An audible gasp fell from her lips, brown eyes narrowed.

“You could never beat me fair and square and you know it.” He struggled to control his emotions. She’d beaten him in the race, albeit by cheating, but why did he sense she was beating him again now?

Her bottom lip trembled and he became aware of her childlike vulnerability, and his potent desire for her. The cutting remarks, the bold, confident persona were nothing more than a façade on her part. Her nearness sent his senses reeling―the scent of woman, horse and leather adding to the roaring chaos in his head. She stumbled on the words she tried to speak and tears filled her eyes.

“Leave, now,” he said. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

She raised her dainty chin and held his eyes for an eternity. Then her long lashes swept down across her cheeks before she bustled past him in a cloud of dust.

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Friday, August 5, 2011

ANNA DOUBLES DOWN by Missy Martine

ANNA DOUBLES DOWN by Missy Martine

Anna can't believe how much the woman in the picture looks like her. They could be twins, except the picture was taken in 1871. Either she's a relative, or Anna had a past life in Hamilton, Nevada. Either way, the temptation to visit the old ghost town is too much. She and her friend Kat travel west.

While off exploring on her own, Anna is knocked unconscious when she falls down the steps in the saloon. She can hardly believe her eyes when she wakes.

Beau and Zeke won the Silver Rush Saloon in a poker game and have been partners and secret lovers for over ten years. They don't know what to make of the woman they found half-dressed in their cellar. She claims to know something terrible that's about to happen to their town and needs their help.

Will Anna be able to win their love and trust before it's too late?

*5 STARS - The Romance Studio   *4.5 STARS - Manic Readers

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Story Excerpt:

Anna waited in silence for a moment and then heard footsteps coming closer. “Down here,” she screamed. Suddenly, a sound had her head turning toward the right. Above her, to the left, an opening appeared where a strange, amber glow illuminated a man. “Holy shit!”

Blinking her eyes to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating, Anna stared at the vision above her. A half-dressed man was staring down at her. An old wick lantern in his hand highlighted a hard, sinewy body with broad shoulders and a worried frown on his long-jawed face. His bare chest gleamed in the lamplight, his belly flat with an intriguing bulge in the front of his pants. He took a couple of steps down, and another tall, lanky man appeared in the shadows behind him.

“Who the hell are you and how’d you get in here?”

The man holding the lantern spoke harshly, his hand gripped into a fist at his side. Realizing she was alone, with two half-dressed men, Anna felt her lips tremble, her mouth going dry as she took a couple of steps backward. She felt frozen, her heart racing, the sound of her heartbeat roaring in her ears.

“Darlin’, it’s all right. You don’t have to be afraid of us.” The shadowy man’s voice came from the darkness as blackness closed in around Anna.

* * *

Zeke blinked and then swallowed hard at the sight before him. He’d never seen anything like her. She didn’t appear to be very tall, and she was barely dressed. It looked like she wore some newfangled female undergarments he’d never seen before. Short drawers that barely came down to her knees and some kind of skimpy chemise that left her belly button showing were all that covered her. Where the hell were her clothes?

The light wasn’t good enough to see much, but if he lived to be a hundred, he’d never forget the wild, doe-eyed look in her eyes as she stared up at him in stark terror as she backed away. He took another step down, wanting more than anything to calm her, and froze in horror as her pupils rolled back in her head and she swayed to the side in a dead faint.

“Damn it to hell!” Zeke put the kerosene lamp on the step and rushed down to the fallen woman.

“Is she alive?” Beau asked as he picked up the lamp coming down the steps.

“Yeah, she just fainted.” Zeke easily plucked the small woman from the floor and caught his breath. Her clothing didn’t hide much, and she was a buxom woman.

“Is she naked?”

Zeke grinned, looking over his shoulder at Beau. “Damn near.” He looked back at the skimpy material covering the woman’s breasts. “There’s something written on her chemise.”

“Bring her closer so I can see.” Beau moved to the bottom of the steps. He held the lamp close to the woman’s chest and stared at the words across her bosoms. “Nurses do it with care.” He looked up at Zeke. “What the devil does that mean?”

Zeke shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me.” He glanced down at his bundle. “What am I supposed to do with her now?”

“For crying out loud, Zeke. What do you think you’re supposed to do? Carry her upstairs and put her in the bed.” Beau started up the stairs holding the lamp so Zeke could see the steps.

“Why don’t we just call Bart to come get her?” He ran his cheek along her soft hair as he climbed the steps. “She’s bound to be one of his girls.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I saw the fear on her face right before she passed out. We’re not turning any woman over to a man she’s afraid of. There had to be some reason that made her hide out in our cellar.”

Zeke continued on in silence until he laid her out on the feather bed in his partner’s room. Beau lit a second lamp and brought it in to set on the dresser. With the added light they could both see the treasure they’d unearthed. Soft, shoulder-length hair the color of ripe raspberries in the field draped across the white muslin sheets. Her creamy skin was the color of eggshells with just a touch of sunburn across her nose.

“What’s this on her feet?” Beau had lifted one of her legs and was staring at some type of mangled shoe on her foot. “What do you suppose happened to her shoes?” His hand caressed her leg briefly. “Hell, she’s as smooth as a baby’s butt.”

Zeke looked closer at her shoes and frowned. They were brown leather with straps across the top of her foot and behind her heel with only a thin piece of something soft underneath to walk on.

“Damn, look at that!”

“What?” Zeke peered closer.

“She’s got some kind of paint or something on her toes.”

Zeke focused in on her feet and saw a light pink covering on her toenails. “I never seen nothing like it.”

“She’s got it on her fingers, too.” Beau held up one of her hands for his inspection.

“What the hell kind of belt is that?” Zeke looked at the leather around her waist more closely. “Hell, it’s stretchy on the sides but it ain’t holding nothing up. It’s not threaded through any loops.” He poked the large pouch on the front. “It looks like some kind of wallet on here.”

“Kat?”

Both men jumped back when the woman began awakening. She groaned harshly and tried to roll over.

“Hang on, little darlin’. Don’t be moving too fast.” Beau put a hand on her arm.

Adult Excerpt:

Work-roughened palms with long, tapering fingers roughly untied the rope at her waist and yanked the loose pants down her thighs. She groaned and let her fingers slide through Zeke’s hair when he nuzzled her mound over the satiny cloth of her thong. “Darlin’, you’ve got some of the strangest drawers I’ve ever seen. There’s practically nothing to ’em.” He ran his thumb over the silky nub of her panties eliciting a soft gasp from her lips.

Beau pulled her hand away, forcing her arms back as he unfastened and pulled off her shirt. She became pliant as he kissed every inch of the skin he exposed, his hand sliding down her back to rest on the swell of her ass. She could feel him tugging on the elastic of her thong. “I wanna see you, Anna.”

“Yeah, me too.” Zeke slid the tiny scrap of material down her legs letting his fingers run through her feminine curls. “You’re so silky here.”

“Let me see.” Beau’s hand snaked around her hip, his fingers skimming over her pussy lips. “Damn, she’s sopping wet.”

Zeke reached between her legs to brush a fingertip across the hood of her throbbing clit. “I can’t wait any longer, Beau.” He dropped to his knees and rubbed her swollen clit with his thumb. Leaning close, he replaced his hand with his mouth and ran his tongue up the slit of her wet pussy.

“No!” Anna cried out when Beau pulled her away from the fiery pleasure of Zeke’s mouth.

“Patience, Anna. We just need to get a little more comfortable.” He scooped her into his arms and tossed her onto the bed. Now we can all get down to business.”

Anna watched the two men quickly strip off their clothes. Their chiseled, work-roughened features causing the breath to catch in her throat. Both men sported impressive erections, and both were already leaking pre-cum. She swallowed hard. “What about protection?”

Beau gave her a wink as he climbed onto the bed. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll make sure to pull out in time. We won’t be leaving you with a babe.”

Anna forced herself to concentrate as Zeke snuggled close on her other side. “No, that’s not what I mean. You can’t get me pregnant, at least not right now.”

Zeke placed a hand on her chin and forced her gaze up to his. “I’m so sorry, Anna. You can’t have children?”

“No, I mean yes, I probably can. I just wouldn’t be able to get pregnant for a few months. I just had my Depo shot before we left on vacation.” She sighed at the puzzled frowns on their faces. “It’s an injection the doctor gives me a few times a year that keeps me from getting pregnant. That way I get to decide when I want to have a baby.”

“Guess we don’t have to ask if you’ve been with a man before.” Beau smoothed the hair away from her face.

“Well, yes, I’ve had a couple of relationships with men.” She watched their faces carefully. “Does that make a difference?”

“Absolutely not!”

“No, honey, not at all.”

Anna giggled. “I’m glad it doesn’t bother you.”

“If you can’t conceive a child, then why were you asking about protection?” Zeke moved over and settled between her spread thighs.

His warm breath on her stomach made it difficult for Anna to voice her thoughts. “I meant condoms, you know, for disease.” She took a deep breath. “Not that I’m sick or anything, I mean I’m clean and I’m sure you are, too, but it always pays to be careful.” She could feel herself flushing as she rambled on.

“What are you—”

“I know what she’s talking about.” Beau ran his hand through Zeke’s hair. “I read about ’em. Some kind of little coverings men could use to catch their seed so they didn’t spill into their woman’s body.”

“I never heard of such a thing.” Zeke leaned close and blew gently on her spread pussy. “As far as I know there’s nothing like that around here.”

Anna groaned and closed her eyes as she brushed her hand along the bristly roughness of his unshaven beard. She could feel the muffled heat of his breath flicker across her abdomen. “I guess it’ll have to be okay then.” She lost the ability to talk when Zeke stroked her clit with his thumb, his fingers working their way inside her. She began to pant as he rubbed gentle circles around the tiny nub.

“You’re so beautiful.” Beau kissed her eyelids softly, his hand caressing across the skin of her chest. His lips roamed over to her earlobe and then down the side of her neck while his fingers teased the sensitive tip of her breast, making maddeningly slow circles around the peak. He pinched and kneaded each nipple in turn before lifting her breast in his hand. He circled her nipple with his tongue just before he sucked it deep inside his mouth.

“Spread your legs wider,” Zeke ordered. He settled his upper body even lower between her spread thighs and licked her from bottom to top. “God, you taste like sweet honey.” He laved her most intimate places with his hot tongue, stroking down her slit and back up, swirling around her pulsing clit.

Anna groaned harshly when Beau’s thumb circled her nipple, torturing it into a hard bud before sucking it deep into his mouth. She couldn’t stop a moan from escaping when she felt the sharp nip of his teeth on her tender flesh.

Zeke opened her folds with his fingers and began to lick her clit in earnest while he penetrated her sheath with his fingers. He plucked and teased her swollen nub, slipping his thick index finger in and out before tracing her cleft again.

“Oh, God,” she cried out, her hips bucking off the mattress as an orgasm washed through her senses.

Zeke threw a hand across her abdomen, holding her still as he lapped and sucked until the last wave of pleasure receded.

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Saturday, July 16, 2011

DECADENT DECEPTIONS by Keta Diablo

DECADENT DECEPTIONS by Keta Diablo

*Molly Contest Finalist*

Desperate to win Morgan’s love, Olivia Breedlove embarks on a reckless folly. But everything backfires when Morgan remains one step ahead of her and the game ventures down a path of duplicity and murder.

A decade ago, Morgan was a heartbeat away from taking Olivia’s virginity. Her father, Thaddeus, intervened and threatened to meet him over pistols if he so much as looked at his daughter again. But now, Thaddeus is dead and Morgan has no intention of ignoring the ravenous hunger he’s harbored for the blasted woman for ten years.

One way or the other, he will quench this burning desire and make her his forever.

Special Content Alert: Voyeurism

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Excerpt:

Morgan had been so lost in thought he almost failed to see Olivia ducking into the mercantile across the street in town. Almost. Silently he thanked his lucky stars. He intended to have a drink prior to calling on Madame Rousseau, but now that fate had intervened and placed the Goddess of his breath in his path, he altered course. Pushing the door open amid a melodic chiming of bells, he searched for her down every aisle. Finally he found her among the bolts of fabric, her brow creased, her selective eyes glancing between the terra-cotta and its sibling cinnamon.

“Why don’t you purchase both?” he said from over her shoulder.

She turned and looked at him, her searching gaze a mixture of surprise, and dare he think, subtle delight?

“Morgan, what-whatever are you doing here?”

“I desired a drink and intended to follow it up with a visit to Immortelles.”

“Immortelles?” Her eyes widened and a blush rose in her cheeks. “You frequent the establishment in the middle of the afternoon?”

“Under a blue moon, in the afternoon, whenever the fancy strikes.”

“You’re incorrigible,” she said, her eyes sparking.

“You misunderstand me. I mean only to observe, not partake.”

Giving him the direct cut, she placed the fabrics back onto the shelf and said, “Good day to you, then.”

Denying her a chance to bolt, he grabbed her elbow, ushered her to the back of the store and backed her into a wall. With his hands at the sides of her head, palms flat against the hard surface, he said, “Join me.”

Bewilderment masked her features. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Don’t look at me like that. You know you’re itching to return.”

A stillness fell over her.

“Why not with me?” It wasn’t easy to torment her while she looked at him with those green-spoked eyes, but he wanted to be near her, had an overwhelming urge to watch firsthand her sudden interest in carnal lust. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid,” he said..

His words effectuated the desired response. Her spine stiffened and her chin swept up. “You’re the one who should be afraid,” she said. “Especially since you can’t control, shall we say, a certain growing interest whenever a woman falls into your lap.”

Clearly a taunt, he wanted to toss her onto the floor, take her like a common camp follower and show her she’d also been affected when he pulled her onto his lap. Realizing such action would put an immediate halt to his pending suggestion, he gathered his wits.

Catching her chin in the firm grip of his hand, he pressed on. “Yes or no, do you have the courage?”

“You’re mad.” A half-laugh left her kissable lips. “People will see us; it’s broad daylight.”

“No, they won’t.” He pointed to the back door. “That leads to the alleyway, and one block away is another back door to the brothel. I assure you, not a soul will notice us slip out of here and arrive there.” She glanced around the room. “I double-dare you,” he said with emphasis.

“You’re certain no one will know?”

He crossed his heart, and without waiting for her to change her mind, led her through the back door and into the alleyway.

Arriving at Immortelles within minutes, he ushered her through the door and down the hall to a room. It had all happened so quickly, he had a hard time reconciling his plans were to speak with Madame first. Instead, he found himself about to enter a peep room with the woman who made his blood clot.

“Don’t tell me.” She paused at the door, her voice dripping sarcasm. “You have a standing appointment to voyeur? You walk into the brothel in the middle of the afternoon and go directly to a peep room?”

“I told you, I planned to call on Madame today, sent a missive this morning.” He pushed the door open. “It has all been prearranged.”

"You prearranged it?”

With a nod, he pointed to the chairs, about to offer a lame answer when she said, “How convenient, two peepholes.”

“Some adore having company while they engage in voyeurism.”

“I’m not one of them.” Her eyes narrowed. “In fact, I find it crass.”

“Pretend I’m not here.”

“How am to accomplish that with the holes mere inches apart?” She looked at the seating arrangement.

“And the chairs on top of one another?”

“Sit,” he said calmly, directing her into the plush cushion.

She shot him a lethal glare and he slumped into the chair, delighted with the layout. He eased himself down beside her with a smile―shoulder-to-shoulder, thigh-to-thigh. Perfect.

“Must you be breathing down my neck?” she asked, the familiar scent of tea roses and jasmine wafting over him.

“I can hardly enjoy the performance from the mezzanine.”

Morgan didn’t have time to answer before the door to the room opened and a man entered, a man he’d never seen before. Hundreds passed through the brothel monthly, in addition to the regulars. If women thought this particular John handsome, he was . . . in a rugged way. The rough-hewn features, textured skin and dark, wavy hair that fell unruly about the collar of his shirt lacked refinement. He cut a fine figure, however, with his wide shoulders and trim waist. Beneath the trousers, Morgan imagined strong, well-muscled legs.

From the corner of his eye, he studied Olivia, and, time cussed the betraying blood pumping to his shaft. That’s all it took, one look at her face or exquisite profile―the upturned nose, high cheekbones, long lashes and rose-petal lips―and the cursed member between his legs saluted the ceiling. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. How in hell could he watch a man and a woman make love and not imagine—wish with all his heart—it was him and Liv?

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Sunday, June 26, 2011

BOARD RESOLUTION by Joey W. Hill

BOARD RESOLUTION by Joey W. Hill

Savannah was groomed from birth to take the reins of her father’s manufacturing empire. Her emotional armor is as tough as the steel used in her factories, and nobody is allowed past it.

Business partner Matt realizes that the key to entry is to command her submission. Calling on the unique sensual talents of his four-man management team, he engineers an aggressive and erotic takeover, determined to rescue the woman he loves from the steel cage she’s manufactured around her heart.

Masked and lost to the sensations the team arouses in her, Savannah is theirs, at least for this one night.

Publisher’s Note: Originally published in the Behind the Mask anthology.

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By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: BOARD RESOLUTION

Copyright © JOEY W. HILL, 2005

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One



Savannah put down her briefcase in the immaculate powder room of Kensington & Associates and straightened before the mirror. When meeting with piranhas, it was important to look appetizing but not attainable. She wanted the hunger to be there, but restrained, her opponents recognizing the attractive armor for what it was. A mask for a predator as scary as themselves.

A necessary step when the piranhas were Matthew Lord Kensington and his management team, and the subject of the meeting had yet to be disclosed. He’d simply issued an invitation to discuss a business opportunity over drinks at his office on Friday night. Knowing Matt, that meant glasses of water evenly spaced around the formal conference room table.

She checked her makeup, the arrangement of her streaked blonde hair, the smooth fit of her mid-thigh skirt and the blazer over it. While her father hadn’t believed in using blatant sex to close a deal, he’d had no problem with strategically using the arsenal one had at hand, and that included one’s looks or charm. She had been blessed with an abundance of the former and he’d encouraged her to use it, though always sparingly.

Geoffrey Tennyson’s Rule Twelve: People keep class and elegance around them. Trash gets thrown away after it serves its purpose. The lace of her bra was faintly visible through her white silk blouse if one looked hard enough, and she’d enjoy seeing Matt strain his eyes.

Their negotiations had always been cordial and lucrative, but she’d seen the flare in his gaze when he thought he’d pressed an advantage on her, the tightening of his sensual lips when she’d proved him wrong. She knew he loved it, how they sparred at a table and never could come away claiming anything other than a mutual victory. He craved that, she suspected, hungered to take something from her she wasn’t willing to give. It made things flutter inside her to play the game, to fence and win a draw. Often she went home aching for something nameless, something she was afraid was the desire for him to outsmart her just once, to make her surrender.

If she was totally honest, her interactions with Matt were as close to having sex as she ever got.

Savannah shook herself out of the odd direction of her thoughts, and was appalled to find the crotch of her panties damp. Appalled, but not surprised. He might be surprised though, if he knew how often she’d curled into a fetal ball between her expensive sheets, her thighs squeezed together as she thought of that hard body between her legs, pounding into her, his hands clamped on her wrists, mouth ravaging her neck.

Perhaps it was the time of night making her think this way. A meeting at eight in the evening on a Friday turned her mind to frivolous thoughts, though she didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if she’d be doing frivolous things. While she might have planned an outing with a carefully chosen escort to a gallery showing or movie premiere, that would have been to further the interests of Tennyson Industries. Otherwise, she’d have been home, reviewing the upcoming week’s schedule and analyzing her recent decisions for flaws or holes.

Another of the twelve rules her father had drilled into her to guide every action and reaction. They’d been posted on her bedroom wall like the Ten Commandments, ever since she was old enough to read. Tennyson Rule Eight: A good captain never stops going over every inch of the ship. Every once in a long while she might give herself a Friday night off to watch a movie she’d rented. She’d view it from the couch in her father’s study…her study, now that he was gone.

This might have been such a night. It had been a hard week and she was feeling a bit…well, the armor was a little thin.

Even her disciplined soul wasn’t immune to the flood of anticipation that infused this Friday night with the sense of possibilities. The whole weekend stretched ahead like an adventure.

Mardi Gras had happened this week, and this corporate tower was still feeling the powerful vibrations from the celebration as much as the streets of New Orleans. Several strands of colorful beads and a feathered mask were placed as decoration on the vanity counter. It always bemused her why her father chose to keep their corporate headquarters here, versus New York or Chicago, but whenever she asked, he’d only said that New Orleans was a place where anything was possible. He’d met her mother here, and she suspected the truth was to be found in that. She had died shortly after Savannah was born, of a virulent cancer that had been discovered while she was pregnant. Refusing treatment to protect her unborn child, Portia Tennyson had died nearly six months after the birth of her daughter. She left Savannah a locket containing a curl of her hair and a tiny folded piece of paper, with the scent of lavender and a short message.

You were worth it.

Her father had never liked her wearing the necklace, so until his death she kept it in her bedside table.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Yes, a wise captain would have chosen tonight to stay on the ship, fight the battle Monday when there were fewer titillating portents in the air. The wild desires and dreams that Mardi Gras madness stirred up like a fairy dust storm could impair her judgment seriously. Especially with this particular man.

Regardless, she’d accepted the invitation and chosen to come alone. She always negotiated with Matt and his Intimidation Team by herself, as if underscoring that she had no fear of any of them. Having spent most of her teen years apprenticing in Tennyson’s corporate and manufacturing offices, she had no apprehensions about discussing any aspect of the business on her own. She’d been accepted a year early to a prestigious Ivy League school, finished the coursework and passed the bar a year before her classmates. Serving the four subsequent years as a trial lawyer with a ruthlessly aggressive Washington firm her father had chosen had seasoned her enough to serve as his CFO. She’d had five years at his side in that capacity before he’d died, leaving her a relatively young but extremely capable CEO of a Fortune 500 company whose wealth and power was based in the male-dominated world of steel manufacturing.

Plus, if the desolate truth was known, she’d become attached to working with Matt’s team on their many mutual interests. She wanted to keep them to herself. As though she’d adopted them as her family. Or not so much like a family as something more, something even stranger.

She choked on a laugh. She was definitely off her game tonight. Maybe Matt knew that Friday night, when the empty weekend yawned before her, was her most vulnerable time. The bastard seemed to know everything else. Their buildings, corporate high-rises, were just across the street from one another, and she wouldn’t put it past him to have planted spies in her ranks.

Well, it was her challenge to show him he wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. Then she could fill her weekend with victorious gloating.

Savannah gave herself one last appraising look. The jacket of the pale tan suit followed the shallow curve of her back, nipping in at the waist to flare out in two layers, like a modest bustle of an old-fashioned Victorian dress. The snug linen skirt revealed a teasing picture of the back of her thigh with the slit in back. Modest and professional, even to the faint whiff of perfume, the outfit was perfectly appropriate for a woman to be wearing after five in the evening. She’d left her hair clipped up on her head, but had loosened a few tendrils, giving her a softer look. She wanted to tease.

“Boys, you’re goners,” she decided, but she knew there was only one man who mattered.

She clipped down the hall in her slender heels, the echo loud in the quiet building. Other evidence of the festivities that had occurred earlier in the week caught her attention as she passed open office doors. Sparkling beads hanging on doorknobs or left across a desktop. The inexpensive plastic masks.

The security guard had indicated they were waiting for her on the top floor. When she rounded the corner and saw the conference room door open, she had to suppress a smile. While there were no water glasses on the table, a crystal pitcher and a tray of tumblers were within easy reach on a side credenza.

Then her attention flickered to the man sitting at the head of the table, and her amusement was swept away by something entirely different.

Matt Kensington was a powerful man on Wall Street, even from the distance of New Orleans. But what made him even more potent was that he was a physically dominating man. Over six feet tall, he had dark eyes, raven hair and a swarthy Italian complexion provided by his mother. However, his father’s Texas roots ensured he had none of the prettiness of Italian men that could suggest weakness. Just all of their sexual charisma.

Her blood hammered harder in her arteries when she saw he was alone, not flanked by his usual four-man management team. Though, regardless of who was in attendance, Matt always overwhelmed a room with his presence. Or maybe he just overwhelmed her.

Tennyson’s Rule Two: Always be brutally honest with yourself. Otherwise, you won’t know the difference between the truth and a lie from anyone else.

Every detail of Matt spoke of power and discipline. From his charcoal gray suit that fit his broad shoulders to perfection, to the white line of his cuffs and the gleam of his Yale class ring. Even his manicured nails in no way diminished the capable strength evident in those hands. His bent knee, visible over the edge of the table, hinted he had his foot braced on a leg of the table so he could lean his chair back. The pose was casual. Disarmingly so. She couldn’t help it that her gaze strayed over the column of his thigh.

He rose as he always did, an act of Southern courtesy she’d teased him about with appropriate feminist acidity. He did it for all women, but somehow the way he did it for her, with his gaze locked on hers as he rose, always set butterflies in her stomach into a tailspin. He didn’t smile, those firm lips and aristocratic nose an inspiration for a sculptor trying to depict a warrior king.

It was an apt comparison. The elegance of the board room was a façade. Strip it away, make it the walls of a tent, then prop armor, shields and swords against the wall, and its nature would not change. It was the domain of a conqueror, and every time she came here, she felt it. His desire to claim, control, invade. He’d managed the last, for he’d captivated her mind, but she could accept that.

Tennyson Rule Three: Accept your weaknesses and, if you can’t fix them, compensate for them.

Cleopatra had been no different. She always knew she walked the knife edge between holding the reins and being the spoils of war. Savannah surmised that the Egyptian monarch had kept to the upper side of the knife by being queen first and woman second. If she’d ever forgotten that, had let her woman’s desires completely take her over, her allure to a man of power like Marc Anthony and Caesar would have been fleeting, a piece of candy consumed and forgotten.

Savannah ignored the twist of pain and fatigue such a thought gave her. An emotional reaction, and one she wouldn’t indulge. Men like Matt sought the powerful woman, but a woman wanted a man with whom she could be just a woman occasionally. The problem was that Savannah only wanted a man like Matt. The chicken and egg dilemma of human nature.

She gave a mental shrug, set her briefcase on the table. “Where are your child prodigies, Matthew?”

His wunderkind, they were called. Lucas. Jon. Ben. Peter. The young, hungry men who supported him in the world of manufacturing, now a very dynamic area since technology changed the production playing field almost on a daily basis. They were all attractive twenty- and thirty-somethings who worked hard in the office and played hard in the gym. She wondered if, like a wolf pack, they showered and slept together, and was instantly amused and aroused by the visuals conjured by the thought.

Yes, Savannah, you’re definitely in a strange mood tonight.

Matt had yet to speak, and there was something in his eyes. Something similar to what she’d recognized there before. But tonight it was more direct. Unleashed. For a despicably weak moment, she was glad the length of the table was between them.

Okay, Savannah, enough daydreaming. Time to get a grip or he is going to eat you alive.

And that was entirely the wrong thought, because it summoned a flood of images so powerful they shuddered through her body. She closed her hands on the briefcase to cover the reaction, as if it were a shield she could use against his overpowering attraction.

“You call me Matthew just to irritate me.”

“Would you prefer Mr. Kensington? Or perhaps Lord Kensington?” She added the last in a saccharine tone.

It was a standing joke in the corporate circles, the use of his middle name, bandied about equally as an admiring quip or a bitter insult.

He did not laugh. In fact, he seemed to consider the notion, then his gaze centered on her in a way it had never done before. Perusing her in detail, his attention moved from her face to her throat, pausing over the frantically beating pulse, before continuing down to her breasts, the indentation of her waist, the flare of her hip, just visible to the right of the briefcase. She suppressed the urge to shift out of view.

“If you like,” he said at last. His grin was quick and unexpected. Feral. Pure sex. And it made her focus flounder in a wash of heat. “But I think I prefer Master, or my lord, if you’re using it.”

She blinked. “I’m sure you would.”

“While we’re on the subject, your name is an interesting one.” He seated his hip on an edge of the table. The way he was looking at her across the dimly lit room made her feel the table was not that much of a barrier after all, and that the protection of her briefcase was laughable at best.

“It doesn’t suggest a hard-edged business woman, someone able to shrivel a man’s testicles with a glance, though I have seen you do that. Almost as often as I’ve seen you arouse my men with the simple scent of your perfume, or a glimpse of those killer legs. Particularly when you lean back and cross them so modestly, and you show just the hint of the lace top of your stocking before it’s gone, like a mirage to a man dying of thirst.”

Savannah stayed stock-still, her fingers gripping the handle of her case. “Are you making a point, Matthew, or have you lost your mind?”

“We’re discussing names, I believe, and my point is that a name very much reflects who a person is, deep inside. Savannah suggests a soft, giving woman. When I look at you, Savannah…” He paused, lingering over the name, making a flush rise on her neck. “…I see you waking up in my bed, the cotton sheets caught between your calves, that soft, luscious body molded by a satin sheath with spaghetti straps. One of those straps is falling off the shoulder, so your breast is almost completely exposed, though just not quite. And when I come to you, touch you, make you smile, all that fine, beautiful hair is rumpled and framing your face…”

His gaze flickered over the loosened tendrils that she suddenly wished she had not drawn free of her usually impeccable twist.

She pulled the briefcase off the table, a jerk of motion so he wouldn’t see that her hand was shaking. Men did not affect her that way. “I don’t know what this is, Matthew, but it’s not a business meeting. I’m leaving.”

“Sit. Down.”

The snap of his voice caused her to jump, which made her angry, frosted her voice. “I beg your pardon?”

He straightened off the table, one lithe, quick movement, but his steps toward her were measured, the intent but slow paces of a wolf stalking prey. Or in his case, a shark, those dark glittering eyes promising no mercy.

“You heard me. Sit your pretty ass down, now, or I’ll wear it out so you can’t sit for a week.”

Shock gripped her, both at the words and at the serious intent in his eyes, which told her he very likely meant the astounding thing he had just said. She should be giving him a disdainful look, turning and making her exit, but she couldn’t make her feet move. As if his words were a lightning bolt that had immobilized her in a crackle of powerful current that charged her entire body, all the cells vibrated with apprehension and something else, something rising in her, responding to him and his ridiculous words.

He took another step toward her. Then another. “You drive a man to distraction. Not just the sneaky bit of leg, but that drape of neckline revealing a tiny cup of lace just barely holding your breast in when you lean forward to make a point. The way you touch your hair just behind your ear, lightly, or moisten your lips when you talk.”

“Stop it,” she whispered. “Stop.”

But he didn’t. Not his forward movement or his words. “That’s the thing. You’re teasing my men, but you’re challenging me. From the first moment we met, you’ve known you were mine. Every negotiation has been a dare, a taunt. You want me to prove I’ve got what it takes to make you submit, claim what’s been mine all along.”

Why was her pulse pounding like she was hearing a terrible truth instead of the ravings of a lunatic?

“You’re a tough nut to crack, aren’t you, little girl?” He was almost around the table, and still she couldn’t move. His footfalls were silent, hushed in the carpet.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, that’s right.” He nodded, dark brows drawing down like the shadow of a hawk’s wings. “You’re not a little girl. You’ve never been a little girl. Groomed from birth to take the reins of your father’s empire. Daddy’s closer all your adult life, and then you stepped right into his shoes when he died. You’ve never allowed yourself to be vulnerable, never allowed yourself to be a woman, never daring to risk it. You’ve become so good at it you don’t even know you have a warm, wet, soft pussy, aching for a cock. My cock.

“Tell me, little girl. What would you do right now if I turned you over my knee and gave you a spanking?”

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DEMON'S KISS by Marie Treanor

DEMON'S KISS by Marie Treanor


Charlotte's been good too long. Now only a demon will satisfy her.

Charlotte is a reformed bad girl, who releases her inner demons through art. But her talent and her disastrous decision to marry a "good" man have attracted powerful interference. When her painting comes to life and her own sexy demon invites her into the orgy she created on canvas, she realizes she can't deny her identity or her desires any longer.

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This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.


Charlotte slammed her front door. She hurled her bag across the narrow hall and threw her jacket on top of the heap before striding through the tiny flat like a caged animal.

Trying to break up with someone who believed you were too stupid to know your own mind was infuriating. The old familiar demons were bursting out. She wanted to scream with rage and frustration, smash things, slap James' smug, patronizing face. She wanted to drink to excess and party the night away.

The very idea opened the floodgates of lust. Oh yes, sleazy party before screwing some hot stranger senseless.

Charlotte kicked the kitchen doorframe hard enough to chip the paint and grabbed the kettle, banging it on the counter to check for enough water, then smacking the switch to on.

No, she wouldn't let James do that to her. She wasn't going back there. But the truth was, it didn't matter how good a man James was, she wasn't sure enough of her own feelings anymore. She couldn't marry him.

Charlotte grabbed up her coffee, feeling it slop over her hand, but she ignored the pain as she marched out of the kitchen-living room and across to her small, cluttered bedroom. The painting took up most of one wall and it was ugly, if less disturbing, with its back to the room. Charlotte set down her coffee and turned the canvas around. Tonight, she needed desperately to paint the demons away. It didn't matter that she'd almost run out of canvas, she'd just keep painting over it.

She dragged the old wooden stool to her with one foot and reached for her brushes. She dived straight for the deep, sinful scarlet, lifted her red-dripping brush, and paused as she gazed upon her vision of hell. It was no inferno of agony and suffering; it was, simply, an orgy of pleasure.

In bright, vivid colors, she'd painted food that made your mouth water, goblets decorated with handsome little devils, full of rich, dark red wine. Naked bodies entwined in dance or sex littered the floor and the walls of her hell. Some wore the vacant smiles of chemical or alcohol-induced ecstasy, others expressions of fevered lust or sensual, cat-like satisfaction. One, bending over his tied lover, held a raised whip. A few were eating and drinking off the bodies of others. Many were joined in a tangle of limbs and mouths.

Charlotte couldn't help admiring what she'd done. She'd brought a vital, detailed vision to life, and boy did it provoke a reaction. As usual, she let herself gaze last on the central figure, like a reward.

Tall and splendid in his nakedness, he stood almost in the center of the picture, accepting as his due the besotted, beautiful women who clung to his legs. His luminous dark eyes gazed outward at Charlotte, his black, sloping eyebrows raised, his parted lips revealing the beginnings of a smile -- in all, an expression of such intense, knowing lust on his handsome face that Charlotte's long-celibate body responded in spite of herself. From his totally bald head, down his broad muscled shoulders and chest to his lean, suggestive hips and long, strong thighs, he was the personification of her own sexual need.

Her lust-demon.

His erection, mouth-wateringly long and proud, was thrust forward between the avid gazes of the kneeling women who caressed his thighs. Charlotte had begun painting him as James, to ease the need that couldn't be assuaged, and so he was white and handsome. The James she wanted him to be, all muscle and power and desire for her, only for her. But that wasn't really James and over the weeks, her lust-demon had changed. She no longer even thought of him as James, just the personification of her own wicked, long-denied desires.

He was all her demons rolled into one. Uncontrolled hedonism, sexuality, beauty. She wanted it all. And he was almost perfect.

She shifted on her stool as the wetness of desire flooded between her legs. Familiar heat spread outward, churning her, tingling every nerve. When she slowly lowered the red brush and reached instead for the white flesh-tones she'd already mixed, her pebbled nipples brushed achingly against the fabric of her shirt.

"Oh yes, you're mine," she whispered. "All mine. And I can make you do whatever I want..."

Awareness thrummed through her as she worked -- awareness that her own picture should not be the most powerful lust-object in her life; awareness of her own body as much as that of the demon she'd created. She admired the graceful flexibility of her slender wrist as she worked the brush; she gloried in every wriggle, every sensual movement of her hot, wicked body and the excited tingling of her pussy.

When she'd finished to her satisfaction, she stood up to admire her work, and smiled. Now it was perfect. Her beautiful, sexy demon wasn't just looking at her. He was reaching out for her, commanding her.

She gazed straight into his warm, knowing eyes, letting them heat her further. It was as close to sex as she was likely to get now she'd dumped James before the wedding. But she could imagine. Slowly, she cleaned her hands on the rag from the table and let it drop to the floor. She thought back to her wild student days, giving life and reality to the orgy she'd created on the canvas.

But she'd never had a lover like her beautiful demon. Or at least, if she had, she couldn't remember him. And one would remember him. He had strong features -- those sloping eyebrows, a long, thin nose, broad yet fine cheekbones and full, sensual lips that made her ache to feel them on her mouth, her skin... everywhere.

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Friday, June 17, 2011

PIRATES by Nobilis Reed

PIRATES by Nobilis Reed
The Orgone Chronicles continues...

After their adventures in SCOUTS [Book One of The Orgone Chronicles, and 2011 EPIC eBook Award Finalist] - Challers and Valka are safe, protected aboard the Pirate city-ship known as "Port." The scars of their ordeal among the Scouts remain, however.

Valka is stuck with a hyper-fertile Ovor body, and the only way for them to raise enough money to change her back, is for them to join the Worthies-reality-TV celebrities who are always on camera. In an environment where loyalty is dismissed and betrayal is rewarded, their love suffers its greatest test yet.

Meanwhile, on Stakroya Station, their classmate Renedy wrestles with a budding sexuality that does not fit the station's rigid mold. An intimate night with the man who has been chosen for her does not go well at all. Instead she finds herself attracted to another woman; a relationship the Station can never condone.

Through it all, the sinister eyes of the Scouts see all. Freedom, for all involved, must be won again and again.

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Chapter One



Challers, Port



VALKA PANTED, her body hot with fever and soaked with sweat, while I knelt at her feet. According to what I had been able to learn, the proper vessel in which to receive an Ovor egg as it was laid was a shallow ceramic bowl. There was a stack of them next to me, enough for the seven eggs Valka was expecting. I was as ready as I could be.

Only, it wasn’t going well. Over the past week, Valka had developed a fever, and when she started feeling contractions, she sent a panicked call to my cubicle.

I had crossed the hall to her pod without even bothering to put on clothes. I couldn’t believe how bad she looked. Didn’t the doctors care what was happening? They were supposed to be taking care of her, vack them all! And now the eggs were coming.

“Portcon! We need medical attention here!” I screamed.

The floating holographic head that represented the interface to Port’s main computer system said simply, “Medical assistance is en route, Ward Challers Dizen. Estimate four minutes until arrival.”

Valka gave another grunt, pushing words past her teeth. “Too late.”

I saw a dark mass pushing out of her body, squeezing through. I held my hands up and took it in my hands as Valka’s muscles expelled it.

The thing smelled terrible. None of the recordings I had found mentioned that. I swallowed to keep the bile where it belonged and set the egg in a bowl with a white cloth over it. The next one wouldn’t be long.

“Medical team has arrived,” said Portcon. “Opening pod access.”

The door opened, revealing a middle-aged woman wearing a greenish coverall. “Come on out, make room for us.”

“She’s having her eggs now!” I shouted. “Someone has to stay with her!”

“They’ll be fine,” said the medic. “Come on out.”

I hustled to the door, and watched as the medic took my place. Another one squeezed in alongside Valka’s reclining chair. The second one took out an injector and put it to the inside of her elbow. Valka’s breathing immediately became less ragged, and she relaxed back down onto the chair. I could hear a wet squelch as another egg was born. My stomach took another tumble.

The smell only got worse. I knew something was wrong when the medics frowned and shook their heads.

“What?” I cried. “What’s wrong?”

“Ward, you’ll need to either keep quiet or go back to your pod.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay.”

The medics worked in near silence, occasionally exchanging a word or two of medical jargon that I couldn’t understand. Finally, they piled all of the eggs into one bowl and began packing up their gear. Valka was still and quiet, her only movement was the slight rise and fall of her blanket as she breathed.

“Is she going to be all right?”

“She’ll recover. Nasty infection she got there.”

“And the eggs?” I didn’t want to care about those eggs. They were a legacy of the Scouts and the forced breeding program they had imposed on Valka. But Valka cared about them. No matter how it had happened that she was bearing them, they were hers, and she had been looking forward to this day ever since we had arrived at Port. She cared about them, so I did too.

“Dead,” said one of the medics. “That’s what gave her the infection.”

“Dead? But how?”

“You two are the new kids—ex-Scouts, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You get in any fights while you were escaping?”

“Yeah. There was some fighting when we left.”

“Use the jump drive?”

“A few times.”

“Hyperwarp and jump drives aren’t the cleanest forms of propulsion. No good for developing eggs. That’s probably what did it.”

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to be glad that Valka wouldn’t be burdened with seven eggs to tend, but I knew that learning what had happened would devastate her. Finally, I just asked, “How long will she be asleep?”

“The drug will keep her out for four hours or so. After that, she’ll sleep naturally. You should probably get some too. Do you need a tranquilizer?”

“No, I’ll be okay.” I stumbled across the hall, through my door, and collapsed onto my chair. With the adrenaline of the evening starting to burn off, I was bone-tired. “Portcon?”

“Yes, Ward Challers Dizen?”

“Wake me up if Valka Parl wakes up, please.”

“I will do that, Ward Challers Dizen.”

I pulled the thin sheet over my body and tried to let the blackness of sleep wash over me. One thought kept intruding, however. How would I tell Valka? What would she say? I tried to comfort myself with the knowledge that whatever happened, I would be there for her. It didn’t feel like enough.

Nothing was going right. We had all expected something to change when we reached Port. We had expected there to be a tremendous outrage that innocent human lives were being used as power sources for the new weapon system being used by the Scouts, the one we were calling “egg missiles.”

Robert had tried to get the word out, convince people that something had to be done, but it seemed like everyone was convinced that it either didn’t matter, that the Scouts were despicable for a dozen other things anyway, or that we were lying to try to stir up trouble. Robert said it was a credibility problem; he had been away for too long, and nobody remembered him. The rest of us were complete unknowns.





VALKA’S RECOVERY took a long time. By the end of the second day, she was alert and awake again, though not really strong enough to come out of her pod. She was well looked after, with medical monitors installed in her pod and daily checkups by human medical staff. I looked in on her often, but when she was resting, I went back to my pod.

My interest in history, which I had gained during my studies at the Academy, became a need during those days of waiting. It was the only way I could distract myself. There were many, many things the Scouts had never told us, things the Pirates knew and were more than willing to share. I spent hours scanning the archives, sorting through events I had never even heard of in school, and it was better than fretting about things I couldn’t control.

One thing that particularly caught my attention was the true origin of the Scouts. During the Great Diaspora, after the discovery of orgone and faster-than-light travel, mankind’s government fragmented into a thousand individual colonies. Nobody had the strength to hold all of the colonies in one entity. There was a constant, low-level conflict throughout this era.

According to my studies at the Academy, the Scout Service appeared at this time as a force that sought to quell the constant fighting with diplomacy and trade. The records I found here, however, told a different story. One group, known as the Incorporates, started conquering systems one after another. They had mastered a technology for direct interface between brain and computer that allowed them much greater control over their warships. Not only that, they were able to command absolute loyalty from those they conquered by means of this interface. Whole populations were reduced to blissful, mindless slavery.

Once the rest of the galaxy learned what the Incorporates were doing, the reaction was immediate. The horror of it shocked them into action. Resources were marshaled, technologies were shared, and great warfleets were dispatched to erase the Incorporates from the galaxy. It was in this conflict that the Scouts, Fleet, and Merchants were founded.

When the war was over, the leaders of the three services decided to remain in power. They said it was to preserve galactic peace, but of course, it also preserved the “emergency powers” they’d been given in the war.

After fifteen days, Valka had gained strength to wake me with a kiss on the lips. I smiled. “Good morning. Feeling better?”

“Yeah.” Her face was bright, but there was an edge of darkness to it.

“I guess you know what happened to the eggs,” I said.

“I asked Portcon.”

“I would have told you, you know.”

“I know, but…I guess I didn’t see the need to involve you. I’m sorry. I should have let you tell me.”

I sat up and put my arms around her. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

When I let go, Valka’s features had taken a hard edge. “Seven more crimes the Scouts are responsible for,” she said.

“I have a feeling they’re not going to worry.” I sat up and hung my feet off the side of the chair to make room for her. “Portcon? Breakfast, please. The usual?”

“Oatmeal with fruit is available, Ward Challers Dizen.”

Valka hopped up on the chair and snuggled up next to me. She caught my eye as I stared down at her. “What?” she asked.

“I guess I’m not used to seeing you without that belly. It seems strange.”

She smoothed her coverall over her stomach, frowning. “I’m still kind of overweight. All this sitting around isn’t good for me. I got more exercise back on Stakroya Station. I also ate less.”

I leaned down and kissed her. “You know that doesn’t matter to me.” It was the truth. It was Valka that I loved, not her body. The Scouts had transformed her into an Ovor, a four-breasted race designed to produce large quantities of eggs, but that didn’t matter to me.

“It matters to me. I feel like a lump.”

“Portcon says that the nutritional content of the food is calibrated to keep you healthy.”

“Yeah, well, that may be true, but these pods are orgone collectors, right? They probably want to keep us a little fat, because more mass means more basal orgone.”

“I guess.”

“You guess? Look what they do to Merchants. Challers, you can’t trust these people. Everyone is looking out for their own interests.”

I looked down at my own body. I had to admit that the muscles I had gotten during my training with the Scouts were not as defined as they had been. “They’ve got a gym up on the Boulevard. We could go together.”

“Yeah, have you seen what it costs? I know I have a lot of credits with the Port, but I can’t spend it like that. I’m just going to have to be more careful about what I eat. Ooh! It’s almost ten. Put your screen on. I want to see the Morning Summary.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s a program they put on every morning to show you everything interesting that happened overnight.”

“Portcon, please display ‘Morning Summary.’”

Portcon’s face disappeared, replaced with a rotating logo and a dramatic voice. “Welcome to Morning Summary for day 842 of cruise fifty-six.” The logo was replaced by a long list of names, grouped in fours and fives under titles like David’s Destroyers and Madden’s Marauders. “Please choose the Worthies for your report,” the voice continued.

“What is this?” I asked.

Valka snuggled close, holding my arm. “I discovered it last week. Those people we saw patrolling the Boulevard? They call them Worthies. They have cameras following them around all the time, and folks can watch what happens. Pick David’s Destroyers.”

I reached out to the hologram and waved my finger at that section. The screen cleared, and an image formed of a man in a baggy white shirt and black pants lounging in a comfortable, armless chair. He swirled a drink in one hand and smiled at a short-haired woman who had just walked into the scene. She was similarly attired, though neither wore the weapons we had seen Worthies wear up on the Boulevard.

A disembodied voice accompanied the scene. “The romance between Krinna and David has continued since she signed up for his crew. It’s a good thing he convinced her to join up, since with only two members, his crew would have been delisted this morning. As it stands, he still has only ten days remaining to get back to four members and keep his crew going long term.”

David took her hand and pulled her down for a passionate kiss, which she returned with enthusiasm. She reached behind him and pulled out the knot that held David’s shirt together, and unfolded the two triangular flaps to expose a hairless, muscular chest.

“Are they going to have sex right there where everyone can see?”

“Uh-huh.” Valka squirmed closer and put an arm around my waist. “He’s been romancing her all week.”

We watched Krinna run her hands over David’s chest, and the camera zoomed in to show the effect her caress was having on his nipples. When it zoomed out again, she was shrugging out of her shirt, revealing a back almost as well-muscled as his chest. Soft music began playing in the background, a light tune that heightened the affectionate tone of the scene.

“You like this guy,” I said.

“Hmm?”

“I mean, you like watching him.”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, his crew is about to be officially disbanded, and he’s completely not concerned. In control. You don’t see that kind of confidence all the time.”

The point of view shifted again, this time coming down from above—a perfect angle to catch David taking one of Krinna’s small breasts into his mouth and the look of pleasure that came over her face as she arched her back.

I started off watching David, trying to figure out what it was that Valka saw, but Krinna soon had my full attention. I had never seen a woman who looked like that before. Even my mentor in the Scouts, Shirley, wasn’t as muscular as this woman. I was attracted and repulsed at the same time. Something inside me said it wasn’t right for a woman to look so masculine, but then I remembered the hermaphroditic Chevalier newgens I had met at Scout Headquarters. I pushed that thought aside.

As Krinna reached down into David’s pants, Valka slid her hand past my waistband and squeezed my swelling cock. “I’ve been thinking about you all week,” she said.

If watching David got her this worked up, I wasn’t going to complain. “Why didn’t you come over?” I moved my hand from her shoulder down under her arm to cup one breast through her shirt.

“I didn’t want to come over until I was ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“You know.” She pulled her shirt up over her head and threw it aside. “This.” Her four Ovor breasts were full and round, tipped with thick, dark brown nipples. She did have a bit of extra weight on her, but I barely noticed. By the time both of us were fully naked, the couple on the holoscreen were naked too, rubbing their bodies together as they kissed.

Valka leaned back on the chair, letting her legs fall to either side. “I want you to pleasure me while I watch.”

I smiled and climbed up onto the chair, between her legs. Her pussy lips, which had been kept hairless while we were at Scout Headquarters, were covered with fur. I ran my fingers through it. “I don’t know if I still know how,” I said with a smile.

“Mmm, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

While I explored with my fingers, I heard the sounds of Krinna and David’s encounter over my shoulder. Judging from his encouragements and her muffled responses, she had something important in her mouth. I took it as my cue to get my own mouth involved.

I pulled her pussy lips apart. It had been too long since we had been this close. Valka’s advanced pregnancy had made a lot of sexual activities difficult or tiring, and I was elated to be able to do this for her again. I licked slowly, playing with her inner lips, flicking them lightly with my tongue. As I gradually moved up towards her clit, I felt tension building in her thighs.

“Vack, Challers,” she said between deep breaths, “I missed this.”

I chuckled. “So did I.” I hadn’t performed this act on Valka too many times, but I knew how to pay attention to her reactions and adjust. With a light touch, I placed my lips around her clit, drawing only just enough suction to be felt. She made a soft, contented noise and touched my head, not pushing down or pulling back. She was simply acknowledging that I was there.

I sucked harder, flicking my tongue at the tiny bud of flesh between my lips. “Ooh, too much,” she gasped, and I backed off, licking along the sides of her clit.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. That’s much…mmm…much better.”

I slipped one arm under her body and drew my hand up to stroke the lower part of her cunt. A brief flash crossed my mind of a black, sickly egg. I pulled back to look. Except for the hair, it hadn’t changed all that much since I had seen her last, making it easy to dispel the image from my mind.

The sound of David and Krinna’s sexual encounter changed. I looked over my shoulder to see Krinna straddling him, flexing her thighs as she rose and fell, impaled on his cock. I wanted to fuck Valka too, but I could wait until she’d had an orgasm. I went back to my task with the goal firmly in mind.

Slipping my fingers inside her, I searched for the firm knot of flesh on the upper wall of her channel. It was there, where I had found it once before. I hoped the result would be as spectacular as the first time. With quick little strokes, I rubbed the spot with my fingers while I licked the hood of her clit in the same rhythm. I imagined a kind of circuit between my hand and my mouth, with Valka’s body strung between. When my tongue started to get a little sore, I switched to using my nose for a few seconds while I gave it a rest, and went back. When my fingers cramped, I switched hands.

She did not disappoint me. Her thighs clenched around my shoulders as I worked, and growling cries escaped her throat. I could feel her pussy tensing around my fingers and even smell the musky change in her scent.

And then I noticed that the top of my head was wet. I pulled back and looked around.

Milk dribbled down from all four of Valka’s breasts, and droplets were scattered all over her stomach. She looked down at me, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said, when she’d gotten her air back.

I laughed. “Don’t be. I think it’s great. It’s like you’re ejaculating too.”

“I guess I am.” She took the lower pair in her hands and squeezed. Streams of milk sprayed out. “They got sore after the eggs came and this made them feel better. Ever since then, I’ve been milking myself. Port said that most women who get sick during pregnancy never even start lactating, but Ovors might be different. The information wasn’t complete.”

I climbed up her body, licking the droplets up as I went. “I could have helped, you know.” The milk was sweet and warm, with just a hint of salt from her sweaty skin.

“I know. I guess I didn’t want you to see me that way.”

“I want to be with you no matter what, Valka. I don’t mind seeing you weak or sick. I want to take care of you.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I think I like the idea of you taking care of me.”

I sucked on the hard nub of her nipple and got a tiny squirt of milk. “Does that feel good?”

“Mmm, yes.”

“Good. I like doing it.” I sucked some more, and gradually felt the tightness in her skin recede. I switched to the other.

“Mmm, that’s much better,” she said.

I went from breast to breast, gently draining her of the offending fluid. My hard cock bumped her thigh, and when I finished, I shifted position to enter her.

“Oh, Challers.” She put a hand on my chest. “Please don’t.”

“Why not?”

“An Ovor is always fertile. I don’t want to go through that again.” Her eyes pleaded with me. “Please.”

I hung over her. If I pressed the issue, I could probably convince her to let me fuck her, but we had both been through too much for me to even consider it. I sat back on my heels, my cock jutting up from between my thighs.

“Here. Let me do this instead. Lie down.” She climbed off of the seat so I could take her place, and then she climbed back on, straddling my knees. She transferred some of the copious lubrication from her pussy onto my cock before wrapping her lower pair of breasts around it with her hands. “How does that feel?”

“Mmm, that’s not bad. It’s not as good as being inside you, but it’ll do.”

Above her head, David and Krinna were cuddling on their chair. She sat on his lap, sitting crosswise with his arm supporting her shoulders. Their soft demeanor contrasted with the hard edges of their bodies. They both seemed too tough for such contemplation, but there they were.

I returned my attention back to Valka. Her upper breasts bobbed hypnotically as she moved. I brought my hands up to them, stroking their soft skin as she continued pleasuring me. “They’ve gotten bigger, haven’t they?”

“A bit.”

I watched my cock disappearing between her breasts. “Seems like a lot more…mmm…than a bit to me.”

She looked down. “I guess.”

I gasped as the first jet erupted from my cock, arching over my stomach to land on my chest. It was so soon it caught me somewhat by surprise. My stomach and Valka’s breasts were splattered with semen.

“Feel better?” she asked.

I laughed. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Valka got a washcloth from the hygiene station and cleaned herself off. “You really like me this way?”

“Yes. Of course, I do. Why do you ask?”

“I want to save up to get enough to use a gentank.” She climbed up onto the chair and sat cross-legged, facing me, and handed me the towel.

“How much does it cost?”

“The price seems to fluctuate for some reason, but it’s usually something like a hundred thousand.”

I whistled. “Where are you going to get that kind of money?”

“Well, you know you don’t have to stay in your pod all day. That pays your basic life support, but if you want to accumulate credits, you have to do more than that. I’ve been looking around and there are a few jobs I could do.”

“How much would you get?” I finished wiping myself off and tossed the cloth into the recycling hatch.

“Well, there’s a job as a data wrangler that would pay twenty-five an hour. If I work ten-hour days, then I could have enough to use the gentank in about two hundred days, given what we’re starting with.”

“Could you do it from your pod?”

“No, this would be at a data center a few decks down.”

“So you’d have to pay life support while you were away. Valka, that’s not two hundred days. That’s a lot more. It might take years.”

Valka groaned. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do! I don’t like this body. I don’t want to have any more eggs!”

“Maybe there’s a drug or something that will stop that.”

“There is. It costs ten credits a day.”

“That’s not too bad.”

“I don’t like draining our savings like this. I’m not making any income, and it costs life support any time we visit.”

I looked up at the screen where David was walking along the Boulevard with Krinna and another Worthy whose name I had missed.

“How much do Worthies make?”

“I don’t know.”

“Portcon,” I called. “How much do Worthies earn?”

“A Worthy earns shares of all the crisis and transcendent orgone that is generated while being observed by Wards.”

“And how much is that?”

“It varies widely, but most Worthies earn between two thousand and five thousand credits in a day.”

I turned to Valka. “That’s it, then. We need to become Worthies.”

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