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Steampunk Day - Succubus Steam by Lila Shaw

5/31/2013

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Picture
A succubus half-breed, such as Violet, who hobnobs with the
highest echelons of Victorian London society, is a bride in a difficult marriage of extremes. Any act that wants of propriety, and she would find herself banished to the wilds of Cornwall where her full-blooded succubus sisters live and thrive. Yet she prefers the company of mortals, even if she must occasionally risk her reputation by engaging in discreet sexual liaisons.

When Violet’s great uncle dies and bequeaths her his laboratory
and home, she crafts an artificially intelligent automaton named Adam to sate her carnal needs. Her plan is coming along nicely until an incubus from her past, and the unwitting model for her invention, discovers her secret. Violet has good reason to be wary of losing her heart to Lyle, but perhaps Adam is the key to fulfilling all of her desires.


BUY HERE
I wake to a pair of deep green eyes staring at me. "Adam?"


A grin blooms on his handsome face. "Adam? Is that what you named him? How
biblical of you, Violet." He straightens and roars with laughter.

On the bed, behind my back, a body stirs to life. I roll over and squeak at the twin of
the man I've just woken to. "Adam?"

"Yes, my love," says the male lying next to me.

"Oh, my God!" I sit bolt upright and cover my breasts with the sheets. Now that the sleep scales have fallen from my eyes and my brain, I understand my situation. "Lyle! How did you get in here?"

"Never mind that, you clever girl. What the deuce have you been making?" A few strides of
his long legs carry him to the other side of the bed where Adam lies. "Adam? Is
that your name?"

Adam sits and turns to me. "Who is this man, Violet, my dearest?"

Lyle's eyes grow wider. "Good Lord, he sounds exactly like ... me!" He reaches out a hand and pokes Adam in the cheek. "Not nearly as good-looking though."

"I am not a lord," Adam tells Lyle gravely, and I can't help but snicker at the shocked expression on Lyle's face. "I belong to Violet. By what name shall I address you?"

"You may call me ... Lord Cocksucker," Lyle says mocking my creation.

Adam laughs, sounding so like the man he was modeled after. "Lord Cocksucker. That is an interesting name. I like to have my cock sucked. Do you?"

Lyle sits on the bed next to Adam. "Oh, yes I do, very much. You're quite a lucky man if Violet sucks your cock. Does she?"

"Sometimes. Today I fucked her. It was our first time to have sexual intercourse, and I liked it very much. Violet is all any man could ever want in a lover."

"Yes, I dare say she would be. Lucky you, my friend."

"Lyle!" Both Lyle and Adam face me, one a pale replica of the other. "Adam, go to sleep now, please."

"As you wish." Adam lies supine and closes his eyes.

Lyle's eyes drift to the tent Adam's erect penis has created beneath the sheet. He reaches out and wraps a hand around the center pole. "A crude copy but nowhere near as grand as the real thing. Still, I applaud your taste.” He casts a smirk my way. “However, I'm really wondering but one thought at this moment and that's … why?"

"Why?" I blink and wonder how much I should tell him. Given the extent of what he has discovered, I
suppose no further harm can be dealt by sharing the why of Adam.

"Yes, why an inferior copy when you could have the superior original at the snap of your fingers?"



 
Lila Shaw's website
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Western Day - Cameron’s Quest by Lorraine Nelson

5/30/2013

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Picture
Cameron Manning has never forgotten his first love. Of Irish descent, he met red-haired, fiery tempered Lacey Kerrigan in
England, but her family returns to Ireland unexpectedly and they haven’t any means of contact. He finds her and receives the surprise of his life.

Lacey is thrilled to see Cameron, but is afraid of being hurt again. She keeps her distance and rebuffs his advances while he’s in
Ireland, certain that a long distance affair will never work. But when tickets arrive for her to visit his home in Canada, she realizes his love is true and is willing to give them a second chance.

Fate intervenes when they find a murdered man on Cameron’s back deck. All evidence points to Cameron as the killer. Can their
reawakened love survive the stress of a murder investigation? Or will it be the catalyst that drives them apart forever?


 

BUY HERE
Cameron’s room faced the back of the property, the only light coming from the full moon as it made its assent. Her body immersed in the silvery rays, she appeared almost incandescent, as if lit by an inner
glow.


Lacey reached to pull her sweater over her head, but he stalled her with a hand on her arm. “Allow me.”  
 

He cradled her in his arms for a moment, relishing in the delight of having her  near. Then he kissed her again, reawaking the passion that was forever lurking beneath the surface. As they kissed, he worked his hands up under her sweater, locating her breasts and giving them a gentle squeeze before cupping them lightly and running his thumbs over the turgid tips. She thrust out her chest, pushing against his hands, wanting more, and he gave it to her.


He sat  on the edge of the bed and pulled her into position in front of him, then pushed her sweater up and over her head. “So beautiful,” he mouthed against her skin as he lavished kisses all over. He suckled one nipple while massaging the other, squeezing and rubbing it between thumb and forefinger before switching sides. Her hands tangled in his hair as she held him tight and arched against him.


He couldn’t get enough of her. She tasted like creamed honey, so sweet that he had to taste his fill even as one hand wandered down to cup her delicate mound through her jeans. Lacey reached to undo the snap and zip, pushing the material down over her hips. He stood and laid her down on the bed to pull them off the rest of the way. Down on his knees, he kissed her belly, then parted her curls
to delve into her warmth.


She was wet for him, her honey-sweet juices hot on his tongue as he laved her clit and dipped it inside, causing her back to arch off the bed. He settled her legs over his shoulders and suckled to his heart’s content as she writhed and moaned in pleasure. Only when she’d climaxed did he release his hold and rise to stand at the juncture of her thighs, her legs still over his shoulders and her bottom
clear of the bed, as he plunged to the hilt.


Her insides clenched around him at the invasion, then relaxed and he began to move, in and out in an age-old rhythm to a song only they could hear. She met his moves, thrust for thrust, their bodies sweat-slicked, their breaths coming in short, hard gasps as completion neared. Her hands were soft as they traveled over his skin, played with his nipples and rested on his ass as she pulled him
ever closer…deeper. When he felt her insides clench in readiness, he reached beneath her and pulled her upper body toward his, capturing her lips in a mind-blowing kiss as sensation washed over him in waves. Her scream of pleasure vibrated against his tongue, but was silenced by their kiss as he continued pumping in and out, draining them both.


Cam lay down beside her, cradling her in his arms. The only sound in the room was their harsh breaths as they struggled to take in much-needed air.

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Paranormal Day - Twice Bitten To Paradise by Lynn St. James

5/29/2013

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Picture
Brianna McKenzie worked hard to hide her past, but when she comes face-to-face with the gypsy at the opening of Eternity, her world turns upside down. Rafael Verratti and Lucian Carpino felt the connection as soon as they met Bree. But they know that convincing her isn’t going to be easy.

Luc and Rafe aren’t the only ones who want Bree. The gypsy tries to steal her, and then a friend from her past calls to say that her father is missing. Bree decides that in order to protect the ones she cares about she’ll have to confront her past and deal with her monsters.

Rafe and Luc follow Bree to protect her but are furious and leave when she shares her dark secret. It’s then that she realizes her true feelings for them. Will Luc, Rafe, and Bree be able to accept the secrets and save themselves from curses, witches, and gypsy magic to spend Eternity together?



BUY HERE
Bree sat up slowly and looked around. It was bitterly cold. She realized that she was
in her sweats and socks, but that was it. She tried to pick up one of the blankets from the bed, but she couldn’t lift it. She tried and tried, but it slipped through her hands. The room looked odd, like it was missing something. What is going on? Bree wondered if she was actually awake or just dreaming. Everything felt so real. The scent of burning wood and some kind of incense filled the air. There was a fire burning in the fireplace, but no heat emanated from it.

Bree rubbed her arms to try to warm up and searched the room for something else to wrap herself in. She was about to open what appeared to be a cupboard of some sort when a door opened behind one of the hanging scarves. A gust of wind blew in as the scarves parted and a female stepped into the room.

Bree held her breath and pushed back against the wall in an attempt to make herself as small and invisible as possible. The woman kept walking straight toward her. As the woman came further into the lantern-lit room, Bree was able to see her face
. Fucking hell. I don’t believe it. It’s the gypsy from the party. How did I get here? What did this bitch do to me?

Bree tensed, ready to do what she could to escape as the gypsy woman approached. But
instead of seeing Bree, she walked right through her.
Whoa, now that was
wrong. She walked through me? What the fuck? Am I dead?


While Bree was trying to figure out what was going on, the gypsy quickly turned and
looked around the room. It was as if she sensed Bree was there, even if she
couldn’t see her.

“Vhere are you? I know you are here somevhere. Show yourself.”Luminista spun around and
reached out into the air. Bree knew she was looking for her.
How is any of
this even possible? I don’t think I’m crazy so I must be dreaming. Will someone
please wake me up?


Luminista looked the same as she had at the party once she left Roger’s body dead on the
floor and disappeared. Bree watched the six-hundred-year-old woman move about
the room. Finally she stopped a hairsbreadth from Bree. She seemed to be looking
right at her. “Girl, vhat are you doing here? How did you find me?”

Bree held her breath. She hoped that she’d be sucked out of the room and back to her
couch. But time seemed to stand still while the gypsy stood there and closed her
eyes. Bree was freaked out and fascinated at the same time. The gypsy’s lips
began to move, and she started chanting in some language Bree couldn’t
understand. Fuck. This can’t be good. Bree hoped this was a dream more
fervently than anything she had wanted in a long time.
Please, please, let me
be in my own house and not here.


The gypsy’s eyes popped open and stared directly at her. Bree knew this time she
could see her. Luminista grabbed a hold of Bree’s shoulder and dragged her into
the light in the center of the room. “I knew it vas you. How did you get
here?”

“I have no fucking clue.” Bree practically spat the words at her.“But trust me, I’d
rather not be here any more than you want me here. I should kill you myself for
what you did to my friends.”

Luminista cackled. “You have no idea vhat you have gotten yourself involved in. But I vill
tell you. Do you know vhy you vere able to find me?”

“Maybe because I own a bitch detector?”

The words had barely left her mouth when Luminista slapped her hard across her face.
“You vill not talk to me like that. Tramp. You are von of us. You vill need to
learn respect.”

“You’re fucking crazy. I don’t even know what you want or why you showed up at the club.
You’re just some old crone who crashed the party and hurt and killed a bunch of
people. I’m sure the police would love to get their hands on you.” Bree was
disappointed when the gypsy only laughed at her outburst.

“Gregor, come here. Ve have a guest.”

Bree looked at the doorway and saw a man come in. He was tall, with brown hair that
curled wildly around his head. He had a full matted beard. The closer he got to
Bree, the more she noticed how filthy he was. She tried to back up, but
Luminista held on tightly to her arm.

“Vhere did she come from?”

“Remember I told you I felt a presence tonight?”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“She must be the von. There is no other explanation.”

Bree tried to pull out of her grasp. “Let me go.” But the more Bree struggled, the
tighter the woman held on. Bree couldn’t understand how someone so old and
decrepit-looking was so strong.
Chalk it up to one more thing that doesn’t
make sense.


“No, I think not, girl. You vill be taught our vays, and then you vill help us kill
the vampires.”

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Interracial Day - Waking Beauty by Nikki Prince

5/28/2013

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Picture
Aurora Devine's libido has been asleep for over eight years.
She's had the curse of not being able to have the big O since running away from her master Felipe Santiago Castro. The last time she came at the hand of a man it was with Felipe. Fearing what would happen if she let go with him completely she'd run.


Convinced the only way she will find peace of mind and pleasure is to go to Once Upon a Dream Fantasies she signs up for a time of pleasure asking for everything she'd lost eight years before to be fulfilled in a fantasy.


Felipe would show her that he was her only fantasy. He'd do
anything to have her back in his life as his submissive. He'll play along and give her the fantasy she wants but in the end she'd realize that her submissiveness called to his dominance and they were a matched pair.



BUY HERE
The quiet continued on for a few moments longer before finally she couldn’t stand it any
longer.

“Are you there?”

“Yes, Beauty, I’m here.” The voice was deep and the accent Spanish. They’d given her
what she wanted. It wasn’t Felipe, nonetheless he’d do. She could pretend it was
him. Only Felipe could make her come. The fantasy, if kept alive in her mind and
in her heart, would make everything okay. She had to believe that. She couldn’t
continue the way she was going. Hopefully just dreaming of Felipe as she was
being touched would be enough.

She let herself live in the fantasy. This wasn’t a random stranger: it was her Felipe
and he’d come back for her.

“I see you followed all of my instructions to the letter with exception of one.” His voice
was stern and she squirmed.

“I…I...”

She heard the tsk-tsk that he gave. “Don’t bother to explain. I told you there would be
consequences, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but?” How on earth did he know she’d touched herself?

“No buts, Beauty. When I give my word I mean every bit of it. So you will be punished.
There is no other way around it. I give what I promise.”

His words exhilarated her and at the same time scared her. This was what she wanted and he
was going to give her exactly that. He reminded her of Felipe in so many ways.
“Now … do you understand, beauty?”

“Yes, I understand…” She didn’t know what to call him. From what she could hear he was
moving about the room and he hadn’t tried to touch her yet. It was making her antsy.

“You should know what to call me. What did you put down on your paperwork?”

“I put Amo and señor.” Those two words were what she’d placed on the form. Amo and señor
were what she used to call Felipe. Amo meant master and of course señor meant sir. She did say she wanted this to be as real as possible. This place didn’t half step at all. They followed everything that the client wanted.

“Then that is what you call me when you address me, Aurora. Is that understood?”

“Yes, señor, I understand.”

“Perfecto, my beauty.”

Damn, she really could believe it was Felipe. The accent was to die for. She let out a
startled gasp as she was picked up by strong hands and held against an even
stronger feeling body. In the next moment she was laid across his lap on her
stomach. His fingers swept over her lower back where she had her tramp
stamp.

“What a beautiful tattoo, Aurora.”

“I got it on a whim, señor.” It was vines on either side with thorns and a rose that
dipped into the middle near her ass.

“Briar Rose,” he whispered softly. His words were so light that she almost thought he
was talking to himself. His fingers traced lightly over the tattoo and then there was a stinging slap to her ass.

“What are you doing?” She couldn’t help the startled gasp that escaped her as the sting
from his palm resonated through her whole body. Her words were given in her
shock.

“I think you know what’s happening.” His palm rested on her bare ass and she
squirmed.

“Stay still.” The command was given and she immediately obeyed. His large hands
stroked slowly over her ass.

“What instruction did you disobey, Aurora?” All the while he rubbed his hand over her
bare bottom as he spoke. It was soothing as much as it was delicious.

“To not touch myself.”

“That’s right, my beauty.” She squealed from the first smack on her ass by his
palm.

“While you’re here, this is my ass, my pussy and my breasts.” With each word he slapped
his hand against her backside, making her moan. Her butt was stinging from the
spanking. Granted, it was in a pleasurable way. This paddling didn’t repulse
her. In fact, she wanted more.

“Do you understand beauty?”

He gave her another rapid succession of slaps against her bottom. She found herself
rocking her body into his lap.

“Yes, yes, señor. I understand fully.” Her ass was burning as she was being spanked as if
she were a petulant child, and she loved it. Each slap set off an electric current of sensations that went straight to her clit.


http://www.authornikkiprince.com

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Historical Day - Betrayed by Christina Phillips

5/26/2013

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Picture
In 51 A.D., Druid priestess Nimue is injured and enslaved by the
hated Roman Legions. Even though she is drawn to her captor, she’s determined to escape and complete her mission for the Briton king and her duty to Arianrhod, the goddess she is bound to.

The tough Roman warrior who captures her is far from the brutal
barbarian she expects. His touch inflames her desires and passion burns between them. Though Nimue does not accept her enslavement, her heart surrenders to her enemy. When Arianrhod appears to her in the form of an owl, Nimue knows the union is blessed.

Roman warrior Tacitus is enchanted by the fiery beauty who shows
no fear and challenges him at every turn. Though enslaving her goes against his heart, he’s determined to make her his. No woman has ever heated his blood as she does. But when he discovers her true nature as one who actually communes
with the gods, his loyalties are torn between his heritage and a woman who could destroy everything he’s ever believed in.



BUY HERE
 


An eerie chill trickled along Nimue’s spine, causing the hair to rise on the back of her neck and arms. Without thinking she leaped to her feet, dagger once again in her hand. But it wasn’t a lone legionary who had caught her so unawares. It was a mounted Roman officer, in a flowing scarlet cloak, with
his shield in one hand and sword in the other.


For a moment all she could feel was the erratic thud of her heart in her ears, the uneven gasp of her breath in her throat. The sun dazzled her, glinting off the polished metal of his armor as he stared down at her, and obscurely she noted his impressive biceps, his muscles flexing as he urged his
horse forward.

Flee. 

The command whispered in her mind, faint and insubstantial. But the treacherous rocks on her right, the fast flowing stream at her back and the steep bank on the far side did not offer her a speedy escape. But somehow she had to lead him farther away from the queen and princess. Except he had effectively trapped her by the edge of the stream.


Yet even as the weight of her responsibility tormented her conscience, she couldn’t drag her fascinated gaze from the Roman. His face was hard, autocratic, unsmiling. The face of countless Romans, and yet like none she had ever seen before. His eyes were narrowed, his strong jaw shadowed. And the tip of his sword was a mere arm’s length from her face. 
 

“Surrender to the might of the Eagle,” he said in the ancient Celtic language of her people. His voice was deep, sensuous, and dark embers stirred between her thighs, as if she faced a brave warrior of Cymru instead of a cowardly barbarian of Rome. “And you shall remain unharmed.”


Her palm was sweaty around her dagger and she tightened her grip before it slipped from her grasp. She might not have a chance against this Roman but she would never surrender to him. And she would never willingly give up her weapons, either.


“I would sooner die fighting you,”she said in Latin, just to show him she was no ignorant native of a fractured land. Her mother had taught her the language well. “Than surrender my freedom to your filthy Emperor.”


She had no freedom under Rome. As soon as they discovered she was a Druid, her life would be forfeit. Crucifixion was terrifying enough, but it was the torture she would doubtless endure beforehand that shriveled her soul.


His black stallion whickered, pawed the ground, but the Roman did not break eye contact nor did his sword waver.


“Brave words, little Celt.” Still he spoke in her language, and disbelief unfurled through her breast at the tone of his voice. Did he find her challenge amusing? “But I don’t fight women.”


She ignored the threat of his sword and stepped forward, her dagger on clear display. He had no right to enter herland and then mock her prowess as a warrior. Just because she did not possess the brute strength of a full-grown male didn’t mean she lacked dexterity or speed. She glared up at him, wishing, obscurely, she could see the color of his eyes.



“Why? Are you afraid I may unman you?”Why was she trying to raise his ire? Wouldn’t it make more sense to beg for freedom? Pretend to be a mere peasant, caught up in this revolt? Perhaps, then, he would allow her to escape without persecution?


Even as the thought teased her mind she knew the silver bracelets on her wrists, the torque at her throat and jewels in her ears plainly branded her as anything but a peasant.


For one brief moment the corner of his lips quirked, as if he found her not only amusing but highly entertaining.



“I believe,” his voice was a seductive caress along the naked flesh of her arms, the exposed swell of her breasts. “I am more than man enough for you, Celt.”

Christina's  Website

 

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