Posts Tagged erotic
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We all have demons. They can be ignored, but they’ll surface eventually. Once they are out in the open should they be destroyed or tamed? Or perhaps they should be allowed free rein.
A family’s legacy of seduction and corruption comes to light when Gareth inherits the derelict Harbinger House. Gareth has previously risked ruining everything with Tim by continuing his promiscuous lifestyle despite Tim’s insecurity about their relationship. The new start Harbinger House provides the couple is tainted by ghosts from Gareth’s past… and the demon that lurks inside does nothing to help either. Or does it?
Look who I found! Tristram La Roche! (Okay, so he’s been tied up in the basement since January…ahem…)
Now you’re back in the daylight, Tris, tell me what’s afoot (wotchit…)
Tris: About twelve inches where I come from 😉 You knew I would say that, didn’t you? Well, something you may not know, I’ve re-released my first gay novella, On My Knees. New cover, slightly extended story, and – in my view – a bit spunkier.
Kiran: How would YOU categorise On My Knees?
Tris: You’re trying to drag me in to the old M/M row, aren’t you? You know already that the classification M/M annoys me. Too many readers of it expect a slushy romance with two guys – usually stereotypical – having a fling, falling out and finally, erm, coming together. Happy ever afters, happy for nows. This isn’t really what my writing is about. Just because the characters are gay doesn’t mean a story can’t be mainstream literature. I mean, who classifies Alan Hollinghurst as a writer of M/M? No one, of course. I’m not, by the way, claiming to be Alan Hollinghurst or that I write great literature, I’m far too modest for that. On My Knees is a fairly quick read – a novella rather than a novel – which I always wanted to be easily accessible to those men who are trapped in the wrong lifestyle, and those men and women who are not but want to understand something about that situation. So, in short, On My Knees is gay story about coming out. It is a romance in the sense that two people fall in love and try to make a go of it, against all odds. But don’t expect hearts, flowers and chocolates.
Kiran: What inspired you to write the story?
Tris: I needed the money. No, well, yes, I did, but really I wanted to give hope to all those gay men who are still too afraid to step outside their straight lifestyles. In this day and age there should be few of them, it is sad that there are any at all, but the recent debate on gay marriage shows how bigotry and prejudice still lurk in some of the halls of power. I had a difficult start to life, being brought up by narrow-minded and hate-filled parents. I didn’t fit in and never understood why until quite late in life. Coming out was a bit like stepping off a cliff without a parachute or rope, but I didn’t die – I found a better life. That’s what I want people to get out of On My Knees.
Kiran: When you get some feeling back in your fingers (sorry, might have tied the rope a bit tight…) will you be writing something new? If so will you continue to write romances?
Tris: The truthful answer is, I don’t know. I haven’t much time for writers who just keep churning out stories to make money when they have run out of things to say. The same old meaningless tripe with a few name and place changes. That is not for me. If I have nothing to say, I keep schtum. But I am sure that I will have something to say at some point and then I will write again. Whether or not it will be romance is beyond me at the moment. For sure, the main characters will be gay and have something to offer the reader. You see, why open a book if you know what – more or less – is in it? I wouldn’t, don’t, and I don’t expect my readers to pay good money (although very small money!) for that either. When my next book comes out I want them to say, “I can’t wait to see what this one is about”.
Kiran: You are possibly as sunny as I am dark – but you briefly wandered into the spooky side when you wrote the short story Love Lies Deep (Halloween Heat M/M anthology), and your eyes should have become accustomed to the gloom by now – are you tempted to write something touching on the more shadowy side of human nature?
Tris: Human nature is shadowy. I enjoyed writing Love Lies Deep and have toyed with a few ideas, yes. It might be that I come up with something for Halloween 2014, we’ll see. I really enjoy horror myself, film or book, and through my work so far discovered new and talented writers like Julia Kavan and Steve Emmett – and you of course!
On My Knees:
Mark’s life is in turmoil. Held together by alcohol and antidepressants, he ducks and dives through the war zone his marriage has become, and watches helplessly as his business spirals down the plug hole. After yet another blazing row with his wife he escapes to the gym, intending to work off steam – and the effects of too much wine – but a tall and very handsome stranger catches Mark’s eye. Feeling uncomfortable and weird, and in no hurry to return home, Mark agrees to a pint in the nearby pub. Before the night is out, Mark finally understands that he isn’t weird – he’s gay – and a new world opens up for him.
Novella circa 25,500 words.
Contains explicit gay sex scenes /group scenes.
London, May 9
“For Christ’s sake, Diana, will you stop your fucking nagging for once?”
I’d barely got through the door before the usual evening bust-up flared. All because I’d stopped by the wine bar on the way to the tube station for a few drinks. Just a foursome: Alex, the guy I shared an office with, and a couple of his mates who’d come up to town for a night in the West End. And me, of course. In any case, I’d long ago lost any eagerness to get home early. I used to count the minutes to home time then rush off to catch the train and get back to my wife. Things change. If we didn’t argue about one thing it was another, and since the row came guaranteed whatever I did, I’d started taking the view that I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. Jesus! That’s something I picked up from her – talking in clichés.
“You’re drinking too much.” Diana funnelled the words through pursed lips and frowned. “How much have you spent? Eh? Show me the bill.” She hurtled towards me and tried to dig my wallet from my jacket pocket.
“Get off,” I said, wrapping my arms around my body. Four grown men after work could drink a lot more than she would ever forgive. “You treat me like a child.”
“You behave like a child.” The neighbours would be able to hear her raised voice and I told her so. She craned forwards into a posture that would have been threatening if only she’d been nine inches taller. “You’re just…just…”
And I hated that, too. She did it all the time, start a sentence and leave it dangling in the air. “Just what?”
“You know very well. I didn’t marry an alcoholic,” she said, clenching and unclenching her fists by her side.
Alcoholic? I was not and never have been an alcoholic. A drunk, yes, but that’s different. “And I didn’t marry a nagging bitch.” Oh, I regretted it instantly. I threw my hands up in a gesture of peace. “Sorry, sorry. Please can we try to have a normal conversation?” She grabbed a knife off the kitchen work top and lashed out. I leaped back just in time. “You’re mad. Like your mother. You’re unhinged.” I struggled to hide the fear. For a little person she packed a punch when she wanted.
She lunged at me again, her unruly hair falling across her face. “Well, if I am, it’s you that’s driven me to it.” She missed. The knife flashed by my side and I brought my hand down on her arm, knocking the blade to the floor. She squeezed her wrist with her left hand and cursed.
“I’m sorry,” I said, reaching out to her. The love had gone but I had no wish to hurt her. “Here, let me look.” I took her hand but she snatched it away.
“Don’t you dare touch me.” She stamped on the floor and turned her back on me.
I couldn’t win. I knew it from previous experience. The best thing I could do was put space between us. I took my chance and bolted out of the kitchen door. We lived on the top two floors of a Victorian house in a duplex we’d bought together. From the central landing a dog leg stair led to the ground floor. As I rounded the turn in the stairs I heard her coming from the kitchen. I should have left it at that and just scarpered – but I didn’t. By then my blood boiled with anger so I shouted over my shoulder. “Well, if I am an alcoholic, you’ve driven me to it.”
“Oh, really? And where do you think you are going?”
“That’s just typical of you. Come back here and deal with it.”
But I had no intention of going back. Not then. I turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door into the shared hallway.
A stabbing pain shot through my shoulder. I toppled but managed to stay upright as a heavy dictionary fell to the floor with a thud. From above she hurled books down the stairwell, swiping them off the shelves to judge from the avalanche. I nipped across the hall and ran into the street, slamming the outer door behind me.
Even in the street I heard the thunder of her hooves coming down the stairs. I got into the car as fast as I could and locked the doors. I started the engine but didn’t manage to make my getaway before she appeared in the street, fists thrashing the air. She grabbed the driver’s door handle just as I accelerated. I didn’t look at her. I eased the car out of the space, hoping she would let go. Half-hoping that the wheel would crush her foot.
“Come back! Come back now!” She beat her fists on the window and I feared it might smash.
Clearly, she had no intention of letting up so I hit the accelerator. She leaped back out of the way as the engine purred and the car turned. As I went down the hill, I could see her in the mirror, standing in the middle of the road with her hands on her hips, shaking her head. Well, at least she was unhurt.
But then I faced another problem. Where to go? All of our friends lived on the other side of town and, considering I’d been drinking, I didn’t dare drive far. All I needed was to lose my licence and I’d be well and truly fucked. Then I remembered that my gym bag was in the boot. The gym was no more than a mile away, and the exercise would help my system break down the alcohol.
And work off the misery of another day in hell.
You can find Tris here:
My basement…what do you mean you won’t go back down there? *sighs* Okay, you can find him here:
Tristram has teamed up with Daniel deLoite to bring you On MyKnees along with a collection of Dan’s short fiction!
Today I’m delighted to have the lovely Antonia van Zandt with me to talk about her latest release, Vienna Valentine, and a certain creature of the night…
My latest paranormal erotic romance, Vienna Valentine, features a trio of werewolves. Well, with all the lush green pine forests that blanket so much of the Austrian countryside – not to mention the Vienna Woods themselves – you might expect to come across the odd shapeshifting canis lupus, mightn’t you?
In Austria, there are many old folk tales of werewolves, and I’m afraid that none I know of contain such passionate and beautiful creatures as Magda, Jakob and Karl in my story. So, today I’ll share with you the strange and deadly tale of
The Werewolf of Neffer
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin:
Way back in the sixteenth century, in an old Austrian village called Neffer, there lived a woodcutter. One day, as he was out in the forest chopping wood to sell to his neighbours, he heard a gigantic crash. He looked behind him, but all he could see was darkness. Then he realised why. He raised his head and looked up. Towering above him was a massive wolf, standing on tiptoes, paws outstretched ready to grab him. But most frightening of all was the demonic, slavering grin on its face.
The woodcutter set off and ran for his life. For hours he sped through the forest, while all the while, behind him, he heard the crashing of felled trees and huge, thumping paws that made the earth shake with every step.
When he finally reached the edge of the forest, he had left the village ten miles behind him. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath, his heart hammering in his chest. He dared to look behind him but could see nothing but the trees. He listened. No sound of trees falling or thudding paws.
But then he heard sounds that chilled his blood, turning it to ice in his veins.
The hideous, agonising screams of his fellow villagers.
Terrified to go back into the forest, the woodcutter made a long detour around it, to return to his village. The sight that met him there was horrific. The buildings were destroyed. Flattened as if trampled into the ground. And then there were his friends, neighbours, family. All lay dead, hideously murdered and torn apart by the fearsome beast, who, having accomplished his demonic work, moved on…
You’ll be relieved to know that the Neffer werewolf makes no appearance in Vienna Valentine. Here’s the blurb:
On a hot summer night in Vienna, wolves dream of passion…
Escaping from a disastrous marriage, Nina comes to stay with friends in Vienna for a much-needed holiday. Love is the last thing she’s looking for, but when she sees the hot couple in the apartment below making love on their balcony, she can’t take her eyes off them. When they invite her to join them for a night of pleasure, how can she refuse? Captivated by the handsome, seductive Karl, Nina agrees and has the hottest sex of her life. It’s just supposed to be a bit of fun. A one-night stand.
But one night of passion with this gorgeous, mysterious man is not enough. There’s something unusual about him. But what is his secret? And why won’t he let her look at him when they make love? When she finally learns the truth, Karl’s life hangs in the balance, and Nina must leave, never knowing if she’ll ever see him again…
WARNING: Vienna Valentine contains strong sexual themes, language and scenes. Strictly for broadminded, over 18s. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!
Vienna Valentine is available from:
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(If you’d like to look at a website dedicated to Werewolves, here’s one: http://www.werewolves.com/)
Halloween – what better time of year to do something scary, I thought…I like being scared… don’t I?
Not too long ago I read and reviewed Dead Gorgeous by Daniel deLoite – I like my fiction dark and edgy – Daniel definitely makes me edgy… Dead Gorgeous wanders far enough into the shadows to make me want to follow… and I like what I found there. Now that Daniel himself has stopped lurking in the shadows and is showing the world a little more of what he’s about (plus some sexy extras) I asked him if he’d take some time out to meet up – and I eventually got him to talk.
Dan: *wipes mouth on back of hand* No problem, Kiran.
Kiran: Shhh! Ahem… Now I’ve met you in the flesh, not just virtually, you seem more a man of action than of words… so, what prompted you to start writing? More to the point, what made you start writing ‘filth’ – a term you yourself use?
Dan: Because just about everyone likes filth, even if in public they say they don’t. The world is full of hypocrites, pretending to be oh-so-prim-and-proper while quietly gagging for a good shag with the milkman…
Kiran: You’ve seen my milkman?
Dan: I know religious Christians who go to church and blog about God and family, and at the same time (under a nom de plume of course) write about ménages, anal sex and BDSM. I wonder if they donate their books for the church Tombola? Look, I came across Tristram La Roche (no, not really, but I wouldn’t say no if he offered) and found his writing refreshing. Although I’m gay I didn’t read much gay stuff until I got a Kindle – not because I was too shy to buy it in the bookshop, which seems to be the excuse bandied about, but just because I wasn’t attracted to it. I read some of Alan Hollinghurst’s books but found his characters a bit middle-class wanky for my tastes. Really, I wanted to smack most of them. It wasn’t until I browsed the Kindle store that I realised how many writers were publishing stories about gay men. I use the term ‘writers’ quite loosely, by the way, having waded through some utter crap at the beginning…
Kiran: Good grief, once you start there’s no stopping you…
Dan: Ssh! I’ll forget where I’m coming from! I reached the point where I thought I would return to my old ways and not read gay books. So many of them were schmaltzy romances filled with pretty or androgynous boys mincing around and behaving like schoolgirls. *pukes*
Kiran: *hunts for tissues…*
Dan: I have never shared body fluids with people like that and don’t intend starting now. Then La Roche brought out another book which kept well away from the pink and fluffy, and then I found your Bedevilled which actually took my breath away – and not much has that reach these days, I can tell you.
Kiran: Bedevil, Dan…
Dan: Sorry, Bedevil. So, I thought I might give it a go. I had always been pretty good at stringing sentences together, although judging by some of the things I’d tried to read that wasn’t an essential requirement. It might be arrogant, but I felt I could do it better than a lot of those who were already putting their books out in the public domain, and at least as well as some. And another thing I have to admit, and I know this is a sensitive area, is that I was shocked when I first found out that the majority of M/M writers are women. I mean, WTF does a straight woman want to write about men sucking each other off for? I think Freud would have had something to say about it.
Dan: Look, if that’s what gets them off who am I to say it’s wrong? I am all for freedom. I do wonder, though, if while they’re writing or reading about fictional gay men, their husbands don’t have to nip out to the gay sauna or cruising ground for quick relief. That would be really cool! Anyway, what I’m saying is, I’m a dick man and have as much interest in writing about women as screwing them. Now, stop interrupting!I was going to say that I got over that, up to a point. I do still feel a bit queasy – offended even – when 300 pounds of female flesh in a velour track suit starts cooing about how cute and lovely gay boys are. *takes a deep breath and dons hard hat* (*me too!*). Anyway, you and La Roche did – do – a good job (and so do others, by the way, like James Lear, Erastes, J L Merrow to name just three) but I felt I wanted to go that bit further into the realms of real sweaty men and ignore the happy ever after.
Kiran: Don’t we all want to enter the realms of sweaty men…
Dan: Oh, I know all the places to find sweat, Kiran.
Kiran: I’m sure you do… 🙂 Sorry – I’ll shush!
Dan: You see, gay men are not all hairdressers or art dealers or dancers. In the real world that hairy-arsed gorilla operating the JCB at the top of the street could quite easily be a leather fetishist into nipple clamps and piss and addicted to dick. Lots of men do have multiple partners, do have sex in public places, do like a bit of rough. So I thought I’d give it a go. And do I need to say that I quite like to shock?
Kiran: Erm, I think we’ve got that, Dan. Now, Dead Gorgeous – I loved it. What inspired you to write it?
Dan: I was overdue to write another short story when I realised Halloween was fast drawing near. I suddenly thought of all the schmaltzy trick-or-treat stories that would no doubt be showing up on the Kindle Store – you know with men dressing up, toffee apples and candy and that kind of thing.
Kiran: Ah… yes… have I mentioned Eden…my Halloween short…? *looks worried*
Dan: Don’t get me wrong, that’s fine if you like that sort of thing but for me Halloween is about ghosts and demons. Now, don’t kill me, but having read Bedevilled I figured I could do it, too. Eden? Don’t worry – I loved it.
Kiran: Bedevil, Daniel… BEDEVIL! *ahem – carries on* Your writing is very down-to-earth, very male – something that I like, personally. A lot of women read gay fiction. Do you keep that in mind when you write or do you aim fairly and squarely at men?
Dan: I write what I know, not for an audience. I suppose it was an experiment when I set out. I wanted to see if raw gay stories would sell. So many people said the big market was middle-aged women who want a romance with a happy ending. I fucking hate stories like that and just have no interest in writing them. Just as we humans can’t be alone in all of space, so I knew I couldn’t be alone in the Kindle Store.
Kiran: Most writers appear with a blog/website/twitter etc as soon as they start to publish. You were an elusive character for a while, with no online presence at all – not that I could find… and I tried… Was that a conscious decision or had it simply not crossed your mind? What finally made you join the social network?
Dan: I purposely didn’t do any promotion. I couldn’t believe that Twitter and Facebook were the driving factors in book sales (I mean, get real!) so I didn’t bother to join them. I just published. Dick has been an incredible success, far beyond what I could have imagined for a niche market short story. And what surprises me is how it sells in the USA. Maybe they like the title. Maybe they like it so much they’ll elect a Dick to the White House. Now that would boost sales! I have recently started a blog but only because I found that I enjoy sticking things on it, not because I expect it to help sales. I recommend taking a look. I’m pleased with the cottaging image I have to say. And I joined FB and Twitter really just because I do from time to time like to fan the flames if there’s something controversial smouldering.
Kiran: Really? I hadn’t noticed… *raises eyebrow*
Dan: I know my sales figures and I know those of some other authors who have all this internet palaver. Mine hold up well. So you can make your own mind up about the real impact of social networking.
Kiran: I assume from a few short stories you can’t yet be making a living from writing so what is your day job?
Dan: I’m a rent boy 😉
Kiran: What are you planning next?
Dan: I’m going to stick to shorts (that reminds me of the old Plunger Perkins story!).
Dan: Short stories I mean. I might expand to a novella if I get excited enough but I enjoy variety too much to be able to spend a year writing a novel (and I think a novel needs that time, sod this business of a novel in a weekend – it has to be shite). Smutty, sexy, dirty short stories about spunky men getting it on. One-handed reads I believe they are called. Maybe for my first promo I’ll give away Kleenex with each book?
Kiran: So that’s where the tissues went… So, can I persuade you to get up to some more wicked games in the dark? (Literarily speaking of course)
Dan: Oh, I can assure you I need no persuading. I was once on Hampstead Heath…*gets back on knees*
Kiran: Oooer! Thanks, Dan – it’s been a pleasure having you
Dan: Ooh, matron! In your dreams, lady!
*checks still in one piece… and breathes again*
You can find out more about Daniel deLoite on his Blog
You can follow him on Twitter
You can find all of Daniel’s stories HERE
Halloween Heat Paperback Anthology
Available to order from Amazon US
Five erotic stories of gay love and passion with a paranormal twist-ghosts and spirits and otherworldly delights, plus two hot tales of contemporary gay romance to fill your goodie bag this Halloween.
I’m excited to have new friend and fellow Etopia author, Antonia van Zandt on my blog, today. It’s been great to get to know a little more about another of the contributors to the Etopia Press Halloween Heat anthologies. Antonia’s short story, Serena appears in Halloween Heat Vol 3.
Kiran: Tell me – who or what was the inspiration for your short story, Serena?
Antonia: There is a painting in my house of a very beautiful woman, with black hair, emerald eyes and an enigmatic look. As you move about the room, her eyes seem to follow you. A bit spooky, but captivating.
Kiran: What drew you to write erotic fiction?
Antonia: A number of reasons, but one was a challenge to see if I could write good sex. It is not as easy as many people think!
Kiran: What do your friends and family think of your writing career?
Antonia: My family don’t know. They would be shocked and probably disown me. Mind you, they don’t really approve of me anyway, so I probably wouldn’t notice much difference. But, best to be on the safe side. My true friends are very supportive – and some of them even contribute ideas!
Kiran: What would your perfect writing day look like? (Mine involves being shut in a darkened room with my characters)
Antonia: In my lovely quiet study, surrounded by books and paintings, the door slightly ajar to allow my cats to wander in and out. The phone goes to voicemail and it is peace, perfect peace until I am ready to say goodnight to my characters, switch off the laptop, feed my cats and curl up in my comfiest chair with a glass of Blaufränkisch.
Kiran: You are holding an All Hallows Eve dinner party. Tell me the four sexiest fictional characters you would invite.
Antonia: One would definitely be Serena from my short story of the same name. She is sultry, sensual, strong and passionate. Another would be Karl from my latest WIP Vienna Valentine. He is a Hunk, but also compassionate and caring. Third would be Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights – but I would have the Timothy Dalton incarnation from the 1970 film as far as looks were concerned (certainly not Laurence Olivier!). Heathcliff was so mad, bad and dangerous to know – dark, swarthy, earthy and undeniably sexy. Lastly, The Sundance Kid (OK, I mean Robert Redford’s portrayal of him). I’ve always fancied riding off into the sunset with a gorgeous cowboy and I’d make sure he didn’t get shot!
Kiran: What can we look forward to seeing from you next?
Antonia: Around Christmastime, a new novella called Seducing Amanda is coming out. This is creepy, atmospheric and as hot as a sizzling poker in mulled wine. I’m hoping Vienna Valentine will follow soon after, but I’m waiting to hear. You can rest assured there will be gorgeous people, lots of erotic fire and passion, all set against a background where things are never quite as they appear to be…
Marianne closed her eyes and luxuriated in the perfumed water, as it caressed every inch of her body. Soon her secret lover would be here. Soon it would be her fingers stroking her skin, probing deep within her, rousing her to new pinnacles of passion.
Serena. Even the sound of her name swept through her on a tide of ecstasy. On this magical night, all Marianne had craved would be hers. And now she need wait no longer. Framed in the doorway, stood a tall, slender woman with black hair and emerald eyes.
Serena had come for her and Marianne was ready.
Excerpt from Serena:
The scent of jasmine wafted up from the sea of fragrant bubbles and I stretched out my legs until they touched the far edge of the oversized bath, such decadent luxury made all the more exquisite by its rareness. I lifted my right arm out of the water, stroking its silky softness, then touched my breasts, their rosy nipples poking up through the water. My fingers traveled to the firm contours of my stomach and on down to my pelvis. I hesitated, longing to touch myself and start my arousal, but that would be cheating. Serena must do that. It was our way.
A little moan escaped my lips. So long since I had seen her, since I had felt her warm, vibrant body and rained kisses on her smooth skin. But I didn’t have much longer to wait. A rustling sound made me open my eyes. Framed in the doorway, there she was. My beauty.
Antonia van Zandt can be found on her website: http://antoniavanzandt.blogspot.co.uk/
On Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/antonia.vanzandt
And Twitter: https://twitter.com/AntoniavanZandt
Dianne: Hello! I’m glad you could make it. Come sit by me on the couch. Iced tea? Coffee? My name’s Dianne Hartsock, the author of the short story COSTUMES in the Halloween Heat Anthology.
*I motion to the young man in the chair across from us* This is my good friend Paul, the hero of my story, who’s kindly offered to talk about his terrifying experience in the attic. Paul, can you tell our guests a little about yourself?
Paul: *blushes at the word ‘hero’ and fiddles with his tie, looking adorable* Hi, I’m Paul, obviously. I’m a student at OSU working toward a journalism major with a minor in English Literature. Um… I live with my boyfriend Bennie in an apartment off campus.
Me: Thanks, Paul. *I sit back and take a sip of coffee, hoping to make him feel more relaxed* Are you ready to tell us what happened at Bennie’s aunt’s house? It sounds like it was frightening.
Paul: You could say that. *He looks at our guests and frowns, biting his lip*
Me: It’s okay. These are friends.
Paul: *nods but still looks uncertain. He clears his throat, takes a sip of water* Well, Bennie’s aunt passes away a few weeks ago and his mom asked him to go through her things before they had the estate sale. I’ve known Bennie’s family forever and wanted to help out. Besides, it would give us a chance to be alone, away from the noise of our apartment complex.
I wish now neither of us had gone. *Paul takes a hard breath and covers his face.*
Me: *I lean forward and touch his knee* It’s okay. I won’t make you go through it again. It’s all in the book. But I’d really like to know how you and Bennie are doing now.
Paul: *draws another deep breath and gives us a tentative smile* We’re good. Bennie doesn’t like to talk about it much. He thinks most of the bad stuff was a dream. He doesn’t want to believe he actually hurt me. And that’s fine with me. I wouldn’t hurt his gentle heart for all the world.
Me: And you?
Paul: I’m fine. Some nightmares. And sometimes I catch myself watching Bennie’s eyes, making sure…But I’m being stupid. Everything’s okay with us.
Me: Glad to hear it, honey. Thank you so much for sharing with us, Paul. I hope you and Bennie can put this frightening experience behind you. *I look at our guests* More tea?
Thank you Kiran for having me and Paul on your lovely site today and everyone for stopping by. You can read Paul and Bennie’s story in COSTUMES and you can find me at:
There’s a presence in the attic, malevolent, waiting. When Bennie’s aunt passes away he’s given the task of sorting her things before the estate sale. But the chore that should have been a pleasant visit to the past becomes a nightmare for him and his longtime lover, Paul, as the dark presence seeks a new home in them. Their once gentle and sensual love turns to a dark passion, hard and rough and hurtful. Paul sees the change, but will his love be strong enough to save them?
Etopia Press: http://etopiapressblog.wordpress.com/
“Oh my God, Paul! You gotta see this.”
Paul chuckled to himself and smiled fondly. He lowered his lashes, thinking of Bennie’s creativity in bed that morning. It took all his effort not to moan aloud as he recalled his lover’s lips on his body, sliding over his dick—
Paul had trouble tearing his eyes away from the stained glass window in the door. Such a strange door, set in the middle of the west wall of the attic, leading nowhere as far as he could tell. He tried the handle again. Locked. But unless there was a balcony he hadn’t noticed from the outside, one would step through it right into empty space.
He glanced across the room, through the dust motes, and caught his breath in sudden alarm. Sunlight streamed through the old glass of the window and splashed color over Bennie’s face: yellow, green, blue, with a slash of blood red across his tender throat.
Paul drew a troubled breath. “What is it, hon?”
Bennie waved him over, and the movement centered the splash of red over his heart. “Come see what’s in this trunk! Our old Halloween costumes.”
Paul swallowed the lump in his throat. He was being silly. The reflected light didn’t mean anything. Just because Bennie’s aunt had died in the house … He didn’t believe in ghosts. No fucking way. Still, he hurried to Bennie’s side and slipped an arm around his waist.
“Which ones?” he asked, looking down into the musty trunk.
“All of them, as far as I can tell.” Bennie started pulling out wigs and hats and scarves, a pirate shirt and a werewolf mask. “Remember this one?” he asked and giggled as he held up a pink tutu.
“Oh god, yes. I thought your father was going to have a seizure. What were we, ten?” Paul rubbed the frilly skirt between his fingers. He’d grown up in the house next to the Ramseys, and he and Bennie were as close as brothers. Closer, when at fourteen they discovered it was more fun to sleep in the same bed than separately.
Bennie flashed him a look, light blue eyes dancing with mischief. Paul’s heartbeat quickened. Bennie’s hair fell in reddish-blond ringlets around his pale face. A few freckles brushed his checks, and Paul bent his head and licked them. He’d teased Bennie as a child that he’d wash them away one day with his tongue. One night, in Paul’s room, Bennie had shown him where his other freckles were. Now he could never taste these without wanting the others.
Bennie quirked a brow. “Think it will still fit me?”
Halloween Heat 1 Paranormal M/M
Love Lies Deep by Tristram La Roche
Idle Hands by Reneé George
Costumes by Dianne Hartsock
Eden by Kiran Hunter
Set in Stone by Elin Gregory
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KiranRecently unchained. Writes dark, supernatural and erotic fiction. Loves it on the dark side.
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