Still Alive!

Taking a short break from blogging to spend time with the family before the New Year. After that, it's back to business as usual. I have a feeling 2011 is going to be a great year.

Ann

Six Sentence Sunday 12-12-10

Picture has nothing to do with the story. I'm just obsessed with the way his muscles narrow down his hips and over his back. :)

Today I put the final polishes onto the novel that my last few Six Sentence Sunday posts came from and sent it out on submission. Here is a final tidbit from that novel that will hopefully be available in full in the near future. -Crosses fingers and toes.-

She focused on his thumb and watched a shimmering garnet drop form at the tip.

He followed her gaze as the granite wall began to collapse in on itself and a dark doorway opened with traces of green mist filling the space. Running his bleeding thumb over his lips, he removed his hand and kissed her. 

Cinnamon, heat, desire, the essence of fire. All these thoughts raced through her mind as she tried to put a name to the pleasure of his touch. 

Distracted by the skill of his kiss, she didn't notice he was moving them into the darkness until he whispered against her lips, "Welcome to Hell."


More Tidbit Goodness at Six Sentence Sunday

The Excitement of a New WIP

When I write, I have a rather odd method that seems to work for me. I finish the absolute rough draft on a book and start plotting for the next one right away. It usually takes me a day of staring at the computer screen or a candle flame to plot out my next book to my liking. Then I start my writing process and meet the characters and find out if they match my inital rough ideas. In the morning, I edit the rough draft WIP. In the afternoon I write the new WIP.

This works well for me in a couple different ways. I have the benefit of taking my mind totally off the old WIP and this helps to give me a more objective view on the story/grammar/etc. When I work on my new WIP, the mistakes of the old WIP are still fresh in my mind so I find it easier to avoid those blunders as I write my new story. Working on two books at once also helps me avoid storyline burnout by giving my brain something to play with other than just one set of characters.

Today is an exciting day for me. My next WIP is plotted out, an erotic romance thriller/adventure, and ready to go. My old WIP, erotic paranormal romance, is ready to be polished and massaged until it's ready for submission. Two very different books, but both filled with characters, romance, and plots that I adore.

Life is good. :)

Six Sentence Sunday 12-5

Another snippet from my paranormal/historical/speculative fiction/erotica/I have no idea how to label it WIP. Our leading lady is being led through the red silk halls of an upper class brother. Not the best place for a virgin who responds to the lust of others.

She followed the whore and ran her palm over the carved staircase with its figures of cavorting nymphs, and down a long hall. As they passed different rooms, Natalia could hear the sounds of passion coming from within. Her pace slowed and she pressed her hands against a white painted door. Images filled her head and she closed her eyes and tasted the lust in the air. Inside, a man licked the cream from between a woman's legs while another man stroked his cock. She gasped in shock and removed her fingertips from the door as her nipples hardened to painful points beneath her tunic.

Six Sentence Sunday 11-28

Another taste of my paranormal romance WIP. 

She could taste his desire, and in the back of her mind, she knew exactly what he wanted. His lust broke through her barriers and awoke the dark side of her essence that craved his warmth. Her self-control slipped away, and she was helpless to stop it.

"Why are you here?" 

His full lips softened at the sound of her voice. "To see the little hell cat that tried to slit my throat."


If you would like the backstory behind this scene check out the Chapter 1 Paranormal Romance WIP blog post below.

I Won!

I was utterly, totally, amazingly amazed when I opened an email the other day and found out I placed 2nd in the 'Some Like It Hot' writing competition hosted by author Tawny Taylor and Ellora's Cave editor Grace Bradley! http://tawnytaylor.net/ My husband got to watch me do the happy dance and my grin stretched from ear to ear. I entered the contest on a whim and a dare, never imagining that me (total newbie writer) would not only make it as a finalist, but place 2nd. 

The story I entered, Wild Lilly-Western Erotic Romance-, is the 2nd book I've written. I had a hell of a good time writing it and the characters quickly took on a life of their own. I love the field of erotic romance, I can write a good love story, and not have to leave the room and turn off the lights when my characters enjoy the physical and emotional aspects of that love. And who doesn't love a good cowboy?-see pic on the sidebar, Yum-

The first book I wrote and submitted to publishers is a paranormal romance that was a HUGE learning experience for me. Lots of re-writes(three months of self-editing later, its actually a great story), lots of realizing I should have paid more attention in English class, and lots of total newbie mistakes. After sending out the first rough draft (yes-newbie mistake) and getting a couple form letters from agents, I realized I needed to approach writing as a business and a passion. So I read websites, I read books, I read blogs, I joined a critique group, and I tried to apply all the science of getting a good story out of your head and onto paper.

At one point I was ready to give up after a not so nice rejection on my first MS totally crushed me. This may sound weird but bear with me, I was changing my 7 month olds diaper and he was laughing and giggling at me with the total adoration that only babies can have for their loved ones. I couldn't help but smile back at him and I had one of those rare 'ah-hah' moments. I couldn't give up. How in the world was I ever going to be able to tell my children to stick with their dreams, no matter how tough it gets, if I caved after one nasty email from some chick that really needed to get laid(subjective opinion).

I can't tell you how much of a needed confirmation this opportunity is. When I decided to focus my work on Erotic Romance, I got totally poo poo'd by my nearest and dearest(aside from hubby) and when I talked about wanting to write for ePubs I got even more slack. The most popular comment was 'That's great, but when are you going to write a real book?' -head to desk/repeat-.

So I started a one person campaign with my nearest and dearest to show them that Erotic Romance and ePublishing are legit. I showed them websites, sales figures, books, etc etc etc. One by one, they came around, and it wasn't because of my awesome sales presentation. It started with my Mom letting me know that all the ladies she works with have e-readers, and a few even admitted to owning books from Ellora's Cave. Then my SIL said she noticed at her kids soccer game the other day that almost every Mom there had an e-reader. Soon it became the blue car syndrome with my family, IE you don't know how many blue cars you see everyday until you actually look for them-and then they appear to be everywhere. Add to that my retired Dad following the e-reader and ePublisher trends, and all the news articles about what a big chunk of the industry they are becoming, and my family is now investing in companies that make e-readers.

Where was I before I started preaching the ePublishing gospel? Ah yes, so anyways, I'm totally and completely excited to have the opportunity to present my Western Erotic Romance to Ms. Bradley. Who, I might add, is a total class act and never made me feel like a moron for asking total newbie author questions. I hope that someday I will be able to make you laugh, smile, and sigh with my work. I can think of nothing more exciting than sharing my stories with you and taking you away to worlds filled with passion, romance, humor, and men and women who deserve a perfect love. Thanks for taking the time to read my rambling, I hope that it strengthens another new writer out there and helps them to follow their dream.

Don't give up! You can do it! :D

Chapter 1 Paranormal Romance WIP

This is the first chapter of the book that my six sentence Sunday excerpt is from. It's around 75% complete, then time for endless rounds of self-editing. Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 1

1870- Kazan, Russia

The cold wind stung Natalia's face and her long ash grey skirt snapped against her legs. The embroidered headband kept the cream veil in place, but it whipped about in the wind and momentarily obscured her vision of the slums of Kazan. Shame and fury kept her warm despite the cold blast of air blowing off the Volga River in the distance.

She held the scarf back in place and darted a glance around to see if anyone had noticed her exposed black braid. Regardless of the fact that she was about to enter a gambling den that no good woman would set foot in, she still considered herself a respectable woman who kept her hair covered in public. She was cursed with a father who did dishonorable things.

Worrying her lower lip with her teeth, she held the veil in place and took a hesitant step towards the muddy wooden boards leading to the sidewalk. Further down the street, whores loitered in the open doorways of their cribs, but they had enough common sense to avoid this particular building.

She tried to summon her courage and sucked in a cold breath that chilled her teeth. Her heart pounded in her ears as she stood before the door of the second gambling den in Kazan that she had to search. The windows on the first floor had been long ago sealed over, as were most main floor windows on this street. It deterred against theft and kept the actions of those inside secret.

The embroidered leather of her black boots protected her feet from the spring mud that surrounded the wooden boards leading to the entrance. Sweet tobacco smoke and harsh male laughter grew stronger as she stood before the door. 

She hated this, hated having to endure the lecherous looks of the men inside, hated having to beg her father to come home, and hated being alone in the ghetto of Kazan. A quick stroke over the hunting knife hidden in her pocket gave her an extra measure of confidence.

She shoved the heavy door open and the bouncer gave a tired sigh at the site of her.

Trying to ignore him, she searched the smoke filled room for the familiar curve of her father's green felt hat. No site of him at the main floor card tables. Panic made her palms sweat and her stomach churn. Maybe he was upstairs at the expensive tables. Had he found the small stash of money from her tutoring hidden in the chicken coup? 

"He's not here, Natalia." The bouncer had a scar running across his forehead and arms bigger than her waist. He shifted his bulk to block her view of the tables and she crossed her arms.

"Well then, you won't mind if I have a look around, will you?" She narrowed her cobalt blue eyes at him. Tall for a woman, she still had to look up to meet his gaze. She must check if he was upstairs. Her tutoring money had to go to the landlord to pay for the rent of their farm.

"I can't let you in. You are not the kind of woman my boss wants walking the floor."

She sniffed and gave a disdainful glance at one of the young girls serving the patrons liquor. Her blond hair hung long and loose about her shoulders and the top of her red embroidered dress hung unlaced a bit to show a square of pale flesh.

The sound of glass breaking jerked the bouncers head away with a sigh. Two men began to fight in the back of the room and a table full of cards and coins tipped onto the floor. Some of the patrons scooped up their earnings and moved away, while others cheered on the combatants. The bouncer muttered an oath that made her ears ring and waded through the crowd of drunken men and into the fray.

Wiping her sweaty hands on her cotton skirt, she inched along the wall and made her way to the stairs. Just a quick peek at the tables and she could be gone from this place.

A dirty hand grabbed her wrist as she tried to pass along unnoticed. The hand belonged to an older man with a filthy grey shirt and a mustard yellow conical hat. What few teeth he had were blackened with rot and his breath stunk as he grabbed her close.

"What are you doing here, pretty girl?" he slurred as he tried to pull her onto his lap. His lust vibrated off her body and stirred the darkness of her soul. Energy, sweet and pure rushed through her body and her lip curled back in disgust at the site of his dirty nails digging into the pale skin of her arm.

She backhanded him and he lost his hold on her wrist as he fell from his chair in shock. 

Her brother, Maxim, had taught her how to defend herself and years of working on the farm had given her the strength to back up her fist. After she had begun to develop into a woman, learning how to protect herself against unwanted advances became essential. Especially when her father was never around to keep her safe and her brother entered the military.

His friend with a greasy brown beard began to laugh and shoved away from the table. He hitched up his belt over his tunic and began to stalk towards her with an arrogant swagger. "Don't be so angry. We just want to see what color your hair is-between your legs."

Loathing, fear, and panic made her stomach sour and filled her mouth with bile. The bouncers had their hands full hauling the bloody combatants out the door and breaking up the fights on the other side of the room. The bearded man came closer and the ripe stink of his unwashed body added to her disgust. Slipping her hand into her pocket, she gripped the wooden hilt of the hunting knife, using her thumb to ease the blade from the sheath. 

With one hand rubbing his red cheek, the man with the bad teeth spat some blood on the floor. "Nice big breasts and hips for a stupid peasant girl. I'll enjoy teaching you not to hit a man."

He lunged at her and she grabbed his arm, slamming him against the dark stained wood wall with enough force to rattle the boards. Elation filled her at the site of his face bouncing off the wood. She bared her teeth in a snarl and curled her hands into fists. It would feel so good to hit him, to feel the skin giving way like an over ripe plum and spilling his blood onto her fists. 

The thought of his blood, thick and hot, spilling onto the sawdust of the floor made her instincts rejoice. He must pay for thinking he could touch her.

"Enough!" a deep voice roared from the top of the stairs. A man with hair the color of fire and wearing a long black jacket and pants embroidered with gold thread stood surrounded by more bouncers. His dark eyes focused on her and he gestured to the men who surged into the suddenly silent crowd. Tall, with broad shoulders and a lean waist, his lips narrowed into an angry line as he strode down the stairs towards her.

Her two attackers shrank back as he approached and his dark brown eyes locked onto hers.

Without a change in expression, he slapped her hard across the face. She gasped as unwanted pleasure flushed through her. When she entered womanhood, something had happened to her body to distort pain into pleasure. The reaction shamed and embarrassed her. She felt like perversion of nature and avoided all men to the point where her mother was asking if she was going to join a convent.

As the pain settled between her legs in a sweet ache, the humiliation and anger twisted her mind into a savage rage. It felt so right, so good to let that anger wash through her. It swept away the part of her mind that shrank from the violence of this place and fed the cold burn in her soul that rejoiced in the aggression and lust.

Rational thought was no longer an option as she struck back, jerking the knife from her pocket and grabbing the man in a headlock in the smooth motion she had practiced with her brother a hundred times behind their barn. Unfortunately, his advice of not using this move unless you meant to kill your opponent didn't surface in her mind until she had the blade jammed into his muscled neck.

She pressed the cutting edge deep enough into his skin to draw a thin river of blood that soaked into the high collar of his jacket. Deadly silence settled over the room as the collective shock and fear of the crowd made the hair on her arms stand up. A rill of desire moved through her and increased as the man in her arms went passive. Submissive, he relaxed against her and she could taste the delicious scent of his blood on her tongue.

The bouncer from the door dropped the man he had been beating and started to make his way towards them along with the rest of the professional muscle. They circled her like a pack of angry wolves as she bled their leader.

"Tell your men to back off," she whispered into his ear, her voice husky with passion and anger. His cologne, a combination of dark spice and sandalwood, made her libido purr. He stayed still against her, a solid wall of muscle, but held up a hand to the men. They froze and watched her with glittering eyes.

He started to press back into her and she dug the knife in deeper. He shuddered a little against her grip but did not try to pull away.

"What is your name?" he asked in a low voice.

"My name is none of your business. Tell your men to back off and I will leave you with your life."

He actually laughed as his blood smeared across the side of his neck. The fine red hair on the back of his head tickled her arm as he replied, "Tell me your name, and I will let you live."

"No. You have five seconds before I slice your throat," the words came out in a low growl as she tried to cover the tremble in her voice. The more he relaxed, the more the darkness in her soul relaxed in turn and her rational mind began to slowly regain control.

He chuckled and she wondered about his mental state. "Let her through. She is under my protection."

 She pulled the knife out of his throat, but kept it pressed lightly against the skin. Blood ran down the blade and wet her hand. She fought off the urge to lick it from her fingers. It was the blood of her enemy and it had the appeal of a glass of the best wine in the world. This unnatural thought startled her out of the cold anger and hot lust for a moment and her grip faltered. What was wrong with her? 

His men stared at him in shock, but backed away from the door. The adrenaline rush faded and fear filled the void.

"I don't want the protection of a man like you," she spat out and began to pull him towards the doorway. No one tried to stop her and she struggled to edge the door open with the tip of her boot. The lust tried to rush back in as he trembled against her. She knew it was not fear that was making him quake, but desire that felt like the stroke of rabbit fur against her skin. The sensation scared her and pushed the desire back, clearing her head.

"Let me get the door for you. On my honor, I, Gregor Trezent, will let you leave my establishment unmolested." He waited, still against her but stiff with tension. He moved his shoulders slightly to look back at her and his jacket rubbed over her stiff nipples. She sucked in a breath through her nose as the throbbing in her cheek continued to send little bursts of pleasure through her body.

Disgusted with herself and this place, she released him and darted for the door. He blocked the way with his arm and said, "Allow me." He opened the door with a small bow and reached out, straightening the cloth of her veil so it lay properly over her back. 

She gave him one last glare and ran out into the street. Sanity filled her mind with a sharp clarity as she bolted away from the gambling den. What had happened in there? She had never reacted like that before, if the desire had not stayed her hand, she would have happily slaughtered everyone in that room. Her breath hitched in her throat as she realized the insanity she had been battling for the last few months was gaining strength. Tears streaked down her cheek in icy tracks and she wondered how long she had before she lost her mind completely.

The thieves and prostitutes that lived in this section of the city gave her wide berth as she sprinted past them with the bloody knife clutched in her hand. Tormented by the ache between her legs and the memory of Gregor's dark eyes she worried that she had just signed her death warrant.

~~*~~

Gregor rubbed his lips and shifted as his hard cock demanded attention. He had to find out who she was. A woman that beautiful, and bold enough to attack a mafia lord in his own den, was a gift beyond anything he had ever imagined. When she had looked at him, her sapphire eyes had shimmered with hints of emerald and silver in the light of the gas lamps. He had never seen anything like it.

He motioned to his lieutenant and climbed the carved stairs to his office behind the VIP tables. "Who is that girl?" Her memory haunted him already and the urge to possess her took root in his soul. He would do anything to have her.

"Do you want me to kill her?" Filip asked and shut the heavy wood door. The room was done in shades of green with dark brown leather furniture. In a marked contrast to the dingy bar outside, this room was clean and opulent. A large glass cabinet held a collection of expensive liquor and crystal glasses. Next to the liquor was a large ball of black opium, ready to be cut up and shipped off to Moscow.

Gregor gazed out the window and tried to catch a glimpse of the woman's cream veil. She was stunning, tall with the most impressive breasts he had ever seen. The tree of life embroidery on her headdress indicated she was unmarried and the worn condition of her clothing marked her as a peasant. How a woman as beautiful as that managed to remain unmatched was a miracle. 

Her dominant spirit made his body clench with desire, almost as much as the pain of her digging the knife into his neck. When he felt the stinging kiss of the blade, his cock had instantly stood at attention. Her voice only stoked that want. Never had he heard its like. Rough honey and smooth velvet, it rubbed over his body like a caress as she whispered words of death into his ear.

"Gregor?" Filip asked again.

"No, do not touch her. She is under my protection. I want you to spread the word. If anyone harms her, they will answer to me and I will cut their cock off and they can die choking on it."

Filip's dark brows rose in surprise. "As you wish."

He relaxed back into the dark leather couch that rested against the wall between two small tables holding brass oil lamps. "Find out who she is and why she was here. I want to know everything about her." 

Filip nodded and began to open the door as a knock sounded on the other side.

One of the bouncers from downstairs came in and hooked his thumbs in the wide leather belt encircling his thick waist. "Sir, if I may have a moment of your time. It's about the girl downstairs."

Gregor pressed a handkerchief against the still seeping cut. That hellcat could have slit his throat if she had pressed a little harder. The thought excited him and made him impatient. "What is it?"

"I- I would ask for your mercy on her. I know her family. They would be devastated if they lost her so soon after the death of their son. I'm sure she will never come here again." The man grew pale as Gregor remained silent. "Please forgive me. I did not mean to overstep my bounds." The huge man trembled with fear as Gregor smiled at him.

"You know her?"

He nodded and swallowed. 

"Tell me about her." Gregor found himself fascinated for the smallest detail of information about her. It surprised him how quickly she took control of his life, and the thought of her taking equal control of his body made him shudder.

"Her name is Natalia Shura. Her family rents a small farm on the edge of town. Maxim, her older brother, died last year from a fever while serving in the military." He hesitated and said, "After her brother's death, her father turned to gambling. That's why she was here. She was looking for her father."

The sunlight began to dip behind the building across the street as Gregor turned over the information in his mind. He wanted to win her over, have her come to him willingly. He was very good at charming people. It was part of the reason he rose so quickly in the ranks of the mafia. That and the fact he could kill anyone without remorse.

"Does her father gamble here?"

"Yes, when he has the money. He used to be a carpenter, but I haven't seen him selling his goods at the market in a long time." 

"Thank you, you may go. Natalia," he relished the way her name rolled over his tongue, "will not be harmed."

Filip moved aside and the he big man smiled and ducked his head in thanks as he lumbered out the door.

Gregor shifted on the couch and his cock continued to throb and demand attention. "Tell that slut Saria to come up here." Usually he chose the blond Anechka, but the memory of striking sapphire eyes beneath black brows as delicately arched as a willow leaf fueled his desire tonight. "And spread the word that Natalia Shura is off limits. She is mine."

Six Sentence Sunday 11-21

A little taste from my paranormal romance WIP. And no, it's not a vampire story. ;)

The broad tip of his cock nudged against her entrance and he whispered, "I love you." 

Slow and sure, he began to push his way in and she bit down on the meat of his muscle where the shoulder and neck met to distract him from noticing she was no longer a virgin. So good, so thick, her connection with him deepened as he sank his cock into her.

Magic, power, and lust swirled about them as he thrust and she licked the blood from her bite in long strokes that matched the movements of his hips. Calloused hands stroked her hair back from her face as he whispered her name. They chased their orgasm together, each intent on the others pleasure.

Last Line of Paranormal Erotica WIP

A friend of mine asked me to post the last line of my current WIP. So here it is. :)

Outside of the massive window, the silver and bronze laced clouds began to brighten as the sun rose over Hell.


Wonder what kind of world my reader's imaginations will build around this one sentence. I hope to have this book finished and polished in the next month or so. Will post some more niblets from it next week and hopefully it will continue to tickle your pickle. :D

Historical Romance Can't be Kinky

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Chapter 1: Akron and Gomorrah (M/M/F Contemp Erotica)

Chapter 1

Maeve Burgundy tried to tune out Trinity's excited voice as she chattered away and read the brochure over the muffled roar of the 747's engines. Even in first class, you couldn't get away from their rumble. "Gomorrah is the world's largest five star Virtual Reality Resort. Boasting over one hundred individual VR Spa's, and specializing in erotic fantasy, guests can full fill their every desire. We encourage you to embrace your wild side and challenge us with your dreams that we turn into reality. Virtual Reality."

Tucking a strand of coal black hair into her bun, she stole a glance at Trinity between emails back to the office. Trinity's black spiral curls practically vibrated with excitement and a flush painted her dark chocolate cheeks. Maeve didn't know why she was so keyed up, it's not like she needed the VR fantasies the resort promised.

Built like a runway model with mile long legs, Trinity never lacked male admirers. At 5'1 with abundant curves and a plush Italian bottom, Maeve often felt dowdy compared to her beautiful best friend. Not that she lacked male companionship either, but she kept her relationships strictly physical. She had trusted the wrong guy with her heart one too many times, and had the emotional scars to prove it.

She tried to tune Trinity out and finish the email to her assistant back at their office in New York City. The thought of being out of touch with the office for a whole week made her panicky inside and she typed even faster.

Trinity attempted to shut Maeve's laptop with one hand while she continued to read the brochure. "Would you like to be Tarzan, swinging through the trees to rescue your beloved Jane from an army of headhunters? Did you ever wonder what it would be like to be a botanist working with a plant that induces sexual euphoria? If you can imagine it, you can do it from the safety of our Virtual Reality chambers. Nothing is taboo, and the only thing holding you back from living the ultimate fantasy is yourself."

Maeve snorted and wondered who would find plants sexy, but Trinity continued, unabashed, "For an extra thrill, you can partner with other resort guests and live out your fantasies with them in the safety and anonymity of cyber space."

An announcement came over the speakers that the plan would begin its decent into the Detroit Metro Airport and to please put away all electronic devices.

Maeve's peach manicured nails flew over the keyboard in an effort to get out her last minute orders. Trinity, the bitch, was taking away her laptop once they landed. She didn't believe that Maeve would be able to relax and enjoy her vacation with any it.

Grumbling Maeve added a last set of instructions on the acquisition of the failing steel mill. She won this vacation, but wasn't going to take it and tried to give it away. Trinity, and the rest of the office, forced her into it and she only agreed after her boss threatened to fire her. He was kidding of course...she hoped.

Maeve scowled and hunched over her keyboard as she saw the stewardess approaching them with a frown. The petite blond stewardess stopped at their aisle and said, "Ma'am, could you please close your laptop?"

Maeve growled and clicked send just before Trinity smashed her fingers with the screen of the laptop. The stewardess startled at the aggressive snarl that Maeve gave Trinity and backed away with wide eyes. Trinity just laughed and hugged Maeve's laptop to her chest.

"We aren't on the ground yet," Maeve grumped and stretched out her fingers.

"The office is fine. Your underlings live in fear of you and they won't do anything to incur your wrath." Trinity tried to tug at the carved wood sticks holding Maeve's long hair back in a tight bun. "Let your hair down, sister! You're on your first vacation in two years. Relax and enjoy the ride."

 Maeve eyed the laptop with longing. "I've taken a vacation," she said defensively.

"Business conferences don't count. And when is the last time you made love?"
The sight of Detroit's glittering lights suddenly became very interesting as Maeve mumbled, "I've had partners."

Trinity snorted and slipped the laptop into its bag and under her seat. "I said made love, not sex." She patted Maeve's hand and tugged at the sleeve of her pinstripe suit. "I worry about you. All work and no play makes Maeve a very dull girl."

Now it was Maeve's turn to snort. "What about you, Ms. Trin? You aren't exactly the poster girl for long-term relationships."

Trinity stuck her tongue out and said, "Well, at least I try. What are you so afraid of that won't let you fall in love?"

This remark hit too close to home and Maeve quickly changed the subject. "So what fantasies are you going to try out? We get four, one for each day we are there." Maeve pulled out her iPhone and looked at the list of possible fantasies she wanted to try.

Trinity gave a shocked gasp that dissolved into giggles. "Are you for real? You made a list of your fantasies? Did you also schedule your orgasms and bathroom breaks?"

Maeve narrowed her eyes at Trinity. "I hope the batteries on your vibrator run out."

Trinity laughed and said, "Ohhhh, low blow!" They pressed back into their seats as the plane touched down and skimmed along the runway.

Maeve watched the brand new terminal of the airport gleam out of the darkness. After the economic collapse of the late 90's, Detroit reinvented itself through tax breaks and hard work into the Virtual Reality capital of the world. Now it celebrated the fruits of those efforts as not only a center of enormous wealth, but also as one of the top tourist destinations of the world. Here, in the safety and comfort of the Mid-west, the adventurous spirit could fulfill their every desire at one of the nineteen VR Resorts.

In the distance, the giant illuminated obelisk that was Gomorrah soared above its competition. Maeve had the Resort thoroughly researched before she agreed to come. Trinity didn't know it, but this was actually a business trip for Maeve. There was a competing Resort that was falling into financial ruin, and a massive profit to be made if she could buy it and restore it. Problem was, she knew nothing about the world of VR. She preferred reality any day of the week.

Trinity bounced up and down in her seat. "We're here!"

~*~

"What do you think?" Angel ran his hand over the tanned skin of his smooth shaved head in a nervous gesture that was out of character for him. He strode over to the floor to ceiling windows and looked down on the city lights of Detroit and Canada across the river. The view from the top floor of Gomorrah was fantastic, and he watched the red dots of planes in the distant night sky circling the airport. Was Maeve on one of them?

Luke leaned back in the black leather chair and kicked his feet up on Angel's steel and glass desk. A tall man with a swimmers build, he had been Angel's best friend for the last eight years, and his chief of security and lover for the last five. Stroking his neatly trimmed dark gold goatee, he watched Angel pace with a grin. "I think our lovely Maeve will be heckled into taking a vacation against her will and is on her way right now." His feet twitched on the desk as his anticipation betrayed his calm voice. "Why we have to do all this bullshit cloak and dagger stuff again instead of just inviting her out here? If she really is the woman we've been looking for, I want to start out on the right foot with her. You're break-up couldn't have been that bad."

Angel tried to keep from scuffing his feet and smirked at his reflection. "We parted on hard terms our freshman year of college. Her scholarships took her out to California while mine took me to Cambridge." He turned and gave Luke a rueful grin. "Part of the reason I got interested in Virtual Reality at MIT was because of her. I wanted a way to be with her, without having to sell everything I own to afford a cross-country plane ride."

Luke joined him at the window and put his arm around Angel's waist, tugging him close. "Did you ever try to apologies? Lord knows we've had our epic fights, but we always manage to kiss and make up."

Angel grinned and firmed the muscles of his ass as Luke's hand roamed downwards and gave him a fleeting caress. He sought out Luke's hand and held on, stroking his thumb lightly over the downy gold hair covering his wrist.

Looking out the window again, and avoiding Luke's questioning gaze, Angel said, "I sent her a long and rambling email, when I was wasted on Yeager, trying to win her back." He groaned at the memory. "She sent me a reply five minutes later saying she was dating someone else and to leave her alone. Then I, full of drunken misery, wrote her back calling her a whore and other things I wish I could take back."

Luke winced. "Ouch."

"I know."

"Did you try calling her?"

"Yeah, she changed her number. So I called her Mom who told me to piss off."

Luke snorted out a laugh, "Well. That would be pretty disheartening."

Angel grumbled, "This was twelve years ago and I was an idiot back then. A very insecure idiot who didn't know how good I had it. This was before I became Angel and I was just Rafe, the punk kids with piercings and blue hair."

"Well, now you're Angel. Millionaire bachelor and virtual reality God." Luke teased him and they wrapped their arms around each other, enjoying their reflection in the glass.

Angel grinned, recalling the interview on CNN with Maeve and Larry King. He had sat straight up in bed and hit record the second he recognized her. She had grown into her beauty and wore it like a fine perfume. Confident and intelligent, she handled the interview with class. He couldn't believe the girl that made love to him in the rain was the woman sparring words with Donald Trump. The sound of the TV woke Luke from his sleep next to him and when Angel explained who she was, Luke had been intrigued.

"Do you think Maeve will be...open...to our lifestyle?" Luke asked delicately. "When you sent me out to New York City to spy-"

"Research." Angel glowered at him and Luke rolled his eyes.

"Fine, research her-stalk her, whatever." Luke ignored Angel's warning growl and continued, "She seemed to be devoted to her job, and that's about it. Everything about her is so straight laced, I don't know if I can picture her happily living with two men."

Angel loved sharing his women with Luke. It was the best of both worlds. He had his man and his woman, and didn't have to worry about either straying. He trusted Luke completely and vice versa. To tell the truth, he loved watching his woman getting fucked by Luke as much as he loved fucking him. It just flat out did it for him.

Turning Luke by his trim waist, Angel sought out his lips with a soft brush of his own. Firm, gentle, they explored each other's mouth with the intimacy that can only come from two people that love each other. A groan stole from Angel's mouth as Luke dug his nails into his broad shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss in a dance of tongues and heat. Pulling back, Angel ran a hand through Luke's hair and admired the play of light on the golden strands.

Luke watched him, his blue eyes darkened to sapphire with passion. "I really want this to work out for us. I know I'm extremely picky about my women." Luke brushed his lips across Angel's again, soft and decadent. "But I think that you're right, Maeve is the one. Beyond finding Maeve utterly delicious to look at with that full and soft body, she is wicked smart and owns enough lingerie to open a store."

"How do you know that?" Angel gave him a suspicious look and Luke laughed, leaning back in his arms.

"Easy there. I didn't break into her apartment and go digging through her underwear drawer." His lips twitched with a grin and he traced the thick gold ring piercing Angel's right nipple through his dress shirt. "I hacked into her credit card and checked out what she spends her money on."

"You shouldn't have done that." Angel grumped at him.

Luke watched him closely, his smirk turning into a full smile as Angel's cock thickened against his. Pressing into Angel, Luke drew him closer and whispered against his lips. "Don't you want to know what she bought?"

Soft silk slid beneath Angel's hands as he pulled Luke closer. The press of his goatee tickled against his throat as Luke brushed his lips over the banging pulse in his neck and said, "She buys her corsets custom made from France."

Tugging the edge of Angel's shirt from his pants, Luke tugged at the buttons and growled as Angel licked the outer rim of his ear. Their shirts hit the floor at almost the same time and both men sighed as they wrapped their arms around each other, fingers tracing familiar paths over their muscled backs, the thick gold of Angel's nipple rings rubbing against Luke's chest.

Turning them to face the window, Angel teased Luke's pants down to his long muscled legs and off his feet. With a grin, he nipped at the back of Luke's knee and ran his tongue over the soft skin there. He loved the smell of Luke, the way he made him feel, and most of all the trust that they had in each other. Bending over, he pulled off his pants so that Luke had a view of his exposed ass in the window. A rumbling growl of appreciation met this gesture and his dick throbbed.

Sliding his hands up the outside of Luke's hard thighs, Angel positioned himself so Luke could watch the reflection of Angel giving him head in the big dark window. Stroking himself, he thought about what it would be like to share Luke's cock with Maeve, to have their lips locking together over the rock hard flesh.

Luke ran his hands over Angel's head, gently urging him towards his erection that demanded attention. Full lips curving into a smile, Angel teasingly just took the head of his cock into his mouth, running his tongue around the fat rim of his head. Long and thick, Luke had very wide head on his cock and Angel loved the feel of it filling his mouth.

Slow and steady, opening his throat, Angel swallowed him in while jerking himself in unison. Luke's hands ran over his head, distracted and tightening as he whispered Angel's name. Deeper sucks now, fighting against his gag reflex as he tried to fit more of the cock down his throat. He felt Luke thicken and his balls drew up tight.

"Stop," Luke gasped and pulled himself out of Angel's mouth. Lowering himself to his knees, Luke reached forward and stroked Angel's cock, eyes dark and demanding. Angel loved this, loved the way Luke got all worked up and intense in his passion.

"I want to fuck you," Angel growled out. Luke grinned and gave his dick a hard squeeze.

Exchanging a kiss, Angel ran his hands over the tight muscles of Luke's chest, fingertips tracking down the hard bumps of his abs. Pulling him close, keeping their lips pressed together, Angel gripped Luke's firm ass and they rubbed the head of their cocks over each other.

Pressure began to build in his sac and their cocks were slippery with pre-cum as they ground their hips. Giving Luke's lower lip a final nip, Angel turned him around and whispered in his ear, "Give it to me."

With a shudder, Luke bent over onto his hands and knees and thrust his ass into the air. With a low rumbling growl, Angel wet his fingers and worked them into Luke's ass. Even after five years of taking Angel's girth, he was still deliciously tight and responsive. A light sweat misted Luke's back as he bucked back against Angel.

"I'm close already," Luke panted out and squeezed his internal muscles around Angel's proving fingers.

A moan tore from Angel's lips as he held the head of his cock against Luke's puckered hole. The sight of himself sinking into that firm flesh made his balls draw up tight and he fought the urge to just bury himself. When the outer ring of Luke's ass gripped around his head, he paused and enjoyed the sensation, allowing Luke to control the movement and push the rest of the way. Holding himself still, he reached between them and stroked Luke's sac as he fucked himself against Angel, low groans and pants tearing from his lips.

It was too much, he had to move, had to chase the orgasm that trembled just out of reach. Gritting his teeth, he held onto Luke's hips and worked him, hard and deep. So tight and slick, Luke's ass flexed as he threw his head back and groaned.

"Going to come," he gasped out and Angel leaned forwards, grasping his shoulders. He could feel his own orgasm, almost there. Body tight, muscles tense, he pounded himself into Luke with a groan. Beneath him, Luke's ass gripped and released Angel as he shuddered and bucked, his body trying to lock Angel in as he came in long and low gasps.

So good, so tight and hot. Leaning over and almost collapsing on Luke, Angel bit the back of his neck as his cock jumped and spurted inside of his ass in long jerks. Each throb made Luke shiver beneath him and drew the orgasm out.

Panting, he rolled off of Luke and held his hand, staring at the ceiling as they both tried to relearn how to breath. Luke pulled him onto his chest, and Angel listened to his racing heartbeat.

"Love you," he murmured and placed a gentle kiss on Luke's lips.

"Love you too," Luke grinned back. "Fuck what the rest of the world thinks. I can't imagine spending the rest of my life without you and our perfect woman at our side. The best of both worlds."  

Angel placed another gentle kiss on Luke's chest. "The thought of you fucking her while I-"

Luke placed his hand over Angel's lips and laughed. "As much as I would love round two, we don't have time right now. Our lovely lady is going to be arriving soon, and we have to put the seduction to end all seductions into action."

Angel grinned at him and said, "I plan on testing the waters doing some fantasies with her tonight and see how she responds. The Maeve I knew had more love to give than anyone I've ever met." He sighed and leaned back against the glass. "I just hope she'll give us a chance to prove how good it can be."

Chapter 1: Dance of the Gods

Chapter 1

Carmella Ramirez ran a hand over her red silk covered curves and enticed the man following her down the alley in the heat of Rio de Janeiro. Her soul slept, blissfully unaware of the murder her body was about to commit.

"Hold on, baby," the portly American tourist puffed. "You gotta give me a chance to catch up to that fine Brazilian ass of yours."

The succubus using Carmella's body paused and spun on her six-inch black stiletto heel. A woman would have been immediately suspicious of anyone that could skip down a dark alley in those shoes without a wince. To the rotund tourist, it was merely a reflection of the sensuality that seemed to hang about the stunning brunette like a cloud of expensive perfume.

Her exotic voice purred from the faint lighting of the alley. "It's just a little further." She stalked over to him and ran her slim bronze fingers through his hair. Pressing her hips against his, she gave a thrusting wiggle that made him gasp. 

With a soft breath she murmured, "I can't wait to show you this club."

He panted against her and popped a mint flavored Rolaids into his mouth. "I'm not so sure about this. I don't even speak Mexican."

The succubus tried to keep from rolling her eyes. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of you." She searched the man's mind for his hidden desires and found the right words to say in order to get him to follow her. 

"I've never told anyone this..." She traced the man's lips with the fingertips of the borrowed body. "But I've always wanted to dress up like a pirate and be punished for my wicked deeds."

The pulse in his temple banged and the succubus hoped he didn't keel over right here. His soul was exactly what they needed tonight. Young and newly married, this pitiful man defiled his sacred covenant to his wife repeatedly with whores during his business trip. 

"Have you-." The man licked his lips and groped her ass like a pillow in need of fluffing. "Have you been a naughty girl?" 

He went to kiss her, tongue first, and she spun away from him with a giggle. "Let's hurry. I don't want all the equipment to be gone by the time we get there."

Heels clicking against the concrete, she moved deeper into the alley and stopped below a small white neon sign hanging over a black painted door. Two enormous garbage bins piled with boxes blocked the view to the street. His hands found her ass again as she knocked an elaborate rhythm on the door. The magical warding on the entrance repulsed her, but the lust and passion it protected made her want to tear it down with her bare hands.

The heavy black metal door swung open and lust poured out in visible waves that the succubus bathed in with a shudder. She ignored the muffled scream of the man next to her as he was roughly jerked into the dim interior of the bar by two brawny men wearing leather masks. 

Warmth and pleasure made her sigh and she held her hands out to the doorway, absorbing the lust. She wanted to wallow in the orgy covering the floor of the bar. She wanted to throw this body to the pleasure of anyone that would have it. To drink in the lust, to suck every human inside dry of their passion. It would be enough to sustain her for months.

Anger twisted the innocent features of Carmella's body and she began to chant in a foul language damned by the Gods of Creation. The bouncer yelled in panic over his shoulder. A tall man with dark hair and scars covering his hands pushed a blond with the body of a porn star off his lap. Against the back wall, the fat American screamed like a trapped rabbit as he was shackled and hoisted to dangle from the ceiling. A priest of the demonic God, Guaricana, selected a black leather whip with razor blades at the tip. 

The tall man grabbed his black cane from the top of the glass and metal bar and sprinted to stand next to the bouncer as the warding shuddered and rippled beneath the succubus's curse.

"I command you to stop," he growled out and held the succubus's gaze.

An angry hiss swarmed from her slender throat. The bouncer quivered in fear, but the tall man looked bored.

He was her summoner, and as such, his word bound her as long as she accepted the body he offered.

A sneer lifted his lip. "The sun will be up soon. You must return the body to its bed." 

She fought against the power of his command. "Please, just let me inside for a moment." The distress in her voice was real. To be denied that much lust was painful for a succubus, akin to denying a heroin addict a mixing bowl full of the drug.

The man narrowed his eyes. "Do you think I believe for a second that you won't fuck everything that touches you?"

The succubus walked backwards, fighting his order every step of the way. "I need!" She tried to explain and held her hands out in a pleading gesture.

"And I need you in that body." He began to shut the door in her face. "If you do anything to lose its virginity, then you can no longer use it and our Master will punish us both."

She fisted her hands and allowed the command to carry her back to the limo waiting to take this body back to its ghetto apartment. Her summoner would eventually slip up, and when he did, she would beg her true Master, Guaricana, to let her be the one to devour his soul.

~*~

Sean Calmus scrolled through his email, stopping when he saw a message from his God. Maponus, the Celtic God of Music, preferred modern technology for contacting his worshipers and Sean appreciated that. 

Nothing like a magical bird singing a message to you, while you're waiting in line at the grocery store, to put a kink in your day. He took a gulp of his dark coffee and gave himself a mental shake. Coordinating and packing for the trip to Rio kept him up all night. Faint traces of dawn sent runners of pink over the dark ocean beyond the bay windows of his study. 

If he didn't read the email now, Maponus was known to send singing chinchilla telegrams while he was trying to have an intimate moment with a willing lass. His patron God had a weird sense of humor, one of the reasons why they got along so well. 

Running his hand through his red hair, he clicked the email and began to read.

My Chosen,

I have work for you while you're in Brazil. There is a young woman who is in need of rescue, though she does not know it. You will be in a unique position to help her. She is the first flower of spring, hidden by the snow. Be careful, a High Priest of Guaricana has been using her as his stalking-horse.

Maponus

After reading the letter twice, Sean did a search on the Internet for Guaricana. 'A Brazilian devil who is worshiped by whipping young men until the blood flows.'  

"Well, isn't that fantastic. Not only do I have to DJ for the Carnival parade this year, I also get to lock horns with a devil fond of S&M," Sean muttered. With a sigh, he picked up the phone and called Kell, his best friend and crew chief.

"Hello, Sean," Kell said in a thick Irish rasp. "There had better be a good reason you're calling me only...fifteen minutes after I've finally gotten to bed."

"I'm sorry, but I got a little love note from Maponus." 

A light clicking on and sheets rustling came over the phone line. "What does Maponus want?" Kell asked, sounding a lot more awake now.

Leaning back into his dark leather chair, Sean looked out the window to watch the dawn breaking over the Celtic Sea. The waves crashed over the dark gray rocks of the cliff far below, throwing white plumes of foam into the chilly air. He pushed himself out of the comfortable chair and walked over to the wide bay window, gazing into the dawn tinting the dark sky with purple and grey light. 

Sean's slate blue eyes reflected the color of the deepwater beyond his cottage. "Well, besides bringing over a crew of fifteen musicians and dancers, coordinating with twenty-four samba clubs, doing a charity DJ event, trying to make the locals understand our heavily accented English-"

Kell chuckled. "Don't forget romancing a few of those delicious Brazilian lasses." Kell made a harsh grunt. In the background, Sean could hear Mary, Kell's wife, giving him an earful of what would happen to him, if he so much as bumped into one of those women.

"Tell Mary I'll keep you out of trouble," Sean laughed. "So in addition to all that, I also have to find a woman who is 'the first flower of spring' and save her from some Brazilian Destruction God who likes to whip young men until the blood flows."

"First flower of spring. Sounds like Maponus's usual vague description. Doesn't seem too bad, except for the demon with a whip part." Kell sighed tiredly. "Well, my friend, I suggest you get some sleep. Regardless of what our God has in store for you, we still have a twelve-hour flight from Dublin to Rio this afternoon."

"I know, I know. Thank you, Kell. Give Mary a kiss for me." 

Sean tossed the phone onto his computer chair and strode over to the floor-to-ceiling bookcase that dominated the north wall. It was filled with all kinds of books, from paperbacks to enormous leather bound volumes. Reaching up, he pulled down a three-foot long black metal case from the top shelf with a small grunt. Whistling a complicated tune, he removed the protection spell from around the case and flipped it open.

Inside, a long and beautifully crafted sword shone on its bed of dark green velvet. A simple silver ring pommel adorned the blade and the guard was a sinuous curve of gleaming metal. The sword itself was long and razor sharp, with runes and music notes etched into its length.

Sean stood there for a longtime-memories of swinging this sword as a green youth playing out in his memory. How eager he had been when the Celtic God of Music had picked him as his Chosen hand on earth. Maponus had gifted Sean with the ability to enhance his music into magic. Sean could bring joy to any heart with a simple melody, or heal a wounded body and spirit with a song. 

What he wasn't prepared for were the responsibilities that came with such power. At first, all he wanted to do was become a famous musician, have an endless supply of willing women, and travel the world using his God's gift. Instead, he found himself drawn into dangerous battles with the forces of Destruction and protecting the innocent. Oh, the fame and women had come, and the world travel, but his greatest satisfaction came from his secret work as a Chosen warrior of Creation.

Stripping off his shirt, he revealed a large and intricate tattoo covering his muscled back. It was a series of Celtic knots that looked like a random design. Only after following the path of the knots, and looking at the bigger picture, was it apparent the design was a music symbol. 

Sean took the sword out of its bed of velvet and held it before him, turning the blade in the dim morning light.

'It begins again,' he thought and he sliced through the air with a fluid motion of his wrist. Eyes on the cold ocean, he began to practice his sword forms as his mind sought the future.