Helping Vampires to Save the World!

Helping Vampires to Save the World

Let's face it. Vampires are sexy. Something about the undead stirs up our juices. Perhaps it's their irresistible power. Even when we know the danger, we're so very tempted to surrender to their all-consuming lust. Maybe we want to comfort them, to save them a lonely, bloody eternity. Maybe we secretly crave immortality ourselves.

Vampires are frequently portrayed as evil or at least amoral, viewing humanity from the jaded perspective of centuries. Now, though, vampires are doing their part to save the world.

Coming Together: In Vein is a brand new collection of vampire-themed erotica and erotic romance edited by Lisabet Sarai. All sales of this novel-length volume support Doctors Without Borders (Médecins Sans Frontières). MSF works in nearly 70 countries providing medical aid to those most in need regardless of their race, religion, or political affiliation. Right now, despite being barred from the country, MSF doctors and nurses are in Syria, working with patients from both sides of the civil war. They're performing surgery in caves and sneaking into refugee camps to distribute desperately needed medications.

You can help MSF in its life-saving mission, simply by indulging your passion for vampires. Buy a copy of Coming Together: In Vein in ebook, Kindle format, or print. Enjoy! Then help spread the word! Every copy we sell has the potential to save someone's life.

The list of contributors includes many names you'll recognize. Every one of these authors has provided his or her work free of charge, to support the charitable aims of the project. 

Furthermore, the editor is giving away a free copy of her short story collection Body Electric  to everyone who buys a copy of Coming Together: In Vein.  (For details of this offer, click here.)

You'll find an excerpt below – just to whet your appetite.

Sink your teeth into Coming Together: In Vein. Help our vampires save the world. 

***

From “The New Normal” by Jay Lygon

I went to the doorway, but of course could not enter. That lanky shadow could only be Zoran.

“Is that really you, Dusan? You’re alive?” Clearly, he doubted.

“I’m not exactly dead.” Truth might have been be the first causality of war, but sometimes it refused to go gently into that good night—until some politician staked it through the heart. Like me, my version of the truth had one foot in the grave.

“You’ll be shot if you stand out in the open. It’s too dark to see the sniper warning, but this street is dangerous. Come inside, please.”

Zoran was still a foolish boy. Didn’t he think about where he was standing? After all, he was the one who studied folktales and myths at university. Back then I hadn’t understood how important that knowledge could be in the modern world, but since things had changed, I could have told him how the doorframe—splintered as it was—protected him from things far worse than snipers. The threshold was a place of powerful magic that divided the realm of the supernatural from the human. Two years ago, such an idea would have seemed laughably medieval, but conditions in Sarajevo had spun back to that point in time. Electricity and peace were the new fairytales.

The threshold was also the symbol of the body, inviolate. The old sicknesses could still kill you, as there were no hospitals or doctors left to speak of, but there were new diseases out there that were worse. Invite anyone to come inside at your peril. And yet, he pleaded with me.

Inside the foyer, Zoran immediately grasped me in the embrace I’d long dreamed of, but with a different sort of passion. I closed my eyes and wished the desperation was lust, not fear. With stiff arms, I hugged him back and murmured words of comfort. Yes, it’s me. No, I’m not a ghost. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. Yes, I missed you.

He pulled back to shake my hand and kiss my cheeks three times. His face wasn’t exactly as I’d remembered it. It was more gaunt than before, and his brown eyes had lost some of their puppy dog openness. He tried to glance away from my stare, but couldn’t. He shouldn’t have looked into my eyes. I could have held him there forever. I could have compelled him to do things with his mouth that he’d only done in my fantasies.

That was an old hunger. It gnawed at me when I’d had my fill of blood and the rest of the night stretched before me. Regret was a terrible thing when it seemed it could haunt me for all eternity. Sentiment, or more likely pride, stopped me from commanding him to his knees, but I still took a kiss. Like the old days, he laughed and pulled away, but he didn’t push. Instead, he grasped my arm. A ropey blue vein crossed the back of his hand to his knuckle. It twitched with his pulse. Before my hungers overwhelmed me, I had to look away.

The foyer walls met at odd angles. Some artillery blast, maybe the one that destroyed my apartment, had knocked his building sideways. It made me feel as if I were falling even though I knew I wasn’t.

“Come on upstairs. Everyone will be so glad to see you again.” Zoran bounded halfway up the staircase before stopping to look over his shoulder at me. It was if we were in a different time, before the siege began, when we’d staggered into this foyer late at night. He’d jog up the stairs, sure I was behind him, while I held back and wondered if I could stand to watch him turn into someone else for his family. Reluctantly, then and now, I followed.

 His butt flexed under his jeans, a mesmerizing sight as I followed it up the three flights to his family’s apartment. At the landing, he said, “You look hungry,” and I tried not to laugh. Did he have any idea what he was saying?

***

So what are you waiting for? Go buy it - help a fantastic organisation, and get a free copy of the editors stories to boot!  Win/Win!

Nasty Business with Lisabet Sarai

Today I welcome the wonderful Lisabet Sarai as she tells us about her new release. I love Lisabet's books, and I know you will too!

Nasty Business
BDSM romantic erotica by Lisabet Sarai
Books We Love, 2012

Blurb

All's fair in lust and business

Ruby Maxwell Chen, lovely and ruthless CEO of a huge British business empire, is used to getting her way. When she encounters the strangely charismatic American entrepreneur Rick Martell, though, she wonders if she hasn't finally met her match. 

From the trendy clubs of London to the Hollywood Hills, Ruby and Rick compete for ownership of a strategic factory in Malaysia. Neither has any qualms about using sexual wiles to smooth the path to success. Neither anticipates that their mutual attraction will turn into something far more intense and difficult to control.

As their struggle for dominance escalates, they draw their employees and associates into their outrageous power games. The stakes could scarcely be higher, as Ruby and Rick play for the ultimate prize: a night of total physical surrender.

Novel-length book includes “Shades of Red”, a bonus story about Ruby's introduction to BDSM!

Excerpt 1 (Rated R)

Bravo." A soft, melodious male voice, and then the sound of applause. "I'm extremely impressed."

I pull myself abruptly upright. Did someone dare to watch me and my medieval servitor?

I have just been finger-fucked to exhaustion, yet my first reaction is a wave of total, incomprehensible lust. Incomprehensible because the man who stands between the parted curtains is not at all my type. He is short and wiry. His hair is scraggly and a bit too long around his ears, and he has a dreadful drooping black mustache. He wears nondescript jeans and a khaki shirt.

Somehow, though, he radiates sexuality. His aura is palpable, the air thick and sticky as syrup. He fixes me with his intense, dark eyes and grins. I feel like I am melting. I want to spread my legs wider, desperately offer my swelling sex for him to use as he will.

I struggle with my impulses, close my legs decisively and try to stare him down. "I gather you were spying on me and my admirer."

"Indeed. A most entertaining and instructive tableau." He enters the balcony-space, letting the curtains close behind him, and picks up the flogger. The knotted thongs dangle an inch above my cleavage. "You seem to be quite an expert in the arts of discipline."

"Hardly," I say, taking the whip from him, trying to take control of the interaction. "I am just beginning to explore the possibilities. But," I say, my eyes narrowing to watch his reaction, "I do find myself quite sensitive to my partners' desires to yield to my power."

"I could see that. You knew what he wanted, and you gave it to him." He pauses and searches my face. "But, do you know what I want?"

Truly, I have no idea. He seems fascinated by the flogger, but I sense only a hint of submission in him, a playful curiosity totally different from the aching need of my recent conquest.

His eyes play over my body in a leisurely fashion, appreciative, it seems, but not urgent. Surreptitiously, I glance at his fly: an appealing bulk there, but no indication of arousal.

I, on the other hand, am hornier than I have been in weeks. Maybe months. Or ever. My clit throbs like a sore tooth. I lean forward so that my breasts part invitingly, and lick my painted lips.

"Tell me what you want," I purr. "I'm feeling generous tonight, and just might grant your request."

He leans toward me in answer, and grasps my chin. Strange electricity flows from his touch. My breasts ache. My cunt is on fire.

"I want you to take me home with you," he says with a cryptic smile. And then he kisses me.

I am not sentimental. I am not romantic, susceptible, easily mastered. But I swear, I could drown in this kiss.

His lips are smooth and full, his tongue demanding. He tastes of peppermint, and behind that, an aromatic trace of pipe tobacco. I smell his cologne, something clean, woodsy, Scandinavian.

I do not want to give in, and yet I do. I return his kiss, open my mouth wide to his probing. He senses my partial surrender, and presses his advantage. He has slipped his hand inside my vest, now, and is pinching my nipple hard.

I love it. I am awash with lust. I am dying for him to take me. My sex is liquid, spilling over. My scent rises in the velvet-draped space. I know that I cannot hide my desire, but still I try.

"You seem most enthusiastic," I say, my voice surprisingly steady. "But why should I allow you into my personal space?"

"Because you want to," he says, deftly extricating my breast from its leather casing and planting a kiss on its tip. "And because you think that you will have more control on your home territory. As an interloper, I will necessarily be at a disadvantage."

He's right. Many women would feel vulnerable, bringing a stranger into their home, but I'm more confident on my own turf than in some unfamiliar locale. I am astonished at his perspicacity. Who is this man? He appears so ordinary and yet there is both physical attraction, and psychological intrigue.

Excerpt 2 (Rated X)

As good as I am at this game, I'm finding it difficult. I know, intellectually, that ignoring her, pretending to honor my promise, will heighten her frustration and ultimately, weaken her defenses. If I came on to her, she'd resist. By seeming to hold back, I draw her to me.

I can feel the arousal emanating from the trim form strapped into the seat next to me. Her body language speaks volumes, though she struggles to silence it. She's dying to have me touch her, or to touch herself. 

The problem is, I have to struggle myself not to reach for her. I have to resist this nearly overwhelming urge to slide that designer skirt up her slim thigh, exposing her smooth flesh. My fingers itch to stretch across the console and tweak those ripe nipples poking through her blouse. My half-hard dick presses uncomfortably against my zipper.

I watch the pavement twisting in front of my hood. I push the roadster a bit harder. Obedient, she races around the curves, graceful and powerful. An extension of my body, my will. Ruby's lips are parted. Her hair has come free from its clasp and flows around her face in jet waves. I want to control Ruby the same way I control my car. I want to feel her respond when I press the pedal a bit closer to the floor.  

A sideways glance tells me that she's looking at me. I risk a few seconds of inattention to turn and grin at her lasciviously. "Take off your blouse, Ruby. Go ahead, you know you want to." The wind tears my words away, but I know she hears me. There's defiance in her eyes, mixing with the lust. "Come on. I dare you."

A contest, then. Briefly, emotions war on her face. Her lust wins. She smiles at me, provocatively.

"Keep your eyes on the road, Martell. You'll get us killed."

She's right. I switch my focus a second too late and barely miss grazing the inside guard rail. When I can afford another look, she's naked to the waist. Her fingers are torturing her plump, rosy nipples. Even in that quick instant, it seems that I can see them thicken and grow darker as blood surges into them.

Now Ruby cups her flesh in both hands, kneading, stroking. Her breasts are pale, perfect hemispheres tipped with flame. I would have thought the wind would blow her scent away, but no, her musk permeates the open car. My cock stirs and demands to be set free. I look back at the road, my heart slamming against my ribs as another curve whistles by.

My next glance shows me her parted thighs. She fidgets on the leather upholstery, though her hands are still massaging her tits. Crudely, I jerk my thumb upwards, then wiggle my middle finger at her.

She is already pulling up her skirt, not waiting for my suggestion. Looking me straight in the eye, she spreads her legs wide, pulls her panties out of the way, and sinks four fingers into her glistening cunt.

My dick jerks to full attention. I watch, fascinated, as she grinds herself feverishly against her hand, pummeling her clit, pinching those scarlet lips until they are almost purple. Her eyes are shut. Her back is arched, pelvis thrust forward to provide maximum access. She's a tiger, tearing at her own flesh in hungry fury. Her scent rises around us, drowning out the eucalyptus that always lingers in the southern California air. There's an ache in my chest that mirrors the one in my cock. I've never wanted anyone so much.

At the last minute, I swerve, barely avoiding the shiny Cadillac coming at me from the other direction. Adrenaline courses through me at the near miss. Ruby doesn't even notice.

There's a turn-out ahead. Hands shaking, I pull into the semicircular parking area and shut off the engine. Now I can hear Ruby as well as see and smell her. She moans and cries as she thrashes around on the seat. Her mouth is open, her teeth clenched. She sounds as though she is in pain. Her harsh grunts become rhythmic and rise in pitch as I watch her ascend the final slope to her climax. 

I stroke myself through my trousers, in time with her climb. I'm back in control, turned on but pacing myself. I know that I'll get what I want eventually. Ruby twists and writhes. Both her hands are deep in her cunt. Her juices run down her wrists. It's unbelievable how hard she is on herself. I remember her flogger, wish that I had it with me now. She wouldn't even feel it, but it might help her over.

Then, without warning, Ruby screams and arches up off the seat. Her whole body convulses, then abruptly collapses. Little tremors continue to shake her frame for long minutes. Her eyes are closed; she seems unconscious.

She looks fragile, porcelain skin misted with sweat, tangles of hair stuck to her forehead. I suddenly want to take her in my arms, cradle her, brush those tangled locks away and kiss her eyelids until she awakens. At the same time, I have a perverse urge to loose my cock and sink it into her passive, defenseless flesh. To finally make her mine.

Buy Links

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Bio: More than a decade ago LISABET SARAI experienced a serendipitous fusion of her love of writing and her fascination with sex. Since then she has published five single author short story collections and seven erotic novels, including the BDSM classic Raw Silk. Dozens of her shorter works have been released as ebooks and in print anthologies. She has also edited several acclaimed anthologies and is currently responsible for the altruistic erotica series COMING TOGETHER PRESENTS.

Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone needs from prestigious universities who would no doubt be embarrassed by her chosen genre. She loves to travel and currently lives in Southeast Asia with her highly tolerant husband and two cosmopolitan felines. For more information on Lisabet and her writing visit Lisabet Sarai's Fantasy Factory  or her blog Beyond Romance

GUEST BLOGGER : Lisabet Sarai

Into the Darkness
By Lisabet Sarai

In general, I'm an optimist. I expect good from life – and usually, that's what I receive. Like everyone, I've experienced a few rough patches over the years, but all in all I can't complain about either my past or my present. I've got a job that provides creative challenge without too much stress, and an adequate if not lavish income. My husband of three decades is still kissable, funny, smart, and a fantastic companion. We're lucky enough to live in a fabulous apartment in a quirky but fascinating city and to enjoy generally good health for our ages. My extended family is a bit far away, but healthy and prospering, too.

Most of my fiction is as sunny as I am. I don't usually put my characters through the sort of angst some authors concoct. Recently, though, there's a dark streak running through my work. My short story “Fleshpot”, just contracted for the charitable anthology Coming Together: Arm in Arm in Arm, deals with a desperate sex addict who is ultimately devoured by a tentacled monster in the shape of a gorgeous young woman. My new erotic thriller Bangkok Noir, as fits the conventions of the noir genre, is full of lies and double crosses, kidnappings, torture and murder. Even my romance has gone dark. In Quarantine, my M/M science fiction novel released last month, I give my heroes a happy ending, but one of them is crippled and nearly dies in a bomb blast first, and they both end up scarred, emotionally.

What's going on? I'm really not sure. Perhaps the darkness infusing the world lately has affected me. Certainly when countries are bombing their own citizens – when a evening out at the movies turns into a nightmare of blood – when crops are withering with drought and whole villages are dying of hunger – it's a bit more difficult than usual to see the brighter side of things.

On the other hand, I also feel that exploring darker themes and plots is a way for me to stretch myself as an author. It's not easy to write this sort of material, at least not for me. I won't say that I've had to force myself, but it hasn't been comfortable either. I worry that I'll alienate readers – but at the same time inserting negative events into a story ups the narrative ante, bringing added drama and intensity.

Like most authors, I think, I write first and analyze later. So honestly, I'm just guessing about my recent trips to the darker side. To demonstrate my point, below I give you a sample from Bangkok Noir. This excerpt mingles the darkness with eroticism. I have to warn readers that some of the book is just plain dark, without any sexual component at all.

Blurb

Dark desires flourish in the glittering City of Angels...

Diana Fanning, aka the Professor, runs The Academy, the only genuine BDSM bar in Bangkok. She's the first person police colonel Apichat Weeranwongsakul consults when a bar girl turns up brutally murdered, tightly bound, with clamped nipples and every orifice stuffed with sex toys. The colonel figures the killer might be one of her customers. But he has his own secrets. He needs Diana to satisfy his shameful dreams of being beaten and abused. Meanwhile, a mysterious American named Sam stalks Nok, the lovely natural dominant who is the Professor's star performer. Nok is used to being the one in charge. She can't understand why she craves the discipline Sam administers.

As more women are slaughtered, always in kinky circumstances, the Professor finds herself in an exclusive world catering to the perversions of Bangkok's wealthy and well-connected. Simultaneously looking for evidence and satisfying her own lusts, she doesn't realize until too late that the power she's used to wielding won't save her from becoming the serial murderer's next victim.

Excerpt

Inside the door to the lobby he released me. "Go get the key to room 1027," he ordered. "It's already reserved and paid for." 

A flash of fear cut through the fog of my horniness. I remembered the other girl. Secretly, I checked my pocket for my mobile. Then I pretended to be shy.

"Please, sir, can you do it? I don't want hotel people to think I'm bad girl."

"But you are a bad girl, Nok, aren't you?" He stroked his hand down over my backside. From behind, he slipped a finger into the valley of damp denim between my thighs. "Your cunt is sopping." He rubbed his finger back and forth over the seam, pressing into my folds. "You're a dirty, improper little girl who deserves to be punished. Isn't that right?"

I squirmed at his touch, struggling to stay silent.

"Anyway, no one cares whether you go to a hotel with a foreigner. Whereas I have a reputation to protect. I need to be discreet about these things. There would be severe repercussions if my secrets were discovered."

I didn't completely understand what he was saying. But the message of his fingers was loud and clear. Somehow he managed to pinch my clit through the stiff material. I moaned. "Do it, Nok," he said. "Or I'll take you back to the bar."

On shaky legs, I walked over and asked for the key. The desk clerk looked me over carefully. Then he searched the lobby, trying to find out who I was with. But Sam was not visible.

I found him waiting for me by the elevators. I handed him the key. "Good girl," he said with that strange smile. He bent over and gave me a long kiss that ended in a savage bite. He caught me as I started to fall. 

As soon as the door to the room closed, he lifted me into his arms. I was right. He was incredibly strong. The muscles moved under his fine shirt as he carried me over to the bed. I couldn't escape him. But I didn't want to. I wanted to be cradled in his arms, with my pussy streaming, my heart pounding, my own limbs wobbly as jelly, forever.

I felt a flash of disappointment when he laid me on my back on the silk bedspread. He must have seen it on my face. He sat down next to me.

"Be patient, Nok. I told you before. You must learn how to wait. Now be still." He ended his instructions with a tweak of my nipple. That made it very difficult to obey him, but I tried.

I heard him go into the bathroom and close the door. Without moving my head, I tried to look around the room. There were no suitcases, or any other sign that someone was staying here.

There was the sound of the bathroom door opening. My heart beat ever quicker than before. I kept my eyes straight ahead, facing the ceiling. I felt his warmth beside me, but I didn't turn to look. Then there was a flash of light reflecting metal, and I couldn't help myself.

The farang stood very close to me. He was naked. There was blond hair around his nipples, and darker hair between his legs. His cock was hard. The pale skin on it was stretched so tight, it looked like it might burst. The knob at the end pulsed, bright red. I thought of the beacon light on top of a police car.

Saliva flowed into my mouth. I wanted to taste him, to suck him. I started to reach for him, to pull him closer. Then I saw. He had an open pocketknife in his hand.

I choked back a cry. The shiny blade gleamed as he waved it slowly in front of my face. I shrank away, out of instinct. He saw my terror. He loved it.

"Be still," he said quietly. "I told you not to move. I meant it." He leaned over me. I smelled his cologne and his sweat. The knife was close to my skin, close to my throat. I tried to scream. Somehow I couldn't. Because despite my terror, I didn't want to move. I didn't want to disappoint him.

I tried to close my eyes. He held them open with his stare. "Look at me, Nok," he whispered. His eyes were deep pools of cold blue. It seemed that something flickered there, like a frozen flame.

The flame seemed to spread from his eyes to my body. I was on fire with wanting him. At the same time, I was paralyzed by fear.

He hooked the tip of the blade into the fabric of my shirt and ripped it downwards. The shirt fell open, showing him my brown, swollen nipples. Swollen with desire for him. He laughed softly. Gently, he placed the cold steel flat against one aching nub. I shivered, and he laughed again.

"You are perfect, just what I need," he said. Leaving the knife in place, he sucked my other nipple into his mouth. Hot saliva and cold steel. Pleasure beat in my sex like another heart.

*****

Bangkok Noir is exclusively available from Amazon. It received five kisses and was flagged as a recommended read at TwoLips Reviews.

I want thank Maggie for having me as her guest today. I hope I've intrigued you rather than turned you off with my excerpt and my tales of the dark side. In fact, I'm giving away a copy of Bangkok Noir to one person who comments on this post. Tell me how you feel about violence, sickness and other negative happenings in your fiction. And don't forget to leave your email address.

~ Lisabet

Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

Visit Lisabet's Fantasy Factory: http://www.lisabetsarai.com
Venture Beyond Romance: http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com

Where's Maggie?

Today I'm visiting Lisabet Sarai's Beyond Romance blog and I'm sharing a very special "first" story with you all.  If you leave a comment I'll send you a packet of swag! Don't forget to leave your email address so I can contact you. I have several packets so don't hold back!

See you there!

http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com.au/2012/06/shouting-with-my-fingers.html

OMG! Lisabet Sarai reviewed my book!

I am so excited! Award winning author and one of my idols Lisabet Sarai has read and reviewed THE MASTER'S PRIZE and she liked it! Whoo hoo!

Drop by her blog and see what she had to say :

http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2012/04/review-masters-prize-by-maggie-nash.html

Thanks so much Lisabet!  Muahhh! 

MONDAY MAGIC - Lisabet Sarai

It Never Gets Old
By Lisabet Sarai

You may be wondering why I'm wearing the silly hat, drinking champagne, dancing around in my unmentionables. It's release day, and I'm celebrating! Today Total-E-Bound brings out my first Lust Bite, a paranormal erotic romance entitled Hot Spell. It's not your standard vampire/shapeshifter type paranormal either. To be honest, I'm pretty proud of it, and I'm shouting the news to roof tops: Hot Spell is out today! Get your copy now!

Yes, I'm excited. Those of you who know my history might find my skywriting and my conga line a bit surprising. After all, this isn't my first book. It's not even my tenth. Counting is a little difficult, since a number of my books have come out in different editions from several publishers, but I figure that, not counting short stories in anthologies, I've celebrated a couple dozen release days.

And I do celebrate. It never gets old, because with every book I write, I try to stretch myself. I might attempt a new genre, or a new format. I might take a well-worn formula and turn it on its head. So I'm always thrilled to see my experiments take shape as real books – both thrilled and terrified to discover how my readers will react.

Compared to some of my colleagues, I'm not very prolific. I try to keep a steady stream of new work in the pipeline, but in contrast to my friends who write full time, it's really a trickle. That makes each release more important to me, I guess. Still, I'll bet that people like Carol Lynne, Desiree Holt or Victoria Blisse still get out the noisemakers and the bubbly every time one of their (practically uncountable) books hits the streets.

Anyway, today's my day and I plan to enjoy it. I'd like you to enjoy it, too. Below you'll find the blurb and a spicy excerpt from Hot Spell. I'm doing a mini-blog tour this month, for this book and another release I have coming on the 28th.   Anyone who leaves a comment at this or any other of my stops will be entered to win their choice of the two new books. You can find a list of the stops in the left sidebar on my blog. And please include your email as part of your comment. If you win, I want to be able to find you!

A hearty thanks to you, Maggie for helping me celebrate!

Blurb for Hot Spell

The flames of passion are more than metaphor.

The city swelters in the grip of an unseasonable heat wave. Sylvie endures her solitary urban existence for the sake of her career, but the prospect of a hot, lonely three day weekend proves unbearable and she flees east to the pine-shrouded mountains. Far more at home in nature than in the city, Sylvie doesn't mind being alone in the wilderness, but she's not the only being haunting the glades and the trails.

Aidan is fiercely attracted to the voluptuous beauty he finds sun bathing nude in a high meadow, but he must resist his overwhelming desire for the sake of her safety. The sun-bronzed man with the red-gold hair is cursed with power he knows will destroy her if they give full rein to their passion. Can Sylvie refrain from tempting him? Or will she risk being being literally consumed by love?

Excerpt (rated X)

Her muscles ached from the strenuous hike. Her hair was in knots and a sticky film of perspiration coated her skin. None of that mattered. Peace enfolded her, along with a profound sense of well-being. The breeze whispered to her. The creek babbled and laughed.

 Water. A bath. Relaxed, lazy, and sated though she was, the notion still held an irresistible appeal.
Sylvie checked the remains of the fire to assure herself that there was no chance it would escape the rocks encircling it. Then she dug a towel out of her pack and headed down the forested slope to the creek.

The gurgle of water tumbling over stone grew louder as she approached. The very sound was refreshing. A few feet from the edge, she stripped off her clothes, draping them and her towel over a convenient boulder. She was about to step out of the woods, when an unexpected movement caught her eye.

There was something splashing in the creek, a bit downstream from where she stood - something, or someone. Sylvie shrank back into the shadow of the trees.

Directly opposite her, the stream rushed over river-polished rocks, flecked with white froth. To her right, though, it widened into a calm pool, black as the sky above. The unexpected noise came from there.

She peered into the night. All she could see at first was a round, furry mass that seemed to float upon the surface. Ripples stirred as a figure rose from water. At the same time, the half moon climbed above the crest of the trees. Its pale rays revealed the form of a naked man.

Sylvie caught her breath. His back was to her, a gleaming, sculpted expanse that swept down to a narrow waist, then flared into taut buttocks. A wet curtain of golden hair clung to his neck and shoulders. He took a step forward, water swirling around his lean thighs. The grace and power revealed by that small motion made Sylvie ache inside. She'd never encountered such beauty in a man.

He turned then, and the ache deepened to an agony of want. Sleek skin stretched over his muscled chest and abdomen, strewn with glittering drops of moonlight. He turned his face to the sky and Sylvie caught a glimpse of features that seemed carved from marble: soaring brow, chiselled jaw, sharp cheekbones, and a broad, resolute mouth. The man's eyes were closed, as if he were praying to the moon.

Then she noticed his hands, clasped below his belly in a firm grip around his erect cock. His luscious penis reared up from a matted tangle at his groin, hard and smooth as the rest of his body. Her nipples snapped into tight peaks as she watched the stranger knead his rampant flesh. Slow and deliberate at first, then with a quickening pace, he stroked from the glistening bulb down to the root. His cock grew longer and fatter as he worked it, hand over hand. His full lips drew back and his brow furrowed as the pressure and the pleasure built. He kept his eyes shut.

Sylvie licked her lips. Dampness painted her inner thighs. Her clit tingled and throbbed, crying out to be touched. Her empty pussy hungered to be filled. In a flash of memory, her dream returned - not the details, just the fevered arousal. Her body was on fire again.

She sank to her knees on the mossy ground and plunged her fingers into her wetness. There was no conscious decision. She simply couldn't help it. Her folds felt slippery and burning hot. She cupped her hand, four fingers deep in her cleft while she rubbed the back of her thumb over her clit. Pleasure shuddered through her. The swollen nub was hard as a pebble, so sensitive that she could scarcely bear to touch it. When she backed off, though, it screamed for more stimulation.

With her other hand, she massaged her breasts, cradling the lovely weight in her palm. She flicked her nipple, striking sparks, then pinched it with all the force she could muster. Her pussy clenched in response. Waves of sensation fanned out from her centre.

A low moan dragged her attention back to the stranger in the stream. With one hand he jerked his cock, fast and rough. The other was hidden behind him, moving in the same jagged rhythm. From his spread thighs and straining muscles, Sylvie guessed he had at least one finger pumping his rear hole. The lewd notion made her own anus twitch and tingle.

He was obviously close to coming. The realization sizzled through her, pushing her to the edge herself. She dug in, mashing her clit against the heel of her hand and rocking back and forth, keeping her eyes on the gorgeous man jacking off barely a dozen feet away.

His biceps corded with tension, his teeth bared in a feral snarl, he clawed his way toward orgasm. Sylvie climbed with him, matching him breath for breath, groan for groan.

BIO: A dozen years ago LISABET SARAI experienced a serendipitous fusion of her love of writing and her fascination with sex. Since then she has published three single author short story collections and six erotic novels, including the BDSM classic Raw Silk. Dozens of her shorter works have been released as ebooks and in print anthologies. She has also edited several acclaimed anthologies and is currently responsible for the altruistic erotica series COMING TOGETHER PRESENTS.

Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone needs from prestigious universities who would no doubt be embarrassed by her chosen genre. She loves to travel and currently lives in Southeast Asia with her highly tolerant husband and two cosmopolitan felines.

For more information on Lisabet and her writing visit Lisabet Sarai's Fantasy Factory (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com)

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Thanks so much for dropping by today Lisabet!  Wow...what a hot excerpt!  *fanning self*

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