A collection of five erotic stories with mixed themes including paranormal, demons and vampires.
Making Lewis Hard by Esmeralda Greene Juliet is being haunted by a ghost. And to judge by the “evidence” this spectre is leaving behind, he’s a young, virile, and distinctly male denizen of the spirit world. Then Juliet wakes up one evening and catches her nightly visitor red-handed, pleasuring himself over her sleeping form. She’s naturally outraged, but soon her mood softens. ‘We all need to get our jollies somewhere,’ she muses. Juliet finds herself drawn to the handsome and gentlemanly ghost. Can a young woman of the 21st century find love and happiness with an incorporeal suitor from 200 years in the past?
Demon by Kathryn O’Halloran Clem Starr is a street-smart, wise-talking demon fighter who thinks she can handle any situation but her new case has her struggling. In order to defeat a cuckold demon, she has to remain celibate until battle day. So, of course, her world is ramped up with sexual possibility. Sure she wants the money, but she also wants a piece of her hot boyfriend and the near naked client and ... well just about anything that moves is looking good to Clem. Will she make it to battle day with her virtue intact?
On The Other Side by Peter Baltensperger On the Other Side tells the story of a young man, Galen, who has bought himself the house of his dreams only to realise that some strange things are going on. One evening, he is suddenly pulled through the wall of his house into a dwelling containing a very strange world. He finds himself in the company of a beautiful young woman who introduces him not only to her world but also to her sensuous body and alluring sexuality.
Something About Mary by J S Black Casey, sculptress extraordinaire, thinks she’s constructed the perfect playmate for herself and jealous partner, Larry. Surely now their sex life will be complete. But the unveiling of her creation, Mary, is only the beginning of something far darker than Casey could have anticipated. Has Casey resurrected the lover she’s always desired, a lover whose history is steeped in mystery … and blood? There is no such thing as the perfect lover … or is there? Dancer in the Dark by Scarlett Blue Our heroine is used to having her way with men, with a body eternally in its prime and the wisdom of centuries, and what better job for her than a sensual private dancer, where men are her playthings as well as her food. She sleeps all day and makes a fortune by night, feasting on whoever she pleases, with her sexy female submissive at her heels, until a strange man enters her world. He’s as strong as a vampire, but warm and pulsing like a human, and in their raw sexual encounters she comes dangerously close to feeling human herself.
These stories have also been published in Dark Desires ISBN 9781907761706 / 9781907761713
My eyes snapped open.
It’s an interesting experience, looking back on it, to scream. To truly scream, not with any deliberation or thought or control, but to scream because my body, some primeval part of my brainstem, decided I must scream. Now. Loudly.
In addition to screaming, I scrambled out of bed. Like the scream, this was a completely visceral action, and completely uncoordinated. I was trying to keep my face toward the whatever-it-was as I put distance between me and it, but my feet were tangled in the sheets and I fell. My bottom hit the floor and the back of my head hit the bedroom wall at the same instant, and everything came to a halt. Screaming and scrambling clicked off like a switch, as a fuzzy, sparkling darkness swam in front of my eyes. I’m dead, I thought. I’m lying here stunned and I can’t move and he’s going to kill me. I was sure there was a “he” involved, though I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t see much of anything except fuzzy sparkling darkness.
‘Oh dear!’ a voice said. ‘Oh dear! Oh good heavens! Are you all right?’ The voice was deep, a little throaty; very masculine despite the effeminate phrases.
I tried to focus my eyes. Then I tried again, closing them tight and opening them. On the third try it seemed to work pretty well; the bedroom settled into focus. The bed, the walls, the bright overhead light all became reasonably sharp and stopped moving around. That’s better, I thought.
Only it wasn’t really better, because the bedroom was empty. The door was closed, the chair jammed under the doorknob, the window – I turned my head to look – closed and unbroken. Chicklet looked at me from the bed and made a puzzled ‘Mm-rarr?’ I reached up to the back of my head. It hurt, but wasn’t bleeding. I rubbed a hand over my face, and it came away wet with a thick, gooey substance that made strings between my fingers.
I started swearing. I started with ‘What the fucking …’ and went on from there. Still swearing, I scrunched my body down so I could look under the bed – nothing. Still swearing and holding my come-sticky hand away from my body, I struggled to my feet. With my back to the wall and the closet door open, there wasn’t a square inch of the bedroom I couldn’t see. I looked at the come dripping from my hand again and went on swearing, though I’d long ago run out of unique words and was having to repeat myself.
‘Madam, please!’ a voice said. The same voice.
I stopped cussing, but left my mouth open.
I stood there for a while. The remaining come on my face started to itch and tickle, but I didn’t wipe it away. I didn’t want to acknowledge that it was there. I didn’t want to move at all. Eventually a glob of it dripped off my chin and landed on my T-shirt. Keeping my head still, I strained my eyes downward to look at the wet stain over my left tit.
