Well I have a fun packed line up for you all this week my friends
Firstly I have a guest Blog story by my good friend Jay McIntyre co-author of
Lowther and Deardon: Tainted Gold a book co -written with Dan Jordan.
After the story you will find a review for the gorgeous hotel The Velvet and a book review for The Army of the Night by Paul Collis so stay reading (if you can!) after the short story.
I am honoured that this was written for myself Scarlett, and in my honour.
Thank you so much Jay.
SCARLETT
He
sat on the couch, mystified.
What
had he ever done to deserve such an amazing woman?
He
had met her last week. Driving home from work, she had appeared
in the road, in the pouring ran. A dark rain hood covered her
head, but he could see her staring at him.
Those
eyes...
He
had swerved not to hit her, and slewed to the sidewalk. He had
got out of the car, a mixture of anger and concern, and apologized.
“It’s
all right,” she had told him then. “But if you really want
to apologize, you can take me...to dinner.”
Almost
dazed, his initial spike of anger fading, he gladly agreed. She
had gotten into his ratty little import without seeming to notice or
mind it’s poor condition.
He
had already been stunned by her eyes; that was the first thing he had
noticed about her on the road. They had seemed a bright blue.
But there seemed to be a golden glow behind that blue, as
though there was fire in her soul. Once she got in the car,
that impression remained and she smiled at him.
Then
she had taken off her sleek, slick black hood that protected her from
the rain...and her curly red hair came spilling out.
For
a moment--just a fleeting second--he thought of the mythical medusa.
Then he was lost in awe at that luxurious, radiant red hair.
For a moment he hadn’t been thinking of her shapely body or
of the near miss; for a moment all he wanted to do was touch that
amazing hair. He had even reached out a hand, then drawn it
back.
She
had seen and understood his gesture, and laughed. “Oh, it’s
harder to keep in this condition than it looks.” Her accent
was British, arch but not unkind, like a schoolteacher you would be
happy to stay in detention with. He’d never been into
“teacher’s pet” fantasies, but that was the first thought that
came into his mind hearing that voice, and he liked it.
“You
can touch,” she went on, “But gently.”
Amazed
at the liberty, he had reached out and touched that amazing scarlet
hair. It was just as silky and luxurious as he’d thought it
would be. Perhaps even more.
“Where,
uh, where do you want to go for dinner?”
She
cocked her head, smiling as though she could read his mind. “There’s
that lovely French-Vietnamese place. I’m sure you’ve heard
of it?”
Indeed
he had; he loved their pho. He had taken her there, and
she had enjoyed it; she had eaten with class, but also with a
voracious enthusiasm that impressed him.
He
had driven her home--a dark, brooding skyscraper on the edge of
town, strange he’d never noticed it before--and she had kissed him
goodnight on the cheek; her lips had been hot, and that heat had
somehow transferred through his skin, down his neck and chest, and
settled right in his loins and stayed there, like a promise. Nor
was this a metaphor; he truly felt that heat there, and it stayed
there.
“See
you soon,” she whispered, like it was a promise. He had
swallowed, and almost broken into a cold sweat.
She
had given him both her number and her email, but advised him that
email would be better. She was often busy, and couldn’t
always stop to answer the phone. She didn't give specifics, but
it was clear to him that she was a smart and savvy businesswoman in
some sort of high stakes commodity market. He didn’t ask; he
got the impression it was better not to know.
He
had taken her out to dinner twice more; once to Afghani place in the
big city, and tonight to a place he’d never heard of before, that
she had directed him to. Tucked beneath a shoe repair shop,
only accessible by a stone staircase. There had been no signs
or anything., just the stone steps down and an iron gate of a door.
Inside it had been smoky and dim. The hulking, squinty
eyed maître d had known her, and ushered them to a booth
against the black stone wall. She had ordered for both of them;
first a pale broth soup that had tasted nothing like chicken, or
anything else he’d ever had; then red meat still on the bone; rare.
It had tasted surprisingly good, but also somewhat strange. He
hadn’t thought much about it as he sucked the meat off the bone;
but he could tell she approved of his enthusiasm.
“I
was right about you,” she said. “I usually read people very
well.”
“Thanks,”
he said. “Right about what, though?”
She
laughed, a rippling musical sound. “That you know enough to
take advantage of what is offered to you.”
“Um....thanks,
I think.”
She
laughed again, and he could swear her eyes were brighter for a
moment.
It
wasn’t until their second date that he had asked her name.
“Scarlett,” she had told him. “Not my birth name,
but I had it legally changed, long ago.”
He
wondered if that meant she had a troubled past, but decided not to
press the issue. She had given him a knowing look, almost as if
she was reading his thoughts, and chuckled again. She didn’t
talk much; but she had no problem making it clear what she wanted or
was interested in.
After
dinner she had led him to that imposing dark skyscraper. He was
stunned. She was really inviting him in, and clearly not just
for a nightcap. They had taken the elevator up to the sixteenth
floor.
She
had let him into her...lair. Yes, that was the word for it,
lair. All black leather furnishings and mirrored walls and
floors. The maintenance must be killer.
So
here he was, now, sitting on that couch, staring out into the night,
wondering how he’d got so lucky. She was a bad girl, that was
clear; but why him? Clearly she was rich, successful, probably
even influential, and for damn sure charismatic as hell. So...why
him, of all people?
“Ahh,
you’re still there, good.” She came back, a crystal goblet
in each hand, filled with blood red wine. So a nightcap was
part of the plan, after all. “The couch is more suitable,
isn’t it? I think so too....beds are for sleeping, more than
fun.” She smirked. “My sleep patterns are pretty
weird, anyway.”
He
took the goblet she offered him and swallowed a mouthful; it went
down his throat like liquid fire. He gasped, then said somewhat
hoarsely, “Weird how?”
She
smiled, and for a moment he could swear he saw a golden light behind
her eyes again. “I can go for days without sleep....then
sometimes I’ll be out like a light for the whole weekend.”
“Your
employers must be very understanding,” he said, somewhat shakily.
“Oh,
my boss knows what a hard worker I am,” she assured him in what was
almost a purr. “Work hard, play hard, that’s me.”
“Scarlett....I’m
very glad to be here, believe me. But....why? Why me?
Why did I win the sexual lottery?”
She
threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, you poor boy. You
are more worthy than you know.” She drained her glass and set
it aside, then sat right in his lap, looking into his eyes. He
could feel the heat of her body; she was literally hotter than any
woman he’d ever been close to before. “I told you before, I
can read people. You’re frustrated, your desire is so strong
it’s become a need, like breathing or eating. Any man can
lust after me. Not any man can need to have me like they need
air. I choose my boy-toys most carefully.”
Not
lovers, he noticed. Not partners. Boy-toys. Not
that he was offended. To be her boy-toy was a greater honor
than he’d ever dreamed. “But....I’m just a creepy nerd.”
She
chuckled. “Oh, you’re not that creepy. I’ve slept
with men far worse.” Her jovial attitude never faded, but she
looked into his eyes now, and was utterly serious. “I don’t
choose men based on looks or money, hon. I choose them based on
their lust. And in that department you score very high.”
“Thank
you,” he breathed, and leaned up to kiss her.
She
kissed back, and no doubt about it, she had a very high body
temperature, almost scalding. He was a little afraid of what
might happen to his manhood once he was inside her. Not that he
had any intention of refusing her. He wasn’t sure he could if
he tried.
She
raked her nails down his back, almost hard enough to draw blood even
through his clothes. Then, almost impatiently, she started
tearing them off him.
Literally
tearing. Her long red nails ripped at his clothes, and they
began to fall in shreds. She slithered out of her own little
black dress in one sinuous movement. Her black lace underwear
followed, and then she tore his boxer briefs open with one eager
slash. He flinched; but she knew just how to do it without
hurting him. His manhood stood free throbbing. For her.
“Yes,”
she whispered. “Give it to me.” Grasping it, she
guided it into herself and sank down upon his lap. “Thaaaaat’s
it,” she hissed like a snake. Her fingernails sunk into his
shoulders like talons, and this time they did draw blood. She
began to bounce on his cock, locking eyes with him.
She
was as hot inside as he’d suspected, but instead of scalding him,
her inner heat was absorbed by his manhood, and slowly spreading into
his loins. “Ahhhhh,” he gasped, and held her close.
She
chuckled, and pushed his face into her breasts. They too, were
filled with heat. Almost without thinking, he suckled on the
left one. After a moment, some hot fluid spurted into his
mouth.
Spluttering,
he swallowed it, then looked up into her eyes.
They
were entirely yellow. Lit with fire.
Now
he knew.
Now
he understood.
For
a moment he felt the chill of fear in his heart, but it passed, and
was replaced by a sort of wonder. Not worship, but a kind of
deep amazement and lustful joy.
She
saw it, and understood it. Her own face softened into a gentle
smile. “Yes,” she breathed. “You do understand.”
He
nodded wordlessly and slid his hands down to her ass, digging his own
nails into her sweet buttocks.
She
laughed, and let her true form show. wings sprouted from her
back, her teeth became fangs, her tongue became longer, tapered to a
point. Around them the apartment dissolved into a raging
inferno.
“Beautiful,”
he said, and meant it.
She
bounced on him harder and faster, and her wings wrapped around him in
an almost motherly embrace.
Slut.
Whore. Temptress. Vixen. Femme fatale.
Tart.....
Succubus.
Not
Lilith herself, he knew that instinctively. But undoubtedly one
of her descendants.
“Yes,”
she breathed, and bounced faster.
He
kissed her again, that obscenely long tongue slipped into his mouth.
She bounced harder and faster on his manhood. Her vagina
was, of course, perfect; fitting him like a glove, tighter than he
could’ve dreamed, and transferring more of her infernal heat into
him.
Maintaining
the kiss, he massaged her ass, expressing his lust for her perfect
body. She chucked her approval into his mouth, then finally
broke the kiss. And locked eyes with him once more. Almost
tenderly, she cupped his cheek. He, in turn, trailed a finger
around the inside of her left wing, as both of them were still
wrapped around him.
She
slowed their act of lust, and let him run his hands through her
silken hair.
“Perfection,”
he said breathlessly, and meant it.
She
smiled and her eyes brightened, and he could tell she appreciated his
sincerity. He couldn’t read her mind, but she could project
her thoughts into his, especially during the act of passion. Many,
she let him understand, had admired her over the years; but for the
wrong reasons. Cultists worshipped her out of fear and for the
hope of the power she could give them; and of course many wanted to
have sex with her, but he was the first in hundreds of years to
admire her for what she was; the embodiment of the dark female
principle.
She
accelerated her bouncing and he began to lose control; soon, he knew,
he would have to come inside her.
“Yes,”
she breathed in his ear, “give me your seed. It’s one of
the reasons I chose you.”
“Hnnnng!”
he shot his seed inside her, gripping her thighs with desperate
urgency.
“Yessssssssssss,”
she hissed, her eyes glowing, and she pressed herself down on him,
and kept herself there firmly, maintaining pressure.
None
of the fluid leaked back out. As she was able to grant her heat
to him, so she was able to absorb his seed without effort. Not
vaporize it with her body heat, he felt certain; but to take it into
herself and use it.
“I
guess your.....” he gasped, and began again, “I guess your
pregnancy cycle runs differently, too.”
“More
efficient,” she agreed. Now she slowly rode him, back and
forth, retracting her wings, letting him properly witness the
inferno. The flames were horrifying, true; but she was
shielding him from them. He didn’t understand why, but he was
grateful. He didn’t see any damned souls in torment; but he
did see other fell creatures. Again, he knew that she was
shielding him from the true horror, which would otherwise have run
him mad.
“Mostly
aspects of pride and envy,” she murmured.
And
that made sense, being what they were, they were looking at her, and
at the mere mortal lucky enough to couple with her.
He
stopped looking at them, and at the flames. He returned his
attention to her evil beauty; not only was she much more pleasant to
look at, but he understood that she could only protect him from the
horrors of the depths so far.
The
flames gradually died, and he found himself back in her black and
mirrored apartment.
“You
are not the first mortal whose seed I have taken,” she explained
softly. “The child will not be a full succubus, but she will
definitely be...a much more sensible woman.”
He
smiled at her, and now there was a hint of greed in his eyes. “I’m
glad to be worthy to be her father. But I want more.”
She
laughed. “Of course you do. I know what you want.”
She
clambered onto the arm of the chair and bent over it. Her
long succubus tail twitched aside, revealing the dark, tight orifice
of her anus.
Grinning
like a predator, he mounted her and slowly pushed in. While
incredibly tight, her anus allowed him in smoothly. Groaning in
pleasure, he grabbed her shoulders and pushed.
“Ahhhhhh,”
she purred. “Sodomy is one of my favorite sins.”
Once
he was all the way in, she suddenly tightened further. It
should’ve hurt, but instead it was incredibly pleasurable. He
groaned and collapsed atop her, face buried in her scarlet hair,
making a “Mmmfff” of ecstasy.
She
moaned too, and he understood she had finally reached her own climax.
But as soon as he thought it, he also understood through her
link with his mind that she could have such pleasure at will; such
was her nature. To her, debauchery and orgasm were an art.
He
lifted his head from her hair. She maintained this unnatural
(supernatural) tightness on his manhood. Then it began to
pulse, tighter and then slightly looser.
“Stay
all the way in,” she breathed. “My body will take care of
the rest.”
“Your
perfect body,” he breathed.
“Yes.”
Without
warning, she lifted from the couch and began to fly. He gripped
her shoulders tighter, but understood there was no need. Her
anus was grip enough. Even so, her tail affectionately wound
itself around his waist.
Her
powerful wings beat, and they flew into and through the dark glass of
the skyscraper as though it weren’t even there.
They
flew over the surrounding lands. The night sky was
exhilarating; there were a few scattered clouds; but plenty of stars
and a gibbous moon. An old song lyric danced through his mind;
“...there’s a warm wind blowing the stars around...”
But
at wondrous as the night sky was, she sensed that her gazed was
directed downwards. She projected into his mind highlighted
images from below; lined in red, acts of lust. Couplings that
had nothing to do with love, and everything with lust. Some
were ordinary mortals, some were of succubi and incubi; some were
descended from succubus blood, as their own child would be.
And
it was glorious.
Twice
more he came inside her sweet, evil backside. She came once
more, once again of her own will. Long before it was over he
buried his face in her hair and stayed there, half asleep.
He
was dimly aware of their return to her flat in the dark skyscraper;
into a bed of black silk sheets and Gothic iron frame. Eventually
he drifted off, but knew that she remained awake.
--
It
was some hours before he awoke. The sun had risen, though it
was still early. Scarlet was there, back to him, true nature
disguised once more, applying makeup in the mirror.
“You
don’t have Saturday off?” he asked, then felt stupid for saying
it.
She
turned and smiled at him. “Work is pleasure to me, hon. But
today I’m maintaining my civilian identity; a bad business deal
needs to be finalized.”
He
hadn’t realized that her life as ‘Scarlett’ had any kind of
reality. It didn’t seem necessary; but then he supposed that
doing so she could advance the cause of evil in other ways. Reading
the thought, she nodded in approval.
“Will
I ever see you again?” he asked.
“Oh,
now and then perhaps,” she smiled. “Business takes
precedence, you know.” Her expression hardened for the first
time. “Don’t fall in love with me,” she warned.
“Of
course not,” he shook his head. “I just know I’ll never
have as good as you again.”
She
smiled, good humor restored. “Don’t expect to see our
child, either. That’s something I’ll do privately, in my
own time. But every now and then....” she kissed him on the
cheek. “You have my email.”
He
nodded, touched her hand, and left.
It
was after the ride down in the elevator and he got into his own car
in the lot, he finally understood something else; the heat from her
body was still with him. In his own way, he was part of her
cause now; she had granted him some of her darkness. He could
use it to seduce women and encourage them to be more lascivious, more
seductive, more wanton. He smiled, cheered by the thought and
drove away.
--
In
her flat above, she watched him go, smiling in satisfaction. Then
she turned her attention to her own agenda; the tasks of the wicked
were never done, as she had known for centuries.
She
walked across the floor, flames growing around her as she went, until
they grew taller than her; then she vanished in a puff of smoke that,
had anyone been there to smell it, would have reeked of opium and
absinthe.
Well I'm not sure about you folks but that certainly caught my attention and left me sitting in a damp patch too!! Certainly another erotic writer to look out for! Find him on Twitter
The Velvet Hotel
I recently stayed at The Velvet Hotel on Canal Street in Manchester and this place is amazing! The staff are always especially lovely and obliging. The room I stayed in was one of their Velvet King Rooms, which was fantastic. We had our breakfast served in bed the following morning, for just an extra charge. Well worth it and the breakfast was brilliant.
The Velvet Hotel's thirteen King Rooms are by no means standard. They are decadent individually designed rooms. Incorporating en-suite bathrooms and king or over- sized king beds with exceptional quality bed and bathroom linens.
As well as the Hotel, there is a Bar and restaurant on the same site at Canal Street. We dined in the restaurant in the evening, once again receiving excellent service. Alongside of fantastic food ( I can personally recommend the sweet potato fries there was a convivial atmosphere.
We loved the fish tank set in to the stairs (but I found it a little scary to step on to!) The restaurant was an intimate venue and we spend the last part of our evening in the bar upstairs.
All in all, a fantastic stay at a gorgeous hotel. When we return to visit The Velvet in July (we loved it so much we plan to return) we have upgraded to one of the Penthouse Suites.
The jewels in the Velvet Hotel crown are the three Penthouse Suites, all of which offer over 300sq ft of ultimate luxury and contemporary design on split level.
The suites house a living/dining/meeting room area with 42" LCD TV & Sony midi stereo with i-pod dock, roll top free standing bath, separate shower & double sink units, plus a mezzanine bed deck with 26" LCD & en s
Needless to say I can't wait 'till July and my stay in one of their "Jewel in the Crown" Suites.
Book Review: The Army of the Night
My final offering for this Blog post is a book review of a short story The Army of the Night and this short story is available to download for FREE. So a major bonus for you all there.
It’s 1813. Napoleon’s army has to retreat from Spain to France, but the main pass across the Pyrenees is within reach of the British forces. In his search for an alternative route, Alaine Bellanger discovers more than just an ancient mountain trail. High in a cleft between two peaks, he finds something very strange — and someone even stranger. But who can he tell? And who would believe him?
The short story is written by Paul Collis and I downloaded this book from Smashwords myself.
I hadn't read any spoilers (I as you may know I never give spoilers myself - because they SPOIL it) so, all that I knew was that it was in the genre Paranormal fiction.
A lot of historical, action and adventure story with a large helping of paranormal to boot. A great deal of research and detail has been put into this piece of work, resulting in a very gripping tale indeed. This kept my interest throughout. My only disappointment was that the book wasn't longer.
I have given this short story an extremely well deserved 5 stars, and I will certainly be seeking out other works by this author.
