Saturday, 28 March 2015

Time to fly... with L'Wren, Hawk and the Doves

I can never give up enough thanks to the day I found myself sitting next to a pool on holiday, with a glass of wine, and my lap top, when the guy in the next suite asked what I was writing.

The upshot of that conversation was DK FFrench decided to bite the bullet and submit a story to Breathless Press. Thank goodness!

And wow...

Captain Saker Hawkings and First Mate L'Wren James agree to keep the mission and passion separate, but with two beautiful alien empaths onboard, it's not only planetary peace negotiations that are in danger of breaking down.
L'Wren James and Saker Hawkings know that there's no room on a starship for a captain and first mate to indulge their passion during a dangerous peace mission. The fragility of the cease-fire in the gender war on the divided planet Ourania threatens the stability of subspace shipping lanes, and the starship Sulaco's mission is to get the negotiating team there and deliver them safely back.
When they take onboard Anchises and Cytheria, mysterious empath negotiators from the secretive world of Turaceona, they find their commitment to duty and to each other a struggle to maintain in the sexually heightened and emotionally charged atmosphere.
But Anchises's and Cytheria's struggle to keep their secret and the loss they cannot speak of hidden leaves one dangerously injured and the other missing in action. Only the truth about the man he is and the woman she is can save them.
Can Hawk and L'Wren face up to the challenges of duty, passion, and sexuality and still save not only their relationship but the peace process itself?


a wee tease

The silence of the inner tent greeted her ears as her eyes grew accustomed to the subdued lighting, again from candles and lamps but in here even softer. The air was suffused with a heady mix of fragrances from discrete oil burners—jasmine, an undertone of a muskier, more sensual smell, akin to sandalwood, and a hint of being in a deep forest, of leaves and mosses.
"Cytheria of Turacoena, welcome. I am Sarkare Khanome." From the shadows, a woman, not so tall as the guards but matching Cytheria in height, emerged. Her silver-white hair flowed free over her shoulders. Her eyes were a striking blue, as bright as a sunlit, clear summer sky. She was older than the guards, but her body was young and fit with lean, taut muscles. Only the lines around her eyes spoke of anything other than youth and power. Her long, softly flowing robe in a myriad shades of blue celebrated the same figures and scenes from the tunnel friezes and the outer tent. Her confidence hit Cytheria like a wave crashing on the shore but one that broke over her rather than crushing her. It was followed by a depth of compassion and caring that almost brought tears to Cytheria's eyes. There was fear as well, but not borne of doubt. A fear that was aware of itself and knew its boundaries.
Then it hit her—the intense depth and power of sexual allure and hunger that all but defeated Cytheria's self-control. Her pussy reacted suddenly, getting wet and even hotter. Her clit almost throbbed with an ache to be touched. Her breath was suddenly rapid and shallow. She'd learned that this might happen from the briefing on Halo Five and from her extensive reading of Ouranian culture. The Naranari bonded and shared sexually as a way of formalizing their status. She had to play this situation correctly or her credibility, and hence her bargaining position in the peace talks, would suffer, or worse, be blown out of the water altogether.
"I greet you, Sarkare Khanome, from my mother to your mother, sister to sister," she managed to get out.
Sarkare Khanome smiled and nodded. She walked around Cytheria and looked her up and down. She came back to face Cytheria and stroked her hands over her hair then held her chin in her long, slim fingers. Cytheria knew, like a physical presence, that this woman was sexually in charge and was used to being in total control of those around her.
I am Cytheria.
"And you are here to help us, sister, to aid our struggle against those...animals."
It wasn't a question. Cytheria's pussy was wet and clenching, her clit almost buzzing. If she could just touch it, she'd come in a second.
I am not you.

Wednesday, 25 March 2015

#MidWeekTease... Who wouldn't at first bite...

I was so pleased I'd remembered to sign up for #MidWeekTease. 

Then I got this fantastic cover for The Vampire's Breakfast, and forgot to chose a tease.

*Heads Desk*

Mind you, It helped me decide where the tease should come from...

As The Vampire's Breakfast (out from on 10th April) is a flirt, your tease is tiny... but...

I hope you think it's worth it...


The vampire's breakfast was well overdue. There was just one thing to discover. Who was the vampire and who was the victim?

When Dorissa and Rafe got together, sparks flew and sex was always on the menu. This time though it went deeper. And became a game of dominance and a race to win.

Dorissa knew her life depended on Rafe—he didn't. Could she show him how?

Rafe wanted Dorissa in every manner possible, except perhaps in the only way she could live. Would he agree to her terms?

In this game of life, could there be two winners, or would they both lose?

As dawn approached one of them knew that once the sun rose, nothing would be the same again.

a wee tease...

As the coach rumbled over the uneven cobbles, Dorissa held onto the strap to stop herself falling. In the shadows Rafe's eyes gleamed, and he gave his husky laugh once more.
"So, my love. Are we in the mood?"
"Well of course." She undid the cloak she'd only recently donned. "How much time do we have?" Dorissa knew it wasn't long, but Rafe in this state of mind wouldn't need many minutes.
"You have one quarter of the hour to make me come."
That was longer than he often allocated her. Dorissa knelt on the floor between his outstretched legs and he pulled her hair to draw her closer. She bent her head to nuzzle his cock through the fine linen of his trousers. Already it was outlined hard and thick, under the material. She nigh on drooled at the thought of taking it with all its male scents into her mouth.
"May I, my Lord?" She looked up at him, and the action made his hold on her hair tighten to tug it just short of pain. It was a sweet pain and part of their play that Dorissa relished. Rafe was a master at bringing her to the brink and refusing to let her tumble over into the abyss. She loved it. Every sweet sting, sharp pain, and eventual climax was all she wanted. Tonight it seemed she was to suffer the agonies of not coming whilst her lover did.
 For now.
"Of course."
That was the agreement Dorissa needed. In the darkness she saw only the outline of his body, and she worked by touch to open the placket of his breeches, and release his cock.
"No hands."
So it was to be mouth on cock then? Dorissa shuffled nearer his seat and ignore the sting-turned-to-pain in her scalp. Not for the first time she mentally thanked Rafe for insisting Aubusson carpet be put down in his coach. If the coachmen knew what happened between the silk covered walls of the carriage and on that expensive carpeted floor, they were sensible enough not to mention it.
He kept one hand tight in her hair whilst she bent her head and manoeuvred her mouth around the thick mushroom-shaped head of his staff. Dorissa swirled her tongue over the slit and dipped the tip into it as far as she could. Rafe tasted of hot musky masculinity, and his pre-seed juice was thick and covered every inch of cock she feasted on.
"More." He was all dominant male and she grinned to herself, before she took him even further down her throat. It had taken a lot of patience and practise to succeed in taking his cock so far into her mouth.

Rafe began to help her fuck him like that. The coach swayed and she began to use its movement to set up a rhythm. For each thrust by her lover, Dorissa relaxed her throat muscles only to tighten them to draw him back in. In truth she loved the trust he gave her when she took him this way. The fact he knew all she wanted was to make him come and swallow his seed was a powerful aphrodisiac, and Dorissa knew if he gave the word it would take little for her to join him.


Now to read all the other #MidWeekTease snippets you just need to click on here

Happy Reading,

Love R x

Tuesday, 24 March 2015


(nb this is a generic picture and no way is related really to the story... It just inspired it...)


The words were soft in his ear… The accent, breathy, French and oh so sexy…
Hugh hardly dared breath as he waited for what came next.
"Too loose. You must keep it in." There was a pause. "Tighter, hold it there."
Hugh discretely adjusted his cock, which was in danger of peeking over the top of his jeans and waving hello to anyone who might be around.
Not to be thought of now, when…
"Yes, oui, like that tight…keep it tight inside… Non…non…eh voila, c'est bon. Let's play. Perfect, bon, that is tight. "
So were Hugh's denims. Much too tight.  That voice, that bloody erotic, arousing come-to-bed voice teased him, held him in thrall. His tormentor switched from French to English and back. Hugh accepted the inevitable. He could no easier ignore it than he could fly.
"Play with the ball properly. Do not…non.. mal…terrible…Not like that. Be gent…ah yes…" The voice was choppy. Harsh breathing got louder and louder.
"C'est finis."
The screech of a whistle, the roar of the crowd, and the tinny music over the tannoy brought him back to reality.
Dammit, his team had lost. He flung the earpiece on the ground.
Hugh's phone bleeped.
"Hope you enjoyed my commentary of the match…"

It was handy having the referee as your partner.

Catch the other #TT  here

Happy Reading,

Love R x