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*lifts storm shelter door, peers out*
So, the last time I spoke with y’all, it was August 18th and I thought I was on the downhill slope for Shadow of the Swan. The book was supposed to be 80,000 words or so, and I had just crossed the 60K line so I figured (quite logically at the time) that if I spent the next five days doing 4-5,000 words a day I could be done and dusted by 8/23/20. That would give me a few days to get it cleaned up before I sent it off to my editor and betas. Since I didn’t have to have the final version uploaded to Amazon until 9/4/20, I had plenty of time.
Ha. Ha ha ha. Hahahahahahahahahahaha*SOB*
Yeah, no. For one thing, I felt like absolute crap on the 19th and 20th, so no wordage was achieved. By the time Friday the 21st rolled around, I knew I had lost valuable time and had to make it up with minimum 5K days. But Friday through Monday would do it, right?
Well, it would have if the book had stayed 80,000 words long. But as I got stuck in, I quickly realized two things:
One, my word count included chapter synopses that I stuck in months ago to tell myself what was supposed to happen in each chapter. As I deleted these and replaced them with actual story, I wound up losing anywhere from 500 to 1,500 words. So even though I physically wrote 5,000 words a day, I only wound up with 3,500 – 4,500 words in the end, which meant that I had to write even more to hit my 5K word quota.
Two, this book was not going to be 80K long. When I hit the 80K mark on Monday, August 24th, I still had the climax of Act II to write and all of Act III. Many, many bad words were said at that point.
So I kept on keeping on. Wrote 5K+ day after day, and watched in helpless terror as my characters got themselves into deeper and more complex trouble, and wondered how the actual fuck I was going to resolve all this. By Friday, August 28th, I still had three chapters to go and less than a week now before I had to upload the final version.
I don’t remember much of Saturday, August 29th. I do know that it was a personal best when it came to output because I wrote 8,672 words that day. (And in case anyone is wondering, yes, I got up to take regular walking breaks on the treadmill, stayed hydrated, and did everything I could to keep moving and avoid deep vein thrombosis. I was frantic, not foolish.) I wrote until 5 AM, when I finally added Louisa’s last words in the last chapter, then I checked my total word count.
106,620 words. I wrote 40,839 words over eight days. The old fashioned way, with my fingers on a keyboard. I was honestly shocked that my brain wasn’t leaking out my ears by that point.
I slept until noon, got up and frantically edited, then sent it out that evening to my editor and betas with abject apologies that they were getting, in effect, version 1.5. I immediately turned around and went back to work on a full edit. Is this recommended? No. Is this something I could handle? Yes.
In the end (and I attribute this to experience gained over twenty-five years of professional writing along with a healthy dollop of naked, abject fear) I had somehow managed to write a fairly clean, coherent draft that only needed tweaks here and there to fill the occasional plot hole. I still don’t know how I managed that. My editor, bless her angelic heart, sent me changes live as she went through the book, which helped immensely. My betas both turned it around in record time and got me their lists of grammar, spelling, and punctuation goofs. A very kind reviewer friend who got an ARC sent me a handful of missed goofs and a couple of plot points that needed a bit more work, so I was able to get those incorporated, as well.
By 9/2/20, I had a reader-ready edition. I spent Thursday formatting it, giving it one last review and polish, then uploaded it and the cover to Amazon for release on 9/8/20. So here it is, the day before release (and Labor Day as well), and my stomach is in knots because this is my first new release since November 2018 and I just want people to like it.
So, that’s where Shadow of the Swan currently stands. I now need to finish re-editing and formatting Deep Water and get that out, then go back to work on King of Blades. Because the best thing you can do when you finish a book is start writing the next one.
Although I may indulge in a rum and coke. I think I earned it.
Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
It’s Wednesday? Well, guess what? I’m sharing a teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my delightfully kinky historical MMF romance set in 1925 Berlin that is FINALLY almost finished! Just have to polish off the end of Act Three and this puppy is baked!
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
In the aftermath of World War I, Berlin has become a hotspot of decadent pleasures, and American millionairess Kat Tracy is determined to enjoy each and every one of them with Sam Harrison, her late brother’s lover and her convenient “fiancé.” But when the two of them meet Friedrich von Bader, a former German Army officer turned reluctant prostitute, their wicked games take on a new meaning.
Sam found out what Kat’s obscure words about “adventure” meant once the lights of the lavish film theater had gone down and the first images flickered onto the silver screen. The theater, aping its brethren that catered to live performances, offered private boxes upholstered in red velvet and decorated with gilt curlicues. Kat had paid for one of these boxes, placing Friedrich between herself and Sam.
Ten minutes into the film he felt Friedrich stiffen beside him. Looking down, he spotted Kat’s hand resting on the German’s thigh. Her attention seemed to be focused on the movie, but her fingers slid over the other man’s fly with subtle deliberation, tracing the outline of Friedrich’s cock and balls through the wool of his trousers.
Sam found that he enjoyed playing the voyeur, deriving a deliciously wicked delight as Friedrich began to swell under Kat’s ministrations, squirming a bit as she stroked and teased him. She leaned forward a bit and caught Sam’s eye, glancing down at her busy hand then winking.
As casually as he could, he rested his hand on Friedrich’s other thigh. The muscle tensed under his palm and Friedrich muffled a tiny moan. The balcony of the box would prevent anyone on the main floor or mezzanine from seeing what was going on as long as it was kept at waist level. As Kat’s clever fingers continued to work Friedrich’s erection, he eased Friedrich’s belt open and unbuttoned his fly.
Kat murmured just loud enough for Sam to hear, “We’re going to make you come in public, Colonel. It’s up to you whether or not anyone notices. Do you understand?”
Friedrich swallowed hard and nodded, a bead of sweat trickling down from his temple at the movement. Sam wanted to kiss it away, taste the salt of the German’s arousal on his tongue.
“Excellent.” She licked her hand, then reached into his fly and tugged his erection out of his trousers. It looked dark in the silvery light from the scene, the plummy head swollen and glistening just a bit, and the thick veins that ribboned it already standing out along the shaft. Sam’s mouth watered at the thought of leaning over and engulfing it, using his lips and tongue to drive Friedrich wild. He loved the idea of their colonel desperately struggling to stay silent before giving in to pleasure and spurting helplessly across his tongue.
Kat leaned over again, looking like a considerate theatergoer passing along sotto voce comments on the film. “There are clubs here with stages, you know,” she whispered. “Sam and I could take you to one right now, strip you naked, and truss you to a wooden X on stage. You’re a handsome man with an attractive body. I can guarantee everyone in the club would be watching you as we played with your cock and balls.”
Another muffled groan came out of Friedrich, and he thrust lightly into Kat’s hand.
Sam decided to play along. He leaned close to Friedrich’s ear and whispered, “We’d take you to the brink, over and over again, until you begged us to let you come. Then I’d kneel down and suck you in front of everyone. Can you imagine how my mouth would feel, all warm and wet around you? I’d lick your balls, then a slow, wide lick up your shaft before I started teasing that little sensitive area right under the head. I know how much you like that.”
He widened the gap in Friedrich’s trousers and slid his hand in, avoiding Kat’s shuttling hand as he cupped the warm, furry sac. Friedrich’s balls flexed at his touch and he rolled them gently in their enclosure, stroking his thumb across crisp hair and soft, wrinkled skin.
“Maybe I should kneel down now,” he whispered. “Everyone’s watching the movie, after all. As long as you stay quiet, I don’t think anyone would notice. Would you like that? You could watch my head bobbing between your thighs as I sucked you off. My lips would be tight around your cock, and my tongue would feel so good against the underside.”
Friedrich made the tiniest noise, face twisted in pleasurable agony. “Bitte, bitte.”
“What, Colonel,” Kat murmured, her wicked little hand stroking faster now and adding a twist on the upstroke. “What do you want?”
“Bitte, I’m, I’m close. Please, Fräulein, please.”
Kat leaned forward again, giving Sam a feline smile. “Should we let him come, darling?”
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Red Robin and the Huntsman is LIVE!
Phoo! Sorry about the radio silence for the last few weeks but I have been nailed to my chair getting Red Robin and the Huntsman ready for release! It’s a second chances holiday novella set in the Two Thrones universe and follows the adventures of Ypresian army captain Duncan Bardahlson (eldest son of Lord Commander Ferdal Bardahlson) and his bickering brothers Ewan and Hamish as they’re dispatched to the tiny province of Wellen right before the winter holiday of Frostfair to apprehend a legendary bandit known as the Redbird. One little problem: Wellen is governed by widowed countess Lady Roberta Busse, who also happens to be Duncan’s long-lost love. Oops.
There’s snark, wine, an overbearing tax collector, an impish priest, a rather large pig, an extremely smart eight-year-old, a LOT of porridge, and a love story that is guaranteed to have you cheering by the last chapter if I do say so myself. Plus it’s available on Kindle Unlimited so you can even read it for free if you have a KU membership!
And now, I clean and put up the Christmas tree — whee!
Wicked Wednesday Reads: Bomber’s Moon
Oh, look — it’s Wednesday, which means you need a little something extra to help you over Hump Day. Never fear, for today I’m here with Raven McAllan’s amazing new historical erotic romance Bomber’s Moon, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of erotic romance. Take it away, Raven!
I never thought, as a child and asking my mum, dad, gran (known as nan) and aunts to ‘tell me a story about the war’, that all these years later, I’d still remember those stories and use them as the basis for a book.
I’m so glad I did.
When I first had the idea for Bombers Moon, I just knew it would be set in Northamptonshire, where my mum as a teen was evacuated to, with her employment.
As much as the idea of a book set in London, in the blitz intrigued me, all mum ever said was ‘it was scary, noisy and as your granddad worked for the railways we got out own railway employees and families tube station to hide in’.
Then I remembered the tales of Northamptonshire. Of being locked out, getting stuck up a wall, although not knickerless—well I don’t think so *wink*. How they used charcoal or gravy browning to put ‘stocking seams’ up their legs, and bought wooden clogs and clacked around the draughty old stone-floored manor house they lived and worked in. The older ladies who worked with them, got so sick of the racket, they clubbed together and bought my mum and her friend a pair of slippers each.
My aunt went out with a Yank (as all American service men evidently were called), another relative fell off her bike and was rescued by a farmer, and evidently mum did dance with the local lord of the manor.
Thus, Bombers Moon was born.
Who gets caught by the man of her dreams bare-assed and halfway up a wall? Lady Chrissie Stride, of course.
It’s just her luck that she encounters Baronet Archie Duggan. On top of that, the house her London employers requisitioned to keep its staff safe from The Blitz is locked. Climbing the wall seemed like a good idea, until Archie turns up. At least he doesn’t seem to know it’s her.
Archie recognizes Chrissie almost immediately. He never expected to meet her again in deepest Northamptonshire. This time around he is determined to claim the woman he loved and lost. With the war on, priorities change, and love is too important to conform to niceties.
Will the star-crossed lovers finally find their happily ever after?
Story Excerpt
Chrissie gulped. He was big—everywhere. She looked downward, her vision drawn to his long thick cock, which stood out proudly from its nest of hair. She averted her eyes from the crisscross of scars on his leg and arm. Those she understood, he neither wanted to think or talk about just then.
And that’s going to fit in my daffodil? The euphemism used by so many of her friends seemed silly now, but there was no way she could use the words she heard bandied about so freely in the pub or by the older women at work.
Honey pot! That’s it. Merle’s expression came to her. My honey pot! Or Pussy. Okay I can live with that, but…cu… She couldn’t even think the word.
She looked at his body with frank regard. Who knew if she’d ever get a chance to see him like this again? Out of the corner of her eyes she saw the scars on his leg and arm were still red, angry-looking and pronounced. She bit her lips to stop her moan escaping and held back tears. It was hard not to cry for all he and thousands of others had been through and were still going through. But yet again, her eyes were drawn in one direction. His massive erection stood out stiff and proud. Chrissie gulped, her earlier fears resurfacing. That would really fit inside her? Oh, my.
Archie correctly read her expression. “Not only fit, but a perfect fit,” he assured her. “With room to move. Come and lie down here.” He walked to the bed and rolled back the sheet and blankets before kneeling awkwardly in front of her. “Hold on a sec, something needs doing first.”
It was on the tip of Chrissie’s tongue to tell him she’d do it, whatever it was, when it hit her that he didn’t want help or sympathy. He wanted to woo her. Her insides turned to mush. How perfect.
“Think we’ll have these off as well. Can’t ruin nylons, can we?” He rolled them down before putting one hand behind her, unhooking her brassiere, and putting the clothing on a chair. The pressure that moving the straps down had put on her chest immediately lifted, as Archie ran his thumbs over the swell of her breasts, and chuckled.
“God almighty, Chrissie you are so bloody receptive for a virgin. It’s marvelous. I’m going to enjoy showing you what we can do together.” He pinched each nipple in turn and kissed the nape of her neck as he kneaded her breasts.
She could tell he’d had plenty of practice. Her pussy clenched at the unwelcome thought of him doing all these things with someone else.
Grow up. He’s almost thirty, and there’s a war on.
“Now, let me see. What have we here?” Once again he kissed one nipple, then the other. “Time to itemize I think. Two breasts perfect to fit my hands. Two nipples to suckle.” He moved his hands to let his fingers play with her clitoris, teasing her hairs, and her navel. “One cunt all for me.”
Chrissie blushed. Why could he say that with such insouciance and she not even think it? It must be a man thing. However, emboldened, Chrissie licked her lips, heard him groan and then reached out to touch Archie’s manhood. His skin was warm and soft and he jolted and moaned as she feathered her fingers over him. One step further than she’d ever taken. Only once had she dared rub him through his trousers, and his groan had her moving her hand in a hurry.
She mimicked his movements, kissed his nipples, and then, heartened by his response, bent double to put the tip of his penis in her mouth and taste the juices there. They were salty and thick. Chrissie rolled them over her tongue as she remembered a leaflet one of the girls at school found in her brother’s room and brought to class to show them. Crudely written and badly produced, the drawings had them all giggling and blushing for weeks. She wondered just how many of her peers had tried what it suggested. Chrissie moved and circled Archie’s tip with her tongue again.
I could get used to this. The more I do this, the bigger he gets. A thought crossed her mind. Would he get too big for her? It wasn’t a question she felt she could ask.
Archie groaned, and she tried to pull back, scared she was doing something wrong. “Hell, Chrissie, that’s so damned good, I’ll come,” he said in a strangled tone. “For the Lord’s sake, get onto the bed and give me a chance to get inside you.” He moved over her, his tip barely touching her curls.
“Archie, what if I don’t want to, you know…” She didn’t know how to put her fears into words, and flapped her and in the air like a demented owl flapping its wing. It was lucky he understood her incoherent beseeching.
“No problem, darling. I’ll come like a gentleman.” He indicated the towel laid in readiness beside him. And moved again, nearer and nearer, and waited. “Yes?”
Chrissie held her breath. This was it. “Oh yes.”
His cock twitched, and without conscious thought, Chrissie opened her legs wide, ready to welcome him. This was it. Soon she, Chrissie Stride, would no longer be sweet and innocent but a woman of the world.
There was a loud hammering on the farmhouse door.
“What the bloody hell?” Archie stopped mid movement. His position looked precarious as he kneeled half on and half off her.
A voice, gruff and urgent, was shouting.
“Mr. Archie, Mr. Archie. Come quick. The rick’s on fire!”
Saved by the bell, she thought hysterically as she watched Archie scramble into his clothes, his cock being most reluctant to be treated in such a way. Not that she’d wanted saving. In fact, she felt uncomfortable. It wasn’t right. She’d at least climaxed. Goodness knows how Archie felt, still unreleased so to speak.
Where to Buy
Evernight Publishing
All Romance eBooks
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Bookstrand
About Raven McAllan
Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.
Her very understanding, and long-suffering DH, is used to his questions unanswered, the dust bunnies greeting him as he walks through the door, and rescuing burned offerings from the Aga. (And passing her a glass of wine as she types furiously.)
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Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
It’s Wednesday? Well, we all know what that means! Courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino, I’m sharing another teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my delightfully kinky historical MMF romance set in 1923 Berlin. Here’s a flashback sequence where an 18-year-old Kat learns what her uncle’s Parisian friend Giselle really does.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
In the aftermath of World War I, Berlin has become a hotspot of decadent pleasures, and American millionairess Kat Tracy is determined to enjoy each and every one of them with Sam Hellman, her late brother’s lover and her convenient “fiancé.” But when the two of them meet Friedrich von Bader, a former German Army officer turned reluctant prostitute, their wicked games take on a new meaning.
Dinner had been just as splendid as predicted, and Giselle had promised to take Katherine out at some point for tea and shopping. But Uncle William had run into some company owners at dinner and was inveigled into an impromptu business lunch the next day. Bart had slipped out of the hotel at a ridiculously early hour (or simply hadn’t come back in the first place, Katherine guessed). Her lady’s maid/chaperone Alice was pleasant enough (a huge improvement on the unfortunate Jane), but the poor woman was also a martyr to migraines. One of the dreadful headaches had struck just that morning, and Katherine had insisted that Alice go lie down in her room with a damp rag over her eyes until the dratted thing had run its course.
Which left Katherine at loose ends. She mused over the idea of visiting Notre Dame or the Louvre, but neither idea held much appeal. It wasn’t until she found one of Giselle’s letters in her trunk that a wonderful idea came to her.
It had been even easier than she’d thought. The doorman of the hotel had been more than happy to summon a large black taxi cab for her, giving the address in the ninth arrondissement to the crabbed driver. Feeling wonderfully daring, Katherine had made sure to tip the doorman, and the driver when he finally pulled up in front of the beautiful cream stone building with green shutters and black ironwork balconies full of greenery.
Surely visiting times in Paris didn’t differ that much from Bridgeport, Katherine reasoned as she went up to the large green door with its immaculate paint and gleaming brass trim. And Giselle had invited her out, after all. If the Parisian woman was otherwise occupied, the arrondissement’s collection of shops and galleries looked intriguing enough for an afternoon’s browse.
The door opened, revealing a maid in the classic black French uniform. She gave Katherine an oddly bold look, scrutinizing her from head to foot. “May I help you?”
“I’m here to see Madame Giselle, if she’s available.” Katherine held up the envelope with Giselle’s address on it in lieu of a calling card.
The maid smiled, her manner relaxing a bit. “You must be the new girl. Come in. But make sure you use the rear entrance from now on.”
Katherine frowned. The new girl?
Before she could say anything the maid stepped back, waving her through into a pretty little foyer tiled with a black and white chessboard floor and decorated with a huge arrangement of fresh flowers on a polished wooden table. The delicious scent of the flowers perfumed the air, but Katherine barely had time to appreciate it as the maid turned on her heel and headed up a flight of wide marble stairs. She had to hurry to keep up, grabbing her skirts as gracefully as possible and lifting them as she followed the maid to the second floor.
“Excuse me, I think I should explain—” Katherine tried to say as the maid stopped in front of a polished oak door.
“No need,” the maid said cheerfully. “Madame Giselle pays me very well. What happens here is no business of mine.”
Katherine tried to make sense of the words as the maid swung the door open, ushered Katherine into a little office that overlooked the boulevard. “Madame is busy with a client at the moment, but I’ll tell her you’re here as soon as they’re finished.” With a nod, she closed the door.
Boggled, Katherine turned in a circle to study the room. It held the unmistakable stamp of Giselle’s taste, from the comfortably upholstered green velvet chair behind the Louis XIV desk to the Tiffany lamps that would light the room at night. What it didn’t hold was an answer to the maid’s nonsensical phrases.
Madame is busy with a client. Katherine had assumed that Giselle, who always wore the most stylish gowns in a variety of greys and blacks, was a rich widow of one of Uncle William’s business partners. Now, however, she realized that she didn’t know very much about the elegant Parisian woman at all. Perhaps she teaches piano, or is a singing teacher. With Giselle’s warm honey voice, Katherine could easily imagine her as a retired opera singer who only took the most promising pupils. Did she think that we would look down on her for being an instructor? I can’t think of anything more wonderful and romantic than being an opera singer.
A muted sound, almost a cry, came from the far end of the office. Curious, Katherine headed there, studying the bookcases that lined the wall. After a moment she puzzled out that the central bookcase was actually a door painted to match the bookcases on either side. At eye level was a little circular flap attached to a small screw.
A brief touch revealed that the flap swiveled up, revealing a peephole. Katherine put her eye to it.
And gasped.
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Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Guess what? I’m not posting anything from Behind the Iron Cross this week! I know, I know, but it’s because I’m deep in edits for Deep Water and I decided I wanted to mix things up a little bit. So here’s a tease from a WIP I’m calling Pharaoh’s Desire, in which hunky grad student Kellen Fox accidentally summons a time-traveling pharaoh and his queen and winds up being pressed into personal service between the pair. In this scene, Kel thinks he’s hallucinating, but Pharaoh Senekenre is about to set his mind straight (so to speak) about that.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
“I know this is going to be a weird question, but has anyone ever told you that you look exactly like Pharaoh Senekenre?” Kel said.
The man smiled. “Well, yes, seeing as I am Pharaoh Senekenre.” His smile widened, becoming a thing of sexy delight. “Who did you think I was, young scholar?”
Kel found himself grinning back at the handsome man. “Well, a hallucination, to be honest. So you’re telling me you’re Senekenre. Fourteenth king of the 17th Dynasty. You’re a genuine Egyptian Pharaoh, and you’re standing in front of me. Alive.”
Something flickered in Sekenenre’s eyes, sharpening them. He gazed around the chamber, finally spotting the deconstructed bed, and went pale under the bronze tan. “Gods above and below,” he whispered. “It worked?”
“What worked?”
The pharaoh spun back to Kel. “Amhemet’s plan,” he said, fear and excitement warring in his expression. “Have I traveled to the future as he promised?”
Kel blinked. “Uh…”
“He said he would use his magic to send us to another time for a single night.” Senekenre stepped to the display case holding the hematite scarab, pressing his palm against the glass. “It was the only way to secure a future for my queen and myself. He said that when the right man found the spell and invoked it, the bridge would be formed, and we would be transported.”
The words hidden inside the scarab blazed through Kel’s mind. Amhemnet, first advisor to Pharaoh Senekenre, calls on you, O Ra. Help me build a bridge for Pharaoh and his Queen.
His brain blipped into neutral for a moment. “Wait. You’re telling me this Amhemnet guy used magic to send you to another time? To this time?” he managed.
“Yes, thanks to you. I take it you invoked the spell?”
“If you mean I read it out loud, yeah. I didn’t know it was a spell.” Swallowing hard, Kel forced himself to reach out and touch Senekenre’s arm. It was warm under his fingertips. “Oh, shit,” he whispered. “I’m not hallucinating. You’re real. You’re really here!”
“Yes, I know.” Senekenre came closer, stopping just a foot away from Kel. At this distance, Kel could see the dark five o’clock shadow under the other man’s tan skin, and Senekenre’s thick, sooty eyelashes. “You thought I was a dream, young scholar?”
“Uh, yeah.” The logical part of Kel’s brain screamed at him to step back, get the hell away from the exhibit space and its time-traveling visitor. The rest of his brain just wanted to ogle Senekenre’s broad shoulders, cut abs, and sleekly muscled legs. The man wasn’t bulked out like a gym rat, but he was definitely in prime condition. “I mean, we don’t get a lot of visitors from the 17th Dynasty, you know?” He winced at how idiotic he sounded. “I’m sorry. This is all a big shock to me. Could we start over again, sir? Sire? Your majesty?”
“Sire will do, young scholar.” Senekenre’s head tilted to one side, openly considering him. “But what land is this, that produces such beautiful men?”
Aaaand the long-dead pharaoh is flirting with me. Holy shit. Kel couldn’t remember anything in the research materials about Senekenre being gay or bi. But that didn’t make it impossible, either. His pulse sped up at the pharaoh’s jaw-droppingly sexy smile. “Uh, you’re in the United States of America, sire. It’s a country far to the west of your kingdom, across a large ocean. It didn’t exist in your time.”
“Oh. And are all the men here like you?” Senekenre said, stepping closer. He reached out to stroke the line of Kel’s jaw. “Such pure, smooth skin, and your hair, the color of a winter sunset. If you were of my time, I would make you a member of my court, simply so that I could look upon you every day.”
Kel licked dry lips, willing his cock to behave itself. “Just look?”
Senekenre smiled. “Hmm. Perhaps … kiss?” He leaned forward, brushing his soft full lips against Kel’s.
Oh, holy God, yes. Kel relaxed, letting himself sink into the kiss. The pharaoh’s lips were masculine, but full and very warm. Senekenre’s tongue slipped between his lips and he met it eagerly, licking and teasing. Senekenre devoured him in return, sending shocks of need along Kel’s nerves and straight to his groin. His arms slid around the pharaoh’s waist, fingers playing along the hard, ridged small of Senekenre’s back.
They both pulled back at the same time, panting and grinning. “Wow,” Kel said. “If that’s how royals kiss, I can understand the interest in William and Harry.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.” He dove back in, sucking one firm, full lip between his own, then the other. The pharaoh chuckled against his mouth, tongue darting in and out in an achingly sensual tease. One hand came to rest on Kel’s chest, then trailed down his body, brushing against his hardening cock.
Kel gasped softly, twitching. “Oh.”
Senekenre made an approving noise. “You like that, I take it?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Good. I have never seen this type of clothing before. How does it come off?”
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Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
It’s Wednesday? Well, we all know what that means! Courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino, I’m sharing another teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my delightfully kinky historical MMF romance set in 1923 Berlin. Yay — sex!
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
In the aftermath of World War I, Berlin has become a hotspot of decadent pleasures, and American millionairess Kat Tracy is determined to enjoy each and every one of them with Sam Hellman, her late brother’s lover and her convenient “fiancé.” But when the two of them meet Friedrich von Bader, a former German Army officer turned reluctant prostitute, their wicked games take on a new meaning.
The Fräulein wiggled past him and sat, hands resting on the chair arms. She’d taken off her tailored suit in the bathroom, and was only wearing a grey silk chemise now. He could smell her perfume and the scent of her skin, and a hint of something warmer, more intoxicating underneath.
She peered down at him, bistre eyes revealing nothing. “Have you ever kissed a woman between her legs, colonel?”
The idea was dizzying. “No,” he confessed.
“Good. I can teach you the proper way to do it, then.” Her hands moved to her lap, sliding the grey silk up her thighs in a slow, teasing movement, like a curtain rising. His mouth went dry when he saw the tops of her stockings and the black satin garters revealed, and then the dark curls he’d fantasized about.
She spread her thighs, revealing the glistening flesh there. The warm scent intensified, wafting into his brain and lighting it up with desire. “Isn’t it pretty?” she murmured, running a slender finger down and up the dark pink lips, catching on the tiny nub that crowned them. She rolled her fingertip around it, humming at the sensation. “Oh, that feels so nice. I want you to kiss me here, on my clit.”
She eased closer and he stretched until he could feel her heat on his lips, smell that rich, earthy scent that was the core of a woman. Hesitantly, he brushed a kiss over the tiny nub, catching it between his lips a little and dragging them across it. A louder hum was his reward.
“Do that again,” she purred, “then lick it.”
He followed her orders, surprised at the salt-sweet flavor of her. He tried running the flat of his tongue across the nub, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. This time, she gasped.
“Initiative. I like that,” she laughed. The instructions continued; mouth the supple outer lips, tease the delicate frilled inner lips with little sucking nibbles, slip his tongue deep inside her and press hard against the upper wall. He did it all, feeling his face grow wet with her juices as he licked, sucked, and kissed her.
He returned to her clit, stroking it now with his tongue and listening to her little encouraging whimpers and moans. He almost gasped into her when a warm, wet finger stroked between the cheeks of his ass, carefully pressing against the furled muscle there until it was allowed in.
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Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino, I’m sharing another teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my delightfully kinky historical MMF romance set in 1923 Berlin. There’s no sex in this one, but we do get to see a peek into Kat’s kinky past.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
In the aftermath of World War I, Berlin has become a hotspot of decadent pleasures, and American millionairess Kat Tracy is determined to enjoy each and every one of them with Sam Hellman, her late brother’s lover and her convenient “fiancé.” But when the two of them meet Friedrich von Bader, a former German Army officer turned reluctant prostitute, their wicked games take on a new meaning.
Kat leaned back in her chair, keeping her expression as bland as any of the men seated around the table. Inside, though, she was triumphant.
The meeting with Tracy Electrics’ latest acquisition, Borchard Maschinenfabrik, had gone like clockwork. The company’s board, none of them fools, had seen the wisdom of accepting the buyout proposal that would save their crumbling company. One of them, a Heinrich Arnö, wasn’t present but the other members assured her that his vote would be the same as theirs.
Next to her, Arthur made a few last notes in his files, before closing the folder with a snap. “We’ll have the papers drawn up and messengered over to your office this afternoon, gentlemen,” he announced, getting to his feet. “Tracy Electrics looks forward to working with your company.”
The other men followed him with some alacrity, and Kat made sure that she was the last to rise. She’d taken the colonel’s advice this morning, selecting a smart jacket in a quasi-military cut this morning and pairing it with an equally smart dress in dark grey. The reaction from the board members had been subtle but noticeable, reacting less to her as a woman and more as a potential business partner.
Even Arthur had given her a thin, approving smile when he saw her, and now he leaned closer as the other men moved out of the conference room. “I hope you have more outfits like this one,” he murmured.
She pursed her lips to hide a smile. “I will by tomorrow.”
“Good. Not that I don’t like your other frocks, but this one is more…”
“Authoritative?”
“Very much so.”
The board members who had filed out of the conference room ahead of them were gathered in groups of two and three, quietly talking amongst themselves. Kat gave them polite nods as she and Arthur passed. Ahead of her, flanked by two of the older board members, she spotted a tall, handsome man in his late forties. Grey streaked his temples, giving him a wonderful gravitas that was tempered by the amused gleam in his hazel eyes.
They focused on her now, widening. “Fräulein…Tracy?” he said, stumbling a bit over her last name.
Kat’s heart leapt as she recognized him. Heinrich, her first pet, from that wonderful week in Paris when Madame Giselle had helped her explore her desires. One week of rigorous, intense, absolutely delicious training in the art of dominating a man, before Uncle William had spoiled it all and whisked her back to Bridgeport.
It was hardly surprising that Heinrich had hesitated on the Tracy. The last time they met, he’d known her only as Maîtresse. And to be honest, she wasn’t even sure if Heinrich was his real first name, either.
Taking a deep breath, she came forward. “I am. And you are?”
He gave her a little bow. “Heinrich Arnö, fräulein. You have my apologies for missing the meeting. My auto decided to pick this morning to be recalcitrant, and then there was an accident that required my driver to reroute us along a rather convoluted path.”
“Quite understandable, Herr Arnö.” She forced herself to calm, to treat the man standing before her as if he was yet another business partner. “We’ve concluded our business and will be sending the acquisition papers to your headquarters this afternoon. The other board members gave us the impression that you would be in agreement about this.”
Heinrich’s gaze sharpened, but never lost their humor. “Quite so. I’m not so foolish as to pretend that we don’t need Tracy Electrics.”
The double meaning of his words weren’t lost on her. “It will be Tracy Electrics’ honor to work with your company and help restore it to its former capacity,” she said sweetly. “Would you care to review the agreement while you’re here?”
“If that wouldn’t be too much of a bother.”
“Not at all. Arthur, I’ll speak to Mr. Arnö in the conference room.”
“Of course, Miss Tracy. I’ll have Horst bring the car around,” Arthur said, handing her his files with full deference. His body language said something else again.
Folder in hand, she waited for Heinrich to open the conference door for her. As soon as it was safely closed she leaned against the large oak table, considering him. “So Heinrich really is your first name?”
“Yes it is, Maîtresse.” He clasped his hands behind his back as she’d taught him in Paris so long ago. “I apologize for not kneeling, but there’s no lock on the door.”
“That’s all right. I have no wish to embarrass you. The years have been good to you, pet.”
Color rose in his cheeks, and his eyes twinkled. “They haven’t done a thing to you except enhance your beauty, Maîtresse. I’m very happy to see you again.”
“I’m happy to see you as well.” The thing that had pricked her conscience for so many years surfaced. “Did Madame Giselle explain why I left so suddenly?”
He sobered. “She said it was a family issue and you wouldn’t be able to return to Paris. I was…disappointed. But she said you’d had no choice in the matter.”
“I didn’t. But I apologize anyway. If it had been up to me I wouldn’t have left you like that with no word of explanation.” She moved closer, holding out one hand. He took it with reverence, bringing it to his mouth and laying a respectful kiss over the knuckles.
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Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino, I’m sharing another teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my rather dark and delicious historical MMF romance set in 1923 Berlin. This teaser takes place during a masked ball with a Roman orgy theme, as Friedrich learns he’s been played for a patsy by his former commanding officer Hauptmann.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
In the aftermath of World War I, Berlin has become a hotspot of decadent pleasures, and American millionairess Kat Tracy is determined to enjoy each and every one of them with Sam Hellman, her late brother’s lover and her convenient “fiancé.” But when the two of them meet Friedrich von Bader, a former German Army officer turned reluctant prostitute, their wicked games take on a new meaning.
Friedrich glanced into the grotto, then did a double-take. Inside, dressed in a Roman toga that Caesar himself would envy, was Hauptmann, sitting next to the American businessman. They laughed over drinks, all the while caressing what he could only assume were three whores dressed in flimsy tunics and vaguely Roman hairstyles, all piled curls and wrapped ribbons.
“Come on.”
He felt Sam’s hand on his arm and let himself be tugged away, back to their grotto. Sam plopped down next to the Fräulein, managing not to spill a drop of their drinks. “Guess who’s here tonight?” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “Darling, half of Berlin is here tonight. You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”
“You’re right. Guess who’s here tonight whose head you’d really like to see on a pike?”
Her expression dimmed. “Brayburn?”
Sam grimaced. “The one and only. Looks like he’s entertaining, too. Some big blond with one of those military mustaches.”
The Fräulein put down her drink. “Going grey at the temples?” she asked. “With a small scar on his right cheek?”
“Yes, that’s the man,” Sam said, puzzled. “You know him?”
She shook her head. “Arthur warned me about him,” she said. “His name is Gerhard Hauptmann. He was a German army general until he got cashiered for almost beating a corporal to death. According to Arthur, he’s become quite the eminence grise for the Black Arrow — taught them military tactics for fighting the other gangs, how to rig an ambush, things like that.”
And just like that, time stopped, trapping Friedrich in a clear block of ice that froze him to the marrow. The Black Arrow, the gang that Oskar had worked for. The one that had killed Oskar, raped Lilli, caused Rudi’s premature birth.
His stomach turned over. And he had been working for them through the good graces of former General Gerhard Hauptmann. Oh, Christ, no. Please, no.
He dredged up saliva, make himself ask, “How long has Hauptmann worked for the Black Arrow?”
The Fräulein glanced at him. “For well over a year, now, according to Arthur. Brayburn supposedly hired him as a sort of local guide, but Arthur thinks Hauptmann’s been using his gang connections to bully various executives into signing their companies over to Brayburn.”
Friedrich realized he’d folded his fingers around the edge of the tiny table, gripping it until his knuckles whitened. The Fräulein’s warm hand covered one of his, bringing him back. “Colonel, what’s wrong? Do you know this man?”
His emotions were a whirlwind, impossible to explain and colored now with a rising red film of purest rage. He shook his head, sucking in a deep breath. “I — please excuse me, Fräulein.”
He stood and lurched out of the grotto, ignoring their questions. Fury pounded in his head, driving him through the decadent crowd. He wanted to find Hauptmann, strangle the traitorous bastard with his own hands, rip his throat out of what he’d done to Oskar and Lilli. What he’d persuaded Friedrich to do.
Oh, you stupid bastard. And you believed him, and you gave him everything he wanted.
As he approached the Brayburn grotto, he could only see the American businessman and his whores lounging on the purple couches there. Friedrich turned, pushing through the heaving throng, scanning for his prey. Ahead, he saw a familiar head disappear into a door labeled HERREN.
He followed.
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Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Okay, I’m back from Sarasota and ready to write! Courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino, I’m sharing another teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my delightfully kinky historical MMF romance set in 1923 Berlin. Since last week’s teaser was an encounter between Sam and Friedrich, I thought I’d tease you this week with Friedrich and his Fräulein.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
In the aftermath of World War I, Berlin has become a hotspot of decadent pleasures, and American millionairess Kat Tracy is determined to enjoy each and every one of them with Sam Hellman, her late brother’s lover and her convenient “fiancé.” But when the two of them meet Friedrich von Bader, a former German Army officer turned reluctant prostitute, their wicked games take on a new meaning.
The Fräulein wiggled past him and sat, hands resting on the chair arms. She’d taken off her tailored suit in the bathroom, and was only wearing a grey silk chemise now. He could smell her perfume and the scent of her skin, and a hint of something warmer, more intoxicating underneath.
She peered down at him, bistre eyes revealing nothing. “Have you ever kissed a woman between her legs, colonel?”
The idea was dizzying. He’d watched the Italian dancer performing this service for the Fräulein and had wondered how it tasted, smelled, felt. “No,” he confessed.
“Good. I can teach you the proper way to do it, then.” Her hands moved to her lap, sliding the grey silk up her thighs in a slow, teasing movement, like a curtain rising. His mouth went dry when he saw the tops of her stockings and the black satin garters revealed, and then the dark curls he’d fantasized about.
She spread her thighs, revealing the glistening flesh there. The warm scent intensified, wafting into his brain and lighting it up with desire. “Isn’t it pretty?” she murmured, running a slender finger down and up the dark pink lips, catching on the tiny nub that crowned them. She rolled her fingertip around it, humming at the sensation. “Oh, that feels so nice. I want you to kiss me here, on my clit.”
She eased closer and he stretched until he could feel her heat on his lips, smell that rich, earthy scent that was the core of a woman. Hesitantly, he brushed a kiss over her clit, catching it between his lips a little and dragging them across it. A louder hum was his reward.
“Do that again,” she purred, “then lick it.”
He followed orders, surprised at the salt-sweet flavor of her. He tried running the flat of his tongue across the small nub, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. This time, she gasped.
“Initiative. I like that,” she laughed. The instructions continued; mouth the supple outer lips, tease the delicate frilled inner lips with little sucking nibbles, slip his tongue deep inside her and press hard against the upper wall. He did it all, feeling his face grow wet with her juices as he licked, sucked, and kissed her.
He returned to her clit, stroking it now with his tongue and listening to her little encouraging whimpers and moans. He almost gasped into her when a warm, wet finger stroked between the cheeks of his ass, carefully pressing against the furled entrance until it was allowed in.
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Nicola Cameron Writes 