Pillow Talk Secrets: Mixing it Up!

I got together with my partners in crime, Jade and Malin, and had a good chat about mixing our genres…

Pillow Talk

Hello everyone! Welcome back for the newest edition of Pillow Talk Secrets! Today, Tamsin, Malin, and I—Jade, your host for the day—have merged our thoughts together to talk about…merging writing genres together! 🙂 We had a lot to say in regards to genre crossovers and stories that blend vastly contrasting elements together, both in our own writing experiences, and in our reading, too. So, without further ado, we hope you enjoy…

Pillow Talk Secrets

Jade: Hello ladies! So nice to be back again. How are you both doing today?

Malin: Doing well! How about you, Jade? Tamsin?

Tamsin: Very well, thanks—and better for being here with you two! 🙂

J: Aw! I agree. And I’m well too, thank you. So…today we have a very interesting topic on hand—erotica crossovers and genre blending. Shall we get right to it?

T: Absolutely!

M: Sounds great. I suspect we’ll have a lot to…

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Pillow Talk Secrets: Our First Year

Pillow Talk


Welcome to another edition of Pillow Talk, in which Malin James, Jade A Waters and I, Tamsin Flowers, get together for a chat about our favorite things – sex, erotica and…actually I think that covers it – sex and erotica!

This month we’re celebrating our one year anniversary as co-bloggers, so that’s a great opportunity to take a look back at what we’ve achieved in the past 12 months on Pillow Talk and what the future holds for us. We’re also considering the recent publication of E L James’s new baby, Grey, and I, for one, am very interested to hear what my colleagues make of this…how to put it…retreading of the same material.

So let’s get going.

Pillow Talk Secrets

Tamsin: Hello Jade, hello Malin, how are you both this afternoon?

Jade: Hello, lovelies! I’m well. How about you two?

Malin: Good morning / afternoon, ladies! I’m…

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Alison Tyler: Phone Sex Masterclass!


I’ve never made a secret of the fact how much I admire Alison Tyler – she’s a first class writer and a superb editor of all things erotic – and damn charming along with it. So naturally, I’m thrilled once more to be a stop on one of her brilliant blog tours – this time it’s for the third title in her autobiographical series: Wrapped Around Your Finger, published by Cleis Press. However, if you’re looking for an unbiased review, you might as well stop reading now. I’m totally bias – I love her work.


Here are just a few examples of random sentences from Wrapped Around Your Finger. You can quite literally open the book at any page and come across a scattering of pearls…

On Sam’s needs:

But what I did with him, what I was willing to do, the pain I yearned for, the level of humiliation I could accept, all of that matched his need to inflict the pain, to push down the shame, to take me to the highs and lows that I craved.


When he stopped, the rewards began.

On Jack’s needs:

For Jack…for Jack I think sex was a tool. Sometimes a weapon of torture, sometimes an instrument of almost unbelievable pleasure, but mostly a tool to slide inside the heads of his lovers.


There was no talk of safewords here.

And so damn sexy:

I could hardly breathe, locking eyes with Jack, as Alex plunged into me, my most recent climax still sending sparks throughout my body.

Have I whet your appetite for what Wrapped Around Your Finger has to offer? You want to read more? So here’s a longer excerpt and it’s an absolute masterclass in how to write phone sex. Alison Tyler – she’s got me wrapped around her finger for sure!






In the early afternoon, Jack called me from his office.
“You writing, Sam?”
“No,” I said honestly. There was no reason for me to lie and tell him I had been productive. He’d have seen through the fib even over the phone. What if he asked me to read him what I’d created? Where would I be then?
“Packing?” he queried next, and there was humor in his voice.
“Sliding those naughty fingers of yours between your nether lips and touching yourself?”
“Yes, Jack.”
“And thinking of what?”
“You know.” As soon as I spoke the words, I realized that had not been the correct answer.
“You’re already getting one spanking tonight,” Jack said somberly. “Are you trying to go for two?”
“No, Jack,” I stood up straighter, even though he couldn’t see my improved posture, and I forced myself to pay more careful attention to Jack’s questions and my own responses.
“So tell me,” my man continued, “what are you thinking of?”
“You spanking me.” It was fact. Total fact. And yet, as always, the words were difficult to say. You ought to see me at public readings. How pink my cheeks get when I reach the dirty parts of a story. Yes, I am the shy pornographer. I always have a tough time with the X-rated words. Not writing them, as you can see. I can write cock and pussy and asshole like the best of them. But there are certain terms and phrases that give me pause every time I have to put a voice behind the words.
“So tell me,” Jack repeated. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I pressed my legs together. Jack’s request was so damn sexy, and yet what he was asking me to do was so damn hard. And he knew it. All I wanted was for him to drive home right then and take care of this need of mine. Yet I dreaded that moment just the same. It’s what makes wanting a spanking so conflicting. Never changes. At least, this sensation has never changed for me, even after all these years in subspace. I approach every spanking the same fucking way. With embarrassment. With excitement. With lust. And with some variation of heart-pounding fear.
“What am I using on you in your dirty little fantasies?”
Jack prompted me, and I guessed he had his hand on his cock.
“Your belt,” I said immediately. “The one you wore today. You don’t even have the time to search for something else. You come right through the door and you bend me over and I listen to the sound of the buckle and then the hiss of the leather pulling through your loops.” I was touching myself now. This was my porn. “You start on top of my clothes.”
“What are you wearing?”
I actually had to look down at myself; I was in such a daze. What was I wearing? Faded 501s, black mules, vintage Rolling Stones-concert T-shirt, so old there were holes throughout the near-translucent fabric.
“Jeans,” I told him.
“I start on your jeans?”
“Yeah, for the first few licks, and then you reach around my waist and unbutton the fly and slide down my pants.”
“You’ve got on panties?”
“Yes,” I told him. “Tuesday panties.” I remembered that. I’d changed after my second bath of the day. God, he would hardly have to touch me I’d already come so many times. I was more than primed. I was practically putty.
“And I use the belt on you through your panties?”
Clearly, his office door was shut if he felt so confident talking to me like this. Boldly. We rarely had phone sex.
Jack was focused when on the job. But I supposed that his decision to establish a seven-day punishment had created the same effect in him the plan had in me. Longing. Overwhelming desire. When those Dom/sub pieces fit together, the result is a beautiful thing.
“Yes, Jack,” I said, “but then you pull them down.”
“I don’t make you do it?”
“No, Sir. You pull them down.” Christ, the thought alone of his hands on the waistband of my panties had me touching myself again, fingers thrust down my jeans, wishing he were here. Now. Surprised when he said, “I’ve got to run, Kid.” And disconnected the line.

Samantha’s attraction to her Dom, Jack, grows as they indulge in a sultry, Story of O-style affair. He promises her a trip to Paris, and in anticipation, creates a series of sexual rewards inspired by the seven deadly sins—one for every day of the week. As Samantha dives deeper into his imagination, she discovers new edges to her own sensuality.

Hailed by everyone from Publishers Weekly to Penthouse Variations as the pinnacle of BDSM fiction, this coming-of-age tale pulses off the page. Wrapped Around Your Finger is, at the core, a great love story—and one that could only happen in our time. Inspired by Alison Tyler’s own sex diaries, this lusciously authentic novel is a romance so intensely written you’ll feel every hard-earned caress.

Available from:

Wicked Wednesday: Silent Memories


Silent Memories

I remember how you used to talk to me as you undressed me. Telling me how you’d thought about me during the day. Telling me that I was your only true love. Whispering words in my ear that would make others blanch, but made me smile and shiver.

I remember the sounds that accompanied our ritual. The soft ‘phut’ of buttons being pressed through holes. The slow rasp of a zip being undone. The sound of your heavy shoes clattering across the floor as you kicked them to one side. The silky hiss of my stockings as you rolled them down each leg. The jingle of change in your pocket as your trousers dropped. The barely perceptible clicks of the fastenings as you undid my bra. My sigh as my breasts were liberated. Your grunt as your mouth found its way to one of them. My gasp.

I remember the whoosh of air escaping the mattress as our joint weight dropped onto it. The crumpling sound as you kicked the duvet aside, and the soft slump as it settled on the carpet. More words. You always had a way with words, choosing the ones that would turn me on as I lay beneath you. When you stopped speaking, I would sometimes hear the roar of my own circulation in my ears. The silent dull thud of my heart beating a tattoo for you.

I remember the rough sound of my finger running against your stubble. The click of your teeth on my fingernail as I pushed the same finger between your lips. The rustle of your hands through my hair and your breath against my ear.

I remember my sharp yelp when you bit my shoulder once and the slap that rang from your back as I tried to stop you. Your laughter and my giggle. And the springs of the bed groaning as we rolled together so I was on top. My own voice, so tentative in asking for what I needed. And your replies. Always so sweet. Always what I wanted to hear.

I remember the small sucking noises as your fingers slipped inside me. I would be wet from the moment you walked in the door. I was always ready for you. A small squeal of pleasure escaping past the teeth biting my lower lip. My sharp intake of breath as you added another finger. And then another.

The imperceptible sounds of two bodies sliding against each other.

I remember the dirty words that slipped so easily from both of us as you pushed your cock into me. Fuck! you’d say as you fucked me fiercely. The thump of your hips against mine, flesh chafing flesh. A groan. A cry. A sob. A grunt that sounded pained as you came hard inside me. My own shriek as your tongue extracted an orgasm from my swollen clit.

I remember the words you’d say to me afterwards as we lay together, clammy with sweat in the night. The best words. The ones you saved till last.

Now, there is only silence.



Wicked Wednesday

Red Hot Zombie Cocktails!


I promised you it was a busy week on Superotica and I promised you zombies! So what’s today all about?

When Kristina Lloyd invited me to her online Kinky Cocktail party, I knew immediately what I wanted to drink. It’s zombie week here on Superotica, so it had to be a Zombie – a classic rum cocktail that’ll have you swinging from the rafters in no time. Ms Lloyd is celebrating the release of her latest dark, deep and sexy offering, Undone, which will be published by Black Lace on 11th September. It’s an erotic thriller that has been setting my pulse racing as I’ve been reading it over the past few days – and I’ll be featuring a sizzling excerpt from it here on 12th September as part of the official blog tour!

But today is all about sharing a few drinks and having some fun. The main party is taking place all day on Facebook at Kinky Cocktails and Digital Drinking and you can find out more about the blog tour on Kristina’s website. I’ll be popping by the Facebook page a little later on today with a few copies of Zombie Erotoclypse to give away – perfect reading while you sip on a Zombie.

18743907_sThe Zombie

4 parts dark rum

2 parts light rum

1 part 151 rum

1 part apricot brandy

2 parts each of orange, pineapple and lime juice

1 tsp sugar

Blend all the ingredients with ice apart from the 151. Strain into a highball glass and then float the 151 on the top. Garnish with a slice of pineapple, orange or lime, mint leaves and a cherry.

Drink with pleasure!


And now you’ve got a drink in your hand, what about a visit to the Zee Club? This is the scary zombie sex bar that features in my story “Red Hot Zombie Cock” – the curtain raiser in Zombie Erotoclypse. The zombie apocalypse has happened and LA has morphed into Zombie City. Pockets of humans eek out an existence where they can. The Zee Club is one of the last remaining bars and it takes some nerve to go and drink there…


Honey leads us down a flight of candlelit stairs and then another.  The club is underground and it quickly becomes apparent why.  Long before we get to where we’re going, I can hear the scream of zombies above a pulsing beat of heavy metal.  The base thuds in my chest and the hairs on the back of my neck and on my arms stand up.  I’m getting a bad feeling about this but, ahead of me, Skylar is practically skipping down the stairs.  At the bottom there’s another long corridor and then finally Honey stops in front of a pair of matte black doors and turns towards us.

Never have I felt such trepidation as I do now, waiting for the doors to open on what I’m sure will resemble one of Dante’s circles of Hell.

“Good luck,” says Honey.

“Thanks,” says Skylar and, stepping forward, he kisses her.  Full on, mouth open, tongues.

Good luck?  Why the hell are we going to need luck?

Skylar disengages himself and shoulders the door open.  I follow him through, only to be crushed by a wall of noise and heat and smell.  Zombie-stink.  Like the rodent house in the zoo but ten times more pungent.  It stings the back of my throat and I start to cough.  There’s a whiff of cigarette smoke in the air as well and the humidity of too many sweaty bodies in a confined space.

It’s too dark to see much.  Bodies and movement.  I think people are dancing around us but the crowd seems thicker to one side of the cavernous room and it’s from this direction that I hear the unmistakable guttural retching noises that the zombies make when they’re about to feed.  A shiver runs up through me and I look back towards the doors – but they’ve shut and I can’t even make out their outline on the dark black wall.

“Come on, let’s get a drink,” says Skylar.

On the opposite side to the zombie crowd, there’s a small bar but even here people are jostling for space.  Skylar fights his way through while I take in more of the details, my eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the dark.  The crowd is made up of mainly men, young men – more people than I knew were even alive and living in Zombie City – but there are some girls, too, and all of them have the hardened look of survivalists.

Skylar appears at my side and pushes a glass into my hand.  I sniff it – bourbon.  It’s been an age since I had any alcohol.  It’s getting hard to come by.

“Happy birthday, Marsha,” he says, touching his glass to mine.

“You’ve been here before?”  I have to shout to make myself heard over the music.

“Loads of times.”

“What goes on?”

“You mean with the biters?  Like I said, you get to fuck ’em, if you want.”

The bourbon burns a path down my throat and I cough again.  But it’s good medicine and I finish it off quickly, enjoying the warmth that radiates through me.

“I’ll get you another.”

When Skylar comes back, he gestures me to follow him and then weaves ahead of me through the crush to the other side of the room.  I throw back my second bourbon to calm my nerves and step forward as the crowd parts in front of me.  I don’t know what I expect to see but the reality is like nothing I could have imagined.

In a pool of bright white light, there’s a small stage.  On it, attached to two St Andrew’s crosses against the back wall, are a male and a female zombie.  Their wrists and ankles are shackled with wide metal cuffs and their jaws are muzzled.  Other than that they’re both completely naked.  I’ve never seen naked zombies before but these two have all the required body parts and, though their skin is already grey tinged, they can’t have been zombies long as there are no real signs of decay.  Their heads are thrashing and both of them are roaring with zombie blood lust.  But what really catches my eye is the male zombie’s cock.  It’s erect and it’s huge, bouncing up against his stomach as he writhes against his restraints.

“See what I mean, Marsha?” whispers Skylar in my ear.  “Wouldn’t you like a bit of that?”

I’m shocked to feel the familiar tug of longing deep down inside as my muscles clench.  It must be the bourbon and the fact that I haven’t had sex in a while.  It’s not as if I’m going to find a zombie in any way sexy.

The crowd’s baying almost as loud as the zombies and suddenly Honey appears, standing between the two crosses.  She has a mike in her hand and her hips pulse with the beat of the music.  Some of the guys at the front yell their appreciation and whistle.  She smiles back at them and then holds up her hand as a signal for quiet.  Somewhere an unseen DJ turns down the music.

“Come and get it,” she whispers into her mike, her throaty voice making the words sound incredibly sexy.

The spectators respond with a roar.

“Who wants to try out this bad boy here,” she says, running a finger tip down the male zombie’s chest, “and this hot young thing?”  She tweaks one of the female zombie’s nipples, making her hiss behind her muzzle.  “Just one lucky guy and one lucky girl.  That’s all I’m looking for tonight.”

“She wants someone to go up and have sex with the zombies, right in front of everyone?” I whisper to Skylar.

“It’s all part of the show,” says Skylar.  “But they keep a bunch more in private rooms for paying guests.  I’ve got one reserved for you.”

“No way, Skylar.”  I shake my head.  I’ll watch the show, if that’s what it was, but more than that…

A kid steps forward, maybe eighteen or nineteen, shaven head and ripped torso.  He says something to Honey that I can’t hear and her face breaks into a wide grin.

“Okay, I got a taker for Miss Zee.”  She wraps an arm around the boy’s shoulders and then brings the mike back to her mouth.  “Come on, girls, someone’s got to be jonesing for this great big stud over here.”

A ripple of whispers runs through the crowd and people shuffle and shove.  Eventually two women step forward, holding hands and giggling.

“Wow! A tag team,” says Honey.  “This is going to be awesome.”

Then the music ramps back up as Honey pulls her three victims into a huddle.

“Watch and learn,” says Skylar, grinning widely.

The volume seems to increase even more and the two women step to one side.  Honey grabs the guy’s wrist and holds his arm up high in the air, like a champion fighter being paraded round the ring.  He takes a bow and then turns to face the female zombie.  Suddenly the room is silent.

“Go for it, Mack,” screams a woman.

Mack steps forward and from where we’re standing, slightly to one side, I can see that he’s rubbing against the groin of his jeans with one hand.  I can hardly believe what I’m watching and I almost forget to breath.  After a couple of thrusts against his hand, the boy unzips his pants and wrestles his cock out through the slit, tangling with it until it’s standing proud outside the denim.  He makes a half turn to let the crowd see his impressive erection, a wide grin on his face.

“Jesus,” I say and Skylar puts an arm round my waist.  I’m not sure I want to see this.

“Fuck her!” yells a guy.

He turns back to the cross and puts a hand out to touch the zombie.  He brushes it, quite softly, across her breasts, making the zombie grunt and strain against her restraints.  The grin has gone from his face and he looks completely fascinated.  He runs his fingers down her torso, slowly, exploring the texture of her rough, grey skin.  Under his touch, she bucks and the grunt becomes a moan that steadily increases in volume the further down he ventures.  On the next cross, the male zombie seems to sense what’s happening and starts baying as he, too, struggles to get free.

“Apparently zombies have an epic sex drive,” whispers Skylar in my ear, and I feel his hot breath on my neck.

“No way!”

“True,” he says.  “Just watch.”

Mack spits on his index and middle finger and pushes them down between the zombie’s splayed legs.  It has an instantaneous effect, as if a jolt of electricity has been passed through her body.   Her back arches and her head whips from side to side as she releases a full-blooded zombie scream.  In the enclosed space, it tears the air and reverberates in ears and chests.  Mack looks back over his shoulder at the baying audience, his grin back in place.  Then he takes his cock in one hand and uses his other hand to find a pathway into the zombie’s pussy.  He strokes his swollen head up and down between her lips and then I see his hips surge forward as he pushes himself inside.  She screams again and the male zombie roars with her.  When I look at him, I realize his cock’s even larger now and he’s pulling harder against the bindings at his wrists and ankles.

The crowd goes wild with catcalls and whistles as Mack pumps in and out of her.  And despite my revulsion for what I’m seeing, I realize that between my legs I’m wet.  Skylar pulls me back against his body and I can hear that his breathing has quickened.  He grinds his hips against my ass and I feel the bulge of a nascent erection.

Out in front, Mack’s building toward his climax, thrusting faster and harder, grappling with the zombie’s breasts and even sucking on one of her nipples.  He arches his back and throws his head back, though his valedictory roar is drowned out by the noise of the crowd and the baying zombies.  It’s a scene of complete mayhem as the audience surges forward and the air’s rent by a loud cracking sound.  I blink and things go into slow motion.

The male zombie has split his cross in two and, now able to use his arms, he makes short work of turning the heavy beams into nothing more than kindling.  Still cuffed at his wrists and ankles, he ploughs into the crowd like the Incredible Hulk and there’s a surge for the doors as panic takes over.

Oblivious to what’s going on behind him, Mack pulls out of the female zombie and drops to his knees in front of her.  Tongue out, he dips his head between her splayed thighs and I can quite literally see the orgasm breaking over her as he eats her pussy voraciously.

Then Skylar’s tugging on my arm.

“He’s coming this way.”



Screen Shot 2014-08-22 at 1.25.39 amPhew – I expect you could do with another drink after that – so go and join the party! And if you want to find out what happens to Marsha and Skylar, Zombie Erotoclypse is available from:

Amazon UK


Barnes & Noble


Review: Zombie Erotoclypse

I feel that I’ve been neglecting my poor zombie friends a little, here on Superotica, so I’m making this week an official Zombie Week! To kick things off, I’m reblogging this wonderful review by Delilah Night – thank you so much, darling Delilah! Then on Friday, I’m joining Kristina Lloyd’s cocktail craze with a special zombie post – look out for it!

The Bachelor’s Prayer


I’ve written a dirty story.

“So what’s new?” you might ask.

This one! It’s new, it’s desperately dirty and it’s free for you to read over at Juicy Sex Stories.

“What’s the catch?” you say.

The catch? No catch. Well, it’s not really a catch…but you could do me a favor by rating it (and naturally I’d prefer a higher rating to a lower rating but I’ll leave that particular detail to you). You see, it’s an entry in a competition. I had to write a story about a sexual first. Luckily, it didn’t have to be something sweet about a pretty and naive (albeit rather old for reasons of decency) girl losing her virginity. It could be about any sexual first. And I wanted to write somethng dirty. So I picked pegging.

Yes, that’s right – head over to Juicy Sex Stories to read The Bachelor’s Prayer – an every day tale about a charming young man being pegged by his girl!

But before you go, here’s a little teaser….

16727266_sThe Bachelor’s Prayer

It’s pretty much same all over the world, I would guess. The Bachelor’s Prayer—dear lord, save us from needy girls, save us from greedy girls, save us from girls that turn into their mothers and save us, most of all, from girls who want to experiment with sex.

Okay, you’re looking at that last clause and I know what you’re thinking. What’s wrong with a little experimentation in the bedroom every now and again? And I couldn’t agree with you more. A little pushing, nudging of the boundaries is a fine thing. When I’m in control of it. But sometimes, a ballsy girl might push you a little too far. Take you out of your comfort zone and lead you along a path you don’t really want to explore…

For example, take what happened between me and this chick, Della. She was hot and when I picked her up, one Saturday afternoon down at Benny’s pool hall, she was wearing the shortest shorts—like, when she bent over the pool table… Well, you get the picture, don’t you? We went back to my place, sunk a few beers and got down to business—fast. She was a girl with a healthy appetite. I banged her brains out three times before Sunday morning and after that we were an item. She would come round to my apartment whenever she felt horny and that was pretty much every day. I began to get worried about the little man, that I’d wear him out or something. And the guys at work—the more exhausted I looked each morning when I came in, the more they laughed.

In other words, for about three weeks she was perfect.

But then, on the twenty-second straight day in a row that she’d come over, she was kind of ornery. We started making out on the couch when she suddenly pulled back from me.

“You know, Charlie, this is getting kinda boring.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. My cock, straining up against the fabric of my shorts sure didn’t think so. “What d’you mean?”

“Like, you know,” she said. “Same thing every day. I come round. We kiss, I go down on you, you fuck me. I go home. Same thing each time.”

“You wanna do something different?” I asked. Myself, I couldn’t see the problem.

“Would you, Charlie?” she said. She had the cutest smile when something made her happy. “Would you really let me play?”

“Sure,” I said. “Whatever you want.”

Those are three words that, when you’re talking to a woman, you’d be wise to avoid. That was the lesson I was just about to learn.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ve got a couple of fun toys at home. I’ll bring them with me.”

Then she went down on me and, boy, was I in heaven for eleven and a half minutes.


Want to read more…?

Superotica Advent Calendar – Day 2

advent banner 3


Today’s excerpt is from my current release, The Crimson Bond, the story of a passionate vampire love triangle.

Willow was looking down into a large, square room, lit by a row of tall candles along one side. The walls were painted black and the floor red, but what caught her attention was not the array of chains, cuffs and other restraining tools she saw attached to the walls, but the fact that one particular set of restraints was in use.

With her hands cuffed high above her head, Elouise was bound to a tall, wooden pillar in the center of the room. She was naked except for a blindfold and an intricate network of rough twine rope biting her soft, white flesh, forming a lattice pattern stretching from her chest to below her hips. Her breasts were bound so tightly that the dark areolas seemed ready to burst, and the strands of rope cut deep and hard down to her pussy.

Willow gasped.

Elouise’s body writhed against the column and her mouth opened as a young man stepped into view. He had short, blond hair and was wearing tight, black trousers with no top. Willow could only see his back, but it was sinewy and lithe, and his arms were well muscled. In one hand he held a short, black-and-red leather flogger.

He turned Elouise roughly so she was now suspended facing the column. The same pattern of crisscrossed ropes ran down her back. However, on this side of her, it was her buttocks that were squeezed tight by the ropes, which left the two prominent, white orbs protruding from the bindings.

And Willow quickly understood why these parts of Elouise’s body had been left so accessible. The boy stepped back, drawing his arm back at the same time. Then he struck, across both of Elouise’s buttocks, and Willow heard the thwack of the leather on her skin, followed immediately by a sharp cry from her lips. He did it again. And again. And on and on, as Elouise writhed against the post and wrestled her bonds, crying out and whimpering with each successive slap.

Willow could hardly bear to watch but wouldn’t tear her eyes away. The boy worked up a sheen of sweat across his muscled shoulders, his skin flushing pink either from exertion or arousal. A sound made him turn around and she saw from the bulge in his trousers it was indeed arousal. She was also able to see his face for the first time. It was the face of an angel. Angular, chiseled, and perfectly symmetrical, with flashing, dark, sapphire eyes. But his lips curled cruelly and she couldnt detect an ounce of sympathy in his expression. He spoke to someone, though Willow couldn’t hear what he said. Then he turned back and went about his business with renewed vigor.

Willow tore her eyes away and moved so she was sitting with her back against the wall, next to the window. So this was Elouise’s punishment for making her a vampire. To be flogged, mercilessly, by this heartless young vampire, for she was sure he must be one. Willow wondered what to do—evidently the boy was not alone as he beat Elouise. He’d spoken with someone else. So it meant she’d have to tackle at least two people if she stormed in for a rescue. It meant, though she hated how she watched mesmerized, there was nothing for her to do until this particular round of punishment was deemed over.

A low scream tailing off to a whimper caught her attention. She went back to the window. Elouise was still attached to the post, but there was a pile of ropes and a knife lying at her feet. However, Willow could see very little of her. Her view was obscured now by a male figure, Etienne, she quickly realized, who was standing pressed up close against her. His hips were grinding backward and forward, and as the two conjoined bodies swung to one side, Willow saw clearly that Etienne’s engorged cock was sliding in and out between Elouise’s buttocks, which were now slick with some form of lubrication.

As Elouise’s cries rang in her ears, Willow felt an instinctive response blossoming inside her. A flood of warmth in her pussy, saliva in her mouth and her own hips moving in time with the two vampires.

Etienne’s hands grasped Elouise’s hips as he used his strong thumbs to spread her buttocks wider. Elouise’s hips pushed back to meet each of Etienne’s thrusts and her initial cries of pain had now become yelps of pleasure. Willow watched and as she did, she hardly noticed her own hand pressing softly against the crotch of her jeans. Her nipples bloomed and grazed against the rough fabric of her top, making her catch her breath.

Etienne ploughed harder and harder into Elouise and Willow watched as he threw his head back with a great roar. Elouise reached her climax at the same moment with a long howl and Willow flung herself flat on the ground. She couldn’t afford to be seen and she wasn’t fully in control. Her hand found its way inside her trousers, down inside her panties and, moments later, she, too, came to a silent climax, her teeth clamping hard on her lip until she tasted blood in her mouth.

Studio shot


You’ll find The Crimson Bond at Secret Cravings, Amazon US, Amazon UK, All Romance and Smashwords.

Run for Your Love


I’m delighted to welcome Annabeth Leong to Superotica to tell us all about her new zombie title, Run For Your Love. (See, I’m not the only one to have a bit of thing about zombies at the moment…) And speaking of which, just two more days till our fave zombie-bashers are back on TV – be still my beating heart!

Anyway, over to Annabeth:

The scariest part of the zombie apocalypse probably wouldn’t be the zombies. That’s not to dismiss the horror they represent, but they’re frequently presented as primitive and predictable, all-consuming need in a human body.

 Most of the time, however, when things happen in the world, I’m amazed by how incredibly brave, resourceful, and giving some people can be—and by how cruel, calculating, and uncaring others are.

 The zombies in my book, Run for Your Love, aren’t the real threat. They’re a question mark that brings out human nature.

 For Zach, my hero, it brings out his pacifist principles—early in the book, he risks his life to save a zombie. For Viola, the heroine, the breakdown of the world around her allows her to finally admit what she wants out of life. Some people create terrifying compounds based on misguided machismo while others set up organizations designed to treat both people and undead with as much human dignity as possible.

 Now I’m four paragraphs into writing about an erotic romance, and I haven’t said anything about sex. That’s because we’ve now gotten to the reason I write about sex. For me, erotica is the best way into exploring human nature. The sort of sex people have with each other tells me so much about what’s going on between them.

 In Run For Your Love, I found myself writing the sex hot and sweet. My focus turned out to be on female pleasure. Viola has spent most of her life dating men who don’t respect her as much beyond an object. When she and Zach get together, they discover her sensuality. This is a stark contrast from what she’s experienced with the ex-boyfriend who still hasn’t stopped pursuing her.

 I didn’t plan this as a foil, but I think it became one. A lot of Run for Your Love is about true masculinity versus machismo, and when Viola and Zach are in bed together, they find out about the strength of real femininity as opposed to the weakness of the manufactured caricature that Viola has been living for most of her life.

 The zombies in Run for Your Love force people to get down to the elemental, to what really matters, and for me that includes discovering the power of sexual connection. The scariest thing of all in this zombie apocalypse is losing these elemental truths once they’ve been discovered.


 Zach gently pushed me back up into a sitting position. “I want you to…” He trailed off the sentence, settling his hands on my hips instead. I took the hint and began riding him. He led me to lift almost all the way off his cock, then to take him in again in one long stroke. My orgasm had sensitized my insides, so I felt every inch of him entering me and pulling out again. I wished I could slow down and savor the sensation, but I knew the rhythm he was asking for. Taking a deep breath, I put myself to work, making my breasts bounce with the force of my movements, and trying with difficulty to ignore the aching of my bullet wound.

 It took a minute to notice Zach trying to get my attention. “Viola,” he said finally, and it didn’t sound like a moan of ecstasy. He tightened his hands on my hips until I couldn’t move freely. I paused, panting from the exertion, and raised a questioning eyebrow.

 “You don’t have to…” He blew out a breath. “It’s not a race.”

 “I can’t keep this up for too long,” I explained. “If I have to make you come from being on top, then I have to do it before I run out of—”

 “Viola.” He pulled me into another kiss, this one long, tender, and extravagant. When he finally released my mouth, he whispered, “You don’t have to ‘make me come.'”

 “What are you talking about? I asked what you want me to do.”

 “Did I ‘make you come’ just now? Be honest.”

 “Well, you were certainly part of it.”

 “Right.” He punctuated the statement with a kiss to the tip of my nose. “Be part of it. Don’t be responsible for it.”

 I sort of understood what he meant, but not really. I cocked my head at him. “I’m sorry.”

 “No need to be sorry. Here.” He returned me to where I’d been before. “How do you want to move?”

 I shook my head in confusion. “The way I did when I came.”

 “Do you totally hate the way I wanted you to move? Or is there a way you could do it that would feel good to you?”

 I bit my lip and tried the thing that had come to mind when he’d first started moving me. A slow slide up and off his cock then an achingly slower drop until he settled into me deeper than I’d thought possible.

 “Jesus,” Zach said.

 I blinked, his voice jerking me out of the intense inner pleasure I’d gotten from the motion. “Was that okay?”

 “That feels incredible. So much better than when you tried to pound us both to death. Please do that.”

 I struggled to believe that what felt good to me could also feel good to him. Nothing in my previous experience had suggested men and women had anything in common as far as what they wanted in bed. Still, I’d trusted him so far. It seemed foolish to stop now. I tried the move again…then again.

 Almost unconsciously, my hand returned to my clit.

I snatched it away. “Sorry.”

 “You’re allowed to enjoy yourself too,” Zach said, pulling my hand back to that wet, wanting place. A little uncertainly, I touched myself.



 Shotguns seem to be everyone’s favorite accessory for the zombie apocalypse, but Zach Paul believes he can survive without hurting anyone—not even the zombies. An elite-level runner, he plans to speed away from every danger. Then Zach meets a woman he can’t bring himself to leave behind, and staying beside her tests all his principles.

 Viola Ortiz fought free of her controlling boyfriend just before the zombies came, but now she believes her macho ex is the only one who can protect her. She sets out to reunite with him, only to encounter Zach instead. The tall, lean runner is everything her ex is not, and Viola is shocked to find he turns her on as no man has before. Viola’s ex, however, isn’t willing to let go of her, and soon it’s clear that other survivors are as dangerous as the zombies.

 Zach and Viola can run, but they must find safety before they lose their humanity in the struggle to protect their lives and growing love.


Buy Links:

 All Romance:

 Amazon UK:

 Amazon US:

 Breathless Press:



 Annabeth Leong has written romance and erotica of many flavors — dark, kinky, vanilla, straight, lesbian, bi, and menage. Her titles for Breathless Press include the contemporary werewolf erotic romances Not His Territory and Not the Leader of the Pack, and Run for Your Love, a romance set in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. She lives in Providence, Rhode Island, blogs at, and tweets @AnnabethLeong


Buy One, Get One Free Offer:

 Did you miss Annabeth’s previous titles with Breathless Press? Not to worry. E-mail proof of purchase of Run for Your Love, such as an Amazon receipt, to annabeth dot leong at gmail dot com and let her know your e-book format of choice. Annabeth will buy a copy of her werewolf novella, Not His Territory, for anyone who sends this information before November 12, 2013.

Explicit Erotica from Jacob Louder

Dirty Little Numbers – coming soon. This one is awesome!

Go Deeper Press

Our forthcoming erotic collection Dirty Little Numbers: Erotic Flash Fiction of 500 words or Less will feature hot stories by well-known names such as Rachel Kramer Bussel and Kristina Lloyd, and newer voices, like Jacob Louder below. If you’d like to sign up for more free stories like this one,join our mailing list! We’ll be shooting (pun intended) out more freebies to all our beloved subscribers.

So, we’re happy to share one of Jacob Louder’s erotic pieces with you to celebrate our forthcoming launch. This story iserotic, explicit, and for ADULTS only, please.


Jacob Louder

Two cocks in our bedroom and my wife is ecstatic. Let me define: Erin is on her back on the bed, her asshole wide from my dick, her pussy wet as hell from his. Panting still, she smiles and stretches out her legs the way I like.

“Go on, Scotty,”…

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