A collection of five erotic stories with supernatural and paranormal themes from Xcite Books, winners of ETO's Best Erotic Book Brand 2010, 2011, and 2012.
For three days each month, Eric transforms into a huge and terrifying werewolf so to keep himself and others safe, he voluntarily imprisons himself in a fortified cellar. Clara, his girlfriend, shares the responsibility of keeping him behind bars in his savage state – from a safe distance. But one night, when it seems he might break free, she is forced to use all her charms to distract him until sunrise.
Out of this World
Alone in an old house, I felt a little jumpy, especially when a floorboard creaked and I thought Dave had come home from his trip early and caught me with my fingers where they shouldn’t be. Missing him and making do with a bit of dirty talk on the phone, I was getting pretty desperate, but pleasuring myself was just something I wasn’t that good at – not until that night, that is. Who would be able to resist invisible hands and lips, especially when their owner was telling you how beautiful you are? A lesson in loving myself was what I needed, and it was just what I got.
The Orthodox Gift
Maya’s life has changed a lot recently – she’s moved to London, rediscovered her Jewish heritage and married her Orthodox cousin, Jonathon. The biggest surprise is what she discovers at her mother-in-law’s house one Shabbat – the sexiest monster ever, and one completely committed to pleasing even the most demanding Jewish Princess … as long as her wishes are purely carnal!
Mourner for Hire
When out-of-work actor Dahlia is offered an easy gig at the cemetery, she scoops it up. All she has to do is visit grave sites on behalf of her clients, who have better things to do than pay their respects to their dearly departed. Dahlia talks to the spirits. That’s not part of the job, it just helps to pass the time. Bobby is her favourite – until he talks back! And when this supremely solid spirit follows Dahlia home, she finds him impossible to resist.
It was a lazy, midsummer afternoon at the office, and he was bored out of his skull. So, naturally, he bored into other people’s skulls, using his ability to read minds – dirty minds – to liven up the workday. And all was going well, arousingly well, until someone else suddenly got into his head. That’s when fantasy took a sordid turn for reality, and head-hopping would never be the same for him again.
These stories have also been published in Dead Sexy by Xcite Books
The days weren’t so bad – as it turns out, werewolves are nocturnal and sleep the whole sunny day without a peep. But at night I had to lie by myself in the dark, listening to his muted howling, waking in the night several times at the sound of his snarling and the rumble of his gigantic body hitting the walls in frustration. I have to admit the animal noises were all it took to get me wet. On the morning of the fourth day each cycle, when his “condition” finally passed, I would go down and let him out. He always came back to himself with an urgency, with a strong sense of his hunger left over.
The first few times were scary. I let him out of his cage and he immediately seized me, turned me onto my hands and knees and fucked me. I wondered how much of him was really in there, how much of the beast might still remain. It was understood that those three nights of separation were all it took for the both of us to be desperate for one another again. After several romps on the hard floor of the cellar, we would lie together, exhausted. Only then would he be back to his normal self.
I once joked about fucking him while he was in his wolf form. He scolded me, repeating that such a thing was gravely dangerous, and then he reminded me of the promise I’d made. I was true to my promise, of course, but that didn’t stop me from fantasising about all sorts of filthy things. Part of me was regretful, because I felt as though I might never really know him, and I wanted to know every part of him, even the beastly one.
We managed to get the cage repaired in the nick of time. It was so close to sunset that Eric ordered me to lock him in straight away.
‘See you later,’ he said. He reached a hand through the bars and caressed my cheek.
Two days passed, and two nights of his ferocious attempts to escape his confines. I lay for those two excruciatingly long nights, touching myself to the sound of his calls. It was on the third night, in the early morning hours, that an odd sound started coming through the monitor I kept in the bedroom. The security camera only gave me a grainy picture – which I was sure was why Eric had picked it – but the sound was pretty clear. Usually, I could make out growling and other guttural, animal noises, as well as the sound of him scratching at the bars, or the walls and the awful booming of his body trying to break itself free. But this sound was different – it was like metal echoing against metal.
I wondered if the bar had come loose. A pit weighed in my stomach. I had promised Eric I wouldn’t go down there while he was changed. Not ever. But if his cage was breaking, I couldn’t just sit up here and hope for the best. It might be something I could fix. It was my responsibility, I told myself. Eric trusted me to make sure nothing went wrong. I could just go down quietly and peek. If everything looked in order I could just sneak back up. Maybe he wouldn’t even notice me. I had to go and check, I decided. And there was of course a huge part of me that just wanted one itty-bitty glimpse of him in his fiendish state. A moment later, I was navigating the stairs down to the cellar as stealthily as I could.
What I saw stopped me dead in my tracks.
He was incredibly big, his head only inches from the ceiling. He wasn’t what you would call a “traditional” werewolf, at least not as far as I’d been taught to think of them. He stood upright on his legs, while his front limbs were clearly arms. The arms were much longer, proportionately, than a man’s, and covered in dense fur, as was the rest of him. The fur was dishevelled; the dark brown mat of fleece made him seem hugely thick.
I made my way in front of the cage, practically hypnotised by the sight of him, wondering if it could really be my Eric. He was fierce, to be sure, and would have torn me limb from limb at the first chance he got, but he was also desperate and obviously in torment at being locked up in such small confines, in nowhere near the environment his nature wholly craved. I could picture it – as he continued banging the walls, slobber falling from his muzzle – I could picture him on the loose, searching for prey, deliriously free as he bound at full speed on his bulky limbs. It was like watching a great lion caged, itching to live out its true nature.
And then he saw me. In a rage he flung his body against the wall of bars between us. I jumped back, trembling. With long-clawed hands he grabbed the bars and shook them with all his might, looking at me as though I were a bloody corpse laid out, a feast for him, so tantalizingly close and yet unattainable. I looked to the bar we had replaced that afternoon. I realised that it was even looser than it sounded.
Bel lives in the South East of England with her family. She works for a living by day and does what she loves best at night… writing! She finds writing erotica very liberating and likes to veer between erotica and her mainstream work to keep life interesting. She loves the thought of her words bringing pleasure to others.
Find Bel at her blog: http://belandersonwrites.wordpress.com/
Giselle Renarde is an award-winning author of erotica and LGBT fiction. This queer Canadian writer has contributed short stories to more than 100 anthologies and authored dozens of books, including Anonymous, Nanny State, and the Wedding Heat series.
Her transgender lesbian romance The Red Satin Collection took top prize in the 2012 Rainbow Awards, in the category of Best Transgender Romance/Erotic Romance. Giselle's single-author anthology of transgender fiction and poetry, My Mistress' Thighs, received an honourable mention in the same category the previous year. Her work also appears in Tristan Taormino's Lambda Award-winning anthology Take Me There: Trans and Genderqueer Erotica.
Ms Renarde loves a geeky girl and lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head. When she's not writing, she's usually up to something good... or up to no good.
Find her at:
Her website: http://donutsdesires.blogspot.com
About her: http://about.me/gisellerenarde
Her Twitter: http://twitter.com/GiselleRenarde