Burning: An Erotic Menage Story

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At least Carcer City dropped a new EP. Right now, based on last year and this? How is it I got the perfect bar tending job? How did I do that? How did I accomplish this miracle? Meaning, I used to know exactly how each day would go, right up until I stopped writing at 2: 30 AM. I know that I only check my trading screen until four, I drink my sole, my alkagizer, smoke my cigar at 8, watch Tastytrade content, and talk to both girlfriends.

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I need a fit for the bar, and for me. Because bar tending IS a personal thing. I wonder what will be different about my writing when I return. I did start a short, not too long ago.

But even it, reads the same as my old work, currently. Sometimes I drown in the sound By trying to find the silence The silence! Lost in the noise of this world. I miss this. I enjoy it and will return. But I miss it terribly right now. I liked the mental struggle of figuring out how I was going to show the world that it could hope for love, no matter the struggle — it made me feel. Surrender is the lifestyle club where professional women seek alpha males to dominate and pleasure them.

A concept Bree envisioned from the moment she fled her impoverished past. To fund her wanton Malibu club, she needs partners. He captured her mouth, their lips fitted perfectly, his bristly cheeks scraping hers, tongue plunging inside. She sagged against him, powerless to resist his strength, scent, and taste. Something minty but also unique, a flavor belonging to him alone. She gripped his lapels, needing them to keep steady and to get closer.

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The moment she had, she ground indecently against him. He deepened his kiss, taking rather than asking, using, enjoying, his roughness a thrill rather than something to worry about, and precisely the behavior she required. Once she pulled the leather tie from his hair, she drove her fingers through his thick, silky locks. The world faded away, sounds retreating, leaving them clinging to each other, savoring closeness and intimacy. If possible, she would have crawled inside his mind, heart, and soul. Barring such nonsense, she stopped herself from coming on too strong.

Her knees sagged, bumping into him, his fresh, woodsy scent surrounding them, bringing to mind a forest, reclining on fragrant grass, leaves floating down, sun winking through countless trees to bathe their naked flesh. She wreathed her arms around his shoulders, wanting him as a shelter against doubt and everything bad.

Not once sharing a meal unless they bumped into each other at lunch in the employee break room. Tav took life as it came, greeting whatever was in his path. He eased her closer, his strength impressive yet subdued. His effort at containing it, making him tremble. First off, there will be a new HoldOntoTheLight post soon. Details to come shortly. With voracious sexual appetites that make modern BDSM players cringe, she fears the Black Angus will find out her one most personal secret along with the data she stole.

Lord Frika has organized the Black Angus in an assault on the cybernetic ruling class of the Unseelie Kingdom in an attempt to begin reversing the damage computers and technology have done to Faery. Seeing Siddella, he realizes that this little party crasher is more than just a thief and that she holds the key to not only restoring Faery but to his heart.

Can an thief who values freedom fall in love with a fierce fighter with a taste for chaining his lovers and then degrading them in every way he can imagine? Can the two them work past personal issues to save Faery from a fate worse than death? Or will her forced surrender be too much for the Faery to handle? She screamed!

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Just the way her name rolled off his tongue dripped with sex and promise of things more wicked than the kiss they shared earlier. His lips curled upwards in a slow smile. She put her hands up in protest, aware of the chain dangling between them. She tried to bite the tongue filling her mouth but found her knees growing weak while it seemed like trillions of butterflies danced in her stomach.

Her heart shot into her throat.

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He tasted her, flicking his tongue delicately along her lower lips before pressing his firm mouth against hers. She let out a tiny mew and pressed her hands against the hardness of his chest. The scent of Earth and dirt filled her senses along with masculine aromas that threatened to intoxicate her. She tried to shove him off but his body remained a stone castle against the growing surge of arousal in her belly.

His mouth moved over hers, sweeping over her lips and pulling her from all thoughts of resistance. Dampness coated her lower lips. She tried to rub her thighs together and soothe the ache between her legs but he continued pressing his thigh into her, rubbing her clit. She whined into his mouth. Fingers threaded through her hair, tugging on her strands.

Teeth nibbled over her jaw and down the line of her neck. Frika moved the shirt aside, freeing her breasts and binding her arms at her sides.

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Taking a nipple into his mouth, he kissed and suckled the nub until she was the ache between her thighs grew painful. Siddella struggled against him, unsure of what to do next. The Unseelie version of sex usually ended up with one or both parties bleeding profusely. That looked too painful for her taste. She literally wanted to beg him for release, but that would bring out all her fears once again. Unseelie sex almost always involved inflicting damage for the thrill of the endorphin rush. The fae wanted to feel and needed the heat of hurt in order to counter the freezing temperatures and mechanized environment that was so far from their nature.

It also involved blood.

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Lots of blood. A mistake early in her career taught her the painful truth. Unconsciously, Siddella wriggled her hips against his.

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The press of his hard erection against her made her squirm. Popping more buttons from her top, Frika nuzzled her belly. His murmured whispers sent shivers racing through her. Heat rose in her cheeks. Her mouth parted, hands clutched chains. Her eyes widened. Let me—oh Lord and Lady! The snap on her pants popped off.

The zipper slid down and strong hands held her hips in place while sliding the fabric down her thighs so slowly.

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Her nerves went on alert. She began sweating with the pace of her heart beating loudly in her chest. She swept her head slowly upwards, dragging those sharp teeth along his length. The cold was intense now, seeping through her limbs. Freezing knees and feet numb where they came into contact with the ground.

Her bare skin was puckered tightly with goose bumps. She moved to straddle his legs, pressing against him. His hardness found its home between her breasts, her face pressing against his ribcage. She found his collarbone with her mouth, kissed the cold skin. Found the hollow between shoulder and neck, breathed her warmth against him. She pressed against him now, soft against hard. She gave a slight roll of the hips and felt a delicious thrill stab through her, an involuntary tightening deep within.

Strong hands found her hips, pressed, steering her against him, triggering that stab of pleasure again as the stiff little stub of her clit rode against his rigid shaft. He pulled her higher and all of a sudden he was poised, pressing against her opening, that tantalizing moment of almost-but-not-quite….

That moment of penetration, the sense of things shifting deep within her body. Things over which she had little control.

When she swung her head down again he was pushed up onto his elbows, eyes locked on hers. Something powerful in that look.