Excerpt from Cupid's Curious Case by Marianne Stephens

Part of the NAUGHTY PHANTASIA boxed-set, available now!


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Blurb:
Alan’s last job as Cupid 84 involves neighbor Amy and a special box of candy. Both secretly desire the other. Can they find true love?
*Published in a previous Naughty Literati anthology.*


Copyright © Marianne Stephens, 2017

Excerpt:

Amy picked a pink candy with a red heart on it. Alan chose a blue piece that had white sprinkles on it. They popped their chosen pieces into their mouths at the same time.

A tingle went through Amy as she savored the rich treat. It spread through her body, and sent a shocking flame of desire to every inch of her body. There was a catch in her breath, and she itched to satisfy a lustful need she’d never felt with Scott.

She peeked at Alan, and noticed his eyes were closed as he devoured his candy. His breathing quickened, and dropping her gaze lower, she spied a distinct bulge pressing against his jeans’ zipper.

Alan opened his eyes and stared into hers. A heightened sense of craving, want, desire seemed to spark between them. Amy was at a loss for words, at least common sense ones. She wanted him. Here. Now. With a wanton passion.

“Try another piece,” she whispered, almost afraid to say anything.

“I—Sure. These are overwhelming. All my senses are aware of the decadent taste it leaves in my mouth. You too?”

“Yes,” she managed to answer before biting into a green piece of candy with a soft, minty inside that slid down her throat, leaving more tingling sensations wreaking havoc with her body.

Alan raked a hand through his hair. “Is it me, or is it hot in here?”

A stinging rush of heat course through her, settling in her cheeks. “It must be the champagne.” She fanned her face with her hand. “It does feel warmer than before.”

“Why don’t we open your window a little? Cool us off.”

Both stood, and walked to the window. Amy cranked it open and a rush of cooler air flowed inside. For a moment she shivered, and then felt warmer as Alan, wrapped his arms around her.

“You’re cold. Maybe this wasn’t a great idea.”

Amy clasped his arms, hugging them tighter. “No. I mean, we can close the window, but I’m enjoying standing here with you.”

Alan pulled her back towards him. Amy couldn’t stop her hormones from racing into overdrive at the sensation of rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. “Turn around, Amy. I want to see you while I hold you in my arms. Please.”

She quickly turned to face him, never losing contact. Heat radiated between them, satisfying her passionate lust now controlling her every thought. “I want to be held by you—touch you.” She rested her head on his chest. “We’ve missed out on being with each other all this time. I feel a need now. And no, it’s not the champagne talking. It’s me. I’ve always hoped for more between us.”

Alan lifted her head, lowered his mouth to hers, and began with a slow, gentle kiss. He pulled his head away and said, “We’re together now. I want this. I want you. No, like the note said, I desire you.”

His next kiss was more urgent as he rubbed his hands down her back and lifted her rear end closer. “Tell me now if you want me to stop and I’ll leave. I’ll go, but I don’t want to.”

“No. Please stay. I want you,” she moaned, consumed in a need to have Alan make love to her.

The next series of kisses were more frantic, with tongues slipping between teeth to thrust into each other’s mouth. Amy ran her hands down his chest and pressed against the zipper of his jeans. She noted the catch in his breathing as she undid his belt and lowered his zipper.

Then, she slipped her hand inside and touch the torrid flesh of his penis. Alan had circled her breasts with his hands. With every brush across each nipple, Amy’s breathing raced. Her nipples ached to have him hold, squeeze, lave them.

She stepped back, holding her lust in check, for a moment of sanity. “We’ll be more comfortable in my bedroom. I’ll undress you and then you can undress me.”

His smile only encouraged her to take control. “A definite invitation I won’t refuse.”

She took his hand and started walking to her bedroom.

Alan pulled her on a slight detour to grab the candy box, champagne bottle, and glasses. “I have plans for this.” He winked.

Excerpt from Where or When by Francesca Hawley

Part of the NAUGHTY PHANTASIA boxed-set, available now!


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Blurb:
Bardic witch and famous singer Frank Jasper has been Sharon Beryl’s dream lover for years. When she wins a date with him, she is thrilled. Can their mutual desire become reality, or will it remain forever a dream?
*Published in a previous Naughty Literati anthology.*


Copyright © Francesca Hawley, 2017

Excerpt:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thanks to your generous donations we met our goal tonight. We’ll be able to fund two Honor Flights very soon.”

Everyone cheered. After all, this was the real purpose of the party.

“And now, that moment you’ve all been waiting for. Frank, please draw the name of our lucky winner.”

He reached in the bowl and stirred the tickets thoroughly before finally drawing one. “And my companion for the evening is…” he paused dramatically and looked out into the crowd with a grin. Then he looked down at the ticket and read, “Sharon Beryl. Are you here sweetheart?”

Shar froze while Jess squealed, jumping up and down. Everyone, including Frank thought Jess was the winner.

“Well, come on up.” He waved to her. Jess shook her head and grabbed Shar’s arm, dragging her toward the well-guarded staircase on the far right side of the stage. The guards tried to stop her, but Jess yelled.

“This is Sharon, you twit. Not me.” Jess turned and hugged her. “You won. You won!”

“But, how?” Sharon could barely talk; she was so shocked.

“I bought a lot of tickets and put your name on them. Now go on and have fun.” Then Jess leaned close to whisper, “And tell me if he kisses as good as he looks.”

The guards escorted her up onto the stage and Frank crossed to her.

“Sharon?” he asked softly. She nodded. He took her hand and drew her forward to a padded stool that now sat center stage. She awkwardly climbed up on it and settled her skirt, so she was modestly covered.

“This one’s for you, sweetheart.”

The band began to play and he looked into her eyes to sing, Where or When. One of her favorite classic ballads. She stared into his dark eyes and he smiled at her. Leaning close, he cupped her cheek in his hand as he sang to the howls and catcalls of the audience. She barely noticed them as she felt the warmth of his hand.

His touch zinged through her, strangely familiar. Just as she recognized his scent. He finished the song with a kiss on her cheek, but she got a weird feeling he’d wanted to kiss her lips. She had to be making it up. Wishful thinking again. Still, she got to see the rest of the concert from the best seat in the house.

He sang more standards that she loved, and he surprised her by making her part of the show. He continued to serenade her at times, and every time he winked at her she grinned like a silly love-struck girl. Before long, her cheeks hurt from all the smiling. She looked out into the crowd and found Jess, who waved. She laughed, then turned back to watch Frank.

During a band interlude, he pulled her off the stool and danced with her. When he started to sing again, she would have returned to the stool but he held her close. Normally, she was a total klutz, but in Frank’s arms she moved with grace. Maybe he knew how to lead, or maybe she was just floating on air. Whatever the reason, they moved like they’d been born to dance together. This couldn’t be happening to her. Yet it was. If only for one night, Frank Jasper was hers.

Excerpt from The Moon Maiden's Mate by Suz deMello

Part of the NAUGHTY PHANTASIA boxed-set, available now!


Find it here:


Blurb:
Luna, 2114… A reluctant Shayna must travel to remote Farside Colony to meet her chosen mate
*Published in a previous Naughty Literati anthology.*


Copyright © Suz deMello, 2017

Excerpt:

Chapter One

New Brooklyn, Luna
Chanukah, 2114

Thank God it was the end of the evening. Turning her back on her date, Shayna wiped her mouth on her sleeve and closed the sli-door to seal the pod with a disgusted flick of her finger. She stomped into the kitchen, where the mild aroma of hydroponically grown coffee lingered.

“So what was wrong with this one?” her mother asked, cradling a mug.

She bent to kiss her mother’s cheek, hiding her blush. She wasn’t going to discuss her date’s make-out style with her ema. “He, umm, he hovers.”

“He vacuums? Shayna, what are you talking about?”

“Not Hoovers, ema, he hovers. He practically breathed down my neck when I ate my latkes.” She carried her mother’s empty mug to the sonic cleaning unit. Hoovering didn’t begin to describe what her date did with his mouth. She considered herself lucky to escape him with her tongue, teeth and tonsils uninjured. She liked deep kissing, but spraining her tongue at the root was a no-no.

“Such a nice boy, and a doctor to boot.”

“He’d make me meshugah.”

“You’ll have to go to the matchmaker for a shidduch.”

Her jaw tightened as she put the mug inside the unit, then tapped a button. The soni-cleaner hummed. “Please, no. I’m capable of finding a husband for myself.”

“You’ve been dating since you were sixteen. You’ve gone out with every single man in New Brooklyn, most more than once,” her mother said. “I don’t know what you’re looking for.”

Shayna’s mind flashed on the image of a tall dark man with smiling gray eyes and a demanding kiss.

Her mother continued, “This one hoovers, that one’s too short… There’s no alternative. If you don’t marry soon, you’ll have to go live on Earth. You know the rules.”

Shayna cast a fearful look upward. She’d never been to her home planet and didn’t want to go. Earth consisted of armed enclaves surrounded by post-Apocalyptic mishegass. On Earth, a Jew was safe only in Beverly Hills, Miami, and Israel.

Those who’d created New Brooklyn had dreamed of completely safe, wholly Jewish outposts on a pristine worldlet. Because of the harsh conditions, stringent rules governed conduct. Skilled personnel were at a premium, forcing the able-bodied to work and produce young to continue this, their great experiment. At twenty-four, she was pushing the age limit.

“All right.” She sighed. “I’ll try a shidduch.”

* * * * *

The next morning, Shayna tapped at the sli-door of Rivka Markowitz’s tiny office. Trained as a cultural anthropologist, Dr. Rivka Markowitz was a valued member of New Brooklyn, not merely because she kept the peace and the laws as a member of the Bet Din ruling council, but she played matchmaker. In a small, tight community, the strength of family bonds was crucial. The men and women who had to marry and bear children while young had to be assured of appropriate mates. Thus, the value of a skilled matchmaker who could create a successful shidduch, an arranged marriage that would flourish.

The door opened, revealing Rivka’s podlet, cluttered with bones, skulls and other unnerving detritus of the anthropologist’s calling. Shayna sneezed, the dust from the artifacts tickling her nose.

Rivka, a diminutive brunette dressed in the same silvery Slicksuit everyone wore, looked up. “Ah, Shayna Goldstein. I’ve been expecting you.”

Shayna moved a stack of infodiscs and sat in the armchair Rivka indicated. “And which of the gossipy yentas infecting this town tattled?”

“Your ema called ahead. She thought it would be polite.” Rivka smiled. “But I’d expected you long before this day. Couldn’t handle the way Harold Mechlin smells, or how Jim Abrams kisses?”

Shayna burst out laughing. She bet that Rivka was good at her job. She’d put Shayna at ease in the wink of an eye. “I needed a towel, the way he slobbers. And the sucking! I had to check to make sure my teeth were still in place.”

“So I’ve heard. I’ll get him married somehow,” Rivka said. “All of the emas think that their sons are such princes that they won’t come to me. But everyone ends up here eventually.”

“Everyone?”

“Just about. Very few on Luna entrust their futures to a random selection process based on hormones.” After opening a drawer, she withdrew a carved wooden box. “Sometimes they merely want their choice confirmed. Others, like you, can’t quite make up their minds.” She passed the box to Shayna.

She lifted the lid, then raised her brows. “Tarot cards?”

Rivka winked. “Most people don’t know the tarot is based on the Zohar, ancient Jewish mysticism. These cards have been modified to receive the emotional and mental vibrations of the user, and I’ve programmed them with the identities of all the single folk on Luna. Go on, take them out.”

The tarots felt peculiarly heavy and greasy in Shayna’s hands. If they were programmable, that accounted for their weight since each card would contain chips or computers of some sort. Dubious, she flipped them through her fingers. They vibrated gently, perhaps responding to her thought waves or whatever. Sounded kinda hocus-pocus to feet-on-the-ground Shayna.

“Divide the deck into three on the desk, here.”

Shayna followed Rivka’s direction.

“Turn over the top card on each stack.”

Shayna obeyed. “Colonel Mustard, in the library, with the candlestick?”

Rivka frowned as Shayna mocked the old and honored game of Clue. She tapped a finger on the first card, which depicted a dark moon beneath a sky full of stars. The Earth, normally a constant companion in the heavens, was absent.

“You are to go to Farside,” Rivka said.

“Farside!” A chill zipped up Shayna’s back despite her Slicksuit, designed to keep body temperature stable.

Rivka tossed the second card at Shayna. It showed a circle of dancers in a festive scene. “The Chanukah party at Farside. You will see your intended there.”

“How will I know him?”

Rivka held up a third, last card, which depicted a dark man. A head taller than his companions, he regarded them with an air of authority. Another shiver chased the first up Shayna’s spine. This was her mate, her one true love?

A dark man. Could it be…?

“Barack Obama?” Shayna hid her nerves with a quip about the first African-American president of the now-defunct U.S. republic.

Rivka glared.

“Sorry.” Shayna shrank back into her seat. “But there are many dark males here. I’m sure Farside is no exception.”

“Your intended will know you. Few moon children are red-headed, remember?”

“But who is he?”

Rivka smiled. “The only possible mate for you.” She shuffled the tarots together before putting them away.

“But I don’t want to live on Farside!”

Rivka’s smile disappeared. “Why not?”

“I want to stay in New Brooklyn. I was born here. This is my home.” Shayna rose to pace, as best she could, Rivka’s tiny podlet office.

“Apparently it’s time you left the cocoon.” Rivka tapped the top of the carved box. “The programming in these tarots has a reliability factor of over ninety-nine and forty-four one-hundredths percent. I assure you, your mate is correctly selected.”

“But why do I have to go?” Shayna wailed.

“‘Whither thou goest, I shall go.’”

She recognized the ancient words from the book of Ruth, and her shoulders slumped.

“It is time for you to commit to something beyond yourself, Shayna maydel.”

Excerpt from Valentime by Belle Scarlett

Part of the NAUGHTY PHANTASIA boxed-set, available now!


Find it here:


Blurb:
Valerie buys a South Carolina plantation and discovers a Valentine addressed to her from a previous owner who bids her to return to him in 1865.
*Published in a previous Naughty Literati anthology.*


Copyright © Belle Scarlett, 2017

Excerpt:

Chapter One

The ink was barely dry on the mortgage papers to the sprawling, old plantation house when Valerie Heart put a sledgehammer through her living room wall and discovered the Valentine addressed to her from the past. One hundred and fifty years in the past, to be precise.

She peered into the hole behind the plaster and plucked out the yellowed piece of folded paper. It rested on top of a hinged leather case about the size of a deck of cards. The brittle stuff ripped a little in her hand. Worried that the document might turn into powder between her fingers before she could see what it contained, she unfolded the creased parchment slowly. She removed her safety goggles for an unobstructed view of the sweeping, cursive lettering penned in faded ink.

I cannot sleep. I have no stomach for victuals or drink. I cannot think upon anything save having you in my bed again. Underneath me where you belong. Warm and wet as a soft spring night, with your legs wrapped around my waist as though to pull me all the way lost inside of you. Were you merely a ghost, after all? A wanton phantom come to delight my nights with your sweet body, only to vanish cruelly when the cock crows the dawn’s arrival? You torment my empty days with your absence.

To add to my misery of finding you lost to me comes the intelligence that Sherman has cut off Augusta from Charleston and the railway between. One of the last remaining Reb armies now in Charleston is in danger of being surrounded. The end of the war cannot be far off, but my land is in the direct path of the ensuing disaster with Union shells advancing every day to kiss my property line. I am long past my original plan of doing my bit to help end this bloody conflict and then quitting the area timely before I am happened upon by either side; the result of which in either case would surely mean my court martial in one instance or my immediate hanging in the other. Yet I linger on here and find I cannot make myself leave this place without you. My gut twists at the thought of never seeing you again.

I will delay my departure in the hope that Providence may help my letter to find you in the manner you told me it shall. I pray you will re-appear as mysteriously as you left. Come back to me, Valerie Amy Heart. Find a way back to me. – Grayson Hunter

Valerie Amy Heart? Valerie stared at the paper in her hand, uncertain whether to be more incredulous at the crumbling missive that implored her by name or at the impossible date on it. February 14, 1865.

“Is this a joke?” She heard her own words echo softly in the empty room but felt instantly that this was no prank. This would be a pretty big gag for anyone she knew to pull off, and she knew no one in the immediate area. For another thing, she could feel the truth and passion in the letter as though it were a tangible thing, reaching out from the page to curl around her like heat from a bonfire. Impossible as it was, her gut tingled with certainty that the paper in her hand was meant for her find and… do what?

The historical detail in the letter was correct, as every school child in South Carolina knew. Three days after the date on this letter, General William Tecumseh Sherman and his Union Army swept through this area and burned Columbia just a few miles away. Nothing in the Union army’s path, including this plantation, had remained unscathed. The local population even put on Civil War reenactments in the countryside every year to commemorate the siege.

Valerie’s eyes scanned the document again, more slowly this time. She couldn’t decide which burning question frustrated her more.

Who was Grayson Hunter? How, or when, had she told him to send this letter? How could he have known her in 1865, much less so… intimately? What had his fate been?

Then she shivered, recalling the small cemetery belonging to the former, longtime occupants that the realtor had told her was on the property somewhere down by the woods. A morbid thought snaked through her mind before she could stop it.

Would she find Grayson Hunter’s name carved on one of the crumbling tombstones in the Hunter family plot when she explored the woods tomorrow morning?

Excerpt from Hot As Hades by Regina Kammer

Part of the NAUGHTY PHANTASIA boxed-set, available now!


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Blurb:
After living in Hell for four months, Persephone returns home to the mortal realm. But can home truly be home without the man she loves?
*Published in a previous Naughty Literati anthology.*


Copyright © Regina Kammer, 2017

Excerpt:

Hades slumped in his golden throne, drumming his fingers on his knee, his other hand barely holding his blood-red wine goblet. Tiny waves of fragrant liquor sloshed over the rim as he balanced the cup with two fingers on either side of the stem.

A ker scurried over to refill his cup every time it reached half empty. After the tenth time he waved the servant away. The attempts by his staff to satisfy his every desire were getting bothersome and tiring.

He had only one desire. And she was back home visiting her damn mother. A growl of displeasure rose in his throat. He was expected to wait how many months? Eight?

Zeus had promised his daughter, then had made good on the promise. The maiden had been exactly where the God of Gods had said she would be.

Hades stared at the golden chair next to him. His queen should be sitting at his side at that very moment. Even the usually fierce Kerberos looked dejected lying on his pillow between the thrones, three chins atop two crossed paws. The canine guard sighed as his three pairs of eyes stared dolefully at the empty seat his mistress used to occupy.

Hades downed the contents of the half-filled wine glass. Damn it all to Hell! It wasn’t right. He had captured the maiden fair and square and then her mother had to go and ruin it all.

He threw the goblet into the fire pit fronting the dais. Shards of glass exploded in a dazzling display of gold flames tipped with flares of white.

Gold like her hair. White like that dangerously sexy slip of a dress she had been wearing when he first grabbed her. The filmy fabric had exaggerated the tender curves of her nubile body. Before they made love for the first time, he had easily torn the chiton clean off.

Fuck. He was hard just thinking about it.

Hades gripped the arms of the throne chair, futilely digging his nails into the hot metal, then stood.

Well, maybe he’d just go grab her right back.

Excerpt from Strange Magic by Lynn LaFleur

Part of the NAUGHTY PHANTASIA boxed-set, available now!


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Blurb:
Savannah has thirteen days to perfect her changing spell with help from Dominic, her Coven Master and the warlock she loves, or suffer dire consequences.
*Published in a previous Naughty Literati anthology.*


Copyright © Lynn LaFleur, 2017

Excerpt:

Savy blinked. And blinked again. Surely Dom hadn’t asked her such a personal question. “Excuse me?”

“I asked, how is your sex life? Witches and warlocks have a very high sex drive. If you aren’t involved with someone, the lack of sex can put a huge strain on your powers.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks so fast, Savy wondered why the top of her head didn’t blow off. She couldn’t remember ever being embarrassed so many times in one day. “My powers are fine, thank you very much.”

One black eyebrow arched, silently saying, “Oh, really.”

“Okay, so my powers aren’t completely fine, but that has nothing to do with sex.”

“So you are involved with someone?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Savannah. Are you or aren’t you having regular sex?”

His tone reminded her of the high school principal. She refused to be questioned about what happened in her bedroom. Or didn’t happen, since she hadn’t had sex in months. “That is none of your business.”

Savy rose from her chair, picked up her dishes and spoon, and carried them to the sink. The rattle of his spoon against his saucer indicated when he also rose. She gripped the edge of the sink as she sensed him walking closer to her.

He set his cup and saucer on the counter, then caged her with his hands on either side of hers. No part of him touched her, yet she felt him all along her body. “I’m not being a pervert, Savannah. I’m your Master, and it’s my job to take care of my Coven. I have to ask the personal questions to help you.”

Savy stared at her spoon in the sink as it multiplied into two, three, four. If she didn’t get away from Dom, her sink would soon overflow with silverware.

She turned in his arms and placed her hands on his chest, determined to push him away from her. Firm muscles beneath her palms stopped her words. She’d seen him jog past Ruby’s Pizza, so she knew he kept in shape. She longed to explore every part of him, learn the texture of his skin. She yearned to know if his emerald eyes changed color with desire.

She had her answer when her gaze met his lust-filled one. The irises almost glowed with heat.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted your hands on me?”

Excerpt from Coastal Ghost by Katherine Kingston

Part of the NAUGHTY PHANTASIA boxed-set, available now!


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Blurb:
A sunny beach house isn’t the usual place to find a ghost, but the one that haunts Mary’s rental house has a mission and a plan.
*Published in a previous Naughty Literati anthology.*


Copyright © Katherine Kingston, 2017

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Mary Sullivan stared at the bathroom faucet that had just come off in her hand. “I don’t believe it,” she muttered. “I wonder if lemon laws apply to beach house rentals? This place is falling apart.” So far her efforts at quiet contemplation time had been thwarted by broken door hinges, a non-functioning stove, and a coffeemaker that insisted on blowing the breaker each time she plugged it in. Now a broken faucet.

“This place is cursed,” she told the rental agent who answered her call. “Every day something else breaks!”

The agent was apologetic and promised to let the owner know about the issues as well as sending someone out to fix the faucet right away.

She’d just hung up when a soft, female voice came from an empty corner of the room. “It isn’t really.”

“What the hell? Who’s there?” She looked around but didn’t see anyone else in the room. No one else should be there since she’d rented the place for herself alone.

“It’s just me.”

Was that a bit of fog in the far corner of the room? Weird, but the voice seemed to be coming from that direction.

“Is this a joke? Or a prank?” She had no idea who could be messing with her, though. Only her mother knew she was here, and wacky as Mom might be, this wasn’t her style.

“Not a joke,” the disembodied voice answered. “And the place isn’t really cursed. There’s a reason for all the problems. I just can’t tell you what it is yet.”

Danged if the fog didn’t appear to be moving a bit, swirling gently.

“Not all that helpful,” Mary said.

“It is, though. You’ll see.”

“Not if it means sticking around here.”

“Please, don’t go. It’s all right. Truly.”

Mary sucked in a breath. “On top of everything else, now I’ve either got a ghost, a prank, or a figment of my imagination haunting me. Why would I want to stay?”

“If I promise that nothing more will go wrong, will you stay?”

Excerpt from Pleasure Quest by Tina Donahue

Part of the NAUGHTY PHANTASIA boxed-set, available now!


Find it here:


Blurb:
She’s into virtue. He’s not. On a pleasure asteroid, he’ll show her what paradise really is.
*Published in a previous Naughty Literati anthology.*


Copyright © Tina Donahue, 2017

Excerpt:

2116 AD

Desexo 69, pleasure asteroid at end of Milky Way

Hunter Sloane teleported into Buzz, the last stripper-gin joint before the unchartered universe. The establishment’s owner had contacted the Federation about trouble here, wanting it stopped pronto, the perp in question caught and disposed of…preferably in deep space.

No one demanded action and retaliation like business owners pissed they’d lose profit.

To Hunter, everything appeared normal. Thunderous music in here and solar flares outside, rattled the building and shook Martian dust from his leather jeans and combat boots. Purple, orange, and red laser lights pumped in time with the raucous tune. Quadruple X-rated movies played on the walls.

Maybe he had the wrong place. He activated the databank on his wrist. This location proved accurate.

The capacity crowd partied hard.

Humans, aliens, cyborgs, androids, and beings Hunter couldn’t identify performed stripteases on the many stages or boogied their hearts out on the dance floors below. Those who were still dressed sported garish hair, makeup, and clothing, the peacock colors meant to entice sexual partners. No problem there. Contorting bodies filled all available space.

Musk, sweat, perfume, booze, and pleasure drugs thickened the air.

“Hey, doll.” A female alien covered in brown-and-gold body hair sidled up and cupped his balls. “What’s your pleasure?”

He shouted as she had. “Careful.” He eased her talons from his nuts. “I’m looking for trouble.”

Her wide smile bared her elongated canines. “You’ve come to the right place.” She fondled her breasts and licked her black lips. “There’s a free table over there. It’s got our names on it.”

“Sorry. I’m here on official business.” He brushed past. Yellow and green spotlights swept patrons. He craned his neck.

Something white flashed within the gaudy colors.

His quarry. Security cameras had captured her the moment she’d stepped into this place. The facial recognition databank provided her name and other particulars.

He shouldered through the throng, sidestepped those screwing in ménages or groups, and stopped at a booth near the back.

The young woman didn’t notice him. Bent at the waist, she shouted at the human couple humping on the table. “Please, just listen to me for a minute.”

They kissed and fucked.

She gestured frantically. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

On a loud bellow, the guy climaxed. The woman shrieked happily.

No one had to tell them how to have fun.

Hunter stepped closer and yelled above the noise. “Melody Prudence Patience Carlyle.”

She flinched and whirled around.

He forgot what he’d intended to say.

Bluer eyes than hers didn’t exist in this universe. She’d pulled her flaxen hair into a prim braid that dangled over her lush breasts and swayed above her narrow waist. She wore no makeup. Didn’t need any. Inner heat tinted her cheeks and lips a deep rose that enhanced her sweet features. Musk suffused her clean fresh scent.

Warmth rolled through him. His cock thickened, balls tightened, both ready for action.

Unfortunately, her startling white body suit bore two large letters in red that killed his carnal high. Her kind had no business being in this joint, her presence a class AAAA felony and why the owner had alerted the authorities.

She lifted her face. “Yes?”

Her expectant, guileless look stole every word Hunter knew. Given the heathens in here, she was beyond different. “Ah, Melody Prudence Patience Carlyle?” Unnecessary to ask again since she couldn’t be anyone else, but it was all he could come up with.

She frowned. “No.”

He didn’t understand. The description on the alert fit her perfectly, including her cute white boots. “Then who are you?”

“Modesty. Not Melody. Who are you? Wait.” She took in his height, black leather jacket, jeans, and the jagged scar on his left cheek. Hope lit her lovely features. “You’re the bouncer, right?” She pointed at the couple who’d resumed their carnal play. “They won’t listen to me. Get them to stop. Please. After you’re through with them, you can keep the others in line.”

The Milky Way’s combined armed forces couldn’t corral this randy group. “Sorry, darlin’, I’m Hunter Sloane, an enforcer, not a bouncer. I’m here to arrest you.”

She blinked rapidly. “What?”

“You’re from the Purity Patrol.” He gestured to the embroidered PP above her boob. Her nipples had tightened. Nice. “Your group isn’t allowed to proselytize here or anywhere in the galaxy for that matter. You’re messing with everyone’s good time.”

Prolonged moans and excited shrieks rang out. Music roared. Deafening bass pounded. Its frenzied beat matched his hammering heart.

Her pale eyebrows shot up. “Ruined their good time? Since when?” Her gesture took in the room. “No one’s listened to me.”

Good thing. If she’d converted them to her group’s chaste ways that would have added decades to her sentence, each figured separately per person and alien. Cyborgs and androids didn’t count. “I’m referring to the laws you’re breaking by being here and disrupting pleasure. To even think it is a crime.”

“Since when?”

“More than fifty years ago. Surely you’ve heard.” Ignorance of the law was no excuse, but might make the tribunal go easier on her.

“No, I haven’t heard anything.” She fingered her braid. “I’ve been in cryogenic hibernation aboard the ark. It crashed here two days ago.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m the only survivor.”

He knew that already from her profile.

She shrugged off her sorrow. “Before I left my fallen friends, I promised to do my duty and keep their quest alive.” She squared her shoulders and squeezed her fists. “You can’t stop me.”

He outweighed her by at least ninety pounds. At six-four, he towered over her. She had a lush rack and outstanding hips, but they were no match for his rock-hard muscles. Hell, he’d wrestled aliens on the farthermost planets, including Makemake, Eris, and beyond. Next to the dudes he’d rumbled with there, she was a gnat. Harmless and adorable. “Put your hands out, wrists together.”

“What—why?”

He pulled Taser cuffs from his pocket. The rings glowed red. If she breathed too hard, they’d zap her into quick docility. Hunter’s dates requested he use the restraints during their BDSM games. Good times.

Modesty skittered back.

Excerpt from My Cups Runneth Over by Francesca Hawley

Part of the NAUGHTY PHANTASIA boxed-set, available now!


Find it here:


Blurb:
Five years ago, Brook’s tarot reading and dream premonition predicted his lover’s death so he left to protect her. On the morning of his cousin’s wedding, Delia and Brook meet again. Will their reunion bring love or danger?
*Published in a previous Naughty Literati anthology.*


Copyright © Francesca Hawley, 2017

Excerpt:

Delia Heath took a deep breath as she walked toward the home of the Linden clan from a large, roped-off parking area. If this joining ceremony was for anyone but Mary Linden, she would have found a way out. But Mary was one of her dearest friends in spite of the fact that she worked for Brook, Delia’s ex.

Guests laughed and chattered as they made their way around the house to the grounds in back where the ceremony would be held. She wanted to mingle with them, but unfortunately she couldn’t because she was part of the joining party. After smoothing her skirt carefully, she steeled herself for the inevitable and braced herself to face him. Brook Linden. The love of her life. The man who’d walked away over a tarot reading and a premonition. She frowned. They could have faced any challenge together, but he’d unilaterally decided she needed protecting so he’d left. Damn macho idiot.

The door opened as she reached up to knock. Speak of the devil and he appears. Why did he still have to be so gorgeous? He stood a couple inches over six feet tall, with well-muscled broad shoulders. He wore navy pants and a sky blue open-necked shirt. She could see a hint of his chest hair which she’d always loved running her fingers through. She forced her gaze back to his face so she wouldn’t stare at his narrow hips and hard abs. There were a few more lines on his tanned face, but his masculine beauty was still there. His full lips curved and his green eyes with impossibly long lashes, framed by straight black brows warmed as he took her in.

Even now, after five years, she still felt her body react to him. Her nipples beaded painfully and her pussy clamped on a thick cock that wasn’t there. She raised one of her brows, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

“Delia? Lord and Lady, is it really you?”

“Brook, who’s there?”

Mary’s call distracted him long enough that he stepped back and Delia slipped into the house, ignoring him. She walked over to Mary and enveloped her in a hug.

“I’m so glad you made it. I was worried I’d have to find another bridesmaid.”

Delia grinned at the tiny, dark haired dynamo. “And suffer your wrath? Never.”

“It’s so good to see you. Did you have a good trip? Couldn’t you have come sooner?”

“I was working on a commission that was due yesterday.”

She smiled, not bothering to say she had no intention of arriving any earlier than she had to. Nor did she intend to stay any longer than she had to either. The less time she spend in close quarters with Brook Linden the happier she’d be. Her feelings for him still stirred beneath the surface and she didn’t want to get brushed off again. It would hurt too much if he didn’t want her.