Wednesday, March 08, 2006
So, here I am, an erotica writer, and there you are, hopefully a fan, or soon to be one.
It seems to me that I should titillate you in some way. You know, to keep you coming again and again, as I mentioned yesterday. Hm. What would excite you like that?
How about an excerpt from HOOD, a book in my Wanton Werewolf Series that will be released any day now?
This scene is between Giselle Racini, a courtesan of the highest order who works for Lobos International, and Hood, a werewolf alpha male that smacks a whole lot of Wolverine from the X-men movie (in my mind anyway). She's been bitten, Hollywood style, and he's got her on hormone therapy, but she's a little bitchy...because he's been cheating on her.
I hope you enjoy it!
It was a battle of wills. I wanted nothing more than to be in his arms, and he wanted me there. But I was mad at his neglect, his cheating--not that he owed me monogamy--and his alpha sex appeal commandeering, ah, that made me furious. It was a matter of principle to look him in the eye (something I don't think many people did,) and come up with a suitable retort. It took me a minute.
A long minute while I looked at his black eyes and knew he was trying to pin my brainwaves. But while he was gone, I lined myself up for a new experiment he didn't know anything about. A freaking, mind-blocking serotonin derivative. He was fresh out of luck if he was looking to read my mind then. I had to let a slow smile creep onto my face...about the time I think he figured out that he wasn't getting in my head.
He had to admire me, I think, as much as he hated me. I could see wonder cross his features (very briefly) before his gaze hardened even more.
As it turns out, I didn't have to come up with anything clever. He surprised me by saying, "You are one, fucking, beautiful bitch." And he kissed me hard.
Now, I have to explain this...Hood's kisses are more like assault. He plunders your mouth. It doesn't matter if you try and fight the urge to give in. Not that you can fight for long. Or that you'd ever really want to.
It's just an act you have to try for. You know, a little self-preservation?
My chair's tipping back, and he's all over me, and before long, I'm clinging. That's about the time he pulls up, when he has me gasping and wanting.
Letting my chair come back to upright, he looks in my eyes again, self-satisfaction on his face. He knew he could get me hungry, licking my lips, and that makes him completely proud of himself.
The perfect time for a good retort. So, I respond with a small smile, and a killer gaze, "You must've been practicing."
A clever cut that lets him know that I really am furious with him. Brilliant, right? Of course, it backfired.
He calculated his response before asking, "Can you taste where I've been?"
I could, but I resisted the urge to spit. What could I say to that?
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