Excerpts

Hidden Magic by Ashlynn Monroe

Excerpt:

Sitting cross-legged on her bed, the maniacal magician smiled at her calmly as if he had ever right to be invading her intimate space and place. Paralysis had held her frozen in place for a very long moment, but as the shock gave way to fury, she felt her body release its tension and she was finally able to let out a blood-curdling scream that would make any B movie actress in a slasher film proud!
His smile faltered a second and he looked at her with his head cocked to the side as if he were confused, squinting his eyes as if he could make her stop screaming by adjusting his sight. This annoyed her.

Throwing all caution to the wind Alexia managed to sputter, “How dare you come into my home, into my room, and squint your beady little mean eyes at me! I am going to call the police and you are going to leave right now!”

Grabbing the telephone off her dresser, she began to dial 9-1-1 but just as she began the number sequence that would insure swift justice, the phone flew out of her hands, surprising her because she had such a tight grip on it that she was amazed it did not disintegrate into dust. His hand had flicked at the moment the phone flew, and it made her suspect he had either anticipated her calling for help and rigged the phone, or he really could do some type of telekinetic thing with his mind. Swallowing her fear, she stepped back rapidly out of the room and slammed the door shut; grabbing a chair, she slammed it under the door handle causing him to delay his pursuit. She grabbed her cell off the kitchen counter yanking it charger and all out of the wall.

Still wrapped in the fluffy towel, her slippers had fallen off her feet and without shoes or anything she ran from her apartment and dialed her brother as he was the first contact in the phone and she was too freaked out to rationalize that the police should have been her first call.

“Anthony Douglas Todd, you get your butt over to my apartment and bring the gun you use for hunting I have a crazy man in my apartment!” She screamed the words at her brother never stopping for a moment as she ran down the street mostly naked.

Chemical Lust by Ashlynn Monroe
 
Excerpt:

Jericho bent over to pick up the vials; Leah could not resist a glance at his perfect derrière. His body was so perfect it put Michelangelo’s David to shame! She tried to swallow and noticed her throat had suddenly gotten very dry.


Jericho opened the parcel to inspect the precious and potent cargo.


“Leah, oh God, cover your nose!” Jericho’s alarm brought her to full attention. She noticed that both of the vials had cracked, and as the two chemicals came together, she could see them mixing and forming the most potent version of Potion Number Nine. If they did not plug the cracks and stop the reaction, they were about to become the human test subjects!


Jericho must have come to the same conclusion as she did, because he was trying to plug the cracks with his large fingers. In his fear and panic, however, he put too much pressure on the vials. They shattered completely. The blushing fumes began to rise. Jericho dropped all of it now and quickly removed his shirt. He tied it around his face to protect himself from inhaling the fumes.


Leah took control, throwing her jacket over the mess in hopes that it would not penetrate the thick fabric. Unfortunately, her efforts didn’t seem to be helping. She frantically jabbed at the emergency button and began to call for help. The chemical lust was making her choke and cough as her lungs filled with the oddly floral-smelling gas. She grabbed her BlackBerry and tried to dial. She cussed loudly, which was very out of character for her. There was no signal—the building was constructed of very durable materials, and in the elevator no one had ever gotten a signal. Leah wanted to scream when she realized just how screwed she was. Because of the previous emergency, no one was responding to their call; security probably assumed they were just getting impatient for their elevator to move again.


Leah tried to cover her mouth and nose, but it was too late. She was already feeling lightheaded, the first sign that the drug was taking hold of her. Jericho seemed to be fairing no better than she was, even with his makeshift mask. His pupils dilated; she assumed hers were as well. No matter what, she was still the scientist, so she began to mentally compile her data on their reaction. If they lived, she would have much to say about the effectiveness of the drug, as she was now experiencing it firsthand with her knowledge of its structure and of how the human body would metabolize it.


Jericho stumbled and dropped to the floor. His large frame made the elevator shake, but it still had not moved. Leah also lost her strength and sank down next to him. The gas was starting to dissipate, and they were still alive. For one moment of relief, she was sure that the gas was having no effect on her—and then it happened. Raging fire shot through her body, and she gasped for air. Her head fell back as her back arched. She felt as if she was on the brink of an orgasm right there, fully dressed and untouched on the elevator floor. Her keen awareness of Jericho’s eyes on her and the fact he was watching with interest, not saying or doing anything, made it all the more embarrassing and yet kind of kinky. Leah actually shook her head to try and clear that thought away. I am a scientist, and this is a perfectly uncontrollable reaction to a laboratory mishap, she reassured herself. I am in no way responsible for my actions, she thought as if pleading with her own subconscious.


Before she completely gave in to her loss of control, she managed to grab her jacket off the floor and flip it up to where the security camera was pointing directly at her. She did not want even more of an audience for her panting and writhing; it was bad enough that Jericho seemed to be completely aware of her predicament and enjoying it thoroughly. It made her hot just knowing he was the one seeing her need. She wanted him between her legs. She wanted him to fuck her right there on the elevator floor—an elevator that could start working any second, she reminded herself. Jericho’s perfect lips made her want to kiss him more than she’d thought it possible to want to kiss anyone. She was never the sexual aggressor in a relationship, but she suddenly wanted to pin him to the floor and remove his clothing until nothing but skin was rubbing together in delicious friction.


Whoa! Where had that come from? She wondered, trying to get herself under control. She was career military and damn proud of it; Leah was one tough lady who had always prided herself on her control and her commitment to the job. She tried to breathe and quell her raging lust, but the panting and gulping for air only made her think of how nice it would be to make Jericho pant with need for her. Even if she was plain, there were things she could do with her tongue that would make him scream hallelujah. She wondered how his sexy voice would sound calling her name, begging her to wring the pleasure out of him.


Leah moaned and smacked her head against the elevator wall as she battled against the need. She wanted to yell at him. He looked so comfortable! How was that crap not affecting him? He seemed totally in control, and it was making her crazy. She turned on her side, rolling on her arms and pinning them down to keep herself from touching him or herself, so intense was her arousal.


She glared at him. He was still lying on the floor, but he had his head propped up on his arm and was watching her with a bored interest that made her want to slap him just to wipe that smirk off his perfect face. Control was officially gone; she had turned feral in her lust.

Passion’s Escape by Ashlynn Monroe
 
Excerpt:


They stood as she cautiously entered the room. Her cheeks instantly felt the heat of the blush that stained them. Both of the men bowed in the courtly fashion of their more civilized, but restrictive, world. They were responding to her as they would a royal courtesan who'd trained for years for the privilege of giving either of these men pleasure. It was a bit intimidating. Awkwardly, she returned the gesture as was custom.


They immediately seemed to notice her hair. Her blush deepened when she saw the obvious approval shinning in their matching cocoa brown eyes. Her hands wanted to touch them, starting with the soft raven's wing black hair, a trait the men shared due to their royal heritage. Hawk would need to be a distant relation of the prince to be so close to the emperor's court. They were certainly handsome men, and it overwhelmed her a bit. Biting her lip, she glanced up into Dragon's face. His normally playful expression was gone, replaced with sexual intensity. His look made her body ache.


She wanted their hands on her, but she had no idea how to begin or what to say. She was not a professionally trained courtesan. She was also not there because she had to be. She was with them out of her own consuming lust. What was the proper way physically to love two of the galaxies most powerful men? They were both smiling. Obviously they eagerly anticipated her first move. Passion honestly had no idea what they expected. She was not a trained lover or refined woman. She had grown to womanhood in a place that killed softness or weakness and so it wasn't something she understood.


With her own small grin and a sweet blush, she decided to jump right in and do what she knew Dragon wanted. Kneeling in front of him on a plush floor pillow, she began to undo the tie on his lounging pants. They slid easily off his slim hips and ass to pool around his ankles.


His cock was already hard. Passion glanced up at Hawk and gave him a small, shy smile. He smiled back, enjoying the show. Tenderly and with careful precision, she took the large smooth head of Dragon's cock into her mouth. Her ruby red lips wrapped around it and she began to suckle him with sweet force. The quick intake of his stomach muscles told her he certainly liked what she was doing. Taking as much of him into her mouth as she could, she then wrapped her small, soft hands around the rest of him. She began to suckle and stroke in a rhythm that left him moaning. He took a hold of her bobbing head, wrapping her hair around his large hand, pulling it back from her face while at the same time encouraging her to increase her speed. Passion smiled around the mouthful of cock and increased the pressure of her suction. Dragon moaned a long low throaty sound of pleasure. Her teeth gently scraped his flesh, causing him to release a hiss of pleasure. He was one of the most powerful men in the history of the galaxy and she held him in her power, it was an intoxicating sensation.


While she pleasured Dragon, she felt Hawk's presence coming up behind her. His large hands brushed her remaining hair from her face with amazing tenderness. Those hands began to caress her jaw and neck and then traveled down past her collarbone to rest on the front of the robe. Hawk parted the garment softly. One of his large hands dipped down to take her breast out of the robe as his other hand followed the same journey, and soon he had freed both her breasts from their confinement. Each of his hands were busy kneading and then his thumbs and index fingers found her large pink nipples. He rolled them gently and then pinched them just enough to cause pain/pleasure that coursed through her to pool in her womb and make her pussy even wetter. Then his hands skimmed up to her shoulders and he began to massage them with loving tenderness. Restlessly, his hands soon returned to her breasts and began to play with them once more. The combination of his tender touch and the knowledge that she was performing a forbidden act sent a thrill of pleasurable excitement into her that bore no comparison. She knew that no other woman had done this to the men and it made the experience deeper and richer.

Lost Hearts by Ashlynn Monroe
 
Excerpt:


Desire rushed in her blood, making it pulse with life. Molten lava burned her stomach, making each breath a small gasp of excruciating want. A rush of untried sensations swirled through her brain, drowning her in drunken lust. Panting, she cried out a final release which he answered with his own whisper, just her name breathed into her hair and filled with heartbreaking devotion. She shattered.

Laurel sat up in her bed with a start! He had returned to her. Broken joy blended with sick terror deep in her soul. Shivering and alone, she wept. Replaying the last fragments of the dream in her head she let the tears wash away the fog of sleep.

For the past six months she had slept peacefully without the dreams.
Not now, she silently begged the heavens. With the ceremony forever bonding her to another man only days away she could not bear to have him return to her mind. She was in love with a dream. How was it even possible to love the creation of her fertile imagination? He who arose from her pent-up frustration, materializing into the perfect dream lover. He, the nameless one, had come to her since the day she turned seventeen. How a sheltered virgin created those dreams spoke of the influence of the many passionate encounters she espied during festival nights at court. Awaking each morning to the sad realization that even if he felt real, he was not, had driven her to read everything ever written about dreams and the dreaming mind. He might not truly exist but he left his mark on her. Laurel felt genuine longing for him and it never failed to make her cry.

On her nineteenth birthday her father announced she was to marry his dearest friend and ally's son, Lord Evanston. Laurel awakened the morning after her betrothal with a sense of deep loss and the feeling of abandonment in her hour of greatest need. Her dream lover was no longer.


Dear Lord Evanston was the great playmate and conspirator of her youth but her feelings for him would never be any more intense than deep friendship. Even if she was to go to him physically untouched and innocent her heart belonged to a wispy spirit, created by her own mind, who gave her passion-filled nights. Her body tingled with the burning touch of his hands and the exquisite joy of his hard cock as if he had form to touch her, as if he possessed substance to make love to her.
 
Her love had no name but Laurel felt his brand on every inch of her skin. His body, perfect in every imagined way, appeared built by a life of physical labor. A bit too long, his dark hair fell just so into his eyes, exotic eyes of the summer sky mixed with the turbulence of the coming storm that darkened erotically as they drowned in the depths of passion. His sun-kissed skin was smooth over his broad shoulders and the prickly little hairs that covered his chest always felt like sand on silk when her hand passed over them. His vibrant, pure strength and male grace was amazing and he had a boyishly sexy playfulness that gave his face an ageless handsomeness. His lips were a firm demand against hers and every dream ended with them whispering her name as a broken plea, a prayer of desperate devotion confirming the communion of their souls.


Still shivering, even with the summer heat rolling over her, she got out of bed and pulled on her silk robe of robin's egg blue. It was the last gift her mother had given her before her death. As quietly as the lost sprits of the night she left her room and gracefully wandered out into the castle garden. The twin moons were at full radiance tonight and lit her path better than a lantern.



Both Moons reaching full moon in concert happened once every sixty years and it was considered a night for good fortune and festivities. Laurel was the heir to the noble title and as such she was kept extremely sheltered. Unlike the other girls her age she would not have the freedom to choose a village boy to discover the pleasures of her body with. She could hear the rivalry at the bonfires, and as she passed various dark nooks of the garden she could hear soft sighs of love. It made her edgy and sad to hear evidence of the freedom others enjoyed. It made her heart yearn even more for her mysterious dream lover who treated her like a woman, not a princess.


Her father was a great storyteller and spun fantastic tales about other worlds, some with many more moons and one with only a single moon. He told her about strange customs, clothing, and food, all the things he sampled while in the service of his country's military.


As the youngest son it was never expected for him to inherit the title, but while he was away an electrical windstorm engulfed the village and castle, taking with it every person he loved. Her father came home to a title, but it was an empty consolation. For many years he lived in the workers cottages, draining the family's fortune to repair the village and helping his people rebuild with his own hands. He even married a girl of the peasant class whom he loved with a passion not even her death dare end. These things made him a ruler his people adored and gained much respect among the ruling class. He eventually became known as the Counselor King, and their ill-fated lands were prosperous once more. Laurel often visited the sick, and spent hours in service to their gods, yet she knew she would never live up to her father's legacy. As the daughter of the king she strove always to be good and giving, as was her duty. So why did she feel like such a fraud?

Laurel longed to explore, as her father had in his youth, but she knew she would never leave Etropica as her first responsibility was to her people, not her heart. Her mixed blood, noble and common, exposed her to only a small amount of discrimination as her father was beloved by so many. A few of the older noble lines would never consider her for their sons, even with her wealth and her title, as she was considered to be tainted with common blood but old Lord Ambrose welcomed her as his future daughter. Ambrose and her father had been friends since boyhood and often talked of uniting their children. Laurel knew her father held off the betrothal out of deference to her hopes she would mate out of love, but each year she did not declare a preference for a suitor was one more year she was inappropriately unwed. Only the ruling class held such a high standard of monogamy, to insure the purity of the bloodline for inheritance and power. Most girls her age were mothers and many wives. Fertility was a sacred duty; a woman bringing children with her to a marriage was a blessing and a pregnant bride was good luck to the groom and his family. Most women were ripe with child at the gift binding ceremony making them a wife. Laurel thought of her gift binding, and instead of looking forward to it with joy and hope she saw it as the tragic end of her hope to find the man who matched her dream in the flesh. She looked for him in each of her suitors, but every one left her cold and disappointed.

Filled with such melancholy thoughts she returned to her bed and dreamed of him no more that night.

Gift binding was a sacred event, it was for life and there was no divorce. The priestess and the Counselor King blessed no changing of one's mind after the ceremony. With youth came the freedom to be with many lovers and explore sexuality, the blending of two people by the Nature Mother left no opportunity for those who decided to bind to change their minds. Once bound, the souls of the pair converged and a telempathic link formed, never to be divided. A bound pair could feel the emotions and needs of their partner.

Laurel heard many a whisper about the way this bond enhanced physical intimacy, and there were men who swore they felt every labor pain their Bonded suffered. Laurel even knew a woman who died right at court the very moment her husband died from a weak heart a league away. If one did not have regular and satisfying relations with one's bonded mate then the telempathy dulled. Most of the pairs at court were arranged bonds, and as such had little connection. She'd even heard talk of a man who brought other women to his bed and his bonded wife had no idea, as their bond was so weak.

She knew Evanston would not push the strengthening of their bond on her, and in her heart was sure he would even be relieved if it never grew to be more than it was on the first night it formed. She still felt nervous he would know her secret, her love for another, as soon as they bonded. Laurel was too embarrassed to tell him, yet she felt she should. Evanston was kind and sweet but she suspected he would not be forgiving if she bonded to him with such a secret between them. There had long been whispers that he preferred male company, but Laurel knew he must carry on the line for his father's sake and so did not dispute the betrothal. Evanston was as trapped by their upcoming gift binding as she was herself, and it made her want to weep for his sake as much as her own. As her oldest and best friend she cherished him dearly, and if she could not have love at least she knew there would always be friendship in her bonding.