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Why You Should Lose My Number

“Slut.”

The exact DM I received yesterday by a Twitter follower in response to my automatically generated (yet highly personal and slightly humorous) message to brand new followers, generously offering them a choice between two of my published works, for free.

And this is hardly the first time I’ve received similar messages.

Well I write erotica, so I must be asking for it, right?

Ummmmm. No. Not any more than the guy who wears a football jersey is begging to be tackled in the street by some random stranger.

If you have a moral issue with what I am doing, here’s a hint:

Don’t fucking follow me.

Don’t search me out, don’t follow me on Facebook, or visit my website or blog, don’t add me on Twitter, don’t look at my Tumblr or Instagram accounts, don’t DM me or PM me, and – for the love of all that is mother fucking holy – do not email me.

Baby, just lose my number.

If you have (wrongly) decided that, because I am a woman who writes and publishes explicit sexual content, I am somehow now obligated to endure your sexual harassment via privately sent, mediocre, amateur shots of your unimpressive one eyed willy, or dirty DM’s, you are sadly mistaken.

I may not be a sex worker, but I do get paid for sex on digital paper.

If you want my milkshake, you’re going to have to go online and buy my cow… Unless of course I (graciously) offer you some free milk, in which case it’s only to get you hooked on my milkshake (because – yes – it’s that fucking good) so you’ll have to go and buy the whole damn herd!

I am a professional. Writing is my job, and my passion.

You may not respect what I do for a living, or take me seriously. That is your mistake. Not mine. I respect myself, I take myself seriously, and I can’t and won’t make time for anyone who doesn’t.

If you want to judge me or try to shame me for refusing to let you dictate my own personal standards of decency as they pertain to sex, then that is your problem. I do not have to, and will not, follow your rules or dictates. I am the black sheep, not part of your flock. I don’t have to.

It is not my problem if you are ashamed of your repressed sexual urges, or if you are so misguided as to think that any woman who admits to having them is somehow a cheap peace of garbage for you to make use of, whenever you want, for your own personal gratification. I won’t put up with it. I am way too busy to deal with your bullshit.

I am not ashamed to explore the world of sexual fantasy, or to put it to digital paper for the rest of the world to enjoy, or even get off to. Just don’t think that means I am obligated to get you off on a personal level, or that I am your own personal whipping girl or the poster child for ‘moral’ discipline (which you are chomping at the bit for the opportunity to provide, thus proving your ‘moral superiority’ – don’t think I don’t know you get off on it… you sick fucking bastard ).

We are strangers. I don’t know what kind of a girl you think I am, but most likely you are wrong.

There is this rampant misconception about who erotica writers are. Contrary to popular belief, we don’t all sit around in expensive lingerie with our hair done up and our make-up perfect, while riding dildos on webcam and tapping away at our next masterpiece (and even if we did it would be our fucking prerogative to do so).

There are just so many preconceived notions about the type of person who is willing to write about, and who is unashamed of sex, so I’ll tell you who we are:

We are the girl next door. We are your classmate, your coworker, or even your boss. We are your sister, your wife, or possibly even your mother. We are fellow human beings, who demand to be treated as such.

Erotic Poem: Beast Between the Sheets

Cum
Be my beast

Between my sheets
Between my thighs

Cum direct
My animal inside

I need to give up
To lose control

Collapse my brain
Into your ebb and flow

Find my freedom
Through letting go

You are the master
Cum work my strings

For this little puppet
Desires to be your plaything

Toy with me
As cat does mouse

Fangs and claws
Forcing my hand at playing house

Own this body
With primal, brute strength

As you pentrate my mind
With tender finesse

Break me down
To build me up

Prove to me this is not
Just some fickle fuck

©2015 Kat Crimson

You Are Missed

The shadow of your lust
Paints my flesh
With unmerciful desire
It grips and pulls
At my resistance

Dragging me down
Into your burning
Black licks of flame
Tickle, tease and torture
My erogenous zones

Yet the wetter I get
The less able I am
To snuff you out

Give in
They compel me
Giving in feels so good

I crave
I crumble
I crack

I am crippled
Without your touch

Darling,
I need you
I love you
So much

©2015 Kat Crimson

Book Review: Desecrating Solomon, by Lucian Bane

DS 5

Dᴇsᴇᴄʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ Sᴏʟᴏᴍᴏɴ: A Fᴏʀʙɪᴅᴅᴇɴ Rᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ Tʜʀɪʟʟᴇʀ
Author: Lucian Bane        Release Date: October 22, 2015
Buy Link: Amazon: http://amzn.to/1McfFHi

Poor Solomon Gorge. Adrift, and still reeling from the loss of his wife, six years ago (before they could consummate their union), he answers the call from his home town parish, heading back to a remote cabin in the woods so that he can take care of an elderly woman nearby.

Plagued by unsettling dreams and premonitions, which he has learned over the years to heed, he winds up at his elderly charge’s abode, in the wee hours, after having heard his name being screamed at him in a dream, and feeling in his gut that something was terribly wrong. He gets to her home only to find that she is fine, but upon his return he meets with a gruesome discovery. There is a badly beaten woman hanging from the trees, and her name is Chaos.

He unstrings her, cares for her, and gradually unearths the terrible secrets of her cultish upbringing, trying to ferret out each clue with a gentle loving touch, and to undo years of brainwashing. Yet time grows short and he begins to feel the walls closing in on them as their budding attraction grows.

Something is out to get them. There are so many strange coincidences and eerie events… Something brought them together for a purpose. Solomon and Chaos are both sure of what that purpose is… too bad they disagree.

unnamed-2This is a chilling, dark tale, told with a spellbinding and mesmeric quality that will have you gripping the covers and reading on into the wee hours of the night, hoping, waiting with baited breath to find out if Solomon will be able to prevail over the rampant evil that exists in town, or if he will fall prey to its sinister agenda.

You will be left, wanting, and waiting for more.

An Excerpt from Dᴇsᴇᴄʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ Sᴏʟᴏᴍᴏɴ, by Lucian Bane – Out Now

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Dᴇsᴇᴄʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ Sᴏʟᴏᴍᴏɴ: A Fᴏʀʙɪᴅᴅᴇɴ Rᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ Tʜʀɪʟʟᴇʀ

Author: Lucian Bane
Release Date: October 22, 2015
Genre: Forbidden Romantic Thriller
Buy Link: Amazon: http://amzn.to/1McfFHi


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::Synopsis::

***WARNING***

This book contains elements that may be disturbing and offensive. Please read with caution if you are triggered by events depicting violence and various forms of abuse.

On the seventh day of the seventh year… she desecrates.

Evil keeps a formidable schedule in Weston, West Virginia. Every seventh year, spirits from the town’s abandoned insane asylum seek worthy souls to command. But this seventh year, a desecration unlike any before is scheduled to ravage the town. And Solomon Gorge is lured to the harrowing event by the screams of Silence.

:::Excerpt:::

Silence focused her mind, bringing the erratic race of her pulse back into her control. Again. She was finally there. In The Hallower. She didn’t permit herself to look about but her peripheral said she’d been wrong about the most holy chamber. The torture devices and horrific tools she’d imagined hanging from the ceiling and walls did not exist.

Six years. She could hardly believe it had passed. Six years as ‘Silence’ ended today. No, six years of silent Contemplation ended today. But it really didn’t end. There would never be a time when she didn’t contemplate what came next. And what would her new name be? She never permitted herself the blasphemy of trying to guess. Today she’d know.

She carefully slid her gaze to the single entrance leading in. A small door made of thick slats of wood, held together by decorative black metal. The entire room was black—walls, ceilings, floor—all a rough stone painted a shiny looking onyx. And empty. Except for the single slab of granite in the shape of a hobbit table where she sat in her ceremonial graduation gown. It reminded her of a wedding dress.

Would Master be the one to usher in the final phase? Her stomach clenched in excitement and she immediately calmed the fleshly rebellion. She secretly hoped he did. She’d never met the Order’s Queen but once, and even then Silence was not permitted to look upon her as an unlearned runt.

Silence was used to Master’s ways, even though all feared him. The Dark Legend of their Order had trained her personally in the most Holy arts of pain and fear. Any fear borne outside of her Master’s care was destructive—that was one of her first lessons. There were good fears and bad. The bad fears were counterproductive to the Order, the good fears protected it. And Holy Fear with pain were gifts she received directly from her Master’s hands. And only her complete submission provided the divine covering required to fulfill her role as the Queen’s chosen Redemptrix.

Her calm insides jolted at the clang of the outer door leading to The Hallower. She faced straight ahead in deferring obedience, eyes cast to the floor. The Hallower door opened next and her peripheral said the entirely nude form was indeed Master. She let out a silent breath of relief.

He shut the door. One metal bolt clanked… then another… then another. Her heart hammered in her ears despite her steady breaths. It was always this way. No matter how practiced she was with Master’s training, her body knew. Muscle memory always braced for sure impact of some sort.

“Sweet Silence,” he said when he stood before her.

She stared at his hardened phallus, leaning to place the customary kiss on the butterfly tattoo wrapping its length. He stopped her with a pointer finger on her forehead.

“Not this time.”

Again Silence braced, mostly in confusion. She didn’t remember a single time when he didn’t require the Butterfly Kiss. She still remembered the day he had the vision to get the tattoo. The butterfly on the phallus symbolized that the lost would be ushered to heaven’s door by the seed of Master. During her Silent Contemplation she’d marveled over his interpretation, glad that he seemed to be getting some of her gifts.

She hoped he got all of them.

“You look beautiful in your graduation gown, Silence.” He stroked that same finger along her face, beginning with her temple. Her mind flashed with past disciplines he’d put her through. There was no part of her body he’d not trained in some way, for some sacred reason.

“Thank you, Master.”

She listened closely to his unsteady breaths, thick with the scent of fermented juice. “Are you nervous?”

“No, Master.”

The several grunts followed by strained groans told her he was having divine revelations. “Six years of Silence to usher in the final phase.” The withered words came with the glide of his finger over her lips, lingering long enough for her to know what he wanted. But when she parted her lips to suck, he drew it away, bringing another surprise. “Are you ready, little one?”

“Yes, Master.” The bad fears made her breaths shallow as she struggled with old flight or fight instincts.

Why wouldn’t he let her suck it? It was always the not knowing parts that got her, it always was. What he would do each time. He liked surprising her. It had become an unspoken duel between them—her to anticipate, and him to be unpredictable.

A gasp escaped her as she fumbled with the reigns on her control. Master was the one person she would always fear. She was supposed to fear him and only him. Fearing him was allowed, it was good, it was expected, demanded.

Think of the Hallowing Ceremony. Graduating to the next phase. Six years of silence is over.

Sudden terror hit her as she remembered. The dream. The vision for her new name. There had been none.

“So much fear, little one.’His voice croaked with disappointment as he tilted her face up with that same finger, now under her chin. “I am sure you’re eager for your new name.” He began a slow trek to the right of her, his finger gliding off as he went. Silence refused to allow her gaze to stray from straight before her. He’d had the dream? The vision? “I too, am ready to hear it.”

He’d not. Terror raced back in and she swallowed at what this might mean. “There was none.” Her voice rang out with a strength despite the quiver in her gut.

His deep low chuckle behind her, tickled along her spine. “I know,” he whispered, his mouth suddenly at her ear. “Because I was given the dream this time.”

The beat of her heart became a wallop in her chest. Breathe, Silence.

“I’m sure you’re eager to know it?” he said lightly, slowly coming back around on her left now.

“I am excited to learn it.”

“And I’m excited to tell you.” He came to stand exactly before her again. Silence gripped her dress in tight fists as he placed his hands on either side of her head. He pulled her to his phallus, moving his hips side to side lightly. She waited for his direction, knowing not to engage until he communicated firmly. “I had a vision of your new name, little one. A vision of a hand writing on the wall next to my bed.” The tip of his penis stroked errantly over her cheek and lips, meandering and without purpose. “Do you know what it said, sweet angel?”

She shook her head only barely. “No, Master.”

*****ABUSIVE PART BELOW*****

His fingers suddenly bit down in her hair, pulling harder than he’d ever done before. She fought to look him in the eyes the way he always insisted when milking for his essence. But he shoved so far in so quickly and she hadn’t had time to relax her throat, already it burned and hurt.

“Talk to me Silence. One last time before you leave,” he growled, grabbing the hair on top of her head while he pinched her nose shut. “Tell Master how much you will miss him. How you will never forget him. How you will only think of him,” he hissed, pounding his penis harder against her throat.

Silence struggled to give him what he wanted, but her body refused, it always did.

“Tell me!” he ordered between grunts and thick groans.

She tried again. She tried so hard.

His fist shot down and slammed into her forehead. A familiar numb buzzing filled her skull and ears. “Tell me Silence, tell me how much you’ll miss me while you fuck our sacrifice!”

She did it in her mind. She screamed until she had no more breath. She screamed as loud and hard as she could, like he wanted her to, but it came as silence. Something had broken inside her years ago. She couldn’t remember the exact day, she just knew it had. She could no longer scream. It was as though she’d forgotten how or lost the ability. No matter how much he beat her or hurt her body, her mind disconnected from everything and she couldn’t.

She could feel the pain but she was trapped in silence. Just like her name.


:::Teaser:::

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:::Other Books By Lucian Bane:::

Mercy: A Dark Erotica

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Beg For Mercy: A Dark Conclusion

TBR Link: http://goo.gl/1MLxm5
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Dom Wars Box Set Round 1,2 &3

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Paranormal romance series

Box Set Ruin (first 3 books)

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RUIN The Waking:

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RUIN Revelations

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RUIN The Judgment

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RUIN The Turning

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Arks of Octava
The Scribbler Guardian

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::Lucian’s Hideouts:::

 
     

Join Lucian’s Dark Erotica Group here

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Ghosts in the Graveyard ~ P2

he gripped both sides of his robe, cocked one eyebrow, then lowered his gaze slightly..devilishly.. while lifting the corner of one side of his mouth, producing a dimple that could melt a nun’s drawers..i was no nun.

as the robe slid upwards, it revealed black doc marten boots, a really well worn pair of dark denim jeans, a thick, soft, supple brown leather belt and a tight white tee…i hate white, but sometimes the classics just work…

…i had to think about whether my mouth was hanging open or not.. whether there was the possibilty of embarrassing drool, i licked my lips, just to make sure.

sweet jesus, if he was selling insurance right now, i would have bought the top package and signed in blood..he looked that. fucking. good.

he finished pulling the robe off over his head and tossed it nonchalantly aside, maintaining eye contact the entire time. i was well and truly trapped under his spell. he took a hungry step forward, while sliding those hands, with his slim, tapered fingers to his belt, dextrously undoing it and the button on his jeans.

i licked my lips again, and gulped nervously as he continued to advance towards me, i had to steel myself not to take a step back..i was trembling a bit. i was sure that was not helping the ruse of the bold dominating image i’d tried to foster earlier..

he leaned in like he was going to kiss me, and i was just frozen, waiting for it to happen..my eyes unconsciously lowering – this man is like a fucking snake charmer – but then ducked aside and began to circle me instead. my head whipped around to track his movements, but i couldn’t follow him; my feet were rooted to the ground.

as he stepped behind me, i felt him lean in close, the heat from his body pouring off of him, his energy spilling over and into me. his mouth was next to my ear, and i moaned as his breath found my neck. he spoke.

‘i can’t wait for you to fuck my ass,’ he whispered like a wet dream in my ear. ‘i want you to give it to me good. i want you to fuck me hard, and deep, and slow, and sensual. i want to feel what you feel when i fuck you.’ i nearly orgasmed on those those words, and on the wet, open mouthed kiss he placed on my bare neck.

it fired me up.. those words, that kiss. it gave me back my spine. and as he moved back around to my front i had my resolve firmly back in place… as firm as his cock, which was now on proud display, jeans open and riding low, boxers shoved down to give him room. beautiful. and glistening. one tiny pearly drop suspended at the tip…god how i wanted to lick…but no.

‘kneel,’ i boldly commanded, pointing to the soft earth right in front of me. ‘you’ve got some work to do before i let you hug that bench.’ i winked at him then. he grinned saucily back..neither of us was fooled as he knelt in front of me. i knew he was humoring me because he wanted to be where i told him…and that was ok.

‘suck on it,’ i urged him pleadingly, one hand gripping my red member and offering it to him, as the other hand threaded through his dark, shaggy hair, caressing him softly. i watched as he closed his eyes and gave himself over to my petting. he loves my touch.

he took a deep breath in, then opened his eyes to look up at me with an adoration that nearly burst my heart in my chest, and said, ‘yes mistress.’ i would not have let any other man call me that, it’s not who i am.. but in that precise moment of time it just worked.. it felt right, so i guided his head to my cock even as he was leaning in to take it.

he kissed just the tip as he looked up at me, and watched me as he snaked his tongue slowly out, in a languid caress…and even though i couldn’t feel it, i felt it. i watched as he filled his mouth with saliva and wetly licked my entire length, then took me in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked and bobbed his head sensuously up and down on my cock.

i needed to be inside him now. i gripped his hair and pulled back on his head, ‘enough,’ i growled, ‘on the bench, now!’ he smiled big, then slid his hands around my hips and firmly grasped me, as he levered his body back up from a kneeling position for me. he didn’t obey right away…instead, he slid his chest along mine as he rose, then leaned in for a searing kiss, while pulling his shirt off, breaking the kiss only when he had to pull it over his head.

he turned away then and walked to the bench, where he sat down facing me. i wanted to growl at him to kneel down and bend over it like he knew i wanted, until i saw him reach for his boots – he was taking them off for me.. he knows how much i hate it when guys leave their socks on in bed.. he was going to finish stripping – that, right there, made me want to attack him like a fucking beast!

i stepped towards him, but it was his turn to waive a finger at me. i stilled. he unlaced slowly, while mesmerically holding my gaze, sliding both boots and socks off, then working his jeans down lean hips, stepping out of them..completely naked and utterly beautiful before me..so humbling.

he turned then, he did not kneel, but simply bent down, gripping the sides of the bench firmly, widening his stance, and impudently proffering his deliciously round derriere.

i was there in an instant, grasping his cheeks, caressing them, spreading them. i slipped my hand up to his mouth and he instantly took my fingers in, sucking on them, making me think of fucking, making my pussy gush.

i reluctantly pulled them away from his talented tongue, and sent them on a wandering path down his spine, delving into the fissure of his ass and slipping to his puckered entrance. he moaned at the touch to his sensitive flesh.

i slid my other hand around to grasp his hard cock, sliding up and down in a soft rhythym as i kissed between his shoulder blades. ‘this is the rhythym i want you to use on your cock as i fuck you in your ass,’ i told him, then removed my hand. he replaced it with his own and did exactly as told.

i slowly breached his ass with my wet finger, working him, widening him, preparing him. i added another.

he moaned with my movements and pleaded, ‘just fuck me, please..’

i brought my hand back up to my mouth and let a puddle of saliva pour into it’s cupped palm, then brought my hand back down to my damp cock, wetting it thoroughly, sliding my fingers up and down, coating it with my natural lube. then, stepping forward, i grabbed one hip and positioned myself at his entrance using the other hand.

i bent over his back, draping my corseted breasts over him, making our hips flush, and began to press inwards.

‘don’t fight me baby, loosen it for me…let me in,’ i gently coerced.

i could feel him give way as he complied, and i began to slide in deep, he moaned in delight as my cock filled him in, reaching spaces that made his legs tremble, and his throat make guttural noises that turned me on with the speed of a light switch.

i slowly slid back out until just the tip remained, then pushed back in more firmly, and with a little more force. he groaned and i could tell he was pumping his dick faster now…could tell he was enjoying every sensation of my penetration.

‘harder,’ he begged.

i grabbed both hips, pushing away as i pulled out, then slammed it home, pulling my body in by his hips, even as my own hips thrust towards his ass in a powerful, pounding stroke that unleashed me. i began to piston into him, pumping myself in and out with a frenzied abandon that only increased with every low grunt and moan he let forth, with every quick jerk of his hand, wrapped firmly around his rock hard cock.

i was so turned on i wanted to cum.. i was going to cum, my nipples had popped slightly over the top of my corset with all of my rough, pounding movements, and the abrasion was shooting sparks through my clit. i could tell he was close too, and i wanted him to erupt.

i wrapped my arms around him tightly, bringing my lips to his ear, continuing to fuck into his ass, in fierce pounding strokes. ‘cum for me baby, i can’t cum til’ you cum.’

i reached up gripping his nipples hard, pulling on them, as i bit his ear – not quite hard enough to draw blood – and tugged down on it, flicking my tongue over and over the sensitive flesh.

his hips bucked madly and he let out a shrill animal moan as i felt jets of his cum hit our twined flesh, and he started to collapse towards the bench, his knees buckling with the intensity of his orgasm.

that’s when my own started to hit, giving one last deep thrust, which ground the base of the strap-on right into my throbbing clit, i reared my head back and screamed into the night as we both collapsed half on the bench, half on the ground, in a sweaty sated heap of steaming limbs.

our mouths found each other, our arms locked around each other, gripping tightly as i sat in his lap, feeling the wetness of his cock at my hip, and our damp flesh sticking together.

© 2015 Kat Crimson

Ghosts in the Graveyard ~ P1

it’s fall in new england..one of those still warm nights, but with that chill bite to the breeze that is forcibly rustling through the night sky and stirring what leaves remain on the trees, as well as the ones blowing through the streets. the air is an electric current, and everyone’s blood is singing with the need to plug into that socket and taste directly from the source, to be electrified and alive. it’s a night for wolves to howl at a full moon, and it is halloween.

there is a party going on in the center of the big old cemetery, where all of the old gothic mausoleums protect the long dead remains of old money. it is away from prying eyes and police enforcement.

i am not dressed sexily. i am dressed for anonymity, in a white sheet – the most clichéd of all halloween costumes, save perhaps for a witch or a vampire. but, as a ghost, i can wander through the drunken cemetary crashers and observe without molestation. no one wants to talk to the big white sheet, they’re too busy doing body shots off of scantily clad elviras who are draped over tombstones.

i spot you – finally – propped contrastingly against the white marble pillar of an exceptionally large mausoleum, dressed all in black…a grim reaper’s cape actually…another cliché, one which you wear to perfection, along with that darkly brooding look on your handsome, chiseled face. a look that says unequivocally that despite the fact that you came out and dressed up, you’d rather be anywhere else and want to be left alone.

too bad. i came here for one reason. you.

i float over to you, carried on the current in the air. i mean to plug into the source tonight. for me, that source is you. you will make me the most alive i’ve ever been. i need your juice.

as i silently make my way to you, from behind, i lean in close to your ear and whisper. ‘boo.’

you are not frightened in the least, your body registered no reaction whatsoever – no tensing surprise – except for the slight grin that lifts one corner of your mouth (the corner i can see) before settling back into that foreboding scowl. i swear you felt my approach, sensed my current before i even came close, maybe were even aware of my presence the entire time.

‘nice digs,’ you mock out of the side of your mouth, not even bothering to look over at me.

‘this old rag?’ i say, twirling to wind up in front of you and giving a cheeky curtsey. ‘if you like this, you should see what’s underneath.’

he looked at me then, a direct, bold gaze, and i winked back and gave a saucy grin…the effect of the grin may have been lost though, since it was covered by the sheet; only my eyes were visible.

‘and let’s say i take you up on that offer?’

‘come with me,’ i said offering my hand, but the way i said it made it sound like, ‘cum with me,’ like i was offering something much more than my hand – which i was.

he trailed behind me, hand in mine, as i led him away from the rest of the crashers, and into a more secluded, darker part of the cemetery. i dropped his hand then continued walking a few more paces before turning around. he made as if to stalk towards me, so he could rip the sheet off of my body, but i held out a hand in a stopping motion.

he quirked an eyebrow, but stayed put.

i bent, grabbing the hem of my costume, slowly sliding it up my legs to uncover black ankle boots, black thigh-high hose attached to garters…then i heard his swift intake of breath as he noticed the huge, glittering blood-red cock harnessed to my body. i finished pulling the sheet over my head, unveiling a black and red corset, tightly laced, and breasts practically spilling over the low, lacy top edging.

he growled at me in the universal ‘i want to fuck you until you can’t walk straight for a week then keep fucking you’ sound, and i don’t even think he was aware that he was walking predatorily towards me until i told him in a commanding tone to ‘stop.’

he shook his head in a slightly confused manner and followed my direction.

‘have you ever been fucked in the ass before?’ i asked.

one terse shake of his head ‘no’ was all the response i received, but his eyes were deep, dark pools of lust, and i was betting he was rock hard under that cape… i’d know soon enough.

‘tonight’s your lucky night,’ i told him, grinning wickedly. ‘take your clothes off – every last stitch – and go drape yourself over that stone bench,’ i demanded pointing to it. ‘oh…and give me a show,’ i said, gifting him with another of my saucy winks.

he gave me a look that said he was a bit out of his comfort zone… he was used to being the one always in charge… but i could see the second that he gave into his lust and his desire to find out where this crazy night would take him. and once his decision was made, he committed everything to playing the role i set out for him.

to be continued…

© 2015 Kat Crimson

Just in time for Halloween: Desecrating Solomon

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(¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•`IT’S LIVE★*´¨✫

Dᴇsᴇᴄʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ Sᴏʟᴏᴍᴏɴ by bestselling Author Lucian Bane is out!
Go get this twisted ‪#‎romance‬ ‪#‎thriller‬ TODAY!

Amazon link: http://amzn.to/1McfFHi

Blurb:

**WARNING***
This book contains elements that may be disturbing and offensive. Please read with caution if you are triggered by events depicting violence and various forms of abuse.

On the seventh day of the seventh year… she desecrates.

Evil keeps a formidable schedule in Weston, West Virginia. Every seventh year, spirits from the town’s abandoned insane asylum seek worthy souls to command. But this seventh year, a desecration unlike any before is scheduled to ravage the town. And Solomon Gorge is lured to the harrowing event by the screams of Silence.

Desecrating Solomon by Lucian Bane