Coming Soon - My Dark Angel

My first love has always been the wasted landscape of post apocalyptic fiction. The tribal societies that arise, the laws that fall to the wayside, and the general degeneration of mankind in its fight to survive. The brutality and carnage, the misery and suffering, it's like being in high school all over again.

I don't have a release date yet but am expecting My Dark Angel to be available in late April. It's a throwback to the old school bodice rippers, except Nadine murders a few assholes and there are no quivering flowers of womanhood in need of proud warrior spears.... here's a few snippets.

Funny thing, standing on a stage while people bid on you. Do you stand tall or cower? Do you glare defiantly or accept the hand you’re dealt and try to look appealing? I watched a lot of luckless folks make those decisions that day, and I still don’t know the answer. For the men, squared shoulders and defiance usually resulted in a one way ticket to the arena, but sometimes the puling and cringing found themselves in line for the ludus as well, slaves to more respected slaves for now, punching bags and training tools for later.

For the women it didn’t matter. I saw scratching, screaming girls fetch as much as seasoned whores who stood with hips tipped forward and fingers spreading lips wide before the slobbering crowd. Except for very old, the destination was almost always the same. Not even the little girls were immune to the bids of the whoremasters. For now they could serve as maids; in time they would serve in a different capacity.

Out of desperation I clung to my sister, and she to me, and I whispered promises in her ear that I didn’t know if I could ever hope to keep. The sight of two naked females clinging to each other upon the block, hands clutching at bare flesh while my lips buried against her ear and her face pressed into my breasts, drove the crowd wild and the bidding surged enthusiastically forward. When the shouting finally halted and the final bid was called, the hawk nosed man from earlier stepped forward. Claiming us with fleece-lined wrist shackles and a granite glare of warning, he shoved us towards another who led us through the milling throng of shouting bidders and to the endless chain of recent purchases of all sizes, shapes, and colors.

We were headed for the pleasure houses of Hot Springs.

*********

He left me alone then, bound for his own long overdue shower and ignoring his earlier insistence that I never be allowed out of his sight. I pulled the oversized shirt on, clutching it to my face and inhaling the warm smell of soap and pine that seemed to be on everything he touched. My fingers barely came past the edge of the cuffed sleeves and the shirt hem fell to mid-thigh, but it was clean and warm and the first thing I’d worn since my arrival that didn’t have the dank, muggy cave smell embedded into it.

The room was cool like the rest of the caverns, but my skin remained flushed from the hot shower and even hotter touch of Joshua’s determined fingers. As I sat on the edge of the bed I let my own fingers slip between my pale thighs to the warm, moist folds between, reliving the earlier moments when his soapy fingers had stroked and caressed the private, satin flesh.

My bottom lip caught in my teeth as my head fell back against the numerous pillows behind me, and my eager fingers plunged and spread the velvet curtains to taste the swirling flood of need inside. I imagined my fingers to be his, teasing and stroking and caressing the desire soaked flesh that was rapidly swelling beneath the knowing touch of my/his firm fingers. In my mind he knelt between my spread knees, gazing up at me with burning desire as his fingers plundered my tight depths and his breath came in a ragged gasp.

Except I didn’t imagine the gasp, and with a guilty jump my eyes flew open and I saw Joshua standing frozen in the doorway, wrapped in a towel with his attention riveted to my glistening fingers. Startled and embarrassed, I tried to sit up, tried to formulate some explanation or excuse although it was pretty obvious what I’d been doing. Even more obvious was the way his towel thrust forward just below his belly, the force of his arousal threatening to break free at any moment.

“Joshua,” I stammered nervously, suddenly fearful of what I knew was about to happen.

In two strides he had crossed the room, and then he was on the bed and stretched out possessively over me, one hand cradling my head as the other laid claim to the sweltering flesh beneath my trembling hand. This time it was my breath that caught in a startled gasp as a shudder wracked through me, set in motion by the familiar touch of his rough fingertips against my desperate flesh and the fleeting kiss of his lips against the sensitive curve of my ear.

“You belong to me,” he murmured softly as his burning lips left my ear to brand my neck with his heated kiss. “Ever since I found you in that field, you’ve belonged to me.”

My greedy hips strained upwards, pushing the pulsing flesh harder against the skilled fingers that sweetly tormented me in ways I’d never imagined. Wildly I clutched at his powerful arms, pulling him to me, desperate to feel our naked flesh come together even as he devoured the shivering skin along my neck. One determined fist wrapped tightly into my hair, pulling my head backwards and forcefully exposing my throat to his merciless assault.

Below, a thick finger teased along my warm, damp entrance, and even as I tensed in nervous anticipation I felt myself open up in ravenous invitation. Suddenly fearful, I tried to speak up, to warn him that despite Dr. Rigden’s presumptions, this was all new to me.

“Joshua, I…” but he reclaimed my mouth then, his full, dark lips engulfing mine as his tongue plunged between them and tangled with my own.

The fingers that had teased now took, slipping into the deeper heat within with an eagerness I wasn’t ready for. There was a quick, sharp pain and I gasped in wounded surprise. Instantly his body froze, and he stared at me first in confusion, then amazement and wonder. Slowly, carefully, he withdrew his fingers and saw a faint red streak on one.

“How is that even possible?” he demanded, but my pain had already slipped to pleasure and I burned to have his fingers inside me again. The only answer he got was my face buried against his damp chest and my hands impatiently pulling him back to me. For a moment I found myself marveling at the contrast of my pale hand clutching the polished obsidian of his sculpted chest, and then I abandoned his chest for the towel that continued to restrain his engorged cock, yanking it loose and flinging it to the floor beside us, setting the ebony shaft and flushed head free.

Setting things free seemed to be coming something of an obsession for me lately.

 Keep an eye out for My Dark Angel to be released in late April!