New book for fans of BDSM, paranormal romance, immersive fantasy worlds and of course two gorgeous men in a torrid relationship.

This book appeals both to kinky readers and romance readers.  Kannang Feng’s ability to combine the two genre has created something well-written and steamy.  Click the pic for an excerpt and more information.

Reader review!

A long-time Circlet reader has blessed us with an unsolicited review of the book.  Read the review here!

Instead, I’m posting the first sex scene in my new novel, which is the sequel to Wishbone. As usual, this post is NSFW. Like Wishbone, this excerpt is male/male.

Senjian tasted Wishbone’s ear with a pointed tongue, spiraling through the sensitive loops and whorls until he had penetrated the very center. Wishbone moaned in frustration; he loved the touch, but it was penetration that would not make him spill. He tried to rut his erection against Senjian’s thigh, but the grip on his hair tightened, demanding that he be still.

“It’s been too long,” Wishbone moaned. He was forbidden to pleasure himself. How many nights had passed since they lay together?

Senjian pressed his smooth cheek against Wishbone’s stubbled one, then teased Wishbone’s lips open and fucked his mouth with his long fingers. He wound Wishbone’s hair around one hand like reigns, and they swayed together with the movement of the ship, tasting each other. Senjian loosened his grip and spilled Wishbone onto the side of the bed. The shih-aan’s movements were as formal as a dance, one they’d shared many times before. Senjian knelt on the pillow himself and brushed his lips against Wishbone’s.

Before Wishbone had met Senjian, his profession as a whore had demanded haste in lovemaking. Shih-aan regarded sex as an art and did not hurry. Senjian delighted in using Wishbone’s own frustration as a torment. Wishbone would rather be whipped. But if this form of submission pleased Senjian, then Wishbone gave it willingly. He arched his back and let out his breath in a long sigh.
Senjian opened Wishbone’s mouth with his tongue. By measured degrees, so long as Wishbone neither moved nor cried out, Senjian kissed his way down Wishbone’s throat. He unlaced Wishbone’s shirt to bare his nipples.
Wishbone breathed steadily, schooling his body in what was needed. He clasped his hands at the back of his neck as Senjian used the points of his fangs on the two nubs of sensitive flesh, then explored with his tongue the tufts of hair at Wishbone’s armpits, where shih-aan were bare. The shih-aan licked Wishbone’s chest and his belly while his fingers untied the lacing that held Wishbone’s trousers closed. He released Wishbone’s cock. It strained upright in his lap, glazed with precome and swollen red. Senjian breathed on it. Wishbone bit his lower lip. Hard.

Senjian looked up at Wishbone with violet eyes. “I offer you a mercy of sorts,” he said, stroking Wishbone’s erection with one claw. “If you wish I will bind your cock so that you may not spill. I will give you the satisfaction you have earned after dinner. But if you spill before I do, I will punish you. Your choice, my pet.”

“There is no need to bind me,” said Wishbone, daring Senjian with a smile. “If my submission does not please you, then I hope that disciplining me will.”

Wishbone nearly regretted his decision when Senjian’s mouth closed on Wishbone’s erection. He forced his breathing and pulse to slow. Shih-aan did not find oral penetration submissive. They had fangs. Just as Wishbone felt himself settle into the rhythm of Senjian’s mouth, though, the shih-aan pulled back, sucked Wishbone’s balls into his mouth, and let the points of his fangs touch the scrotum.

Far away a bell rang. The sounds of the crew came through the portholes like echoes from another world.

Breathe, thought Wishbone. The sensation and the playful threat of violence, as always, sent trickles of sweat down Wishbone’s disheveled body and fire through his nerves. Then Senjian pulled back and focused all of his attention on the cock head, tirelessly swiping his tongue back and forth between the tiny hole and the tender spot just beneath. Wishbone’s eyes teared when the constant friction of Senjian’s tongue began to rasp his cockhead sore. He wept silently.

Senjian sat up and kissed Wishbone on the mouth once more, tasting the tears.

“Have I pleased you, Enshan?” asked Wishbone, breathless.

“Not yet,” said Senjian.

He held out a hand to bring Wishbone, erect and half-unclothed, to his feet. He slid Wishbone’s shirt off and eased the trousers down his hips so that he stood naked in the cabin’s miserly sunlight. Without needing to ask, Wishbone unbuttoned Senjian’s waistcoat and shirt, putting away each garment until the shih-aan also stood naked.

There was something vulnerable about Senjian unclothed. In Bronlyn he had taken care to hide the differences between his body and a human’s. There was no hair to the front of his body. Face and genitals were as smooth as a child’s, as were his armpits. But the muscle and heavier bones required to anchor his fangs and claws gave him more strength than any human. His long hair continued down his back as thick, dark mane. Where a human smelled more strongly about the armpits, shih-aan were muskier about the mane. Had Wishbone a shih-aan nose, the musk would have told him much about the naked shih-aan before him. It was Senjian’s scent, though, and that was all that Wishbone needed to know.

Senjian lay down on the bed and stretched so that his claws extended all the way, then arched his back while his heavy cock rose between his legs. The foreskin rolled back to reveal the wet tip. His dark, thick hair fanned out on the bed.

“Mount me,” said the shih-aan. “Once I have completed, so may you.”

Wishbone’s cock twitched. There was no handy jar of lubricant in sight. He might ask…

“May I use my mouth on you first, Anshan?” he asked, licking his upper lip with the tip of his tongue.

A half of a smile crooked Senjian’s mouth. “Do so,” he said.

Wishbone curled up next to Senjian on the bed. He kissed each hard nipple, then rested his cheek on Senjian’s belly while he let the hard, curved flesh slide down his throat. One of Senjian’s hands curled on Wishbone’s left buttock, and the smallest finger probed the opening between. Wishbone bobbed his head, gathering saliva in his mouth and spreading it with his tongue, then sat back on his haunches. Senjian’s thighs quivered.

The shih-aan was calm, in control, and oh-so-dominant, but never as much as he thought he was.

Wishbone knelt up astraddle Senjian and reached for the shaft. He brought the tip against his tight ring and held himself up as long as he could. Then, looking Senjian in the eye, he flexed his knees and let his weight sink down, impaling himself on the pole. Tossing his head back, Wishbone shuddered at the sweet sensation of being stroked from the inside.

Senjian’s eyes closed, and his lips formed a silent O while pleasure got its claws into him. Wishbone lifted himself then pushed down again, taking a little more of the length into the hot core of his body. One more long thrust, and Wishbone had it all the way inside. A dry-fuck didn’t hurt as much as Senjian seemed to think it should, not if Wishbone wanted it this much. Before Senjian, Wishbone hadn’t always the luxury of fine scented ointments to ease the heat.

Wishbone held very still, his fingers just touching Senjian’s chest, savoring the moment when it felt as if there were no boundary between their flesh, human and shih-aan intertwined. He started to rock with the ship’s motion. His strong thighs held him steady as he trailed his fingertips down Senjian’s torso, over and over, pausing each time to brush the shih-aan’s nipples. Wishbone’s erection, ignored, jutted between them. Senjian’s cock was curved exactly right to bump Wishbone’s prostate in this position, and Wishbone’s cock dripped from the constant pressure. The clear fluid made a sticky pool on Senjian’s belly.

Senjian’s head turned from side to side as if to escape from an excess of pleasure. Wishbone bent forward, kissing the shih-aan’s open mouth and pinning his wrists to the bed. He drew himself up and almost off Senjian’s cock with his wiry thighs, then eased back down, leaning forward so he could use his tongue to fuck the fanged mouth. Senjian’s legs flexed as Wishbone’s weigh denied him leverage. Wishbone ring squeezed Senjian as firmly as a hand. He adjusted his rhythm so that he squeezed in time with the thrusts.

Abruptly Senjian howled, back arched, hips slamming his cock into Wishbone over and over. Wishbone sucked on one of Senjian’s nipples while the spasms of Senjian’s climax diminished and he gasped for breath.

Unable to keep the smirk from his face, Wishbone sat up and asked, “May I spill, Enshan?”

Senjian groaned. His cock had not softened yet and still throbbed deep in Wishbone’s tender ring, though some of his fluids trickled out. He twisted his right wrist out from Wishbone’s grip and wrapped it around the erection, thumb pressing on the most sensitive part of the head.

“You may,” he said, tightening his grip.

Wishbone threw back his head and gasped. His ring spasmed. Impaled, his body shuddered with release, and his cock spurted all over Senjian’s chest.

“You know,” said Wishbone when Senjian’s cock finally slipped free of him, “You haven’t half the self-control you need for this game. You can’t deny yourself anything.” He kissed Senjian’s cheek. A splash of sunlight from one porthole warmed his back.

Senjian chuckled. “I’ve trained you too well.”

Circlet has served up a double-helping of superhero stories. Volume one is more about superheroes, and volume two about supervillains. You can buy the anthology here.

My story in the first anthology is called “The Double-Edged Bomb,” and it’s the closer.

Hm. Excerpt time? Yes!

The meta-humans had the ability to turn a man into slightly dirty water with their hands. Jamie had asked Phaze repeatedly if he had ever done so by accident, until he realized he was causing his lover so much pain that the answer was probably yes. If Jamie did not trust that he was safe in Phaze’s bed, then what was the point of him accepting Phaze’s invitation to be the first man to go there?

As for Jamie, he’d spent three years in the care of the soul-rapers of Homeland Security, and in the days after Phaze manumitted him from the camp, he could hardly piss unless someone ordered him to. It was too easy for them to hurt each other, and too important that they should not.

Jamie once had lovers who demanded the most strict equality in all sex acts. He had found their bed games ranged from boring to silly. After some experiments, Phaze had agreed. That left the question of how to manage the flow of power and pleasure between them, the sting of lust and the joy of surrender.

Now they giggled at the mock-seriousness of their made-up ritual. Jamie pulled the quarter out of the pocket of his jeans and held it up. It took no extra senses to watch Phaze change. His translucent skin shaded to pink under the candlelight; his breathing accelerated. Jamie rolled the coin between his fingers. He was always the one to toss it. Perhaps it didn’t protect the ritual from tampering, but they had drawn the line exactly there. It gave Jamie a couple of extra moments to tease Phase if he wanted. He was too impatient today, though, and tossed the quarter straight up. It fell on the bed, bounced once, and landed heads up.

“I can see your pupils dilate,” Jamie said to Phaze, feeling the strength of the mutual desire connecting them. “No, don’t look away. Straight at me. While you have the chance. You’ll have your face in my crotch when I fuck your mouth, then down in the covers when I have your ass.”

Phaze flinched. Jamie bit back a laugh. Phaze was easy enough about having any part of his body touched. It had never belonged to him. He had a stock part instead of a Social Security Number. If you wanted to embarrass him, touches didn’t work. But words did. Every time.

“Strip down,” ordered Jamie.

Phaze bowed his head, then pulled off his white T-shirt. The sculpted muscles of his torso emerged, stroked lightly by the candlelight. Jamie watched him brush his pale hair back into place. Then he sat down to unlaced his leather work boots and tucked them under a chair. His faded jeans followed, folded, with his underwear on top. Phaze knelt up on the bed, his wrists clasped at the back of his neck. The hair in his arm pits fanned out in the soft light. His heavy erection hung between his marbled thighs. The dusting of hair he did not remove caught the dim light along with the moisture at the tip of his cock where it showed his need for, his fascination with, the ordinary human who lounged against the pillows.

Jamie unbuttoned his own jeans and reached in to play with the head, teasing his cock with his hand the way he teased his mind with the way he treated Phaze. And folded behind that as the knowledge of what Phaze would do to him the next time the coin fell the other way. Phaze had no childhood, thus a fascination with anything that might speak to it. Like spanking. And he had a very heavy hand.

Phaze eyes followed Jamie’s hand inside his fly. His mouth opened with every appearance of hunger.

“Tell me what you want,” said Jamie.

Phaze said nothing.

“You want to play games?” asked Jamie. “Then get your clothes on and crawl on out of here.”

“I want your cock,” muttered Phaze.

“Oh yeah? What do you want to do with it?”

The corner of Phaze’s mouth twitched. “I want to suck your cock. Give it to me.”

“Manners.” Jamie had let the head peek out some time ago, and Phaze couldn’t keep his gaze off it.

“Please let me suck your cock,” said Phaze.

Then Phaze was lying across Jamie’s lap with is lips wrapped around that fat head, all hard and velvet between his lips. Jamie’s hips moved, and he forced more and more of the shaft down Phaze’s throat. Phaze’s body moved as it relearned, as it did every time, that this form of penetration was not merely tolerable but arousing. Jamie stroked his hair, the back of his neck, and his lips where the shaft disappeared into Phaze’s mouth.

This was a very strange, but interesting story. Honestly, I probably would have skipped it had I known it was set in a historical-like setting. In spite of that, I found myself enjoying the main character, Wishbone, and learning more about the Shih-aan species introduced here. I would recommend this book to people who enjoy historical and paranormal themes.

Wishbone is at the same time classic and innovative. It’s classic where it retells the story of Pygmalion, or My Fair Lady, or Pretty Woman (see how many time it was told?): a wealthy and cultured man picks a filthy whore from the streets and teaches him how to behave. It’s innovative since, what the wealthy man teaches to the whore it’s a totally different thing from the usual lessons on good manners or polished language, but is instead the power you have in surrendering.

The collection starts off with “When Angles Fall”, by Helen E. H. Madden, a sexy and endearing science fiction story about how one man’s upbringing in a religious “cult” effects how he deals with his dying mother and the future that she leaves him.

One of my favorite stories was Tom Cardamone’s, “Royal Catamite”. It is a wonderful erotic story that pushes the taboo buttons of underage sex and incest, in a way that only Tom can do.

We now live in an era of ebooks and genetic engineering, instant messaging and cybersex, gender reassignment and gay marriage. The world has matured and many of the fantastic imaginings of Circlet’s authors have become familiar facts. In the second decade of the twenty first century, Circlet is still delivering some of the best speculative erotica available—appropriately in electronic form. Wired Hard 4 is a splendid example.

The eight stories in this collection are remarkably diverse. They are unified, first, by their raw sexual energy, and second, by the intimate mingling of human with other: machine, robot, animal, vampire, or god. Xan West’s lyrical introduction points out that most of these tales deal with transformations. Sex here is more than an avenue of pleasure. It is the gateway to new and different selves.

Edit: Ok, now all the url’s are fixed.

Wishbone Cover

My first novel-length work to hit publication is now available from Torquere Books.

This calls for an excerpt. Why look. Here’s one now.

Tonner was awake when Wishbone knocked on his door.

“You look like you’ve had a night to remember,” said the burly sail-maker.

Wishbone staggered theatrically inside the tiny room and fell back on the bed.

Tonner laughed, but softly. The walls were thin between apartments, and not everyone would have awakened yet. “Would you like some tea while you tell me about it?”

“Please.”

Tonner poured two cracked ceramic mugs and handed one to Wishbone.

The sail-maker had close-set eyes, broad shoulders and a broken nose. He allowed Wishbone to sleep in his bed during the day in exchange for certain favors. One of them was a narrative of the previous evening’s adventures.

Wishbone stared at the water-stained ceiling. “I went up the Hill and got fucked senseless by a shih-aan.”

“By the Unnamed Gods, Wishbone,” Tonner sputtered into his tea. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about this week’s hush money.”

“I’d have loaned you the coin.”

“That’s very sweet of you, but I know you don’t have any coin to speak of. If you did, you wouldn’t be re-using those tea leaves.”

“Well, there’s truth to what you say,” Tonner admitted. “You survived. Tell me all about it. I heard that shih-aan have great big spikes on their yards.”

Wishbone opened his mouth and hesitated. The truth seemed unreal now. At the same time, his feelings were so tangled that he wasn’t sure he wanted to share it with anyone. He felt cheated that the shih-aan had given him no moment of sweet weakness to savor, and Sir’s body remained a clothed mystery. So he made up a tale in which all the usual perversions were indulged, where he’d ridden a cock (unspiked) instead of a fist, and that of prodigious size indeed to account for how sore he was.

“Certainly too sore for another ride this morning,” he concluded.

“You must be dead,” said Tonner. “I’ll call a priest.”

“I’m serious!”

“It’d be the first time. Now be good and turn over.”

Tonner’s cock wasn’t that long, but it was thick. Wishbone winced at first at the friction in his well-used ring, but soon found himself struggling as always to take Tonner’s meaty thing further in while he worked his own cock with one spit-slicked hand. He arched his back and bit the bedclothes to muffle his cries. The spilling, though, was a pale echo of the one given by the shih-aan. Probably Wishbone was just tired. He pulled up his trousers, and something fell from the pocket.

“What’s that?” asked Tonner as he settled his own clothes.

“A bonus for a job well done.” He picked up the comb. It appeared to have been carved from a golden seashell. The ripples in it fascinated the eye and pleased the hand. A graduated series of purple stones were set along the back so that they caught the light. “They left me alone long enough to search through some drawers, and I found this on the bottom where it might not be missed.” He offered it to Tonner. “Looks like a better prize than the tin ring I lifted last week.”

Tonner took the comb in his hand, then dropped it and backed away. His eyes opened wide. “That thing is cursed.”

“This?” Wishbone picked up the comb again. He felt nervous when he closed his fingers on it, but that was entirely reasonable given that he’d stolen it.

“I don’t know how you can stand to touch it,” said Tonner, “But I want it out of the apartment immediately.”

“Can it wait until after I’ve slept?” asked Wishbone. He was in a hurry to move the comb as well, but Davvy wouldn’t have his booth open until much later.

Tonner shifted from foot to foot. “I’ll allow that,” he said finally. “But I want it gone. Now I’ve got to open the shop.”

“Hold up.” Wishbone fished in his purse for a crescent. “Buy us some new tea, hm?”