Come Shots

On Lust Bites today, Olivia Knight is talking orgasms.

Here are a few come shots.

Here’s Alfie, wolfing out in Book 1: The Silver Collar, where he’s chained down for safety and his orgasms make him change into a wolf.

Leather felt something like flesh in his mouth. He pulled at the chains again, harder, bursting with the need to get free. To flex himself. To run and rip and bite and fight. He was coming and he was changing. He heard himself roar and at the same time saw the speed of Leon’s reflexes as he sprang backwards off the bed, pulling Pearl with him.

Here’s Alfie again in Book 2: The Silver Crown, coming and changing without restraints to protect Iris

Perhaps it was all the other stuff going on. Perhaps. As Alfie reached down and pushed his way inside Iris, he tried not to notice Blake watching them. He concentrated on taking his weight on his arms and trying to keep most of it off Iris’s back – Iris was strong for her size, but he was a big man. As he moved and let his body overtake, he started to lose most of his rational thought anyway. The wolf was coming. He was coming. The wolf was coming. So soon.

When Blake shouted, ‘Fuck, Iris! Fuck.’ Alfie, in his wolf-addled state thought Blake was urging him on, but then the door clanged as Blake slammed it open. Alfie felt Blake’s metal clipboard hit him in the face, but he was on the edge of the change then and it was just one sensation in the midst of many.

Finally, here’s Iris, melancholic with Blake in Book 3: The Silver Cage

Iris swallowed hard and drew her fingers over her clit. Spelling out her name again. I R I S – I N S T A S I – F O X – T A B E R N A C L E. She stared into Blake’s eyes, barely finishing the last letter of his last name as she started to come.

But this is my absolute favourite come shot. From Me, When I’m with You in H is for Hardcore ed Alison Tyler

*

You don’t say anything. You lower yourself onto the floor. I don’t know quite how you manage it with your wrists cuffed. Maybe just sheer force of will. I look at your arse. Your hands curled in the small of your back. Your hips move. Start to pump. It’s just bare floorboards under you. You must be so sensitive. It must hurt, but the way you’re moaning suddenly, it must be working too. You’re fucking the floor and moaning like you’re inside a lover. Like you’re inside me.

Fast and frantic suddenly, you move like you’ve lost it. Maybe you think I might tell you to stop at any moment. Maybe I will. No. No, I won’t. I want to see you come like this. You must know that. If you thought about it you’d work that out.

Your head goes back and your pump your hips hard and roar and scream. God, that was quick. I’m disappointed. But then I think about what you’ve just done and I almost come myself. You just fucked the floor to get yourself off.

I can’t believe you just did that. I’ve never wanted you – anyone – so much my whole fucking life. I want to roll you over. I want to straddle your chest and rub my crotch against your hard nice abs until I come myself. I want to twist my fingers in your hair and pull your head up and make you look me in the eye. I want you to know that I just watched you do that. And that I got off hard on it. I want to get down on the floor and lick your come up myself and push it down your throat with my tongue. I want to hurt you and kiss you, write on you. I want to lock you in a cage and starve you. Sometimes I don’t know what I am or what you’ve made of me. I want to watch you dying. I want to stare at your mouth forever.

End of Days

I’m finishing the end of the last werebook today. It’s been a year. It’s the end of an era.

This book contains a flashback to Iris and Alfie’s first time. So here’s a tiny snippet from  the last book. No spoilers.

*

Alfie lined himself up as Iris lay back down. He slid inside so easily. She was so wet, but even so, his cock was big enough to make her catch her breath. Alfie moved inside her. ‘Oh god, Iris. I’ve always wanted… Never knew… I’m in-fucking-love with you, Iris. It’s the wrong time to say it I know. Too soon, whilst fucking. Double wrong. But, oh god, it’s true. I just want this to be it. I just want forever. Uh. Oh god. Never want this to end.’

Iris clenched her muscles, hugging his cock. The waves of how he moved inside her were ripples of pleasure.

Alfie moaned as she moved. ‘Oh god. That feels amazing.’ He thrust a little harder then, making her moan in turn as he found spots inside her that made her see stars.

‘That’s like… explosions,’ Iris moaned, not caring whether or not she made real sense.

In return she gripped Alfie’s cock and twisted on it. Overwhelming him with sensation. Taking charge of him, or every part of him. He moaned, mouth open, head shaking as he began to come.

Iris whispered, ‘You’re not the only one who has fantasies about control.’

Peep Show

Over at Lust Bites today, Alison Tyler is talking about voyeurism, name checking and giving away my first ever novel Peep Show in a whole bundle of lovely books about watching and being watched.

Hop over there and comment to be entered in the draw.

But first here’s an extract from Peep Show.

*

Sometimes I just have to meet Christian for lunch out of pure desperation. I send up a smoke signal, in the form of a plaintive text message, and he appears, riding over the hill to whisk me away from Elaine or Frank or whatever else it is that is making me try and slash my wrists with a broken CD ROM.

Mondays, in particular, can be such a painful desert for the soul, especially after a pure oasis-of-bliss weekend – like the one I’ve just had. And today it just so happens that Christian is positively gagging for a pair of blue-black jeans that he saw in Arena Homme Plus, so it’s a-Arndale-Centring we will go.

Now I’m really rather pleased about this, because while there are good ways to spend a lunch hour and there are great ways to spend a lunch hour, the ultimate way to spend a lunch hour really has to be hanging around the changing rooms of Jigsaw for Men.

So hang around I do, while Christian tries on pair after pair of seemingly identical trousers – all identically tight – which I’m certainly not complaining about, in fact, it’s all I can do not to literally jump for joy.

It’s quite quiet in the shop. The Christmas frenzy hasn’t hit weekday afternoons just yet, which is good, no officious assistants worrying about the nonchalant way I’m wandering in and out of the thrilling male changing area, pretending to be bringing Christian cute little tops to try with his jeans, while I check out all the eye candy on the shop floor and hope that some of the cuter prospects will decide to try a few things on in the curtained off chambers of delight.

Christian’s just about to wriggle into the third or fourth of the tight little numbers he grabbed off the rails. I know this for sure because I was the one who pulled his curtain behind him, so it’s gaping just right – just enough for me to lean back against the wall in the changing rooms’ corridor and let my eyes dance over the place where his brown caramel crème skin meets his snowy white underpants (yes, underpants today – a must for trying on new trousers).

Saturday night’s phone conversation is still playing over and over in my mind on an endless loop, like some infectious pop song – but much more enjoyable! So, as Christian bends over, I can’t help imagining Dark_Knight’s black silk voice talking of spankings, and punishment, and muffled cries for mercy going unheeded, and I have to stifle a moan.

Well, I almost stifle it.

In the cubicle Christian looks up, spotting me through the deliberate gap in the curtain. He smiles and rolls his eyes, before looking away again, glancing down to fiddle with his fly.

And that’s when I notice something out of the corner of my eye (because sometimes it really is like a sixth sense). I only see a vague shadow of something, a masked shape, a fleeting movement – just a hint, but just enough. And I’m drawn instantly, like a very perverted moth to a very kinky flame.

There’s someone up to something that isn’t fashion based, in the final cubicle right down the end of the little row. In fact, and this is the key factor, I’m pretty sure that the someone is, in fact, two someones.

I slink down the aisle, super silent where it counts, and slip into one of the last cubicles on the opposite side of the corridor from my quarry. I draw the curtain closed behind me, quick and quiet.

A furtive exploration of different viewing angles easily reveals the one in which I can best see through the chink in my curtain and the little gap in theirs – right into a secret den.

And oh, sixth sense indeed – I am so very right.

Two blond men: entwined in blissful pursuit and blissfully unaware of me. One is half standing/half leaning, propped against the warm, honey-beige painted wall with open mouth and open fly. The other is pressed up hard against him, with a hand snaking into his partner’s trousers, as he crushes their mouths together – fast and hot and slow and cool.

Their long denim covered thighs are pressed together, the more dominant man bearing down on his submitting counterpart, forcing him harder and harder against the wall behind them, and parting his compliant legs with one hard limb. It’s a very, very pretty kiss, and I watch it for a long while, as their mouths melt and slide around on each other like strawberry ice cream on a blistering hot day.

And after a forever of artful teasing and muffled pleading, top guy pulls out of the kiss, laughing into the bruised mouth and flirting with the darting tongue, that tries to chase and recapture his lips, but just isn’t fast enough.

And in a moment Mr In-Charge is sinking to his knees and I’m thinking – excellent, a blow job. But he’s thinking something else, which quickly becomes clear, when reaches up and grabs his partner by the waistband, forcefully turning him around.

The standing guy is facing the wall now, and he braces himself against it – quite visibly shaking with need – as his kneeling partner helps him out of his already unfastened jeans. He’s not wearing any underwear, which I’m getting so used to as a look, I barely raise an eyebrow.

Kneeling man looks around, a quick furtive glance to check they’re alone. I hold my breath, praying I’m well enough hidden in the fold of slate blue cotton around me, and that there are no strange angles in this hall of mirrors that are going to betray me when I least expect it. I get lucky, it appears. Kneeler finishes his surveillance sweep unawares, and turns back to his partner and the beautiful tight globes of his waiting arse.

Then I watch, dazed and bemused, as a pair of smooth, buttocks are lovingly parted and a warm wet mouth – and a warm rough tongue – meltingly caress a dark little anus.

The man, the standing man, the one receiving this delicious mouth work, is so very blatantly turned on. I can clearly see his taut t shirt stretched over his equally taut nipples, which are so hard that, instead of being a normal kind of ruby-cherry colour, they are almost white – pinched and painful.

Slowly, a languorous, lascivious rimming master class unfolds before my wide stretched eyes. Knees buckle, and are quickly helped by supportive arms, before they give way. Lips part, and are quickly stoppered by hasty knuckles, before they cry out. Firm fists close around firm cocks. Moistened fingertips slide into moistened knickers.

I’m leaning against the wall in my own cubicle, and out of the corner of my eye I can see myself reflected in the full length mirror, cheeks flushed, eyes alight. In the mirror in the men’s cubicle I can see their reflection too, another angle on their tableau of expertly measured erotic friction.

I slide my middle finger back and forth over my hot and bothered clit. As the gentle tongue strokes get deeper and the mutual masturbation rises and rises to a muffled crescendo, I find my sweet and perfect rhythm and join them at the peak…and we all go over the top together.

And I’m barely even coming down when I find Christian at my elbow, a branded carrier bag swinging from his elbow and a knowing grin plastered across his face. Silently he takes my hand and leads me, still dazed, out of the shop and onto and escalator and into the strange open calmness of the Food Court.

*

Buy Peep Show UK::US

Werewolves will be resumed as soon as possible

The Silver Collar: Chapter One

1. Saturday June 1st 1996

‘Iris, when you asked if I’d help out on a saucy photo shoot involving you and your twin this wasn’t what I had in mind.’

Iris smiled. ‘Yeah, yeah, stop complaining and get your clothes off.’

Alfie took off his jacket – brown leather, nicely beaten up – and held it out. Iris took it and watched while he started to unbutton his shirt. He wore that particular shirt – or one like it – a lot. It was pale blue. The material was a kind of textured cotton that Iris knew was unbelievably soft and delicious to touch. All her memories were woven into that fabric. Usually this shade of blue against his skin made it look beautiful – sweet as caramel. But tonight, he was more than just beautiful. Beyond. It was dark, the moon was out, and the skin Alfie was revealing – as he popped button after button – shimmered. Like magic.

Alfie shivered. ‘Why am I doing this, again?’

”Cause you’re a nice guy.’

‘Oh, am I now. Seriously, it’s cold out here. Why am I doing this? Why am I stripping off in a park in the middle of the night?’ He’d got all the buttons undone now and he let the shirt fall off his shoulders and bunch at his elbows. Iris glanced away for a moment and when she looked back, he was smirking. ‘Well?’

‘Well what?’

‘Aren’t you listening to me? What could be distracting you? Could it possibly be my half-naked self? I said, “why am I doing this?”‘

‘You’re doing this because I asked you nicely. And Matt’s my twin which did funny stuff to your perverted brain.’

‘When you told me that I did think you meant, like, a girl twin.’

‘I know.’ Iris smiled, looking at him. She couldn’t stop looking at him. ‘Well you have the right kind of look for his photographs. I mean, your arms, for example, you have nice arms.’ Iris reached out and nearly touched his bicep, but stopped before her fingers made contact. She noticed Alfie looking at her hand hovering in mid-air. Iris pulled it away.

‘You’re wrong,’ Alfie said quietly. ‘Those are all reasons. But they aren’t the real reason why I’m doing this. And you know that.’

Iris held his gaze.

From beyond the trees Matt shouted. ‘Are you done yet? I’m all set up here.’

Alfie shouted back, ‘Is it just shirtless? You don’t want me to take my jeans off?’ And he looked Iris right in the eye as he spoke, so it felt exactly as if he was asking her how naked he should be.

Matt shouted back, ‘Nah. Keep them on for now.’

‘Okay, I’ll just be a minute.’

Alfie always wore a silver ring on the little finger of his left hand. It used to be his grandmother’s eternity ring. When he brought his hand up and touched Iris’s cheek, the ring glittered in the moonlight. ‘I’m doing this for you, Iris, because you wanted me to.’

Iris nodded.

‘And I’m doing it because it means I get to spend time with you. I wanted to talk to you. Alone.’

When he said that, Iris pulled away from his hand, ‘Alfie…’

‘Iris, I’m sorry, please, can’t we give it another go? You and me, we were really something together. I know I messed up. I know I messed up really, really badly. I wish I could say that I didn’t know what I was doing or that it was a moment of madness. But it wasn’t. It was a moment of stupidity. But, Iris, I am so, so sorry and if I could turn back time or something, god, but… Please, Iris, give me one more chance and I promise I will never, ever do anything to hurt you again. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll make it up to you every single day.’

Iris dropped his gaze and looked down at the ground. It was wetland out here – a flood plain. The ground was really boggy and her shoes were filthy.

‘Please Iris. You did say you liked my arms.’

Iris swallowed. ‘Okay,’ she said, quietly.

‘Yes! God. Thank you.’ Alfie darted forward – a sudden hurricane of desire. He whirled Iris around so she was pressed up against a tree; the bark patterning her skin through her thin coat. His mouth was so tight, so hard on hers. His big bare chest was hot and smooth even through her clothes. Her feet were off the ground.

Her answering passion was every bit as strong, every bit as relieved. She ran her hands over the back of his head and twisted her fingers in his hair in a way that always used to make him gasp and cry out in bed.

Then – too soon – a voice right beside them said, ‘For goodness sake, are the model and the costume girl making out already? Put her down, Alfie.’

Iris opened one eye. Matt was all head-cocked, arms-crossed, foot-a-tapping.

She really didn’t care.

*

A little later Matt had Alfie posed sprawled across a fallen tree trunk. He was on his back. He’d got his eyes closed and one hand resting on his flat stomach. Matt was trying to persuade him to undo the first couple of buttons of his jeans so he could slip his hand inside and touch himself a little.

Alfie opened one eye, ‘What sort of photos are these?’

‘It’s art, darling,’ said Matt. ‘Classy. Black and white.’

‘Oh go on, Alfie,’ Iris called. She’d climbed up a tree a little way away and was nestled in its branches, watching. Basking in her own happy little glow. She caught Alfie’s eye. ‘Just touch it, model boy,’ she shouted.

‘Not you too,’ Alfie called, tipping his head back to look up at her. ‘Is this a perversion that runs in the family, then?’

Iris shouted back an affirmative and Alfie laughed. She and Matt had talked about the plans for this shoot. She knew a few things that Alfie didn’t yet. Like Matt’s prop bag containing oil and ropes and a blindfold. Matt had shown her a picture he referred to as ‘inspiration’, of a beautiful half-naked man tied to a tree in the moonlight. As she thought about Matt recreating that image with Alfie, she squirmed a little against the bark. God, he looked amazing down there. The fallen tree, his skin, the moonlight on him. Alfie. His eyes were still on hers. They were both still laughing.

And then she looked over at Matt. And she saw it. A dark shape in the trees. Huge. Moving. Prowling through the long grass and bushes behind him. Some kind of animal.

She screamed. Then they all screamed.

There was a noise as it attacked. A growl. A snarl. A roar. The place where Matt had been standing was shadowy. Too dark. Hidden by trees. Iris couldn’t see. But she could hear. And all she could hear was Matt screaming.

Then there was a flash. Matt’s camera. Suddenly Iris saw everything. A frozen image. Jaws. Claws. Fur. Blood and bone. Matt’s face hardly a face at all.

And then the light was gone and Iris’s couldn’t see anything at all.

Noises. The creature was running away through the park, startled, dragging something: Matt.

‘Stay there. Don’t come down. Stay up there.’ It was Alfie shouting.

‘Alfie! No!’ Iris’s voice sounded strange.

Alfie was already running away from her in the direction the creature had taken Matt. ‘Stay there,’ he shouted again.

‘What are you going to do?’

Alfie didn’t respond and didn’t look back. Iris had no intention of staying in the tree and started to climb down. As she climbed she peered into the dark, trying to see what was happening. But Alfie had disappeared into darkness. She could hear him shouting though. And some screaming. Matt screaming. And then Alfie. And then nothing.

As soon as she got both feet on the ground, she saw Alfie running back towards her.

He grabbed her wrist as he ran, pulling her along behind him, heading out of the park and away from where the creature had gone with Matt. She only just managed to keep her footing as he yanked her over the pitted ground.

‘What about Matt?’

Alfie didn’t stop moving, but he sort of half turned so he was running sideways and part-way looking at her. ‘It’s just… He’s…’

Iris turned to look in the direction the animal had dragged Matt. ‘Don’t,’ Alfie shouted, ‘don’t look back.’

Iris turned. Alfie had his back to her, running and dragging her with him. It was then that Iris saw his naked left shoulder was covered in blood.

With Alfie’s big hand tight on her wrist, Iris ran with him through the park. Eventually they hit the quiet little residential street that led from the parks up to Marston road. It was late evening. The street was quiet. Alfie leant up against a street light for support, bent double, breathing hard. ‘Iris…’

In the circle orange light, Iris could see him properly.

The wound on his shoulder was more than a tear. There was a gap there. A missing hunk of his flesh. The raw meat of his shoulder was glinting orange and red under the street lamp. His back was covered in blood now.

A huge chunk of his flesh was actually gone. Bitten away.

Alfie fell right down onto the sodium-lit pavement, half unconscious.

*

Another excerpt over on Lust Bites today. Plus comment there to win copies of The Silver Collar and more.

Buy The Silver Collar on Amazon UK. (USA pre-order – released Dec)

Lilith

Alfie followed Lilith down the scrunching gravel path. When they got inside the cover of the trees Alfie casually took off his shoes, shirt, jeans and underwear. He folded them all up in a neat little bundle and tucked it under some tree roots.

Lilith was staring at him. ‘You ever thought of modelling?’

Alfie squinted at her for a second, then bent to pick up the little canvas bag that contained the collar. ‘Not after what happened last time.’

Lilith eyed Alfie’s behind. ‘Shame. You should consider it. We don’t really do anything at the C and C, but some covens do a nice line in merchandise. Calendars, stuff like that. I can see you as werewolf hunk o’ the month. I think Mr April.’ Her tongue flicked over her lips. ‘You’d look good wet.’

Alfie shook his head.

‘Wuss. And do you need to be carrying that scrappy bag? It does ruin the whole kind of manslut image I wanted for you.’

‘I need the bag. Also, not a man.’

Leon

‘Yep,’ Leon said, striding in through the kitchen door with an armful of chocolate bars, ‘we’re all going to be good little weredogs. For daddy.’

‘Where’ve you been, man?’ Zac said.

‘”Sire”,’ Leon growled. ‘C’mon, Zac, you’ve got to do it properly. “Where have you been, sire?”‘

Alfie rolled his eyes as Zac parroted back, ‘Where have you been, sire?’

‘Newsagents up the road. I got these. Need the calories, don’t I. Lycan metabolism.’ He tipped the chocolates on to the table. ‘Also, I think daddy dearest is going to have to make me cub of the year.’

Alfie made a face. ‘What?’

‘Guess who I met while I was out? Only a cute nurse. Pearl, her name is. I told her all about you, well, all about your mangled eyeball, anyway; I’d have been there all day if I’d gone into full details about what a prize tit you are.’

Alfie snarled low, but didn’t react anymore than that.

Misty

Misty was standing at the open front door, dressed in a long black PVC raincoat. ‘Oh, Alfie, babe. I’m glad you’re still on the loose,’ she said, ‘could you give me a hand with the cage.’

Alfie nodded. He picked up the cage sitting in the hall and stepped out into the rain. His shirt was open a couple of buttons and, as he slid the cage on to the back seat, he noticed the taxi driver was looking at the collar. He couldn’t resist playing up to what he knew the guy was thinking.

As Misty came down the steps he said, ‘Have you got someone to help you with the cage at the other end, Mist-tress?’

Misty gave him a slight frown, ‘Ye-es?’

Trying not to smirk, Alfie dropped to his knees on the wet pavement and kissed the toes of Misty’s high-heeled boots. ‘Would you like me to lick the dungeon floor clean while you’re gone, Mistress?’

‘Oh, stop it, babe,’ Misty said, pulling her foot away and laughing.

‘Can I pleasure myself with a dildo after I’ve locked myself in the cage tonight, Mistress?’

‘Alfie! Not fucking funny.’

Alfie

Iris, kissing Iris. One time he’d taken her out in a punt. Pure Oxford tourist nonsense. But she’d looked so beautiful sitting there, while he powered the boat, by dipping the long pole into the water.

She’d said it had turned her on. Seeing him do that. Something about the pole. They’d found a place to moor the boat and just lain together kissing for hours. He missed kissing for hours. Kissing Iris for hours.

Oxford. Vix. He’d have to see her. He could sense her right now. Out there in the city. He’d been able to sense her since they got off the train at Oxford station.

He moved his palm against his cock a couple more times then forced himself to break off and take it a little slower. Iris. The punt. Pushing her T shirt up to her neck and biting her nipples. He ran his palm over his own hard chest once or twice. His hips thrust up into empty air and then the tease was almost too much. Fuck. Fuck! The wolf always did this too him.

Pinning Iris down in the bottom of the boat. Some water had splashed in from somewhere and they were both getting wet. He’d touched her through her jeans, made her buck just from that. They were so young then. Early twenties. Not a care.

He’d gone to fuck her and she’d said, ‘No. I want to see it. On me, not in me.’ And she’d touched herself while he did the same, coming over her little tits and making her moan – a little of it splattering over the side of the punt into the Thames.

Iris

Iris was noticing the gun far less than Alfie’s warm muscular chest pressed against her back or his big arm, tight around her waist.

‘Iris,’ he pressed his face into the angle of her neck and shoulder, licking the sensitive skin there. ‘You’re the one who wants it.’ He said against her spine.

‘Wants what?’ Iris’s voice cracked as she let her head fall back. Alfie buried his head tighter into her flesh and nipped at her skin. Then she was twirling around in his arms, he was pushing her back against a tree. He was kissing her again.

‘We have to be quick,’ he said, almost as part of the kiss. You can’t take the collar off me until afterwards and you have to take it off before…’

‘The moon’ll kill you,’ Iris said, talking into his hair as he moved down her body, his teeth and lips and tongue everywhere.

‘Yes,’ said Alfie. ‘So quick.’ He wrenched her trousers down, lifted her, used the tree for extra support and practically seemed to set her down on his cock.

Iris jerked. Too much, too soon. ‘Alfie!’

But Alfie’s hands were there on her clit. Those fingers again. Those fingers that had made her come so many times. He was supporting her with the tree, with the angle of his body. Her feet were off the floor. The hand that wasn’t jammed down between their bodies he brought up and touched her face. Then he pushed two of his big fingers into her mouth. Filling her there too. In. Out. Stopping her cries as her orgasm began to rush fast towards her. He held her then. Found her tipping point, her edge and held her on it, stilling his cock inside her, his thumb on her clit, his two big fingers fucking her mouth. Iris shuddered, waiting for her moment.