New Release! The Eyes of Bast by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #ShapeShifter #ParanormalRomance #Curse #Sorceress #BlackCat #NewYorkCity #TheDakota #FatedMates #SoulMates #UrbanFantasy #BlackMagic

by | May 16, 2023 | | 1 Comment

Blurb

When instinct tells Shaina to visit the feral cat trap she’s set in Central Park, she listens to that inner voice. The sleek black cat she finds has a terrible secret. Tom is an unwilling shape shifter, cursed by a sorceress who craved a human plaything. Shaina vows to defeat the vicious but seductive witch and save the man she believes is her soul mate—though it might mean losing him forever.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/4072-the-eyes-of-bast-/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C4LVYDLH

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0C4LVYDLH

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1390042

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-eyes-of-bast-lisabet-sarai/1121761796?ean=2940166056207

Kobo  – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-eyes-of-bast-2

Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6448929321

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/150375804-the-eyes-of-bast

*****

Excerpt

By the time we emerged from the theater, dusk was near. We parted at the subway, she heading downtown, me heading up. The train was crowded with people dressed up for the evening. Everyone seemed so cheerful. I couldn’t help but smile.

I slipped my key into the front door of my building, thinking about ordering Chinese for dinner. All at once, I heard someone call my name. I glanced around. Aside from an old woman walking her golden retriever, the sidewalk was empty.

Weird. But then it had been a weird twenty-four hours.

Go check the old elm.

I swear, the voice was clear as crystal in my mind. Lack of sleep, I told myself. Or stress. The cage is still in my apartment. There won’t be anything there. But the urge to go back just wouldn’t let go.

Trust your instincts. With a sigh, I turned and headed for the park, pulling my mace out of my purse as I walked.

The sky was still light enough for me to see shapes and shadows, even under the trees. As I’d expected, the area beneath the elm was empty, the grass trampled from my previous visit. Of course, no cats revealed themselves. If there were ferals around, they’d be hiding in the underbrush, wary of my scent and the sounds I made, despite my attempts to move quietly.

Tom wasn’t afraid of me. The thought made me ache. He’d been such a gorgeous, affectionate cat. I hoped he was okay.

“Hello.” The voice was male, low and throaty. I jumped and whirled around.

A man stood behind me, a fairly young man with sleek, dark skin and a wide, shy smile. Although his body appeared to be fit and muscular, he held himself in an awkward manner, as if he had some subtle handicap. His arms hung at his sides, his hands clenching and unclenching as though he didn’t quite know what to do with them.

I gripped my mace more tightly. He didn’t appear at all threatening, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

“Um—what are you doing here?”

“Nothing, nothing…” He shrugged and scratched the curly black locks that covered his head. “I heard your voice. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

Had I spoken aloud? I returned his smile, still uncertain whether I should trust him. “I’m fine. Just taking a walk.”

“It’s not safe here after dark, you know.”

His earnest tone made me chuckle. I held up the can of mace. “I can take care of myself.”

Worry furrowed his high forehead. “That won’t help against some of the things that come out at night.”

A chill shot through me. I shook it away. “I was just headed home anyway.”

“Good. You should be careful.” His smile returned, melting my last vestiges of suspicion. He pronounced his English with a precision that made me wonder if he spoke something else as his native language. It wasn’t exactly an accent, but I could tell he wasn’t a native New Yorker.

“What about you?”

“Oh, I know my way around here,” he answered. He ran his fingers through his curls and arched his back a bit, as though stretching. Despite that odd awkwardness, he was lithe and graceful. A brief pang of desire shot through me. “And I have excellent night vision. Exceptionally sharp hearing too.”

I couldn’t figure out why, but something about him felt familiar. “Have we met before?” I asked then cringed, realizing it sounded like a pick-up line. “I mean…um… I don’t mean…” Hot blood climbed into my cheeks, though the shadows were probably too dense for him to detect my discomfort.

His bold laugh rang out in the growing darkness. “Maybe we have met,” he said. “I live in the neighborhood. Do you?”

“Pretty close,” I answered, alarm bells sounding in my head. No matter how handsome and charming he was, I wasn’t about to give him my address.

“Well, then, you never know. You said you were heading home. May I walk with you?”

“Um… Actually…”

He took my arm without waiting for my permission.

His touch stopped me cold. It drove out rational thought. As if someone had turned on a faucet, hormones poured into my blood. My nipples tensed and my lower lips grew plump and slick. Fire tipped the fingers resting on my bare forearm. I gasped, staring up in wonder at his strong, even features, overcome by his imminent maleness.

I wanted to stretch out in the grass and pull him down on top of me. I was dying to feel his weight on my chest, his hardness probing between my thighs. Skin on skin was what I craved, with an urgency I’d never experienced in my all my twenty-eight years.

His nostrils flared and I knew he’d caught the ocean scent rising from my sex. I could smell it myself. My saturated panties and jeans were no barrier. He grinned, revealing teeth so white they gleamed in the twilight gloom. I shuddered with need, imagining those teeth tearing my flesh, and stumbled on the gravel path.

“Are you all right?” he asked. He released his grasp to search my face, concern evident in his eyes. The blaze raging through my body subsided slightly.

“Ah… I think so. I’m dizzy…” I wasn’t lying. The world swung around us, tree canopies whirling overhead. Gradually, the universe settled back into place. My heart rate fell to something close to normal. My nipples still ached for contact, though. My clit pulsed, the seam of my jeans kindling sparks every time I moved. “I’ve… I’ve got to go.”

I started down the path, forcing myself to move away from him and his perilous magnetism. It might have been the most difficult thing I’d ever done.

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

*****

GIVEAWAY!

You could win a $25 bookstore gift certificate. To enter, just complete a short survey. (Only four questions!)

https://forms.gle/TFvmc9ZegEn4RuJr5

If you’re a member of Lisabet’s email list, your entry will count twice! Not a member? Join here:

https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

New Release! Opening Night by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #G&S #Ruddigore #GayRomance #MMRomance #London #Theater #VictorianEra #AlternativeHistory

by | Mar 10, 2023 | | 1 Comment

Blurb

It’s January 1887, a few days before the opening of the audacious new operetta “Ruddigore”. As if librettist William Gilbert doesn’t have enough to worry about, one of the D’Oyly Carte stars breaks his leg doing the horn pipe. Fortunately, the understudy Frank Wilson turns out to be immensely talented, as well as devilishly handsome. Wilson has set his heart on Gilbert – and he’s not going to be swayed from his course.

Buy Links

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BXCJVLC1

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0BXCJVLC1

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1354766

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/opening-night-lisabet-sarai/1143156836?ean=2940166025562

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/opening-night-17

Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6445998898

Add on Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/123174847-opening-night

*****

Excerpt:

Opening night was tomorrow, and everyone seemed to be eager and ready. So why did he feel so weighed down, so anxious and exhausted?

It was past ten when a knock woke him from a doze that must have crept up on him despite the fear of nightmares. “Yes, who is it?”

His visitor didn’t wait to be invited in. “It’s me, William. It’s Frank.”

Gilbert bolted upright, anger providing him with sudden energy.  Red boiled behind his eyelids. “What are you doing here? I can’t have you here. Get out, this instant.”

The younger man shut the door. He sidled over in Gilbert’s direction. Gilbert backed away. “I needed to see you, William.  To talk to you, about the other afternoon. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.”

“Never mind. Just go away now. Please, go away.”

“I apologize for being so rude, so insensitive.  I’ve been wanting you so long, it just seemed natural to say it. To show you. I should have realized how new this would be for you, how shocking.” With theatrical grace, Wilson glided to his knees in front of Gilbert, his head bowed. “Forgive me, please.”

Gilbert gazed down at Frank’s golden curls, gleaming in the harsh electric light. He smelled the man’s floral cologne. Damn, his heart was beating like thunder, and there was an uncomfortable tightness in his crotch. Damn, damn, damn.

“Get up,” he said gruffly. “Show a bit of self-respect, Wilson.”

“Not until I hear you say that I’m forgiven.”

“Fine, fine, I forgive you, now get up and go.”

Gilbert didn’t understand how he did it, but all at once Frank was standing in front of him, face to face, close, much too close. He was taller than Gilbert and had to bend to whisper.

“Thank you, William.” Then Gilbert felt the man’s mouth on his own. He felt Frank’s tongue toying with his mustache, tickling, probing, tentative at first, then bold and confident as Gilbert opened his lips.

Gilbert’s resistance melted. Frank’s arms encircled him, and Gilbert reciprocated, stirred by the sensation of strength in those young limbs. Frank tasted of horehound and tobacco, masculine and yet sweet. Frank kissed him eagerly, passionately, and from some place he had not known existed, Gilbert responded with equal passion.

He felt the hard, hot lump that he knew was Frank’s cock, grinding against his thigh. Somehow this did not terrify or appall him. He welcomed it, exquisitely aware that his own cock was swollen and sensitive.

The dark clouds that had haunted him for the past two days dissolved in the brilliance of Frank’s kiss. Gilbert did not think, did not worry or reason or judge. For the first time in a very long time, he simply allowed himself to feel.

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, BookBub, BingeBooks and Twitter.

Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Don’t Let Ideas Slip Away – A Guest Post from Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Steampunk #Menage #Lesbian #Bisexual #Threesome #Dominance #Submission #Homoerotic #Bondage #Discipline #FemDom #VictorianEra #SexToys #Feminist #Revenge #Tattoos #AltHistory #Orgy

by | Jan 13, 2023 | | 0 Comments

Blog posts and how-to books aimed at authors often recommend that we keep an idea notebook. “Capture your inspirations when they’re fresh,” the pundits counsel. “Don’t let your ideas slip away.”

For many years, I’ve followed this recommendation. Typically I keep the notebook next to my bed, so that I can jot down the details of dreams that contain the seed of a story. Also, I tend to be more relaxed at night. Sometimes I’ll write a page or two, in longhand, before falling asleep.

It’s not uncommon for me to be fired up, initially, when I come up with a new idea and write it down. When I review my scribbles a few days later, on the other hand, my enthusiasm may have cooled. What seemed like a brilliant premise in the heat of inspiration will strike me as hackneyed or boring. Still, it’s there in the notebook, in case I change my mind.

The concept for the Toymakers Guild series showed up in my notebook way back in 2010. At the time, I was writing – or trying to write – traditional romance for Totally Bound. My original vision of the Guild was quite close to the portrayal in the series, a secretive Victoria-era establishment located in a remote part of England and dedicated to the creation of steampunk sex toys. I knew I’d have characters named Gillian, Amelia and Rafe, though I wasn’t sure who they were. I even had the titles for the series volumes. However, I pictured the series as romance. Each book, I assumed, would focus on a different relationship between a different set of Toymakers. Each book would also deal with the creation of some outrageous sexual artifact for a particular client.

I spent some time thinking about this, but I was busy with other books as well as real world responsibilities, and the momentum slipped away. One problem was that at that time I’d never before been successful in writing a series. I wasn’t confident I could maintain a fictional world over more than one book.

Time passed. I gradually shifted to self-publishing and in the process away from classic romance. Without intending to, I wrote my very successful Vegas Babes erotica series. I started to understand the dynamics of series creation. And I saw that from a commercial perspective, series were the way to go.

Then, late in 2019 I remembered the Toymakers. I dug out the old notebook and read the few pages I’d penned back in 2010. And the creative juices began to flow.

Three years later, I’ve finally completed the Toymakers trilogy. It has diverged dramatically from my original vision, but still, the core concepts haven’t really changed.

If I hadn’t captured those notes, I might well have forgotten about Gillian and her companions out on the Devon moors. I’m grateful I listened to advice!

*****

Excerpt:

A few minutes later, he pointed to a summit some hundred yards ahead. It was crowned by a finger of stone, pointing toward the sky. “That’s Brigit’s Tor,” he said. “Supposedly the standing stone is more than five thousand years old. Some claim the site was an ancient shrine.”

Trudging up the last, steep slope, they paused for breath. Gillian peered up at the granite pillar silhouetted against the blue background. Its shape was surprisingly regular and when they finally arrived at the shallow, grassy bowl at the top, she noticed it was free of the grey-green lichen that bloomed on most of the moorland rocks. It wasn’t that tall, perhaps half again her height, but when she passed beneath its shadow, she found herself shivering.

Other oblongs of stone lay scattered around the hilltop, some partly buried in the earth. Rafe seated himself on one sun-warmed slab and patted the spot beside him. “Sit, Jill. I’ve brought some tea.” He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a vacuum flask and two mugs, which he proceeded to fill.

“How clever of you!”  The beverage was lukewarm, but sweet and wonderfully refreshing after their climb. She sipped it gratefully while admiring the view from their elevated vantage point. The moors rolled away to the north and west, draped in velvety shades of olive and sage. Far to the east, she glimpsed a brick-coloured, smoke-hung smudge that had to be Tavistock. Closer to their perch, she noted a dense patch of emerald-green vegetation that was undoubtedly the grounds of Randerley. Despite the height of its towers, the hall itself could not be seen.

Faced with such an inspiring expanse, she found her spirits rising. She reached for Rafe’s hand. “Thank you so much for bringing me here. It’s truly marvellous!”

Rafe cupped the back of her head in one hand and pulled her into a fiery kiss. He didn’t embrace her, not yet, but his mouth sealed to hers with a finality that left her burning and breathless. Like some parched desert traveller who’d stumbled upon an oasis, he drank her in, desperate and thankful.

She opened to him, ready to give him whatever he needed or desired. His familiar flavour lit up her senses, quickening her pulse and making her nipples peak. The kiss consumed her. Surging desire and a lack of air combined to make her giddy. The earth wheeled around her, blue and green turning somersaults in her head.

“Oh, Jill,” he moaned when he finally set her free. “I can’t stand this any longer. Lie down!”

He eased her back onto the slab. She bent and parted her knees of her own accord, and began to unbutton her bodice.

“No, no, let me, please!” He half-rose, then fell to his knees in the grass beside the granite shelf, to one side of her. With typical speed and precision, he unfastened and opened her top, then slipped both hands inside to cradle her breasts through her shift.

Electric pleasure coursed through her, the sparks kindled by his touch racing to ignite her core. “Oh God, Rafe! I’ve missed you,” she panted, as he pulled up her chemise and applied his mouth to her aching nipples. He tongued and sucked the taut nubs, every touch adding fuel to the blaze between her legs.

She wanted him there, filling her cunny, as she’d never wanted anyone or anything. She craved the sensation of his irresistible hardness stretching her wide. At the same time, his exquisite attention felt too delicious to forego.

Closing her eyes, she surrendered to his mouth and his passion. Let him do whatever he wished. She had no doubt it would suit her own desires. As she lay on her back upon the altar-like stone, she imagined herself a willing sacrifice to the ancient earth gods, awaiting ecstasy and enlightenment.

Lost in a lascivious trance, it took a moment for her realise that Rafe had abandoned her nipples for other parts of her anatomy. He fumbled with her skirts, pushing them up over her knees so they pooled over her belly. Then he leaned in to sweep his tongue through her fully exposed cleft. She’d discarded her undergarments when she’d gone upstairs to change shoes, suspecting that Rafe might harbour carnal intentions with regard to their walk.

She gasped at the sudden, intense stimulation and arched up off the stone in an attempt to stay connected to his divine tongue. “Let me,” he repeated, forcing her hips back down. “Trust me to give you what you need.” He licked her again, more firmly this time, ending with a flick to her swollen clit. “Lie back and let me eat my fill.”

It was difficult to relax, nearly impossible to obey, but Gillian tried valiantly. He used his knowledge of her body to bring her to the very brink of spending, again and again, but he held back from the final stroke that would push her over the edge. Before long she was whimpering and moaning, struggling not to thrash about as he gorged on her slick, sensitive flesh.

“Oh, by the stars and planets, don’t tease me anymore, Rafe! Give me your cock, before I go crazy.”

*****

Blurb

How do you train a steampunk sexbot?

Gillian Smith’s promotion to journeyman proves she’s ready to lead the Toymakers in producing astonishing new erotic artifacts. Creative, brilliant, and debauched, she’ll stretch her capabilities to the limit as she juggles a talent shortage and a pair of jealous rivals. Then there’s the challenge of their latest commission—a life-sized programmable sex doll intended to replace a client’s deceased paramour.

Normally she would consult the enigmatic Master Toymaker, but he seems preoccupied with his own concerns. Though her lusty crew of sexual renegades can offer technical and carnal assistance, Gillian is ultimately responsible for delivering the promised, near-impossible technology.

It’s fortunate she’s not one to give up—not even when events threaten the Guild’s very survival.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/976-the-masters-mark-the-toymakers-guild-book-3/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BRHGN35L

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0BRHGN35L

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1306694

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/2940165993299

Kobo –  https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-master-s-mark-the-toymaker-s-guild-book-3

Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6445290161

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/75611538-the-master-s-mark

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

*****

CONTEST!

Lisabet Sarai is running a contest to celebrate the release of The Master’s Mark. The prize is a $10 book store gift certificate, plus an ebook copy of the new novel in your choice of formats.

To enter, do the following:

  • Send an email at contest [at] lisabetsarai [dot] com
  • In the body of the email, list the names of two characters in The Master’s Mark. (You can discover this from various blog posts and excerpts.)

One entry per person, please. On the first of February, Lisabet will randomly draw a winner from among all the entries. Be sure to send your entry to the “contest” email address above.

Incognito: Secret Lives, Forbidden Loves by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #menage #lgbtq #eroticromance #bondage #discipline #dominance #submission #victorian #boston #beaconhill #london #crossdressing #literature #Shakespeare

by | May 30, 2022 | | 1 Comment

IncognitoIn My Footsteps

Most authors borrow from their own experience in crafting their fiction, to a greater or lesser extent. People, places, and situations from our lives get selected, altered and recombined. This helps to make our tales lively, realistic and believable.

In my most recent release, Incognito, I mined my personal history to a greater extent than usual. The novel is set in the historic Beacon Hill district of Boston, with parallel plot lines in the present and in the late Victorian era. As it happens, I had the good fortune to live in Beacon Hill myself for eighteen months, back in the nineties, and I loved every minute. As I wandered along the cobblestone streets, marveling at the ivy-covered row houses, I felt as though I were going back in time. I’ve mentioned in other blog posts that I have a peculiar affinity for Victorian architecture, fashion and culture. Living in Beacon Hill was a dream come true.

read more…

New Release! Rough Weather (Elemental Passions Book 2) by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Elemental #NatureGod #Northeaster #MarthasVineyard #Haiti #SupernaturalPower #EroticRomance #SoulMate #NativeAmerican #ClimateChange

by | Apr 23, 2022 | | 2 Comments

Blurb

A fated encounter. A familiar stranger. A storm of passion. Can Ondine release her fear, surrender to Marut’s power, and claim her own?

Marine biologist Ondine Ambrose has always felt at home in the sea. Orphaned at birth and raised by her grandmother on the island of Martha’s Vineyard, she has never really questioned her extraordinary affinity for the watery world.

When she encounters an attractive but arrogant engineer on her private beach, surveying the site for a prospective off-shore wind farm, anger is her first reaction. A casual touch, however, transforms that emotion to incomprehensible, irresistible, terrifying lust.

Ebony-skinned Marut has his own talents—aside from his uncanny ability to swamp Ondine with desire. He can control the winds and summon storms. When he insists that they are both more than human, and that she is his destined mate, Ondine responds with skepticism. She tries to resist the charismatic Haitian, but ultimately she cannot deny the evidence of her senses—and her heart.

Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound. It has been revised and re-edited for this release.

Buy Links

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09Y2P7741

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09Y2P7741

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1142402

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/2940165838149

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/rough-weather-elemental-passions-book-2

Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id1619557657

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60820375-rough-weather

*****

Rough WeatherExcerpt:

She’d always taken her abilities for granted, figuring that perhaps they were some compensation from the universe for having snatched her mother at birth. Nevertheless, she didn’t flaunt her differences. When she dived with the other scientists from her team, she donned the unnecessary wetsuit, tanks and regulator. No point in encouraging idle speculation.

“So? What the devil does that have to do with you? With us?” Her harsh tone was a deliberate attempt to hide her uncertainty.

“I’m like you. Human, but with extra-human gifts. And you are my destined mate, Ondine—no matter how hard you try to deny the fact.”

Marut rose from the table, imposing despite the shabby robe that hung from his powerful frame. The garment gaped open, revealing the smooth ebony swell of his chest. Belted at Marut’s narrow waist, the faded terry hid his groin, but Ondine didn’t have to see the man’s magnificent cock to know it was swollen with desire, the same desire that had soaked the crotch of her sweatpants.

His mate. Ridiculous! And yet there was something mysterious and inevitable in her attraction to this stranger. Determined to fight that inexplicable desire, she turned towards the back door.

“I’ll go fetch your clothes,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

The Wedgwood-blue morning sky and brilliant sun had disappeared to be replaced by masses of lead-gray cloud. The muggy air was thick as syrup, so heavy it was practically an effort to breathe. Marut’s jeans and shirt hung limply on the line, along with the laundry she’d hung before heading for the beach. With the humidity, Ondine feared they’d still be damp, but the earlier sun appeared to have done its work. Both articles were dry enough for her unwelcome visitor to wear. He could leave as soon as he dressed. Relief mingled with regret as she squeezed the clothes pin holding the T-shirt.

A sudden, brisk wind sprang up, tugging at her hair and whipping the stiff denim of the suspended jeans against her belly. Startled, she dropped the white cotton onto the sandy soil. The breeze caught the garment and whisked it away, a tumble of white, until it caught on one of the points of the picket fence. With a sigh, she padded barefoot across the yard to retrieve it.

“Ondine.”

She whirled to face him. She hadn’t heard the squeak of the old screen door hinges, yet there he was, tall and dark as a thunderhead—gloriously naked. His piercing eyes pinned her in place. His noble forehead arched up to the explosion of frizzy curls that framed his skull. His skin gleamed as though it had been oiled. He stood before her—no, loomed above her—his muscled legs parted, his arms crossed over his chest, sniffing for her all-too-obvious scent. His nostrils flared like a thoroughbred racehorse and his prominent lips curled into a confident smile.

And there, rising from its nest of inky fur, was the cock she’d caressed out on the beach, a proud cylinder of dark flesh with a slick, mauve cap. In their frenzied groping upon the rocks, she hadn’t really seen his organ clearly, but now…

She’d read that primitive cultures worshipped the phallus as the source of all power. Now she understood, in a most visceral sense, how this could be. She wanted to fall on her knees before this vision of male potency, to beg for a touch, for a taste. Use me, something in her cried, though in fact his beauty and vitality struck her dumb. Helpless, terrified, swamped by need, she waited for him to make the first move.

The strange wind blew around them. Marut’s eyes glittered like chips of hematite. He stared into her soul, asking questions she didn’t dare acknowledge. Unable to bear his scrutiny for more than a few moments, she dropped her gaze to his bare feet, graceful and strong as the rest of him, and waited for him to take her.

“Ondine.” Her name on his lips was moonlight on a tropical lagoon, a gentle surf kissing the shore.

*****

About the Author

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, BookBub, BingeBooks and Twitter.

Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

At the Margins of Madness: A Tale of Power and Love by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Paranormal #PsychicTalents #MMRomance #GayRomance #Sorcerer #Witch #Ritual #Telepathy #Precognition #Worcester #QuabbinValley #AgeGapRomance #Schizophrenia

by | Jan 31, 2022 | | 1 Comment

Blurb

Nineteen year old Kyle sees visions of disasters, visions that tear his world apart. Everyone assumes that he is schizophrenic, but Rob, the cop who picks him up off the street, knows better.

Rob’s own experience has taught him that psychic powers are real, and potentially devastating. Since his telepathic sister’s brutal murder, Rob wants nothing to do with “gifted” individuals like Kyle. Yet he can’t deny his  attraction to the beautiful, tortured young man – an attraction that appears to be mutual.

When a brilliant, sadistic practitioner of the black arts lures Kyle into his clutches, Rob faces the possibility that once again he may lose the person he loves most to the forces of darkness.

Note: This novel was previously published by Totally Bound under the title Necessary Madness. It has been revised and reformatted for this edition.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature: https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/917-at-the-margins-of-madness-a-tale-of-power-and-love/

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/B09QQG683R/

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/B09QQG683R

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/at-the-margins-of-madness-lisabet-sarai/1140911192?ean=2940165754531

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1127718

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/at-the-margins-of-madness-a-tale-of-power-and-love

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60179575-at-the-margins-of-madness

*****

At The Margins Of MadnessExcerpt:

Kyle was close, too. For a moment, he allowed himself to really feel Rob’s talented fingers, pulling, massaging, every touch sending waves of delicious sensation surging through him. The man was so strong, so sure of himself, despite his earlier reticence. It has been so terribly long since anyone cared about Kyle’s pleasure.

Dizziness fluttered through him. The world lurched a little. No, not now, Kyle pleaded hopelessly. He felt the pressure build. He hung on the edge. Reality tilted, shimmered. No, no, no…

“Rob,” he moaned. “Look at me. Please…”

The cop heard, even through the fog of his lust. His eyes shot open and Kyle let himself go, falling into those luminous pools of blue. His cock exploded, his cum shooting out over both of their bellies. A train whistle wailed in Kyle’s head, but the world held, long enough for Kyle to feel Rob’s cock convulse and spew hot liquid all over Kyle’s fingers.

“Oh, baby,” Rob panted, fastening his mouth on Kyle’s. Kyle wallowed in the wonderful sensations. Heat and wetness, above and below. Rob’s tongue, Rob’s taste, Rob’s hard body pressed against him.

Then a black void swallowed him. No light. No feeling. No sound except for Kyle’s own heartbeat, loud in his ears.

The words appeared as letters of fire, hanging in the emptiness. ‘Dawson Street Holden’. As Kyle watched, they loomed closer, then disintegrated in a shower of sparks, leaving him in darkness.

“Kyle? Kyle!” Rob was shaking him so hard that Kyle’s teeth rattled. “Come back!” The vision fled as swiftly as it had arrived. “Are you all right?”

Rob’s brows were knitted in worry. Kyle tried to produce a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I think so. How long was I gone?”

“Ten seconds, maybe. I could tell exactly when it happened. One instant I was kissing you, and you were kissing me back. The next instant—it was as though you were an empty shell. No reaction. Nobody there. It was the weirdest thing.”

“Well, I remember the kiss.” Kyle lay back on the pillows, overwhelmed by an unaccustomed sense of well-being. “It was really something.” He extended his arms. “Why don’t you lie down and we can try it again.”

*****

About Lisabet Sarai

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – more than one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (https://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Bookbub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list and get a free ebook, plus exclusive contents and other benefits: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Important info: As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. This applies to any Amazon links you click from this site.

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