... But I Won't Do That!

by Janine Ashbless

She ran her hand down Brad’s chest and stomach, all the way down to that silky cock touched by morning sunlight. Brad stirred, woke and turned to her with a sleepy but wicked smile. They kissed , their tongues-
NO!! STOPPIT!!

Brad took a mouthful of champagne, then pressed his lips to hers. Insinuating the tip of his tongue, he parted her lips enough to let the liquid, warm from his body but still fizzy, pass from his mouth to hers-
NO!!! AARGH !!! OHMYGOD I’M GOING TO HURL…

Okay, it’s a bit embarrassing. I’m a smutwriter. I write - whisper it because my mother might be listening - porn. So I should, like, have the heart and stomach for just about anything, right? Nothing should shock me. (Well, nothing legal.) All expressions of consensual sexual passion should find a place in my imagination and my writing, shouldn’t they? I mean, I’ve covered exhibitionism and panty-wetting, bondage and anal, threesomes and facials, gay sex and dragons. What’s my problem?

My problem is that like most people I have my Achilles’ heel. My problem is that I’m not the omnisexual lust-goddess I ought to be.

My problem is kissing.

Yeah. I can’t stand kissing with tongues. In real life, a peck on the lips is the furthest anyone gets and French kissing makes me run for the hills. You see, I’ve a mild phobia about saliva. Mostly (but not entirely) other people’s saliva. It’s just GROSS! Yes, I know my attitude is irrational and stupid: saliva is the most insipid, harmless and inoffensive of all the body products, and I don’t have any particular problem with the others. I can stick my tongue anywhere else on my partner’s body – but not in their mouth. I can’t bear to watch someone cleaning their teeth. As for that romantic morning-after kiss in movies – I have to put my hands over my face. And I cannot bring myself to write it.

There are of course other motifs I don’t write about; mostly because they are things that don’t spark my imagination. Sex toys and vibes are fine and fun but I can’t fetishise them for literary purposes. I can write femdom but I don’t do submissive males (I can write raging chained-up men just dandy! But they have to be forced rather than willingly submissive. Maybe I should worry about this…) . But the fact is, if I tried I could put myself imaginatively into the shoes of someone who was fixated by such themes. I could write them. I just haven’t done it yet.

Kissing … No Way. It’s not a case of Don’t, it’s Won’t. I won’t fake it that far.

I would do anything for love – but I won’t do that.

So I thought I’d ask around at Lust Bites Mansion and find out if the other authors had any embarrassing little quirks, weaknesses, or aversions. It’s a busy day, because we’re all gearing up for our First Birthday. Yes – we’re nearly One Year Old!

Before we set off, by the way, here’s the small print:
This post is offered in a light-hearted spirit, without intention of oppressing or marginalising People Who Kiss. I don’t like kissing. I am allowed not to like it, and to express that feeling. You are allowed to regard me as a silly twat. You do not need my or anyone else’s approval or consent, explicit or implicit, to validate your Consensual Kissing Lifestyle: you are an autonomous adult, for chrissakes. Exactly the same goes for all other opinions expressed below.
Terms and conditions apply. The value of your investments may go down as well as up.

First of all I found Dayle Dermatis vigorously warming up the band in the Ballroom. She has a dedicated musical streak, you know. She told me: "Here's what I don't get, or do: showers of any sort. Golden, brown, rainbow. I THINK I can understand the idea behind golden showers, or at least the idea that having to pee a little can enhance sensations, but that's it. Keep those bodily fluids far, far away from me. I don't think I could even write about them convincingly. Heck, I don't even like portapotties!"

Olivia Knight was in the Kitchen, doing something fairly surprising with a broomstick to a nice young man. She said: "Leather masks - they're freaky. Gimps are disgusting. A nose squashed down by fabric is as horrible a sight as a missing nose, to me. Even in shop windows, they don't suggest a dark and dangerous world of edgy thrills - it's the visual equivalent of stepping in a dog-turd. Barefoot. Along with leather masks, I won't have anything to do with master/mistress action - but that's because I have a sense of humour and I can't say "Yes, sir" with a straight face. (I was a difficult child at school.) Role-playing is like the elephant in the room, and while everyone's cowering or towering, I want to yell, "Get over yourself! It's a game! You're just pretending!" I like my characters (and my people) to be absolutely true to themselves, which is hard to do when you're coming over all strict-nanny and secretly loving it."

Portia Da Costa said: "I just listen to the story and write what it tells me to. And my psyche tells me to write pretty tame stuff and lovey-dovey romance." Then she went back to instructing the Sommelier: a handsome older man whom she had somehow persuaded to wear a dress. To be honest I don't believe the "tame" bit, Portia!

Mathilde Madden "won’t do clothes. Shopping sprees, being spoilt by men with unlimited financial resources, sugar daddies paying for lovely shoes or pretending to be a high class hooker and dressing up in whorewear. I like to write about women making their own sexual fantasies come true, not having sex to get other things. Not dressing to please. And female exhibitionism is a mystery to me. I’m a voyeur. And – talking of clothes - I can’t stand too much description of what the female character is wearing. I so don’t care. Or her ‘slender yet curvy’ body. Tell me about what the guy looks like!" Luckily Mathilde is in charge of Security for the party and her team of enormous muscular men obediently wear no clothes at all.

Kate Pearce, who was out in the Stables discussing marquee ropes with some dusty fellows in boots and leather chaps, surfaced from the hay long enough to gasp "I just don't get the whole chain me up, treat me like a dog and put me in a cage thing." Then she was lassoed back inside with a cry of "Yee-hah!"

Probably that was just as well because at that moment along came Kristina Lloyd, who is co-ordinating the entertainment for the evening – some sort of puppet show, she says with a wicked glint in her eye. She told me: "There's loads of stuff I don't write about because I'm not really into it rather than because it transgresses some limits. I stick to femsub and I explore it quite deeply. And it's my kind of femsub, meaning the scenarios are often rough, humiliating, unpolished. I don't depict formalised role-play and disciplining. Authority figures (daddy, master, teacher) give me the creeps. My male characters' dominance is about testosterone and cunning rather than elevated social status. And I'd sooner chop off my right arm than write 'He' when it should be 'he'. Ew! Domming via bad grammar. It makes everyone look so silly."

Madeline Moore, busy setting up the poker table, was particularly specific: "One line I will not say and will not write. It’s this: ‘I could have peed my pants!’ This is a statement women use to indicate that their funny bones have been tickled in a big way. I hear it a lot, always from women. Why don’t guys, who’ll say anything, never say that? I don’t find pee sexy, but I might write a golden showers scene someday, who knows? It’s not beyond me to why some women get off on the intimacy of a partner’s warm, sterile bodily fluid splashing over her skin, running in yellow rivulets down the crack of her ass, over her thighs, her breasts, what the hell, even into her mouth. I think I get it. What I don’t get is why so many women are blithely willing to share their bladder inadequacies with all and sundry. Who among us wants to know that she has poor bladder control?"

Alison Tyler, who is going to be in charge of the cocktail bar, was directing her staff out on the Patio (Brave considering the time of year, but she always brings the California sun with her). She looked worried: "I don't know. I don't know what I won't do. As soon as I think, hmmm, I can't comprehend that smoking fetish, someone will patiently explain why watching Catherine Deneuve inhale makes them want to shoot. Or if I question the eroticism of sploshing, I will find myself invited to a sit-on-a-cherry-pie party, and all bets will be off. But I suppose this is my general rule: I think of anything in the erotic world that might seem off-putting, and then imagine Jason Isaacs (or whomever) asking me to do that to him. Damn, how quickly my viewpoint shifts."

But the last word goes to Teresa Noelle Roberts, speaking from the Hot Tub where she and her piscine friend Dylan were getting the temperature just right: "What I have the hardest time writing is basic vanilla sex. With well-developed characters, it works, because then it's about the characters and the relationship. However, in a shorter piece without a strong emotional context, it can get very Tab A and Slot B. Boring! Don't get me wrong. Vanilla sex can be lovely with the right person, but writing about it...it's the "right person" factor there. Toys and tricks and third parties make it easy to focus on the hot physical details, but when it's one-on-one and pretty straightforward, you have to get the characters' heads and hearts involved or the story's flat. And when you've got 2000 words or less, that's a challenge!"

So there you go. Oddly, nobody else mentioned kissing at all, but most of us have our stumbling blocks. What about the rest of you out there?

xxx

Janine Ashbless

Website : Myspace blog

Coming Attractions

By Mat Madden

On Monday Janine Ashbless proclaims, I would do anything for smut writing, but I won't do that!

Join her and a gang of Lust Biters for a chat about the things they just can't bring themselves to write about. Squickiness should abound.

You'll have to wait until then to find out my personal writing demons, but I will tell you about one thing I like: big butch beauties. That's why I'm grabbing the crush Wednesday slot to tell you why macho men do it for me.

And on Friday we hand over the reins to prolific Cheek author Michelle M Pillow.

---

And, woot, here are the results of the Lust Bites anthology super-bumper competition.

Monday's winner
(Lust Bites and Split) is Ally

Wednesday's winner
(Lust Bites and Gothic Blue) is Leeanne

Friday's winner
(Lust Bites and The Silver Collar) is Blackroze37

Just mail your details to lustbitesladies (at) yahoo (dot) com

Thanks to Portia da Costa for the awesome vampy pic.

Under Her Skin

By Mathilde Madden

And finally, we get to me.

I knew Kristina and Portia were doing modernish takes on the vampire tale - so I decided to go more traditional. I didn't want to write a historical but I did want all the traditional vampire thrills. Castles. Dungeons. Victorian Gothic. Mystery. Influences like The Turn of Screw, The Mysteries of Udolpho, Northanger Abbey and Rebecca.

I wanted a virginal innocent but resolutely plucky girl in peril. A super-sinister super-sexy vampire. And I wanted a pure gothic flurry of bloody castle walls and the snick of razor blades.

Under Her Skin takes place in the same paranormal universe as my Silver Werewolf books. Merle Cobalt is the daughter of the self-styled greatest vampire hunters in the world - still notorious twenty five years after their greatest coup: capturing the dangerous renegade human-hating vampire Darius Cole. Cole was handed over to the vampires themselves to face justice after his preaching of the outlawed vampire creed of Righteous Power - overthrowing humans and taking the world back for vampire kind.

But the Black Emeralds did not kill Cole - they sentenced him to live. To live his immortal life forever with no hope of joy or comfort in the dank dungeons of their castle. But now - somehow - Cole has escaped.

Cole's revenge is simple. Merle. He demands that Merle come and spend twenty five days with him in The Black Emerald Clan's castle. The same castle he was imprisoned in for twenty five years. This is the only way Merle can get hold of the antidote to the slow acting poison Cole has administered to her father.

Of course she agrees, and soon finds herself locked in Cole's own cell in the Black Emerald Castle dungeon.

*

Merle looks around the little dark cell where she's sitting. 25 years. It's impossible to imagine. The solitary confinement, the starvation. The chains had started to hurt her wrists after less than a day. What would this have felt like after twenty five years?

'Now you see how hard they had to work to break me?'

'Darius?'

'Hello Merle.'

She looks up and he's standing right there. Looming. His hair and clothes and eyes so dark in the gloom of the cell that his white skin seems to glow. She has to force her eyes away from his mesmerising face. But when she lowers her eyeline, she finds the dark fabric of his crotch is right in front of her.

So it's a relief when Darius drops into a crouch and smiles earnestly. 'You see what they did to me? Do you understand? Forced me to turn traitor. Made me renounce a set of beliefs they'd invented for me. Public humiliation. Sentenced to live. They did everything they could think of to make me suffer. Everything vicious and cruel. They wanted me to suffer forever. Why do you think they were so scared of me?'

His face is so elegantly pretty and perfectly nasty. She hates him. She knows she needs to keep remembering that. She takes a sharp breath and narrows her eyes. 'Because you were a murdering bastard. Because you are a murdering bastard. You're killing my father right now.'

'I know. It's very hard for me that that was what I had to do. I am sorry. Even after everything Charles Cobalt helped to do to me I know that know he is just a weakened old man now. I wish there had been another way.'

'There is. Let me go. Give me the antidote and leave them alone.'

'Leave them alone? Maybe I could do that. But leave you alone? Never.'

Again, she has to force herself to look away from him. She looks down at her dirty jeans. 'Why? What do you want with me if it isn't about them?' She pauses as a nasty thought catches her by surprise. 'I'm not a, not a virgin or anything. If it's that. If that's what you want. Well, I'm not.' And that's it - thinking about Cole wanting to take her virginity, which means thinking about him having sex with her – she's blushing. Hard. She hates the way her skin always betrays her at the most crucial moments. She tries to slow her breathing – an anti-blushing technique she read in a magazine once - but it's no use. Her face is getting hotter and hotter. And that just embarrasses her even more.

Suddenly – moving quick and sharp - Cole reaches out and catches hold of her chin. He runs the pad of his thumb slowly over her heated cheek. When he speaks his voice is slightly thick. He's very clearly and very suddenly aroused. Not bothering to try and hide it. 'God, oh. I love that you do that.'

She tries to pull away, but his grip on her is incredibly strong. 'Do what? Don't. Stop it.' She puts one palm flat on his chest in an attempt to push him away.

But he doesn't seem to really notice her protests. He strokes her cheek again, mesmerised. His touch is deliciously cool where she feels most heated. His voice is dark, slow and heavy. 'I love that you blush. It means I can see your blood. Under your skin. Do you blush anywhere else? Let me see. I want to see you. So beautiful. I want to see your skin, your pink.' He shoves her and she's forced back hard against the wall. He traps her there with his body and starts pulling at her T shirt, yanking it up.

'No! No! Stop.' Somehow she wrenches herself out of his grip and pulls her shirt back down.

Cole meets her eyes and seems to suddenly hear what she's saying. He takes his hands off her and stands up, taking a couple of stumbling steps backwards. He's shaking his head. 'Oh god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Your blood, it made me…' he says, backing away from her. 'It's just so difficult to… Oh.'

He bites his plump bottom lip and turns away.

She wants to tell him to wait, but she forces herself not to by scratching at the sore patches the chains made on her wrists.

*

Drop a comment here to win a copy of Lust Bites featuring the three stories you've heard about this week, plus a copy of my werewolf novel The Silver Collar.

And don't forget to growl if you love werewolves. Or vampires.

Split and Lust Bites out today!

Kristina Lloyd

'My story starts last autumn. I want to set it down because I understand now that I’ll never be able to leave this place. And I want you to remember me as a good person.'

So begins Split, my neo-Gothic tale of bondage and submission set in a puppet museum on the Yorkshire moors. And today it’s out in the UK along with Lust Bites, the hot volume of vampire erotica from me, Portia Da Costa and Mathilde Madden. (Sorry Yanks, you have to wait till January.)

Split tells the story of Kate, a woman who flees London and her boyfriend to take a job in a weird little village called Heddlestone. She doesn’t tell her boyfriend she’s leaving. Drawn by a strange compulsion, she simply vanishes. I am Kate Carter, five foot nothing, freckled and fair, pear-shaped but sprightly, a librarian on the run.

Kate lodges in the attic of Jake, the strange, beautiful puppeteer whose surreal, doll-filled house adjoins the museum. When Kate first meets Jake, she’s smitten.

He was too tall for his suit so he was all wrists and ankles, a man almost as gangly as his puppets. I know I’m a romantic fool, but my stomach really did flip. His hat was of battered brown leather, dark curls peeping beneath the brim, and his pale skin was dotted with a couple of moles. His nose was narrow, a little misshapen, and his cheekbones enviable, his face having a refined feminine bone structure, although his neck was strong. He reminded me of a deer, full of wild nervous grace, his stone-grey eyes at once timid and serene.

Jake’s social awkwardness is belied by a dark, sexual confidence and when he and Kate get together it seems as if, surrounded by puppets and isolated from the world, they’re in a realm where anything might happen. But Kate also desires Eddie, Jake’s brother, a thickly-muscled bruiser who’s smug, arrogant, contemptuous and crude. Although she dislikes him, Kate recognises some warped part of her finds him horribly thrilling. Soon she’s involved in a second dark relationship, and all the while she's haunted by a gathering sense that there's something very wrong about Heddlestone.

There’s a cold intimacy to this place and the brothers have drawn me closer to its dark, disturbed heart. They had me from the start, Jake with his beauty and that clever careful mind, Eddie with his arrogance that gets me right in the groin. Even now, I don’t know who I prefer. I’m split between them, relishing both but trusting neither. Lust has taken me to some strange places but none stranger than this.

Split is released today along with Lust Bites. This makes me very happy!

*
Something else which makes me very happy is being the first author in Love Honey’s newly-launched erotic online book club. Love Honey are running a huge promotion on my second, ever-so-slightly-controversial book, Asking for Trouble, and you can buy it over there for a ridiculous 99p. Yes, I'm dirt cheap! The book club looks fantastic. You can read an interview with me, join an Asking for Trouble discussion forum, and there are even questions for you to ponder. I confess, I’m nervous. Some people love Asking for Trouble, some people hate it. If you don’t already own it, now’s your chance. I doubt I will ever be 99p again. That’s so cheap, you may as well buy a vibrator while you’re there.

To celebrate all this happiness, I’m giving away a copy of Split and Lust Bites on my blog. Come on over to my place and add a comment. I am very friendly, so friendly that I'll say Lusties can play too.

BUDDIES DON'T BITE

by Portia Da Costa


I always wanted to write a vampire story. I wanted to write one way back in 1996, when I had the idea for GOTHIC BLUE. But at the time, I was advised that vampires=erotic was a bit of a cliché, and that Anne Rice had just about cornered the market in sexy vampires anyway... How bizarre does that sound nowadays, when vampires are one of the most popular themes, perhaps the most popular theme in paranormal erotic romance writing?

Anyway, knowing that I was tackling the vampire genre, my Black Lace chum Janine Ashbless was curious to know how a lover of nice guy heroes and Happily Ever After like me would portray an undead bloodsucker who preys on humans. So she sent me a bunch of questions about BUDDIES DON'T BITE...


Janine Ashbless) How long have you been writing paranormal erotica? Is it something you've always been interested in, or is it a taste that has evolved?

Portia Da Costa) I’ve actually been writing paranormal erotica since the early 80’s. The very first things I ever wrote were a quintet of erotic romance short stories in which the hero was a zombie. When I eventually reached publication standard, the first short story I ever had published – The Man in Black, which appeared in Forum – was a ghost story. My first full length paranormal novel was Gothic Blue, published in 1996. So you could say I’ve always been interested in the juxtaposition of sex and the supernatural.

JA) "Buddies Don't Bite" is the gentlest take on Vampires I think I've read - very romantic and emotional. What made you decide to reject the normal "arrogant predator" type?

PDC) It wasn’t so much that I rejected the ‘arrogant predator’ type, it was more that I was drawn to a different kind of vampire. I was interested in what would happen if a decent, noble, humane man became vampire and was able to retain those qualities of humanity. I wanted to write a proper romance and I used a classic category romance device, the ‘friends to lovers’ story, only where one of the friends just happened to be a vamp.



JA) Why do you think Vampires are so popular with readers? What is it about them that appeals to you in particular?

PDC) That’s hard to quantify. I think it must be something to do with the eternal youth and beauty, the preternatural strength, and the sensuality of taking blood at the neck. I think I probably like vamps for pretty much the same reason as the next reader, the unique blending of danger and sex.

JA) Is there a real life model for your vampire Zack?

PDC) Well, I’ve been going through a phase where many of my heroes are inspired by different faces of one of my favourite actors, Vincent D’Onofrio. Zack is very much a young, romantic Vincent, much as he appeared in the early scenes of the movie Salt On My Skin.

JA) I have a theory that people who like cats like Vampires. They're so much in common: the nocturnal lifestyle, the grace, the aloof independence, the recreational cruelty ... So, are you a big cat fan?

PDC) I’m totally devoted to cats. I’ve lived with them for nearly 30 years and I dote on them as my constant companions. Yes, they are cruel sometimes, but it’s simply a part of their nature, and because they are beautiful, I excuse them. I’m not keen on having to deal with the mice they ‘release’ into the house though!

JA) Zack's a virgin - is the experienced woman/uninitiated man a favourite theme of yours?

PDC) Yes, I think this must be a favourite theme of mine, although I don’t know why. I’ve had ‘innocent’ men in several of my books, including The Tutor, Lessons and Lovers and The Stranger. But my ‘innocents’ are always extremely quick studies and have great instincts where sex is concerned. ;)

JA) How do you feel about writing to novella length?

PDC) I thought it would be hard to write novellas. Too long for a short story, too short for a novel… But actually, I’ve found it quite easy. Almost second nature. It’s possibly because I’m not a great plotter, and the short length means there’s no space for a complex plot, so one of my simple ones works quite well.

JA) What gave you the idea for the wedding setting?

PDC) Well, it’s a classic setting for a romance novel or story, and I think I may perhaps have watched ‘Four Weddings and a Funeral’ around the time I was cooking up the idea.

JA) Who's your favourite TV/movie Vampire?

PDC) I think my favourite TV vamp will always be Spike, although I didn’t really start to like him until he began his long, tortuous struggle towards being a good human man again, despite his vampire state. He had many false steps and setbacks, and fell prey to his demon nature again and again, but in the end, he became a true hero. As for movie vamps, my favourites are the diverse Count Draculas of Gary Oldman and Frank Langella. In Gary's interpretation, even though the Count is a ruthless killer, some justification for his actions is offered in the story and in the nuances of his performance. In Frank's there's not quite so much of this justification, although he does give hints of the loneliness of his life and the persecution of his kind...


JA) If you were offered eternal beauty and youth in return for becoming one of the Children of the Night, would you be tempted?

PDC) Yes, I’d be tempted, but only if I could be one of my ‘good’ vampires, and had a like‑minded companion to walk beside me in the eternal night.

JA) Please give us an excerpt from Buddies Don't Bite...

PDC) Here you go, Janine... Teresa and her house buddy Zack are in the kitchen discussing a wedding invitation... and somehow they find themselves kissing!

He had the most glorious backside. Tight and hard and round like a brace of ripe apples. And when she grasped it, he growled in his throat in a most astonishing way. Deep and fierce, like the call of a jungle animal, it bounced off the kitchen walls and filled her ears. If she hadn’t had his tongue in her mouth, Teresa would have said, ‘What the fuck is going on?’

But their tongues were dancing and she felt like growling too.

Deep in her belly, a famished hunger was gnawing at her. It was a long while since she’d had good sex. A real, hard, long wonderful fuck. She’d held back with Steve, and had been hoping this weekend would be their romantic first time. But now, she thanked every lucky star in heaven that she hadn’t succumbed.

She’d never articulated it to herself, but she’d been waiting and saving herself for Zack, sure in the knowledge that her abstinence would be worth it.

Oh, I want you, she cried silently to him, massaging his sensational bottom, and squirreling herself around against his cock.

Zack’s answer was to growl again, a low feral sound. His lips crushed hers, his tongue thrusting, thrusting, just like the sex act. Where the kiss had been gentle and controlled at first, it was clear off the rails now. His mouth started to rove, moving roughly, messily, thrillingly over her face, along her jaw, as his hips rocked and jerked in that explicit rhythm that met and matched hers.

It was like being a horny teenager all over again, but magnified to the n’th degree. Every part of her was hot. They were rubbing against each other like crazy animals, and Teresa was the one making moaning noises now, unable to contain herself as Zack’s hands went all over the place. Her breasts. Her thighs. The cleft of her bottom. He was surveying her physical geography, and he was impatient. His fingers wriggled between their bodies, tugging at her skirt and searching for access to her sex.

And all the while he was kissing, licking, tasting… and nibbling.

Nibbling? More than that… as his mouth reached her throat, she suddenly yelped and jerked beneath him.

Dear God, that is so hot! He’s biting my neck!

It was pure sex… shocking and primal… Painful but in a way that made her hips lurch against him of their own accord, seeking the touch of his fingertips where they pressed against her panties.

Am I flying? This is weird…

She wriggled and parted her legs, not sure where the pleasure was… only knowing that it was like melting, dissolving, expiring… coming?

And then…

The rail-backed kitchen chair was hard beneath her thighs, and the glass cool in her hand. Her heart was thudding, and there was a silvery hum ringing in her ears. But despite this strange physical phenomenon and an accompanying sense of dislocation, she felt calm, almost serene… apart from a vague prickle of curiosity. She’d been panicking and fretting about something, but it was okay now. Zack had come up with a solution, hadn’t he?

Looking up, she was surprised to see him standing by the sink. His mouth was uncharacteristically tense, his lips tightly pursed and his eyes looked huge and very dark. She felt a jolt of worry. Had her silly invitation distressed him?

‘Are you okay, Zack? You’re not sickening for something are you? You don’t have to come to the wedding, you know… It’s wonderful of you to offer and God knows I appreciate it. But I’m a big girl. I think I’ll be okay.’

There was a long pause. Zack’s eyes seemed to skitter a bit, and he pressed his knuckle against his lips, as if pondering.

What’s the matter with him? He’s not usually like this.

As she watched, Zack gave one long, fluttering, almost slow motion blink, squared his shoulders and lowered his hand to rest it on the forearm he had wrapped around him, reacquiring his stillness.

'I’d like to go to… I need to get out more.’ He gave her a cautious smile, his white teeth glinting. ‘It’ll be a change for me… all this studying and researching. I need to kick over the traces and have some fun.’

Um… yes, I suppose so.’

But later, when he’d returned to his books, his research and his computer, Teresa was left wondering about Zack’s sudden decision. Wondering about that, and a few other things…

Like… why were her lips so tender, as if she’d been kissed to within an inch of her life?

And what the hell was that bright red mark on her neck?

BUDDIES DON'T BITE is part of the Lust Bites anthology along with two other stunning vamp novellas written by awesome Lustbiters Kristina Lloyd and Mathilde Madden. It's published on 8th Nov 07 in the UK and on 1st Jan 08 in the US. If you'd like to win a copy of Lust Bites and a copy of my vintage paranormal erotic romance, GOTHIC BLUE, please leave a comment on this post and you'll go into a prize draw.

And finally here's a treat for Janine in the form of another Count Dracula! ;)

Images of Zachary Trevelyan courtesy of The Velocity of Vincent.

'Vampire Pleasure' image by 'betterthantheworst'

The Vampire's Heart

by Kristina Lloyd
This week sees the UK release of Lust Bites, the first in a new line of novella volumes from Black Lace. Lust Bites might sound as if it’s a book revealing the sordid truth about members of this blog but it’s not. We’re holding out for lots more money on that one. Lust Bites is all about vampires: three sexy tales of love, lust and blood. Next year, the novella line continues with more volumes of paranormal erotica, many penned by members of Lust Bites. That's Lust Bites, the blog. Are you still with me?

My novella, The Vampire’s Heart, is, quite thrillingly, the first story in the first collection. Here’s a little bit about it.

The Vampire’s Heart

The action takes place in the Arctic. The permanent dark of winter is passing and the sun’s about to rise for the first time that year. You couldn’t escape the stories of this place. Sometimes, it was a mythical land where ancient explorers sailed through peppermint green seas, mistaking icebergs for giant swans and narwhals for aquatic unicorns. Over the centuries, reports had come back of ghostly mountains, mock suns and nights lit with curtains of coloured phosphorescence. Sometimes, it was a frozen desert, tempting men onto foolish, heroic quests. Their stories hung in the emptiness, tales of survival and loss; of horror and madness; of people on the borderline between life and death. And, of course, there were many untold stories too, stories with no one left to tell them.

Billy is a butch, modern vampire. His hair is clipped into a blond mohawk, and he’s broad chested and lighty-tanned, a punkish military figure in khakis, tight T-shirt and scuffed army boots. He’s hot, hard, mean and angry. Centuries ago, he accidentally killed the woman he loved and now she’s returned to earth, reborn as Esther. Fearing his lust could destroy her again, Billy has exiled himself to the Arctic with his two vampire lovers.

Simeon is an old school vamp. A pallid lanky creature with bony features and long black hair, he had that air of Transylvanian nobility that Billy really went for. The two men had been together centuries (though it was a bit on-off) and, having no reflections, were more familiar with each other’s faces than their own. ‘I don’t know where you end and I begin,’ Simeon used to say in the nineteenth century when they were tragically in love, as was the fashion.

Suzanne, Simeon’s cousin, is flighty, frivolous, beautiful and cruel. The three vampires live at Hope’s End, a high-tech dome hidden from view. To the untrained eye, Hope’s End, was nothing but a blip on the landscape, a hump of snow in a waste of ice. A Cold War relic modelled on igloo curves, it had fallen into the hands of the vampire community when one or two significant maps had been redrawn, and one or two significant people had been killed, easy things to achieve when there are vampires in high places. Mortals might be surprised by the number of monsters at the Pentagon.

They share their home with their pet cat, Renfield, a masturbating Arctic vampire pedigree and, since food is scarce, they survive primarily on a synthetic blood substitute, Blud. Billy, repulsed by his vampire-self and desperate to keep Esther safe from his hunger, hasn’t tasted human blood for over two decades. The urge to feed is still strong. Sometimes Simeon went to the coast and returned with tales of polar bears and all the blubber he had to bite through. But Billy knew he fed on the Inuit. He could see the flush in his cheeks and it made him so hot. When Simeon had tasted mortals, Billy wanted to fuck his brains out.

Esther works for a holiday company, White Sky Adventures, and is trekking in the Arctic with a team of five other mortals. The closer they get to Hope’s End, the more Billy’s lust intensifies. Simeon and Suzanne, jealous of Billy’s obsession for Esther, are eager to see the back of her. Weary of drinking Blud, they have no qualms about the prospect of dispatching the entire team. Billy must protect Esther from his lovers but it’s hellishly difficult when her physical presence threatens to destroy his willpower and turn him into the insatiable vampire he truly is.

A Sexy Snip of Hot Gay Vampire Loving:

Billy slammed Simeon’s body to the wall once more. His erection was thickening and he pressed it against Simeon’s butt.

‘It’s not even the same woman,’ accused Simeon. ‘It was centuries ago. Ever heard the phrase time to move on?’

‘It’s the same soul,’ breathed Billy.

‘And that gets you hard, does it?’

Billy grasped a handful of Simeon’s hair, pulling his head back so his throat arched. His Adam’s apple made a voluptuous jut in that long stubble-flecked neck, a sight that flooded Billy with memories. ‘Oh, if you were mortal.’

‘And what?’ challenged Simeon in a stretched, reedy voice. ‘You’d do what you did to her? Love me to death? Or what you did to me? Make me a vampire, possess me and make me yours?’

Billy tugged Simeon’s head back still further, his grip tightening on his hair.

‘You don’t give a person room to breathe,’ wheezed Simeon. ‘That’s not love, that’s suffocation.’

Billy jerked Simeon away from the wall, clasping arm and hair to frogmarch him across the room. He forced him over the pool table, pressing his head onto the turquoise baize. The white ball span away and bounced off the side cushion.

‘You’re jealous,’ murmured Billy. He tugged Simeon’s flies open, pushing down his clothes to bare his pale slender ass, wisps of dark hair fringing his crack. Simeon’s erection bounced free and Billy leaned over him, wrapping his fingers around that big sturdy shaft. He wanked him gently. ‘Jealous,’ mocked Billy, his lips behind Simeon’s ear.

Simeon lay still, breathing hard and saying nothing as Billy’s fist shunted along his cock, and Billy’s crotch dug into his buttocks. After a while, in a tender mannered voice, Simeon whispered, ‘Yes. I’m jealous. What of it?’

A surge of respect and lust nearly knocked Billy for six. Hurriedly, he unzipped and let his pants drop to his knees. ‘Get your top off,’ he said in a quiet command and Simeon obliged. He groaned as Billy rubbed saliva into the puckered bud of his asshole, and worked his fingers in to open him up. Billy pumped his fingers, gazing at the shifting sinew of Simeon’s back, at the wings of his shoulder blades and the way candleflame and shadow rippled over his ivory skin.

It was a perfect back. Billy withdrew and clasped his own cock, blood-hard in his fist. He loved Simeon like this: submissive after a row, horny, sluttish and spread. He spat onto his fingers, moistening himself before pushing at Simeon’s ring with his fat, flushed glans.

‘You fucker,’ said Billy tenderly. Slowly, he eased forward, meeting the circlet of muscle, forcing himself past its resistance as Simeon exulted and cursed, fingernails clawing the turquoise cloth. Both vampires groaned deeply as Billy slid his meat into the snug silky depths of his lover’s ass.

Billy held his breath, his hand against the small of Simeon’s back, relishing the hot squeeze around his swollen cock.

‘Oh, man,’ groaned Simeon. ‘You complete me.’

*Lust Bites is published on 8th November in the UK and on January 1st in the US, the very same day that my third novel, Split - aka Wuthering Heights with bondage - is released. If you want to win a copy of Lust Bites and Split, just add a comment to this post and you're in with a chance.

Coming Attractions

By Mathilde Madden

Was that enough vampires - or do you want some more?

Next week we celebrate the UK release of the brand new Black Lace vampire novella Lust Bites (yes, named after our own blog). Join me, Mathilde Madden, Portia da Costa and Kristina Lloyd as we each give you an exclusive preview of our sucky stories.

Meanwhile, for more dirty paranormal thrills, our spooky shorts collection, Love on the Darkside is out now in the US. Why not check this brand new review at the Erotica Readers Association. (Psst, they also reviewed The Silver Collar.)

Stay Spooky
Mathilde Madden x

PS Winner of spooky competition haul is conscripted cherry. Email us at lustbitesladies (at) yahoo (dot) com to arrange delivery of your winter warmers.

PPS The winners of Polly Frost's giveaway are Angell and Curious. A copy of Deep Inside to you both plus a Dangerously Oversexed tee to Angell. Drop us a line on the above email.