Well I have a fun packed line up for you all this week my friends
Firstly I have a guest Blog story by my good friend Jay McIntyre co-author of
Lowther and Deardon: Tainted Gold a book co -written with Dan Jordan.
I am honoured that this was written for myself Scarlett, and in my honour.
Thank you so much Jay.
He sat on the couch, mystified.
What had he ever done to deserve such an amazing woman?
He had met her last week. Driving home from work, she had appeared in the road, in the pouring ran. A dark rain hood covered her head, but he could see her staring at him.
He had swerved not to hit her, and slewed to the sidewalk. He had got out of the car, a mixture of anger and concern, and apologized.
“It’s all right,” she had told him then. “But if you really want to apologize, you can take me...to dinner.”
Almost dazed, his initial spike of anger fading, he gladly agreed. She had gotten into his ratty little import without seeming to notice or mind it’s poor condition.
He had already been stunned by her eyes; that was the first thing he had noticed about her on the road. They had seemed a bright blue. But there seemed to be a golden glow behind that blue, as though there was fire in her soul. Once she got in the car, that impression remained and she smiled at him.
Then she had taken off her sleek, slick black hood that protected her from the rain...and her curly red hair came spilling out.
For a moment--just a fleeting second--he thought of the mythical medusa. Then he was lost in awe at that luxurious, radiant red hair. For a moment he hadn’t been thinking of her shapely body or of the near miss; for a moment all he wanted to do was touch that amazing hair. He had even reached out a hand, then drawn it back.
She had seen and understood his gesture, and laughed. “Oh, it’s harder to keep in this condition than it looks.” Her accent was British, arch but not unkind, like a schoolteacher you would be happy to stay in detention with. He’d never been into “teacher’s pet” fantasies, but that was the first thought that came into his mind hearing that voice, and he liked it.
“You can touch,” she went on, “But gently.”
Amazed at the liberty, he had reached out and touched that amazing scarlet hair. It was just as silky and luxurious as he’d thought it would be. Perhaps even more.
“Where, uh, where do you want to go for dinner?”
She cocked her head, smiling as though she could read his mind. “There’s that lovely French-Vietnamese place. I’m sure you’ve heard of it?”
Indeed he had; he loved their pho. He had taken her there, and she had enjoyed it; she had eaten with class, but also with a voracious enthusiasm that impressed him.
He had driven her home--a dark, brooding skyscraper on the edge of town, strange he’d never noticed it before--and she had kissed him goodnight on the cheek; her lips had been hot, and that heat had somehow transferred through his skin, down his neck and chest, and settled right in his loins and stayed there, like a promise. Nor was this a metaphor; he truly felt that heat there, and it stayed there.
“See you soon,” she whispered, like it was a promise. He had swallowed, and almost broken into a cold sweat.
She had given him both her number and her email, but advised him that email would be better. She was often busy, and couldn’t always stop to answer the phone. She didn't give specifics, but it was clear to him that she was a smart and savvy businesswoman in some sort of high stakes commodity market. He didn’t ask; he got the impression it was better not to know.
He had taken her out to dinner twice more; once to Afghani place in the big city, and tonight to a place he’d never heard of before, that she had directed him to. Tucked beneath a shoe repair shop, only accessible by a stone staircase. There had been no signs or anything., just the stone steps down and an iron gate of a door. Inside it had been smoky and dim. The hulking, squinty eyed maître d had known her, and ushered them to a booth against the black stone wall. She had ordered for both of them; first a pale broth soup that had tasted nothing like chicken, or anything else he’d ever had; then red meat still on the bone; rare. It had tasted surprisingly good, but also somewhat strange. He hadn’t thought much about it as he sucked the meat off the bone; but he could tell she approved of his enthusiasm.
“I was right about you,” she said. “I usually read people very well.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Right about what, though?”
She laughed, a rippling musical sound. “That you know enough to take advantage of what is offered to you.”
“Um....thanks, I think.”
She laughed again, and he could swear her eyes were brighter for a moment.
It wasn’t until their second date that he had asked her name. “Scarlett,” she had told him. “Not my birth name, but I had it legally changed, long ago.”
He wondered if that meant she had a troubled past, but decided not to press the issue. She had given him a knowing look, almost as if she was reading his thoughts, and chuckled again. She didn’t talk much; but she had no problem making it clear what she wanted or was interested in.
After dinner she had led him to that imposing dark skyscraper. He was stunned. She was really inviting him in, and clearly not just for a nightcap. They had taken the elevator up to the sixteenth floor.
She had let him into her...lair. Yes, that was the word for it, lair. All black leather furnishings and mirrored walls and floors. The maintenance must be killer.
So here he was, now, sitting on that couch, staring out into the night, wondering how he’d got so lucky. She was a bad girl, that was clear; but why him? Clearly she was rich, successful, probably even influential, and for damn sure charismatic as hell. So...why him, of all people?
“Ahh, you’re still there, good.” She came back, a crystal goblet in each hand, filled with blood red wine. So a nightcap was part of the plan, after all. “The couch is more suitable, isn’t it? I think so too....beds are for sleeping, more than fun.” She smirked. “My sleep patterns are pretty weird, anyway.”
He took the goblet she offered him and swallowed a mouthful; it went down his throat like liquid fire. He gasped, then said somewhat hoarsely, “Weird how?”
She smiled, and for a moment he could swear he saw a golden light behind her eyes again. “I can go for days without sleep....then sometimes I’ll be out like a light for the whole weekend.”
“Your employers must be very understanding,” he said, somewhat shakily.
“Oh, my boss knows what a hard worker I am,” she assured him in what was almost a purr. “Work hard, play hard, that’s me.”
“Scarlett....I’m very glad to be here, believe me. But....why? Why me? Why did I win the sexual lottery?”
She threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, you poor boy. You are more worthy than you know.” She drained her glass and set it aside, then sat right in his lap, looking into his eyes. He could feel the heat of her body; she was literally hotter than any woman he’d ever been close to before. “I told you before, I can read people. You’re frustrated, your desire is so strong it’s become a need, like breathing or eating. Any man can lust after me. Not any man can need to have me like they need air. I choose my boy-toys most carefully.”
Not lovers, he noticed. Not partners. Boy-toys. Not that he was offended. To be her boy-toy was a greater honor than he’d ever dreamed. “But....I’m just a creepy nerd.”
She chuckled. “Oh, you’re not that creepy. I’ve slept with men far worse.” Her jovial attitude never faded, but she looked into his eyes now, and was utterly serious. “I don’t choose men based on looks or money, hon. I choose them based on their lust. And in that department you score very high.”
“Thank you,” he breathed, and leaned up to kiss her.
She kissed back, and no doubt about it, she had a very high body temperature, almost scalding. He was a little afraid of what might happen to his manhood once he was inside her. Not that he had any intention of refusing her. He wasn’t sure he could if he tried.
She raked her nails down his back, almost hard enough to draw blood even through his clothes. Then, almost impatiently, she started tearing them off him.
Literally tearing. Her long red nails ripped at his clothes, and they began to fall in shreds. She slithered out of her own little black dress in one sinuous movement. Her black lace underwear followed, and then she tore his boxer briefs open with one eager slash. He flinched; but she knew just how to do it without hurting him. His manhood stood free throbbing. For her.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Give it to me.” Grasping it, she guided it into herself and sank down upon his lap. “Thaaaaat’s it,” she hissed like a snake. Her fingernails sunk into his shoulders like talons, and this time they did draw blood. She began to bounce on his cock, locking eyes with him.
She was as hot inside as he’d suspected, but instead of scalding him, her inner heat was absorbed by his manhood, and slowly spreading into his loins. “Ahhhhh,” he gasped, and held her close.
She chuckled, and pushed his face into her breasts. They too, were filled with heat. Almost without thinking, he suckled on the left one. After a moment, some hot fluid spurted into his mouth.
Spluttering, he swallowed it, then looked up into her eyes.
They were entirely yellow. Lit with fire.
Now he knew.
Now he understood.
For a moment he felt the chill of fear in his heart, but it passed, and was replaced by a sort of wonder. Not worship, but a kind of deep amazement and lustful joy.
She saw it, and understood it. Her own face softened into a gentle smile. “Yes,” she breathed. “You do understand.”
He nodded wordlessly and slid his hands down to her ass, digging his own nails into her sweet buttocks.
She laughed, and let her true form show. wings sprouted from her back, her teeth became fangs, her tongue became longer, tapered to a point. Around them the apartment dissolved into a raging inferno.
“Beautiful,” he said, and meant it.
She bounced on him harder and faster, and her wings wrapped around him in an almost motherly embrace.
Slut. Whore. Temptress. Vixen. Femme fatale. Tart.....
Not Lilith herself, he knew that instinctively. But undoubtedly one of her descendants.
“Yes,” she breathed, and bounced faster.
He kissed her again, that obscenely long tongue slipped into his mouth. She bounced harder and faster on his manhood. Her vagina was, of course, perfect; fitting him like a glove, tighter than he could’ve dreamed, and transferring more of her infernal heat into him.
Maintaining the kiss, he massaged her ass, expressing his lust for her perfect body. She chucked her approval into his mouth, then finally broke the kiss. And locked eyes with him once more. Almost tenderly, she cupped his cheek. He, in turn, trailed a finger around the inside of her left wing, as both of them were still wrapped around him.
She slowed their act of lust, and let him run his hands through her silken hair.
“Perfection,” he said breathlessly, and meant it.
She smiled and her eyes brightened, and he could tell she appreciated his sincerity. He couldn’t read her mind, but she could project her thoughts into his, especially during the act of passion. Many, she let him understand, had admired her over the years; but for the wrong reasons. Cultists worshipped her out of fear and for the hope of the power she could give them; and of course many wanted to have sex with her, but he was the first in hundreds of years to admire her for what she was; the embodiment of the dark female principle.
She accelerated her bouncing and he began to lose control; soon, he knew, he would have to come inside her.
“Yes,” she breathed in his ear, “give me your seed. It’s one of the reasons I chose you.”
“Hnnnng!” he shot his seed inside her, gripping her thighs with desperate urgency.
“Yessssssssssss,” she hissed, her eyes glowing, and she pressed herself down on him, and kept herself there firmly, maintaining pressure.
None of the fluid leaked back out. As she was able to grant her heat to him, so she was able to absorb his seed without effort. Not vaporize it with her body heat, he felt certain; but to take it into herself and use it.
“I guess your.....” he gasped, and began again, “I guess your pregnancy cycle runs differently, too.”
“More efficient,” she agreed. Now she slowly rode him, back and forth, retracting her wings, letting him properly witness the inferno. The flames were horrifying, true; but she was shielding him from them. He didn’t understand why, but he was grateful. He didn’t see any damned souls in torment; but he did see other fell creatures. Again, he knew that she was shielding him from the true horror, which would otherwise have run him mad.
“Mostly aspects of pride and envy,” she murmured.
And that made sense, being what they were, they were looking at her, and at the mere mortal lucky enough to couple with her.
He stopped looking at them, and at the flames. He returned his attention to her evil beauty; not only was she much more pleasant to look at, but he understood that she could only protect him from the horrors of the depths so far.
The flames gradually died, and he found himself back in her black and mirrored apartment.
“You are not the first mortal whose seed I have taken,” she explained softly. “The child will not be a full succubus, but she will definitely be...a much more sensible woman.”
He smiled at her, and now there was a hint of greed in his eyes. “I’m glad to be worthy to be her father. But I want more.”
She laughed. “Of course you do. I know what you want.”
She clambered onto the arm of the chair and bent over it. Her long succubus tail twitched aside, revealing the dark, tight orifice of her anus.
Grinning like a predator, he mounted her and slowly pushed in. While incredibly tight, her anus allowed him in smoothly. Groaning in pleasure, he grabbed her shoulders and pushed.
“Ahhhhhh,” she purred. “Sodomy is one of my favorite sins.”
Once he was all the way in, she suddenly tightened further. It should’ve hurt, but instead it was incredibly pleasurable. He groaned and collapsed atop her, face buried in her scarlet hair, making a “Mmmfff” of ecstasy.
She moaned too, and he understood she had finally reached her own climax. But as soon as he thought it, he also understood through her link with his mind that she could have such pleasure at will; such was her nature. To her, debauchery and orgasm were an art.
He lifted his head from her hair. She maintained this unnatural (supernatural) tightness on his manhood. Then it began to pulse, tighter and then slightly looser.
“Stay all the way in,” she breathed. “My body will take care of the rest.”
“Your perfect body,” he breathed.
Without warning, she lifted from the couch and began to fly. He gripped her shoulders tighter, but understood there was no need. Her anus was grip enough. Even so, her tail affectionately wound itself around his waist.
Her powerful wings beat, and they flew into and through the dark glass of the skyscraper as though it weren’t even there.
They flew over the surrounding lands. The night sky was exhilarating; there were a few scattered clouds; but plenty of stars and a gibbous moon. An old song lyric danced through his mind; “...there’s a warm wind blowing the stars around...”
But at wondrous as the night sky was, she sensed that her gazed was directed downwards. She projected into his mind highlighted images from below; lined in red, acts of lust. Couplings that had nothing to do with love, and everything with lust. Some were ordinary mortals, some were of succubi and incubi; some were descended from succubus blood, as their own child would be.
And it was glorious.
Twice more he came inside her sweet, evil backside. She came once more, once again of her own will. Long before it was over he buried his face in her hair and stayed there, half asleep.
He was dimly aware of their return to her flat in the dark skyscraper; into a bed of black silk sheets and Gothic iron frame. Eventually he drifted off, but knew that she remained awake.
It was some hours before he awoke. The sun had risen, though it was still early. Scarlet was there, back to him, true nature disguised once more, applying makeup in the mirror.
“You don’t have Saturday off?” he asked, then felt stupid for saying it.
She turned and smiled at him. “Work is pleasure to me, hon. But today I’m maintaining my civilian identity; a bad business deal needs to be finalized.”
He hadn’t realized that her life as ‘Scarlett’ had any kind of reality. It didn’t seem necessary; but then he supposed that doing so she could advance the cause of evil in other ways. Reading the thought, she nodded in approval.
“Will I ever see you again?” he asked.
“Oh, now and then perhaps,” she smiled. “Business takes precedence, you know.” Her expression hardened for the first time. “Don’t fall in love with me,” she warned.
“Of course not,” he shook his head. “I just know I’ll never have as good as you again.”
She smiled, good humor restored. “Don’t expect to see our child, either. That’s something I’ll do privately, in my own time. But every now and then....” she kissed him on the cheek. “You have my email.”
He nodded, touched her hand, and left.
It was after the ride down in the elevator and he got into his own car in the lot, he finally understood something else; the heat from her body was still with him. In his own way, he was part of her cause now; she had granted him some of her darkness. He could use it to seduce women and encourage them to be more lascivious, more seductive, more wanton. He smiled, cheered by the thought and drove away.
In her flat above, she watched him go, smiling in satisfaction. Then she turned her attention to her own agenda; the tasks of the wicked were never done, as she had known for centuries.
She walked across the floor, flames growing around her as she went, until they grew taller than her; then she vanished in a puff of smoke that, had anyone been there to smell it, would have reeked of opium and absinthe.
Well I'm not sure about you folks but that certainly caught my attention and left me sitting in a damp patch too!! Certainly another erotic writer to look out for! Find him on Twitter