I’m running TWO contests.
1) The newsletter contest (see September 16th’s blog for the details) continues until the 30th!!
2) The second is my usual thing. You post a comment here today and you’re eligible for a free copy of this story.

I don’t know if you know it or not, but I wrote three short stories related to the Dark Realm books. They are only available in ebooks. I don’t have an official copy I can transfer, but I will give away a copy of the story in a .pdf file for one winner to read. It was one of the first erotic shorts I ever wrote and I so completely loved doing it that I decided, even though they don’t pay, I couldn’t stop. Enjoy the excerpt! Poor Malcolm is the Revenant who gets the snot beaten out of him at the start of Darkness Captured.

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A lone rogue vampire mingles among his hunters in a blood bar, undetected…until a beautiful woman snares his attention. Suddenly, he’s running, leading her on a chase until she corners him, stake dangling from her slender fingertips. Now he has two choices: play it sexy or safe?

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Malcolm crouched behind a cinder-block pillar of a wrought iron fence, counting the seconds after the last footfalls faded.

Slowly, as the danger passed, his heartbeats settled to a steady rhythm. He drew a deep breath. They’d come close to catching him this time.

He’d been spotted in a known blood bar just outside The French Quarter, a lone rogue vampire among the elite Born trolling for meals with their enslaved, made minions in tow.

If he hadn’t paused to watch one in particular, he might not be in his present predicament.

She’d been playing with her food, ruffling the young man’s hair as she whispered in his ear—and pinned Malcolm with her pale silver gaze.

The challenge in her eyes, along with her feline grace and her strong resemblance to the woman who’d turned him, had caught his interest. The pale hand that smoothed slowly down the chest and stomach of her prey had kept Malcolm ensnared, wanting to see how far she’d take her little game.

She had no interest in the man she teased. When her palm slid down to cup his burgeoning sex, Malcolm had felt the squeeze she delivered all the way to his toes. That same embrace rendered her playmate pliant, rutting into her hand, and ready for whatever she chose to do next.

A quick flick of her slender fingers and she delved inside his trousers.

Malcolm had slipped off his stool then, his dick slowly filling as she slid her lush lips along the young man’s cheek and nibbled on his ear. While the man pulsed his hips, Malcolm tightened, wanting to rake his cock forward and back.

Her lips curved, her eyes narrowed—and Malcolm grew furious with the vampire’s teasing. If she wanted to arouse him, she’d succeeded. If she wanted more than a puling human boy, then she’d played the wrong hand.

Malcolm had forced his gaze away in time to notice she hadn’t been the only one staring at him.

The privileged ones’ gazes had met over the heads of their blood hosts, almost imperceptible nods were shared, and slowly the Born had gracefully faded from the sides of their hosts.

He’d been made. How, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps one of them had recognized him from one of the “mixed” bars, where free rogues and the Born intermingled on neutral ground. However, the how wasn’t important. Escaping was a matter of life or death.

Quickly, without a backward glance at the bitch who’d tried to trap him, he’d slipped out a side door and run like hell.

Malcolm knew better than to tweak the tails of vipers, but once in while in his long, solitary existence he enjoyed reminding them he was there—untethered from their shackles, free to choose his own path just as they did.

He’d been created free, as a human; he’d rejected the tender leash his mistress had offered when she turned him. “Serve me,” she’d pleaded. Although sorely tempted by her beauty and sweetness, he’d refused, knowing the risk, resisting her allure with iron determination. Knowing he’d be forever hunted.

A crisp footstep sounded behind him, and he whirled, straightening to face this hunter.

Before him stood the Born vampire who’d teased him almost to extinction. Now, a long, wooden stake dangled from her fingers.

She was blonde and slender, every muscle honed by her low-carb meals and the activity demanded by her hyperactive metabolism—and sex, lots of it.

Her glittering glance swept down his body, and he braced apart his legs, hoping to reignite the heat he’d witnessed earlier. She’d been hungry, aroused as she’d played with the boy as she’d teased him. He could use that. When her gaze paused over the juncture of his thighs, his lips stretched slowly.

Her fingers tightened around her weapon, and her gaze slashed upward to deliver a glare. Her own thighs, encased in dark sleek leather, tensed as she stayed loose on her feet, ready to pounce whichever direction he chose.

Malcolm remembered well the way her thin silky tee had clung to her breasts back at the bar, ripe little nipples popping against the fabric. “Sorry I interrupted your meal,” he murmured as he leaned back against the pillar, his fingers sliding into the pockets of his jeans as though he wasn’t standing a hairbreadth from death.

Her lips curved, lush and full despite the stretch. “You don’t think I’ll have any trouble finding a replacement, do you?” she asked silkily.

He let his eyelids fall halfway closed as he made a leisurely stroll down her body. “None at all,” he murmured. “But will any one of them satisfy you?”

Her chin rose and pale blonde hair brushed the tops of her shoulders. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice sliding deeper toward a sultry lisp. “It’s so hard to stop with just one.”

There they were again—those little spikes, stabbing at her shirt. Malcolm eyed them, his lips pursing at the thought of pulling one lush nipple into his mouth. When his gaze met hers again, the hard gleaming challenge had heated.

She swallowed, almost unnoticeably. To draw moisture into a suddenly dry mouth?

Maybe he could earn a reprieve yet. “I was on the prowl tonight,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “I’ve already fed. Maybe we could trade.”

“I have to kill you,” she said flatly.

“Because your coven demands it?” He canted his head. “Do you always follow the rules?”

“You’re a rogue—dangerous if left to roam.”

“Perhaps I’ve never met my true mistress.”

“You’re free. You resisted the allure of the one who turned you, so don’t pretend you’d even consider changing your spots now.”

His lips quirked at her quiet intensity. “I bet you colored inside the lines when you were a child.”

“You think I lack imagination?”

“No, I think you like to please.”

He almost smiled at the scowl that pouted her lips and narrowed her pale eyes. “I could take you. You’re all alone. One on one, I might win,” he drawled, noting the way her glare darkened with the insinuation she might not be the victor.

Her fingers clutched the stake tighter. “You’re not helping your argument.”

“I’m just saying…I’m willing to battle you on different field. If you’re strong enough, maybe you can leash me.”

“A different field? Do you really think I’d let you go anywhere.”

“Follow me.” With that, he spun on his heels and leapt, clearing the fence to stand on the other side of the bars. “My place is just down the road.”

Not bothering to wait and see what she decided, he walked away, nonchalantly, knowing he was baring his back to her stake. However, he’d had a feeling about her earlier when she’d stared above the spiky red hair of her host. Malcolm had felt the air crackle with sensual awareness.

The soft thud behind him made him smile. Her steps trailed his, not overtaking, and he breathed easier.

At another gate, this one enclosing the courtyard of the house he’d rented for the summer, he turned and swung it open, waiting for her to pass.

Her face still tight, her lips crimped into a slight frown, she stepped quickly by him and waited as he closed it, trailing him again when he walked to the front door.

Maybe she was simply waiting to kill him once they were out of sight. But he didn’t think so. The scent of her arousal wafted in the air, mixing with the heavy perfume of roses from the neighbor’s garden. Delicious, sultry—she’d be his, if he was clever enough.

His dick filled again, pressing insistently against his jeans, reminding him that while he’d satisfied his bloodlust that night, he hadn’t had sex in while. Little miss vampire would ease the ache tonight.

Inside, he didn’t bother turning on the lights, didn’t pause to politely offer her a drink of another sort. Instead, he strode up the staircase to his room overlooking the gardens, knowing she’d follow. The stiff steps behind him said she was angry at him and herself for being led by her hungers—unable to contain her curiosity about what exactly he offered.

In the bedroom, he pulled apart the curtains and let moonlight flood the room. He heard her step inside, keeping close to the doorway. With his gaze on the courtyard below, he said, “My name is Malcolm.”

“Do you think by giving me a name to accompany your handsome face I won’t follow through?”

He glanced over his shoulder and gave her a smile. “I’m giving you a name to call when I make you come.”

The newsletter contest (see September 16th’s blog for the details) continues until the 30th. Today’s blog contest winner is posted at the bottom of this blog. Thanks to everyone who played and wished me well! ~DD

Is First Person Too Close for Comfort?

by Wynter Daniel

Thanks to Delilah for inviting me to guest blog here today. I am in awe of the staggering number of great erotic romances she has published.

Like most erotic romances, all my stories are written in third person. This is a given for most authors. I have written stories in first person, years ago when I dabbled in the young adult market. Most YA stories are presented in first person, although I’m not exactly sure why. I guess first person brings the reader in closer with the protagonist and so many teenagers want so desperately to feel a part of something, even if that something is fiction.

But erotic romance and erotica are a whole different animal from YA. As a writer, putting pen to paper (or fingers to keys) and expressing intimate sexual expression is definitely easier when those expressions are happening to him, to her, to John or to Nancy. When you inject me, I or my, it all feels so personal. Same goes for readers, I think.

So imagine my surprise when I started writing a short erotica story in first person. Sometimes a character just comes to me and I have to immediately work on the story. I wrote the first scene of Customer Service—my upcoming Exotica release with Ellora’s Cave—in one sitting, not even very aware that it was in first person.

I went back the next day and tried to rewrite it in third person, but it was as if my muse had turned his back on me. The scene fell flat. So I went back to the original and kept going. It turned into one of those pieces that practically wrote itself. I suppose sometimes the story takes over and the author is merely the channel.

The heroine is a professional mystery shopper, someone who tests customer service in stores and restaurants, a job I have dabbled with on occasion over the past five years. Maybe that’s part of the reason it felt so natural to write in first person. (Not that I have EVER had an experience similar to my protagonist!)

Customer Service is also more erotica than my usual erotic romance.

But you be the judge. Customer Service releases on September 30. Here’s a little about it:

Mystery shopper Carly Weber’s husband divorced her for a snooty sales woman, leaving Carly with a bruised and battered self-image. When she evaluates a new sex toy and lingerie store, she finds much more than kinky gear. One by one and then together, two hunky salesmen pleasure her and give her the best customer service of her life, restoring her confidence in the process.

You’ll find an excerpt HERE.

Comment on my post and I will enter you in a drawing to win my last EC Quickie, Getting Even with Warren.

From DD: The winner of the blog contest prize package is (by random number generator)…Natalie! Natalie, be sure to email me with your snail mail address. Congrats!

Both contests continue! But one prize will be awarded tomorrow!
Post a comment here today for one chance to win. Post a comment at Everything Erotic for another! See details in Thursday’s post about the prizes and how to win my newsletter contest too!

Well, she’s here. Those of you who pre-ordered should have gotten notices from Amazon yesterday that the book shipped. I hope you all pick up copies. Then, as always, let me know what you think and whether you’d like to read more stories set in that world. ~DD

“In Darkness Captured, the extraordinary Delilah Devlin combines two blistering hot genres—women’s erotic fiction and paranormal romance—and the result is a masterwork of vampire erotica that’s almost too torrid to handle! The decidedly adult adventure of a passionate werewolf who’s willing to storm the gates of hell to rescue a princess from the clutches of a demon, Devlin’s Darkness Captured is dark, sexy, and absolutely sizzling. Shapeshifter love has never been hotter!” HarperCollins

“Devlin creates memorable characters with exceptional emotional depth. Her magical worldbuilding sets an atmospheric scene for a fast-paced story. The sexual tension runs high and the encounters are smokin’ hot.” 4 Stars, RT Book Reviews

To read another steamy expert, hit this link: Everything Erotic. Be sure to post a comment for another chance to win!

The contest continues! Post a comment here today to qualify for one contest. See details in Thursday’s post about the prizes and how to win my newsletter contest too!

Can you stand it? The wait? Okay, so maybe you’re not as excited as I am. The last Dark Realm book, my last book for Avon. And I threw out all the stops. Which means, if you want a really wild, no-holds-barred erotic novel, this is the one. I promise. And it won’t be like anything you’ve ever read, because I swear only my deepest, darkest fantasies were written into this one story. Don’t worry about payday. You don’t want Starbucks today. Go order the book!

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The sand beyond the fortress undulated like a lover’s curving back, dunes lifting and falling, swept side to side by the sighing wind.

Marduk searched the ground beneath him, frantically seeking some sign of her passing, but the wind had obliterated her tracks.

Not until he saw the lillum circling like vultures, did he release a deep relieved sigh.

He flattened his wings, diving toward the ground beneath them, then pulled back to settle on the sound beside Gabriella.

Three female lillum landed opposite to Gabriella’s writhing body, folding back their black wings. Aya, the leader of their small flock, stepped forward, her toe touching Gabriella’s buttocks. “Is she precious to you, Master?”

As always, he was careful to hide his interest. If I treated her well, do you think she’d flee to the desert to escape me? he said, sending the message with his mind.

Her face, as shiny and dark as obsidian, was split by a smile. Long black fangs slid from beneath her upper and lower lips to interlock. “Can we taste?”

She’s weakened. Why not wait until later in Irkalla’s chambers?

“Our queen will likely drain her beyond use for us. It’s been so long since any of us tasted of the living.”

Aya, take your drink, but only a sip. She must appear tonight, and I have to make her presentable.

As the lillum surrounded her, bending their slender, dark forms over Gabriella, Marduk suppressed his revulsion. Lilith’s children were among the oldest demon hybrids in this realm. Their appetites and minds were primitive and rapacious.

Aya rolled Gabriella to her back. Gabriella’s eyes remained open, but unfocused, no doubt still in the thrall of her escalating nightmare. He’d warned her what would happen. Yet, if he touched her now, wakened her from her dream, she’d have another nightmare to add to the one currently gripping her mind.

So he left her in that other world while the three demons bent over her neck and both wrists, their black incisors sinking deeply as they supped. Wings stiffened as their voices joined in an eerie chorus that seemed to intertwine and become one, in a high ululating tone that pierced his ears.

Enough, he said softly.

Their disappointed sighs sounded deceptively soft and girlish, but their heads rose, blood drenching their lips. Then they spiraled straight into the air, laughing as they darted toward the fortress.

Marduk studied Gabriella, noting the quivering breaths, her widened eyes. When he pulled her from Hell, she’d have little relief once she caught sight of him. Still, this was all part of the lesson she must learn. She might have continued to think him as just another man—easily led by his desires.

Now, she’d think twice about defying him again. He reached out and touched one taloned claw against her hip.

Gabriella sucked in a deep breath, her eyes blinking as she returned. Her face turned toward him. Then her mouth opened around long, shrill scream.

She rolled from under his talon, then froze.

He knew she was sunk again in the dark time. He touched her again. Only when you are with me, when I touch you, are you free of Hell.

She remained rigid beneath him, her face turning to peer at him over her shoulder. “Marduk?”

I will take you back.

Her eyes filled slowly, and fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “I can’t stay here. With you. I want to go home.”

You accepted my invitation.

“You compelled me to touch that glass.”

If you hadn’t been ready to leave, ready to be seduced, you would never have succumbed to my lure. Come, you are tired and thirsty. Let me care for you.

She broke with his gaze and stared ahead of her. “I’m afraid of this place. Of the terrors it holds. I don’t know how to go about making a life for myself.”

So long as you obey me, you have nothing to fear. I will protect you. Provide for you.

“I’m afraid of needing you,” she said in a soft, broken voice.

Heady satisfaction filled him. If she feared it, then she was tempted to surrender. Climb onto my back, darling, but never let your touch leave my skin.

She scraped at her tears, leaving streaks of dirt staining her cheeks. Her lips curved downward, but her hand lifted to the top of his leathery claw while he pulled it up to help her rise. She came shakily to her feet, her eyes wide as her gaze swept his dragon form. “I saw your aura before, when I looked into the mirror. I knew what you must be in truth, but…you’re more beautiful than I could have imagined.”

Marduk’s mouth opened, stretching back. He was pleased she wasn’t frightened of him in this form. That she found him “beautiful.” Climb onto me. We must head back and prepare for Irkalla’s feast. Another day I will fly with you here if you like.

Her head lowered, not responding to his suggestion, but she smoothed her hands over his shoulders and stepped on the edge of his wing, which he held rigid until she was seated on his shoulders between the wings.

Then he lifted his wings and flapped downward, ignoring her gasp and the way her hands found purchase on the ridged scales at the back of his neck. He lifted into the air, soaring, and turning slowly back toward the fortress.

He felt her lean forward, scanning the ground they flew past and heard more gasps.

Beneath them lay bleached bones of creatures large and small, half-buried in the sand that hid then revealed them as the wind surged. The desert was a graveyard for demons, and she might have remained among them if he hadn’t found her in time.

As the setting sun burned brightly at the horizon, they rushed toward the fortress walls. He tilted his wings, aligning his body with the narrow street outside his tower door and set down.

She climbed down without encouragement. When she turned back, he was once again in his human form. As naked as she was. Her glance slid over his body, snagging on his growing erection.

Her body reacted to the sight, her posture easing into a feminine stance, with thighs clamped closed and breasts lifted.

Her nipples tightened, peaking instantly.

He hid a smile and held out his hand.

She slipped hers inside his and turned toward the door. But she stumbled and stared straight ahead at the people who’d climbed down from their stoops to catch a glimpse of the dragon and his woman.

Her gaze clung to two men in particular, who seemed equally frozen until one of them grabbed the arm of the taller individual and pushed him toward an alleyway.

Marduk wondered at Gabriella’s fascination, but she shook herself, turned to give him a tight smile, and entered his tower without saying a word.

The contest continues! Post a comment here today to qualify for one contest. See details in Thursday’s post about the prizes and how to win my newsletter contest!

Need more reasons to click on the cover and go order your copy? So you do know the sex is gonna be hot, right?

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Note for Readers: You must be of legal age in your country of origin to read this excerpt.

For Gabriella, the passage of time was measured by the pounding of her heart as blood pumped through her body in a heavy, wanton beat. Her skin, tender still from the lashing she’d received by the vines, was hot and exquisitely sensitized to every caress of The Master’s hands and lips. Her reddened nipples never receded, remaining hard and distended. Her clit stayed engorged and throbbing. She restlessly scissored her legs, craving friction to heat her core.

He’d carried her to the bed, water streaming from their bodies, and laid her in the center before coming over her. Just as she’d envisioned, she’d watched him over his shoulder in the mirror as each flex of his shoulders and back animated the dragon tattooed on his back, making the wings raise up and down and the tail undulate with every rise and fall of his buttocks. He’d fucked her again on the bed, without preliminaries, thrusting straight, powering so hard her lungs expelled air in harsh gasps.

Feeling languid, boneless, and drifting toward sleep, she moaned when his large hands parted her again, and she gazed down between their bodies, watching as he smoothed over her skin, his burnished hand caressing pale, pink curves.

For the first time, she noted the ring he wore on one hand. A raised crest with a six-sided star, a large blood-red cabochon at the center and small multi-colored jewels studding each point of the star—all sitting atop a crudely made ring that looked forged from brass and iron. Light refracted off the center of the cabochon and the smooth stone seemed to glow for a moment until he moved his hand again and the illusion faded.

She quickly lost interest in the ring when his hand slid down her belly and cupped her pussy. Two fingers eased inside her, and she sucked in a breath that hissed through clenched teeth.

“Have I hurt you?” he asked, his raised brows showing no particular concern, only curiosity.

“No, but your fingers feel cold inside me.”

“That’s because your woman’s channel is hot.” Long, thick fingers swirled inside her. “And wet. I find I’m very, very thirsty.”
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The contest continues! Post a comment here today to qualify for one contest. See details in Thursday’s post about the prizes and how to win my newsletter contest!

I overslept today. Not a bad thing, I guess, since I’m trying to kick this cold. Anyway…back to the book. What’s not to love about a story where a woman is torn between two men—one the honorable werewolf warrior, Guntram, and her captor, the mysterious and compelling Marduk, the Master of the Demons. Haven’t met him yet? Read on!

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Gabriella pounded the demon’s back, her head still tucked close, until she grew weary. Her body shuddered with her strained, quivering gasps and soft sobs. The pummeling was only tiring her, while the monster that carried her didn’t flinch once or slow his steady pace. When sunlight warmed her upturned bottom, she turned her head to take a peek.

They’d left the dim hall and entered blazing sunshine. Beneath her was a walkway paved with golden sandstone and framed by crenellated rock. Beyond the notched wall to one side spread a sandy desert, to the other side stretched a fortress so enormous it took away her breath.

This was Hell?

The Master of the Demons ducked, and she grabbed for his waist to keep from swinging against doorframe. The stone-walled passage led to a stairwell that circled downward. At a wooden door, he kicked it open and strode inside, bending farther to deposit her in the middle of a nest of satin pillows.

She scrambled backwards on a large bed as soon as he released her, scraped away her tears with the backs of her hands, and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know what you think is going to happen,” she said, her voice low and fierce, “but I’ll fight you.”

His strange dark eyes glittered, and he snorted. Then he turned away, and at last, she drew a deep breath, ready to gather her scattered wits and figure out just how bad her situation was.
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The contest continues! You have two more chances to win today! Post a comment here and at Everybody Needs A Little Romance. See details in yesterday’s post about the prizes and how to win my newsletter contest!

Want one really good reason for why you have to read Darkness Captured? One name. Guntram Brandt.

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“What are they doing?” Udo whispered harshly. “They know we’re here, and that we tortured one of their own. Are they so cowardly that they won’t come out to fight us?”

Guntram peered through the spokes of the iron gate as the lights inside the mansion were extinguished one by one. “Tell the men to prepare themselves.”

“But I don’t see them.”

“You won’t. Not until it’s too late.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the breeze rustling the branches overhead built. He turned his gaze toward the canopy above him, and then heard a sound that made his blood run cold.
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