Category Archives: Bisexual

4.5 Stars for Bent For His Will by KyAnn Waters – #Menage #Bisexual @Kyannwaters @Totally_Bound


Title: Bent For His Will
Author Name: KyAnn Waters
Publication Date & Length: January 23, 2012 – 125pgs


He loves a woman. But he also loves his best friend…so maybe he s not quite straight.Logan Sawin and Will Pennington have been friends for years. They attend the same university and live together in a great loft apartment. Their friendship can withstand anything…except Renna Polo.Logan has never questioned his sexuality until he sees Renna, his girlfriend in Will s arms. Will is gay. But what bothers Logan more, Will’s hands on Renna…or Renna’s hands on Will?Will has a dirty little secret…he’s in love with his best friend. Yet, Logan isn’t gay and Will isn’t willing to risk their friendship to discover if Logan isn’t quite straight, but may be a little bent Bent For His Will.Renna is in love with Logan and is intrigued by Will. She accepts what Logan and Will can’t…they belong together. But if Logan and Will take a chance on more, where does that leave her? Right where she wants to be…with Logan and the man he loves.Reader Advisory: This story contains hot man on woman sex, hotter man on man sex, and burn-up-the-pages man on man on woman sex.”

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I rather enjoyed the way this threesome evolved. Although at first I did think that Renna and Logan’s relationship seemed very sexual based, but as the story progressed we were shown there was a bit more there.
It was interesting to watch as Logan learned that he wasn’t as straight as he once thought. I did feel like Will, the roommate and long time friend, got the short end a LOT, but then again he didn’t want to scare off the exploration and discovery of Logan’s new side.
I did like how Renna and Will made it a goal to make everyone happy instead of letting Logan push everyone away. Their threesome was different, but in a good way. I’d be interested in seeing how they made things work after this point.


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4 Stars for Love is a Mess: A Supposed Crimes Anthology – #LBGT #FF #MM #Bisexual


Title: Love is a Mess: A Supposed Crimes Anthology
Author Name: Geonn Cannon, L.M. Perrin, Amber Kinsey, Rachael Orman, Adrian J. Smith, Eva LeFoy, A.M. Leibowitz, Michael DuPuy
Publication Date & Length: January 2, 2015 – 119pgs


Love is a Mess: A Supposed Crimes Anthology contains eight stories from eight authors on the topic of misfortune at Valentine’s Day. The topics range from the fun of the moment to the power of the eternal. Lesbian, gay, and bisexual characters star in their own love and lust stories–Erotic, playful, and thoughtful.

Viral Valentine by L. M. Perrin
Date Blind by Geonn Cannon
The Politician and the Pilot by Amber Kinsey
Bar Tryst by Rachael Orman
Quarter Life: Energy Feed by Adrian J. Smith
Property of Cupid by Eva Lefoy
Private Dance by A. M. Leibowitz
The Last Mitzvah by Michael DuPuy

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I enjoyed this anthology, but I do wish that these stories were a little longer, but the stories were great! Steamy, sometimes funny, sometimes emotional (especially that first one – I could feel the embarrassment!) I love when writers get together to compile their stories. Everyone has a different style and it makes it that much more fun to read. It also helps me as a reader to find new authors that I might not read otherwise.

Because the stories are so short, it does make it slightly hard to really dig in to a story line – I am not a big lover of “insta – love” stories, so some of these did not fit great with what I enjoy. However, even with those quick connections, these authors put together a great anthology.



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4.5 Stars for Wild and Precious by CJane Elliott – #Bisexual #MM #AuthorInterview @CJaneElliott

Wild and Precious

Title: Wild and Precious
Author Name: CJane Elliott
Publication Date & Length: December 31, 2014 – 80 pgs


Aspiring writer Brent Granger has good friends and a great job at an arts magazine in DC, but he’s batting zero in the arena of love. Brent begins to get a clue why things aren’t working with women from his strong attraction to his gorgeous, gay, and already attached boss, Graham Stoneford. When he sees a personal ad from a man that quotes his favorite poet, Brent decides to do something wild and answer.

Enter Cody Bellstrom, easygoing bisexual musician, who is happy to initiate Brent in the ways of gay sex. Brent now has a new problem: he realizes he’s gay and no one in his life knows it. Cody tires of hiding their relationship, but Brent finds it challenging to come out to family, friends, and especially to Graham. In the end, Brent must confront the truth of where—and with whom—his heart lies.

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This quick, one-sitting read was sweet and fun. I enjoyed watching Brent unfold and become comfortable with himself and who he was, and I loved the way the relationship with Graham unfolded slowly.

My only regret is that I wish the author hadn’t put any of the story in Cody’s point of view. Cody ended up feeling to me like a throwaway. It seemed like he was falling for Brent, and I didn’t really feel like there was closure with him. Maybe the author will tell his story some other time.



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As Brent sat cross-legged on a pillow, tearing pieces off the rubbery bread and dipping them into various dishes he couldn’t identify, he realized he was having more fun than he’d had in ages. Along with being thoughtful and smart, Graham was one of the most hilarious people he’d ever met, and Brent was in stitches for most of their lunch.

“If only my dates could be like this,” Brent said, after another bout of laughter between them, then widened his eyes. “Oh, wow, man, that sounded dumb.”

Graham didn’t seem fazed. “They’re not? But why? You’re so fun to talk to. Any woman would be nuts not to appreciate you.”

“Uh, well, tell them that. But I guess I don’t really appreciate them either. I don’t know, it’s like, awkward and boring most of the time. Whatever. Ari keeps trying to set me up, but…. Anyway, how did this get into talking about my love life, or lack thereof?”

Graham regarded him, warmth in his eyes, and said softly, “You’ll find it, Brent. Everyone deserves to have love in their life. You’re young. You’ll find it.”

Graham’s words touched Brent, but the intensity of the moment made him uncomfortable. Even worse, he noticed he was getting aroused.

He shifted on his pillow with a weak laugh. “Hey, no more of this ‘young’ crap, okay? You’re not that much older than I am.”


After years of hearing characters chatting away in her head, CJane Elliott finally decided to put them on paper and hasn’t looked back since. A psychotherapist by training, CJane enjoys writing sexy, passionate stories that also explore the human psyche. CJane has traveled all over North America for work and her characters are travelers, too, traveling down into their own depths to find what they need to get to the happy ending.

CJane is an ardent supporter of gay equality and is particularly fond of coming out stories.

In her spare time, CJane can be found dancing, listening to music, or watching old movies. Her husband and son support her writing habit by staying out of the way when they see her hunched over, staring intensely at her laptop.


  • Can you describe in detail what your writing environment is like? I write in different places, but most often it is sitting on my blue loveseat in my bedroom (which I’m doing right now). I have a candle lit and from where I sit I look out windows onto a green and grey world of trees and ferns. I usually have my iPod on and listen to music (my current favorite is George Michael). I have a writing desk on my lap (a cushion with a small desk top) on which perches either my computer or paper. I used to write all my first drafts in longhand and then type them into the computer, but lately I’ve been doing most of my writing on the computer.
  • Is there one of your characters that you relate to (from any of your works)? Why? I relate to Pete, the main character in Serpentine Walls, because I had him go through what I went through regarding my parents getting divorced my first year in college. Pete’s pain and anger, the weirdness of holidays without his father, how devastated his mother is – all of that is reflective of my own experience. The other similarity is how scared Pete is of falling in love, which he covers up with cynicism. I was scared of it for a long time, because of the experience of my parents splitting up.
  • In Wild and Precious, I relate most closely to Brent who is a few years out of college and trying to figure out what his life is about. He’s not a flashy character and he doubts his attractiveness and talent, but he keeps taking steps outside of his comfort zone to express who he really is. I did the same thing with my life starting as a 22-year old and I was just as scared about it as Brent is in the story. I’ve never regretted going for what I wanted, and I don’t think Brent will either.
  • If you couldn’t be an author, what would you do instead? I didn’t start being an author until I was in my forties, so I’ve already done my other dream, which was to be a counselor. Currently I work as a medical social worker. But if I had another life to live, I would become a dancer.
  • Is there anything that you learned during the writing process that you wish you had known before hand? I’m constantly learning about writing. In the case of Wild and Precious, I had written a version of that story several years earlier. Coming to it after having written several more books, I could see the overuse of adverbs, too much passive voice, and not enough “meat” to the story. It was satisfying to make the original version into something I think is much better.
  • Is there anything that you wish you could change about your book now that it is out? It’s too late now! With Dreamspinner Press, you generally get three edits and then the book goes to galleys. I find the third edit nervewracking because I know it’s my last chance to do any substantive changes. Every time I re-read one of my stories I can pick out a sentence that could have been written better or a word choice that could be changed. But to answer your question, no, I wouldn’t change anything major about Wild and Precious. I’m happy with the story and especially the sweet ending.
  • How do you come up with new ideas for your story? A lot of my writing draws on my own past experiences of places, people, and situations. Some of it comes from wanting to address a certain issue. For instance, the story I’m currently writing includes a transgender character and the transphobia she encounters. Some of it comes from a character in a previous book demanding their own story. Aidan’s Journey, which is the second novel in my Serpentine Series of books set at University of Virginia, came out of wanting to know why Aidan in Serpentine Walls, who is a handsome, talented young man, would get himself involved in a sketchy relationship with a professor. The other way I come up with ideas is by brainstorming with someone else. I find it very helpful to talk about my story ideas with others, especially when I get stuck.
  • What’s next for you as a writer? I’m writing the third novel in the Serpentine Series featuring Jed from Serpentine Walls. It should be out this summer and I plan on completing a fourth novel in that series by the end of 2015.
  • Where do you live? Do you think this influences how or what you write? Absolutely. I use my experience of having lived in certain places for the settings of my stories. I’ve been living in Oregon for the past nine years, and you get to see some of the Pacific Northwest in my novella Mercury In Retrograde, which features a river rafting trip at an Oregon Most of my stories are placed in the DC area and Virginia, because I grew up there. I lived in San Francisco for four years and my story Stay Right Here is placed there.
  • What is your favorite genre outside of the one you write in? Why? Mystery stories. I find them fascinating, especially those that are psychological studies along with the whodunit aspect. I’m in awe of people who can write mysteries well.
  • Do you have any vices? Shoes, coffee, shopping…etc? Hmm. Coffee is a necessity, not a vice! If I had more money, I’d probably have far more vices. My only shopping vice is pens. I’m addicted to nice pens and they have to be just right – black gel, not too thin and not too thick.


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4 Stars for Any Way We Want by Grey Cole – #Menage #MM #MFM #Erotica @greycoleauthor


Title: Any Way We Want (Want #1)
Author Name: Grey Cole
Publication Date & Length: November 25, 2014 – 100pgs


I couldn’t have picked two men more opposing than they. One dark-headed, slightly controlling, but intuitive. The other all unruly copper curls, somewhat bashful, but sensual. Yet, my fall for them felt the same—hard and fast.

I never slept around or cheated, but when you’re the girl who got dumped for being too kinky–you realize and accept you are different. Somehow, some way, they had to be mine. My mind spun with what could be, and I set out to entice them with my fantasy.

Only, my plot had a twist…Royce and Shea were already lovers. Luckily for me, they liked to share.

Warning: Contains a headstrong daughter of nudist, hippy parents, an Alpha with seriously protective instincts, positive representations of Asperger’s Syndrome and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and oh yeah, M/M, M/M/M, M/M/F, and M/F/M.

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This is the first in a series, and it definitely left me curious to read what comes next.

The flow, pacing, and style of the story were all excellent. I didn’t feel that the story got hung up at any point, and it held my interest throughout. The sex scenes were really sensual and steamy, but not overdone or exaggerated, and there was plenty in between to hold the story together.

I loved that the author didn’t shy away both from having bisexual men and from using the word rather than having them shrug it off as “undefinable.” I also thought the way Royce and Shea worked through that was pretty realistic, and I’m glad they didn’t just jump to conclusions about themselves.

There were just a few things that made me hesitate, and they are the reason I couldn’t give this a higher rating. First, everything outside of Royce and Shea’s relationship and the sex scenes felt more like the author telling us rather than showing us. For example, I would have liked to see more of Luna’s past instead of it just being a bit of random dialog with her friend. There also wasn’t enough evidence of Shea’s Asperger’s outside of mentioning it several times and one or two moments that might have indicated some signs.

I didn’t really feel captivated by the relationship Luna had with Shea and Royce. We were supposed to believe they were deeply in love, but again, that was the author telling us that. There was no real evidence. Their entire relationship that we saw “onscreen” was based on sex, and she felt to me like the disposable third wheel. Even Royce implies that when he says he and Shea are forever and it’s fine if it doesn’t work out with her–and this was after they were supposedly all in love. In fact, they had more chemistry with the first person they added as a third than with Luna. It came across more as a straight woman’s fantasy about what it would be like to have sex with gay men than a genuine love trio.

Despite that, I have hope for this series. I’m interested to see where things go, as it was left on quite a big cliffhanger. I’m looking forward to the next part of the series.

4 stars



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Grey Cole always dreamt of a book that featured hot male-on-male action that grew to encompass one lucky woman. Okay … maybe Grey really dreamt of this scenario playing out in real life and then decided to purge all those dirty thoughts onto the page.


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4 and 3.5 Stars for The Mistress of Thornfield by Zac Blue – @mugwumppress #FF #Bi #bisexual #Erotic #Short


Title: The Mistress of Thornfield
Author Name: Zac Blue
Publication Date & Length: November 28, 2014 – 12k


The nineteen-year-old maid knew the unspoken rules of Victorian society but broke them anyway, unleashing a dark curse upon Thornfield Hall. 

Rochester has fled, leaving Grace alone with her mad mistress and the consequences of their transgressions. Now the young maid must attempt to conquer the darkness that her flawed plan to cuckold her master has loosed upon Thornfield.

 A dark sexuality has been awakened in the bisexual mistress of Thornfield.

Bertha Rochester has tasted temptation and wants more. Her innocence destroyed, the dark beauty has come into her own as mistress of Thornfield. Grace watches helpless as Bertha fills the household with strong, brutal men who are as willing to commit murder as participate in an orgy if their mistress demands it.

Grace’s only ally is an enigmatic gypsy with secrets of her own.

The voluptuous Madame Magenta appears at Thornfield with a dire warning, and Grace must decide if she can be trusted. The attraction between the two bisexual women, however, cannot be denied and distrust soon gives way to passion. The maid and the gypsy, both outcasts in Victorian society, devise a plan to save Thornfield and its tormented master from the growing madness of his estranged wife.

The depths of Mrs. Rochester’s dark desires, however, will not become apparent until Grace stumbles upon her mistress’s darkest orgy yet.



This book is a definitely continuation of the previous book. I wish it had rehashed what happened with Mr. Rochester at the end of the book a bit more to help me remember it better, but overall, the story line from book 1 to book 2 was continued and explained. I do not, however, suggest reading this book without reading the first beforehand.

Once again, Zac Blue has wowed me with the writing. This book has quite a bit more plot in it than the first one, and I really enjoyed seeing where the story was going to potentially go. I loved the introduction of Magda. It was a character that fit perfectly with Grace and helped move the plot along, and really was just very well done. In a short period of time, Magda was well-rounded and damn hot. The connection Magda had with Grace is one of the sincerest  connections/relationships in the entire series thus far.

I’m definitely waiting for the next installment to see how the situation is resolved. The complications Blue has thrown into the mix have definitely created an intense problem waiting to be resolved in some fiery heat, I’m sure. This book is a great read, and it’s definitely on my re-read list.



This is the second novella in the erotic Jane Eyre-based series. I have to admit, I liked this one less than the last one. The charm has worn off a little. However, it seems as though that might have been intentional for the purposes of the narrative.

I’m honestly not sure how I feel about the weird sex-magic part. The idea that women having and enjoying sex they choose as “demonic” has long been a part of cultures that oppress women. I’m a little uncomfortable with seeing it expressed so baldly, especially given that it seems Grace is being punished for introducing Mrs. Rochester to “demon sex.” I’ll reserve judgment, however, until I read the conclusion of the story.

The story is short, and I was able to read it quickly. I’m looking forward to seeing how the whole thing draws to its conclusion.

I give it 3.5 stars.



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Mrs. Rochester, as Grace now thought of her, was different, becoming something else, a half-formed creature still determining its own form. Grace knew that her bluebird was gone. The innocent flutter had left her lips to be replaced by a sharp, greedy peck. The nervous tongue was now assured and spoke with a knowledge beyond that which Grace had taught it.

Grace did not say anything. She just fell back into the routine of attendance at Mrs. Rochester’s side and in her bed.

Three shadows danced across the wall, swaying and merging into one.

Lucas was on his knees, his hard cock deep inside Grace’s cunt and Grace, her arse high to allow him to push even deeper, had her face buried between Mrs. Rochester’s legs, lips sucking and tongue probing her pussy with each thrust of Lucas’s cock.

Of all the men she had fucked at Thornfield, it was the quiet Lucas that served Grace best, because he was in love. He loved Grace with an uncomplicated devotion and a fury that meant he pounded her as hard as she could stand and, when she had taught him, as long as she needed. Right now, fucking and coming were all that made sense; she did both as often as possible.

“Devour this flesh,” moaned Mrs. Rochester as Grace sucked hard and let her tongue push against the throb in time with each pound of her own cunt. Her face was buried between her lover’s legs, eyes closed. She did not want to look at Mrs. Rochester.

Then a strong hand was in Grace’s long red hair, pulling her up. Grace screwed her eyes tightly shut, hoping it would be mistaken for ecstasy.


Just one word in that new, dark, liquid voice and Grace was staring up at her.

Mrs. Rochester’s eyes, black and burning like newly fired coals. This thing she was becoming rising like a phoenix from the fire that Grace herself had ignited. The darkest of passions and need.

Grace felt every muscle tighten. Those deep inside her strangled Lucas’s cock and he let out a long, hard moan and, as he had been taught, pulled back and came on her arse.

No! It was too soon!

But Lucas was already retreating into the shadows. He knew that his time was over as much as he knew that he had not satisfied his mistress. The fact that she had not come was bad enough. The hateful cramp of unfulfilled passion would linger but eventually fall away. But now she was alone with Mrs. Rochester and, since the pretty little bluebird had flown, these were the moments that she longed to escape as Lucas had done, into silent shadows.

“Make me scream, Grace.” Mrs. Rochester, the bluebird that even tasted differently. The honeysuckle sweetness had become a mix of dark spices in her mouth. It was something that in all her years Grace had never encountered. Something dark inside Grace, which she had long trapped and jailed, responded to this taste and it drove her on, her own pleasure forgotten, the taste driving her tongue deep inside.

Mrs. Rochester pushed her hips upward, spread her legs wider. Grace rose up a little so that her tongue could slide down almost vertically into the wet cunt. She felt muscles tighten around her tongue like a hand round her throat. She pushed deeper and the moans began to rise and twist. Her lips pressed hard against the soft folds; her hands slid beneath and grabbed Mrs. Rochester’s round peach arse, pulling her higher.

“Grace! Grace, I am coming! I am becoming!” Mrs. Rochester’s words slipped into something that was insanity, a mixture of half words and inventions as she bucked once, twice and then with a scratching scream came hard against Grace’s mouth.

The scream seemed to thrash around the room like a trapped bird and finally silenced, leaving the soft, satisfied whimpers of Mrs. Rochester.

They were entwined on the bed, damp with sweat and spent desire. Mrs. Rochester played with Grace’s long red hair and locked her eyes onto hers. Grace felt the cramp in her stomach that came when her own pleasures and needs were left unsatisfied.

“He will return, Grace.” Mrs. Rochester did not need to mention her husband by name.

It was the conversation Grace had been dreading but had known would come. Grace had a gnawing certainty that somehow Mrs. Rochester had knowledge of what had happened between her and her husband, although she had never addressed it directly, not that any wronged wife ever did. Such indiscretions were commonplace and ladies did not recognise the baser instincts of their gentlemen and the women they exercised them with. As long as they did not attempt to exercise them with their ladies, the situation would probably carry on for eternity.

“I will protect you, my blue . . .” Grace stropped as she looked into the eyes that studied her.

“I know you are devoted to my protection, Grace. I know your plan, that you kept so close to your breast. To seed me with Lucas’s child and ward off Rochester with the threat of a wailing bastard on his doorstep.”

The plan had not accounted for the Rochester seed that was now inside her, that had taken root. That, unlike the others, she wanted to keep, wanted to grow and nourish inside her.

“But that seed is dead, Grace.”

The heat rose in Grace’s body, blooming dark on her cheeks. Which seed? Did this new thing that was Mrs. Rochester have “the sight?” Did her dark wells see into Grace’s troubled thoughts and pluck out this child that was inside her?

“The seed that Lucas planted in me lived for a few days. But that night when you confronted my husband and he assaulted you, my poor sweet Grace, that night the seed died inside me. I felt it, Grace.”

The heat was gone and an ice flow took Grace’s blood and flesh. The relief that Mrs. Rochester knew not of her own encounter, or at least did not mention it, was consumed by the words and the knowledge that nothing could live inside this woman that used to be her bluebird. That used to love her with such sweet moans.

“He will have to be killed, Grace. I think you know that. If I am to live, he must die.” Mrs. Rochester took Grace’s face between her hands, a new strength in those dainty fingers, as if she could crush Grace between them. “Grace, you are the clever one. You must make a new plan, one that will set me free. Will you do that, Grace?” Mrs. Rochester’s dusky eyes were round and large and Grace could not escape them.


It was dark when Grace found herself back in the library where Mr. Rochester had come inside her and made her moan and buck and orgasm like she had never before.

Now the room was a twilight place, a soft moon outside threw silver across the carpet where he had fucked her. Her cunt ached. She did not recognise herself in the sliver of window that the curtains had not been drawn against. She had lost control. She had lost her bluebird and lost him.

The rage began to rise in her; it bathed the ache between her legs and, as it often did, her anger brought the clarity she needed.

She slowly shed her clothes, standing naked in the library. Where he had received her, where he had taken her. Now she would take what she wanted. Without the complications of others, that primal power that came from control of yourself.

Her hands moved to her small, round breasts, found the nipples begging to be pinched and rolled. She made them stand hard and pink and then pinched them red. The pain was hers; she controlled it. She let out a gasp of pleasure.

She cupped her breasts and let her mouth dribble down on them. She began to squeeze and tease in this new liquidity, knowing that further wetness was developing between her legs; it was rising, drowning the hurt and the ache that lay there. The ache for control, for her bluebird and for him. But none of that mattered now. All that mattered was her pleasure.

She let her hands move across her stomach. Her palms rested flat for a moment. Waiting for a movement that was impossible at such a short interval after planting, but waiting anyway.

Then her hands moved on. One slid to her tight, little arse, stroking it with fingernails to the fore. Tapping out her desire with fingers. The other found the hood of her clit and for a moment she let her palm rest on it, feeling the throb increasing, the twitch that she herself had put there. The itch that was hers alone to scratch.

Thumb and forefinger took the flesh between them, rolling and pinching. Her moans were getting louder, but she knew she would not be disturbed. The servants all knew her moans, and that if they were not invited to join they should keep out. She was still the mistress of fucking in this place, but she heard the whispers. She saw the way they looked to her when she commanded them and the second look they now gave to Mrs. Rochester.

Damn! She felt the ache rising again. Damn!

No! This was her moment. This was her cunt, her house, her fucking life. She pinched the hood hard and let out a yelp; the wetness increased, and she sank to the floor, spreading her legs wide.

She let two fingers tease the contours of her cunt lips. Her other hand teased her tight arsehole. It was not a route she often struck, but this was needed. All that ache had to be engulfed by pleasure so overwhelming that when she came it would be banished as if an errant child dispatched to a boarding school.

Her fingernails found the folds of her lips and played them back and forth. Grace let herself moan loudly.

“Fuck me.” Her words to herself alone.

She pushed two expert fingers inside her wet cunt, tightening herself around them, knowing that such a grip would not bring a premature end as it did with so many useless men. But not with him. He drove past that. Where was he this night? What had his words meant?

“No,” she snarled.

Fingers pushing inside her cunt now, legs wide, crooked, hips up and meeting each movement.

The heat rose from her; the sweat coated her tight, young body as her fingers controlled every inch of her. Sliding in her cunt, pushing to that spot, so long ago found, so often missed by others, her true centre, pushing harder, moans loud, breath ragged.

She felt the familiar shiver, but it was deeper, rising in a wave that she felt might never end. Her fingers drove her body to arch and writhe, made her scream loudly.

She stopped dead. Pulled the fingers from herself. Breathing hard, heart pumping her full of want. This was hers. She could have everything; she was the mistress of this place and of herself and this was denial. She licked the pleasure from her fingers and returned them to the tease. There was no ache. There was only need and satisfaction that were both at her fingertips.

She looked up at that sliver of glass and saw herself again. Nothing would cloud her; there was no haze. She was Grace Poole, and whatever darkness inhabited this place would be conquered or controlled as she saw fit.

Fingers inside again, slowly relocating the rhythm, pushing slow and deep.


Hard slamming now, screaming at the gates of heaven and hell, waves rising through her, moans and curses spitting from her as she bucked hard as the orgasm swept through her like a spark through kindling.

She came hard and loud. She still fingered herself, wanting more, without any thought, just the brutal need that was the essence of her being. She came again and shook like a creature possessed, heart exploding, mouth uttering gasps and moans and, after several minutes, the softest whimpers of satisfaction.

After many minutes of recovery, where she enjoyed the diminishing of the shivers that had possessed her flesh, she dressed and sat in his chair. She was filled with purpose. The ache would return, she had little doubt of that, but she would control it. She would control everything. Mrs. Rochester, Lucas, all those who had served her and given her pleasure would be hers again.

When she left the library, she heard raised voices at the main entrance. Mrs. Fairfax and the butler were arguing with a third, unknown person. A woman with a gravely voice that rose above theirs.

Fairfax saw Grace and rushed toward her.

“Such an affair! Miss Grace, there is a mad woman without.” Fairfax was red in her cheeks.

“Then turf her from the grounds.” Grace had no time for such trivial matters.

“Where is Grace Poole?” The gravel voice.

Grace was startled but in control; this was her house.

“Let her in.”

A gypsy swathed in dark colours, veiled and hidden, pushed past the butler. There was nothing but her eyes to be seen.

“How do you know of me?” demanded Grace.

“I know many things. Of darkness and of light, of pasts and of futures. I know what you have unleashed upon the world, Grace Poole.”


Zachary Bluebird III lives in the burnt out ruin of his imagination after his crazy ex-wife tried to set it on fire. She may still be running round on the third floor of his psyche somewhere. He writes erotica with a literary twist that sometimes gets very twisted. He is a slave to the Mugwump ethos of banging it hard. He has lots of headaches and sore thumbs, but wouldn’t have it any other way.


Twitter: @mugwumppress

Across Worlds: Collision by S.A. Snow – #Bisexual #Erotica @booksbysnow


Title: Across Worlds: Collision
Author Name: S.A. Snow
Publication Date & Length: August 1, 2014 – 180 pgs


Jane expected six months undercover to be hard; she expected it to be lonely and bleak. She didn’t expect to find love.

Jane Butler, a CIA operative, is assigned the task of infiltrating the Xanthians and determining if they’re a threat to humanity. Going undercover as a Xanthian mate, she boards the transport ship and meets Usnavi—her new mate. After spending six days traveling through space, Jane is ecstatic to explore the Xanthian station and soon sets out to complete her mission. The only problem? Usnavi—and the feelings she is quickly developing.

Fumbling their way through varying sexual expectations, cooking catastrophes, and cultural differences, they soon discover life together is never boring. As Jane and Usnavi careen into a relationship neither of them expected, Jane uncovers dark secrets about the Xanthians and realizes she may no longer be safe. When it becomes clear she’s on her own, Jane is forced to trust and rely on Usnavi. Simultaneously struggling with her mission, her feelings for Usnavi, and homesickness, Jane faces questions she never imagined she would have to answer.

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Across Worlds: Collision I found to be a very interesting book. I have not read a book where aliens can change sex at will and procreate without having actual sex. The plot was one I had heard of before in movies:  a race is dying out and need others to help them to survive.  However, it was the twists and turns that make it something different all together.

I really liked the main character Jane.  She is not going to let any Xanthians get in her way of finding out what is really going on.   Her mate, Usnavi, I didn’t want to like, since zhe (that is what he/she is referred to) is one of the aliens, but I found that zhe is caring towards Jane. Even when Usnavi is the one that becomes pregnant.

I would recommend this book is you like sci-fi, but this is definitely not your typical sci-fi!



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“I am not a man.”

Jane took a long sip from the drink, using it to bide her time before she asked the question on the tip of her tongue.

“What are you, then?”

“I am Xanthian.”

Usnavi stood up straight, zher back tense as zhe moved over to stand in front of Jane.

“Is it really that hard to understand that I am neither man nor woman, male nor female, that I am simply Xanthian and Usnavi?”

Grinding her back teeth together, Jane nodded minutely.

“Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s not,” she responded.


After chasing around puppies and corralling kittens, S.A. Snow flips open her BSG replicated console and enters her mysterious world of imagination. Seeking to escape the rigors of her day jobs, she enters flight mode and powers her engines full-speed ahead.

A prolific writer of non-traditional erotica, S.A. Snow grew up on a small alpaca farm high in the Andes Mountains. A lover of yoga and meditation, she spends her free time constructing alien space stations, organizing werewolf governments, and cataloging all episodes of Star Trek in order of technical soundness. A firm believer that one need not choose between Gene Roddenberry and George Lucas, she also has closely examines all Star Wars movies in order to determine which episode is more factually based.

S.A. Snow writes truth and only truth, factoring in all evidences she can find. She writes only about parallel universes she has personally visited, and believes if something about her books isn’t shocking, she’s not effectively telling the story.


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