Cynthia Sax's Blog, page 268
August 3, 2011
Prequel: Lone Wolf Justice
Lone Wolf Justice From Cynthia Sax
She wouldn't dream of wolves tonight. Diana stared up at her bedroom's ceiling, her hands clasped in front of her. She'd dream of Frank, and babies, and a future surrounded by familiar faces and buildings. No wolves. She closed her eyes.
***
She sat in a field, surrounded by wildflowers of every color and scent. Her skirt was spread out around her, and a warm, comforting weight pressed on her hip. Diana glanced down at the massive wolf cuddled up to her side, his big, brown eyes watching her. She felt no fear, only a sense of his presence being right, and an odd tingling sensation low in her stomach.
She petted the wolf's great head, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. She imagined that tongue entwined with hers, with her wolf kissing her the way Frank had that morning, and her face heated at the shameful thought.
"Ladies don't kiss wolves. That's what my dear momma would say," she told the big animal, and then she giggled.
The wolf yelped, as though he were laughing too, and that made her laugh even more. She fell back into the wildflowers, while the wolf rolled to his feet.
And then he wasn't a wolf any more. He was a man, a big, handsome, naked man standing before her. Diana's eyes grew wide as she studied him. She'd never seen a man without his clothes before.
His chest was hairy, like her wolf's belly, but broad and muscular. His waist tapered down to lean hips and more hair. In the midst of the hair was a poky funny looking body part. Her maid, Molly, had told her about that body part, and she'd called it a cock like the male chicken except it didn't look like any chicken Diana had ever seen.
It was long and straight and tipped with a layer of thicker flesh. There was a slit in that layer, with a dab of creamy moisture topping it. Her wolf man wrapped his fingers around his cock, and he stroked it, an intent look on his handsome face.
The stroking made the flesh hanging under his cock sway. Molly had called those balls, and said men like their lady friends to cup and squeeze them, but not too hard, or the men yelped like little girls. Her unrestrained friend also said men liked it when their cocks were kissed and sucked on.
At the time, Diana had thought Molly had been telling tall tales, but now she wasn't so certain. The wolf man pumped faster and faster, his mouth pulling tight into a grimace, and the sight made her womanly parts moisten, and an ache to settle between her legs.
Yes, she decided. She'd like to kiss her wolf man's cock, nibbling on his skin, licking him like he was a flavored ice, and she'd squeeze his balls at the same time, rolling them in her fingers.
As she watched him work his shaft, Diana lifted her skirt, and cool air hit her skin, because she wasn't wearing any drawers. She was shamefully naked. Her wolf man lowered to his knees between her legs, and she trembled with excitement, as he was looking at her, his expression hungry like he hadn't eaten dinner in a week. He reached out with his big hand, and—
***
"Miss Diana." Molly's voice pierced through Diana's reverie.
Diana groaned, an unladylike sound her dear momma would have berated her for.
July 5, 2011
This Enchanted Demon
This Enchanted Demon From Cynthia Sax
To save his sister, Augustine has to bond with a vessel. He approaches the sorceress shielding the vessels, expecting a decrepit old crone. What he finds is a beautiful woman with a fondness for exhibitionism and a sexual appetite to match his own.
Gloriana isn't a sorceress. She's a vessel, her true identity hidden from demons by the magic pendant she wears. Knowing the risks of bonding without love, she refuses to settle for anything less, even if it means losing the demon she adores to the vessel he needs.
Read The Prequel Here: http://cynthiasax.com/2011/07/04/prequel-this-enchanted-demon/
The Mentor
The Mentor From Cynthia Sax
Note: This is NOT a romance!
The best education is not always one-on-one.
While taking the train from Paris to Milan, I volunteer to test a young stranger's skills at reading body language. The sexy examples I give him lead to more lessons delivered against the compartment's window, as the mentor shows his protégé how to please a woman. The mentor believes in hands-on learning, and I, being a faithful disciple of this method, am happy to oblige him. Together, we teach a young man the pleasures of sexual diversity.
July 4, 2011
Prequel: This Enchanted Demon
This Enchanted Demon From Cynthia Sax
The witch was supposed to be an old hag. Augustine trailed the obscenely short skirt as it twitched its way through the produce section. She wasn't supposed to be young, and beautiful, with high, full breasts, and an ass a demon could sink his teeth into.
Gloriana reached for a green pepper, her white blouse stretching tightly across her chest, verifying what he already knew. She wasn't wearing a bra, her nipples tight and taut and clearly visible through the thin cotton.
He groaned, his cock pressing against the zipper of his black dress pants. She was driving him stark raving mad.
She placed the green pepper carefully in her basket, her long, red fingernails skimming over the vegetable, swirling and stroking, and caressing. Gloriana touched every object that way, with a decadent flourish promising sensual delights.
She was a sexual creature, as Augustine was, and over the past few days, he'd come to associate arousal with her sweet apricot scent.
He'd never desired anyone as he desired this witch.
Her lips, full and lush and perfect for wrapping around a demon's throbbing shaft, curled upward as though she knew he was following her, wanting her, needing her, craving her. He curled his fingers into fists, digging his blunt nails into his palm.
She turned, her hair swinging, a sheet of blonde silk rippling down her back, the tendrils almost reaching her ass. Her hips rolled as she strode down the aisle, her tanned legs long and lean and bare.
Other men watched her also. The produce clerk sported an erection he didn't bother to hide, a moist spot spreading on his cheap polyester pants. An old man gripped a tomato so hard, red juice gushed out over his fingers.
A tall human male, clad in a dark suit, approached her, and Augustine growled. The businessman's gaze met his. Augustine allowed his eyes to glow purple. Mine, he silently declared. The man pivoted on his heels, and scurried away.
Augustine smirked. Humans were so easy to scare.
His smirk faded, as Gloriana bent over. The skirt pulled up and up and up, displaying shapely thighs, and the curve of a tight ass. He gulped air. She wasn't wearing panties. She spread her legs slightly. He spotted the gleam of moisture on her pussy lips.
In three strides, he could have her. He could clasp her hips, and drive his cock deep into that welcoming hole, fucking her in the middle of the grocery store while envious males watched, their cocks hard for what only he could have.
Not yet. He gritted his teeth, his balls aching for release. He had to secure a vessel first.
Then he would take the golden witch.
June 25, 2011
Assassin's Haiku
Assassins Haiku From Cynthia Sax
Twice a week, every week, Haiku sits beside Diego in the dimly-lit underground poetry-sex bar. As they listen to the poets read, she basks in the warmth of her genetically-enhanced assassin's body, and longs for the smack of large, leather-clad hands against bare skin. No other male, human or otherwise, makes her thighs tremble like Diego can with one dark look. Her heart, body and soul are his, if only he'd ask.
Diego won't ask, because he knows a killer doesn't deserve love. Instead he sits in silent torment, watching Haiku, wanting Haiku, yet unable to touch her. She is poetry and light, embodying all that he fights for, and when Agency operatives attack the bar, putting Haiku in danger, he must protect her. He takes her to the safest place on the planet, his underground bunker, and then realizes he has made a deadly mistake. Haiku may now be safe, but Diego's heart has been put in jeopardy.
