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About the author:
This is her first foray into erotica, though she has poetry published in two anthologies. Her other literary work-in-progress is a modern translation of the Priapea, a collection of verses on Priapus.
What inspired you to write your book?
Thus, it struck me that to do the ancient world I love so much justice, I needed to re-write the myths I love with all the sex, eroticism, and sensuality I can muster.
Here is a short sample from the book:
“I’ll still leave you a virgin, goddess. You have my promise.”
The pressure of his lips, so lush, so full, were a complement to my own. A harsh and lustful moan was ripped from me, unbidden. I leaned in ever so slightly to deepen the kiss. He took full advantage. His tongue slipped out and gently lapped at my lips, coaxing them to part and let him taste me completely. On a deep sigh, my body gave in. I had no more resistance. My passion-tinged lips, reddening with the rush of blood, opened on a quick intake of breath. It wasn’t air I needed more of; it was him. He responded, as I needed—unknown to me just how much—with a gentle thrust of his thick tongue. He delved deep into my warm mouth.
“You taste like the forest. Hints of night-blooming jasmine and honeysuckle. I want more. I need more.” He deepened the kiss, stepping up tight against me and raising his hands to tilt my head to fit perfectly with his. I acquiesced too easily, too overcome with sensation to form any more complaints or orders.
The hands that cupped my chin and circled my neck began to slide lower as I began to counter his passion with my own. A woman’s instinct took over. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling in the long dark hair at his nape. When I wound one curl around a finger and tugged, he ripped his mouth free of mine and pulled back instantly. His dark eyes flared golden. In return, my own pupils widened and the world seemed too bright.
“You want this as much as I do, goddess,” he growled, startled by my abrupt pull. He didn’t give me time to answer, to agree. Instead, he lowered his mouth to the bottom lobe of my ear and sucked. My breathing, already harsh and erratic, ratcheted up. My breasts heaved, filling his large warm hand which had traced a path down from my neck to shoulder and across the toned muscles there. I sighed at the sensation of his finger circling my nipple—it felt so right—then grasping the peak and tugging it gently between his thumb and finger. His mouth lowered from my lobe and kissed its way to the sharp curve of my jawline. Down further still, his tongue licked at my pulse, then my throat. I stopped breathing. He lifted his head to cast his gaze over me.
“Do not stop!” Panic and despair filled the air.
“Not yet. Please, not yet.”
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