Detour

Well… I was going to go away with my local writer’s group for a weekend away starting today. As you know, life likes to send detours. I’m at home with my youngest son, Drew. You may remember him as the one who’s frequently attempting to be voted off the island. For two days he’s had a sore throat. Yesterday, he had the migraine from hell. Last night he started spiking temps up to 103. Today started the awful cough. I knew I’d be taking him to the doctor — asap. The clincher however, if I’d had any doubt, came in the middle of the night. He’d climbed into my bed earlier. At three, he woke me in a panic. He’d had a nightmare. “I was floating by the ceiling and kept hitting my head on it. It was really scary and I could see you laying on the bed…” Okay. Way to freak out the mom. More calmly than I felt, I suggested that maybe we should get some more meds in him and take his temp again…

As it turns out, he has some nasty bug which has his tonsils mighty enflamed. So he’s on antibiotics. And I’m home. That’s okay. I’d rather be here with him doing the mom thing than off somewhere else where I’d worry. Anyway, I’m one of those moms who’d rather take her kids with her places than to leave them at home with someone.

Despite the golfball sized tonsils, he’s doing much better tonight. And I’m better once I had a nap… There was no sleep most of last night.

So I’m hanging out with my story, a Coke Zero and a pack of Oreos. Not the whole pack. I’m not that bad. I figure the Coke Zero and the Oreos kind of cancel each other out. I’m not sure how Pizza Hut (dinner) figures into that equation but at least it was veggie.

Speaking of food — especially Oreos — I have a book coming out on Monday at Total-e-bound. It’s called Incubus. It is hot, hot, hot. And that’s an outside rating. Not mine. Since I occasionallly like to flog my books, an excerpt is coming right up. But first.

To flog: to sell, esp. aggressively or vigorously.

Now I know why ‘to flog a dead horse’ is such a great term. There are by the way, no dead horses being sold on my blog. I think it’s illegal in some states. There are however demons. Sex demons. Read on:

At this point, I’m obligated to say: If you are under 18 STOP READING NOW! By reading on, you certify you are indeed 18.

EXCERPT: Incubus by Brynn Paulin

Noah Proctor exclaimed as he slammed his hand down on his desk. He’d had her. Damn it. She’d been his until the damned beast inside him had taken over.

The beast.

Noah had stymied it for weeks through internet encounters with Ms. Valentine Jones. Night after night, he brought her to orgasm. Even at a distance, the beast could feed on her sexual energy. There’d been plenty between them.

Now she’d been pushed too far.

In his mind’s eye, he still saw her. She was staring at her computer, her adorable bottom lip pulled between her teeth. Her dark brown hair was in its usual wild array around her shoulders. Still watching her, in his head, he saw her turn away. Despite her earlier refusal, she pulled her shirt over her head revealing a lacy white bra that barely hid her dark nipples. He wanted to taste them on his tongue. He did— not the beast within him.

He took a rasping breath as her hand slid down her belly and into her sweats. Noah, She mouthed. Oh God, he wished this was a fantasy, but he knew all too well the pictures and scents filling him were true.

It was part of his curse. He’d been lured into the service of a demon by his own selfishness. In an attempt at contrition, he’d taken another’s punishment, becoming an Incubus in their stead. Contrition meant nothing. Cu’pae’ed the demon he served had seen to that. Noah spent his days in an endless torture of sexual need, at times almost mindless with it. But one thought was never far from him.

“Your need will kill.” That more than anything twisted like a knife in his gut. If only it was a real knife and this could be over.

Standing, he glanced down at his body and the large erection jutting from his groin. He had to go to her. He had no choice. She was chosen by the beast.

Angrily, he jabbed a hand through his long black hair. He’d been stupid to think this would work. The beast needed to draw energy and only Valentine’s would do. It would take and take until it depleted her life force, and since Noah was invisible to the human eye, she’d never know what had attacked her.

She’d die at his cock and there was nothing to be done for it.

He was an incubus.

That’s how these things worked.

Closing his eyes, he felt his being evaporate. A moment later, he stood in Val’s living room staring at her bedroom door. He could feel her. Her sexual energy.

Taking a deep breath, he drew the wafting strand inside him and stepped forward.

He might have frightened her, but she’d been turned on by his demands.

“Noah!”

His arousal throbbed at his name on her lips. He gripped the doorframe to keep from running to her. The sight of her nearly undid him. Val lay on the bed, her head thrown back,knees raised and spread. Her fingers skated across bared flesh, teasing her glistening folds, parting them as she worked her clit.

He had to taste her.

He took another step forward. Val’s full breasts were firm, their beautiful, tan nipples crinkled into tight peaks. A pale flush stained her throat and shoulders. He shuddered as he fought the beast’s need to fall on her like a ravening…beast.

Hell! Spikes of fiery need pierced his groin, further twisting his insides. Only the pleasure of her body would ease the merciless pain.

Still he fought.

6 thoughts on “Detour

  1. Sorry to hear about your son and missing your writer’s retreat. I hope he feels better soon.So, he’s trying to get voted off the island? LOLOLOL. My older ones keep trying to vote my youngest off the island and a lot of days, he’s so awful, I’m voting him off, too. He’s at Saturday school today for detention (I did warn you he’s no angel – he stuck out his tongue at his teacher last week and threw an orange at one of his friends).I LOVE your excerpt. I can’t wait to read the book. Hope you have tons of sales.

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  2. Whew! Hot,hot,hot is an understatement. Yikes!Sorry you couldn’t make it. It’s all cashmere and hand-picked grapes, hot models and baby oil. (those last two might be on our computer screens only.)Let Drew know we’re thinking of him and picturing healthy tonsils.

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