Here is a list of all the authors flashing this week, along with a brief snippet from their latest free work. Click the link after the snippet to be taken to the complete story on the author’s home page.
Zane’s mouth dropped open as his brain comprehended Steele’s words. He’s going to make my ass cherry red? Holy shit!
“Darlin’, quit overthinking.” Steele unzipped his jeans. “Maybe I can help get ya back in the mood.” Steele withdrew his cock from his boxer briefs. Smearing pre-come around the head, he slowly started stroking his length.
Oh, that did it. Zane’s eyes latched onto the glistening mushroom head peeking out of Steele’s hand. Licking his lips, Zane unbuttoned and unzipped his own jeans. He imagined a sultry jazz tune in his head. He turned around, his hips swaying to the imaginary music.
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Buried Treasure: Part 18 by Carol Pedroso
Basil’s POV
They must think I’m stupid, I spotted the two psychic’s walking round the block for the second time and recognized them from my old community. Did they really think I would fall for such as obvious trap?
I had also seen the Senior Vampire Elder heading for an apartment near the shop I was getting my booze from. He had some guy with him but they were arguing so violently that I don’t think they were heading for any fun.
Hmm now how am I going to get my booze?
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“Time for the hard truths. Estimates are two hundred thousand dead,” Varlen said, Kenneth swallowing hard. He had heard that number before. “Mostly talentless.” He hadn’t heard that.
Kenneth had suspected that talentless had their own side to the story of the war. He knew his mother’s disdain for those men and women without magic was foolish, or at least short-sighted. Her words echoed in his mind. “Good servants, good inventors, but how could anyone who cannot see the power of our world be trusted with making important decisions? Put them in their place.”
His father had, of course, along with other war mages. Everyone knew the name Victeni. He was grateful to Thorn for defending him, but he couldn’t blame people for their reactions to the name. He wished he could learn more of the truth about what his father had done, but hearing about the battles, about mages burning down cities for transgressions and controlling what talentless could and couldn’t build, was hard enough.
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Cyan moaned softly as their lips met. For a moment there was resistance, then Cyan melted against him and hugged him gently. For all he didn’t like touching, Cyan was a great kisser and literally took Robin’s breath away.
While they kissed, Cyan’s hands ghosted over Robin’s hair, back and arms. It was almost as if he was too afraid to touch him. Robin compensated by holding Cyan closer and letting his hands wander over Cyan’s slender back.
“You’re so gentle,” Robin gasped, when they came up for air. “You won’t break me, you know.”
Cyan frowned, a strange expression in his eyes. “Don’t you like it?” he asked.
Fortitude: Part Nine by Cia Nordwell
Every sound made me tense as I picked my way across the flat landscape. There were bushes and low trees, but they made poor cover. As far as I could tell, I was alone in the long meadow before the edge of the city broke up the wild landscape, but I had only the light of the moon to guide me. The sounds of my ragged breath as I pushed my sore body to keep going were loud in my ears.
I’d never been truly alone like this. As much as I tried to grit my teeth and ignore it
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Western Shores by Shelly Schulz
Dark gray blotted out the blue dome of the sky, the brilliant blaze of sunshine disappearing behind dense, twisting clouds. The spray of salt on the air burned her nose, her hair tumbling and tangling with the breeze that stirred off the water. Under her feet the wooden ship creaked and groaned, pitching as waves buffered it. There was an electrical undercurrent on the air, the magic dancing on the tip of her tongue, flowing through her veins, mixing with her blood. It was a ruse, to get those unable to fight out of open water.
She welcomed the fight.
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Don’t Look Back #24 (5.3) by Julie Lynn Hayes
Marshall and Lee rose early the next morning, pausing just long enough to enjoy a quick cup of coffee before heading to the Alamo church. Few tourists were about yet. They left an offering in the basket by the door, lit two candles, then selected an empty pew and knelt, each man becoming lost in his own thoughts.
Marshall refused to think about the period of his captivity with his mother unless it was absolutely necessary, which it generally wasn’t. He preferred to remember his reunion with Lee instead. Lee and Roy spent several days on the road, once they had Marshall with them, moving from motel to motel. Once they were sure they weren’t being followed, they headed to Burnham, Texas, and the home Lee had made for Marshall.
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Rattletrap #25, by Tali Spencerl
Ussim lounged in water, naked, his hand extended. No greater call to intimacy and harmony existed in Ghis society. With each heartbeat, his blood heated… for all the wrong reasons.
Instead of accepting his hand and joining him, Jedd simply stared at it. Then he took a step back.
“I don’t—”
To allow a refusal was more humiliation than Ussim could stomach.
“My species has not spawned in water since my most distant ancestors crawled out from primordial mud to walk on dry land. If that is what you fear, you are safe.”
Boys of Belsmeade: Chapter 20 by Kazy Reed
Marco’s comment had the effect of a bucket of cold water on my father and Benita. They jumped back from each other and both smiled nervously. I looked at Aristes, who was massaging his temples with his thumb and forefinger. Something was definitely up.
Epifanio offered, “Maybe it’s the water. Blake, did you drink any water when you got here?”
Blake couldn’t answer before Nero laughed and said, “Damn. If it’s the water, give me some.”
He took my water glass and drank what remained in it. Epp said, “Keep it away from the girls, dude. We have their honor to consider.”
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In Enemy Hands: #3.2: by M.A. Church
He looked out at the jungle, eyes narrowed. “So, we have one of the three Yesri princes stranded on planet.”
More than likely the prince was the third son—not as valuable as the heir or the spare, but still worth something. Adlar brought the cloth to his face and sniffed. At first, all he smelled was the richness of the dirt. He shook the sash to clean it and tried again. Closing his eyes, he blocked out disruptions as he attempted to catch any hidden scent of his enemy.
He took a deep breath… and yes. There. That was what he was looking for.
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Wednesday Briefs 