Thursday, 26 November 2015

@ArlaDahlAuthor New #Release The Watchman #Dark #Erotic #BDSM #WitchTrial


The final installment in the Immoral Virtue Trilogy is here at last!

The Watchman (Immoral Virtue, Book 3) Cover

“Totally worth the wait! THE WATCHMAN was so hot and satisfying.
The perfect conclusion to this trilogy.”
-- Smart Mouth Smut

The Watchman - Back Cover Blurb


(Immoral Virtue, #3)

Evil is found when evil is sought


For when those in authority neglect to reprove sin, then very often the good are punished with the wicked.”
- Heinrick Kramer, 1486, The Malleus Maleficarum

For yielding to the proud tears of an accused witch, The Watchman’s soul may have been blackened by evil. To prove himself unmarked, his body free of the witch’s branding, he must stand naked before all and submit to the governor’s thorough and shameful examination.
Though Giles Scott would resist the governor’s practiced and patient touch, only complete abandon might prove his innocence. And since the witch cannot feel, only Giles’ arousal can spare his neck from the noose. And so, he surrenders.
Yet screams from another chamber – perhaps pained, perhaps pleasured – awaken memories from Giles’ dark, torturous past, and the governor’s touch no longer teases but stings... much like the punishing bite of a whip against the flesh of

“I will take only that which you offer.” He went to her, watched as she skimmed her fingertips from her throat to her breast as he had urged her to do earlier. As he vowed to do himself had he been unbound.
And now, free of the shackles, he took a step closer to her. “What do you offer, Elizabeth?”
“I offer all for you to take.” Her voice was near a whisper, a flutter of air, mesmerizing him near as much as her body bared there before him.
She smoothed her hand lower, a slight brush of her fingertips over her belly, the ripple of her touch pebbling her flesh in tiny bumps of pleasure, pleasure that made his bound cock reach for her. “I would have your hands against me like so,” she said, and with a slowness that pained him, she dipped her hand lower still, to the ruddy thatch he wished to touch and taste. “Your fingers thrust inside of me.” She stroked the tight curls there, tangled her fingers within them. “I offer all of me,” she said, “whatever you wish me to share.”
“Spread yourself for me Elizabeth. Share that part of yourself with me.”
She did not move and he raised his gaze to hers. Saw desire within it, was certain his held the same haze of need. Her breaths grew heavy, her breasts heaving, capturing his attention.
I receive copy
He reached for her, strummed his fingertips over the swell of her breasts, gently brushing his thumbs over her nipples until they stood firm. The hard nubs seeming to swell as he held them, as he lightly pinched them and used them to pull her to him, not letting go even when she stood so close the head of his cock brushed her belly.
“Do it, Elizabeth,” he whispered, pulsing his fingers against her nipples, lightly, firmly, stroking them in time to her breaths. “Spread yourself so I might see more of you.”
With a sigh, she reached between them, between her legs, and spread herself, her body swaying, his fingers tightening on her nipples, holding her in place. Watching her eyes, then lowering his to see how well she spread herself for him.
He stood back so he might see. “Wider,” he said, his voice thick with need.

She adjusted her stance, her feet further apart, her fingers peeling herself open further, exposing glistening, blush-pink flesh from which he wished to sip. Her graceful inner lips were delicately frilled, like petals on the most succulent flower. Her core, weeping with desire.
He drew closer to her again, brushed his fingertips over her lips then gently parted them and dipped into her mouth. Her tongue, hot, stroked over his fingers, wetted them. And he withdrew, fitted his hand to her waiting core.
Desire barely tamed, he eased two fingers into her, steadily, yet so slowly, they seemed twice as long, sliding yet deeper into her heat. The slickness on his fingers mingling with the slickness of her need. Her body closing around him, the tightness there, gripping him. His mouth grew dry as she moaned softly. Her breaths, small puffs of heat against his cheek.

He withdrew as slowly, taking his time, watching as passion etched her face, furrowed her brows, parted her lips further.
His cock ached now as it seemed to plead for the same pleasures enjoyed by his fingers. And then he pulled them from her completely, held them near her core, felt the heat of her as if to draw them back inside. He brought his hand to her lips again, let her taste herself.
She closed her eyes, took his fingers into her mouth, licked them tenderly, until he could take no more and he withdrew again.
“I wish to taste you myself,” he said, his gaze on her mouth. “Do you offer yourself so, Elizabeth, that I might dine?”

THE WATCHMAN, Book 3 in the Immoral Virtue Trilogy is a dark erotic twist of an already twisted period in American History, the Salem witch trials. It contains elements of BDSM, forced consent, M/m, ménage, M/f/f, M/f/m and M/f as well as other sensitive concepts such as forced consent and spanking.

THE WATCHMAN is intended for audiences 18 and over.

Arla Dahl is a lover and avid reader of all things sexy and suspenseful. Her inspiration comes as much from history as from the daily headlines, and she is often surprised by how today's issues mirror those from the distant past. In her current work, the Immoral Virtue trilogy, which is set during the witch hysteria of the 17th Century, Arla twists an already twisted history into a daring erotic work of passion and pleasure.
A New Yorker, born and bred, Arla is forever fascinated by the varied cultures of her city - and the exotic foods that go along with them, with their rich flavors and provocative scents that tempt and tease and satisfy. Beyond its rich diversity and decadent cusines, the close and heady feel of a moody late-night jazz club is Arla's favorite part of living in New York.
Find Arla on FACEBOOK, TWITTER, Google+, Amazon, her blog: NOTES FROM ARLA and her website:


Book 1 – The Mark

Book 2 – The Accused

Book 3 - The Watchman

Thursday Tasters - Pandora 41

Check out all the great tasters on the blog. If you want whole story, what I have is available on WattPad.

“He says I am still short, but he recognizes you. He will give you the horse if you enchant his pregnant wife, give her a safe and easy birth.”
Pandora's eyes widened. “I've never done that.”
The villager interjected. “The witch, she did this for Maria.” He pointed to another of the small houses. “Come, do what you can.” He took Pandora by the arm and led her through the door.
Serenity Mama Earth
Pandora looked over her shoulder at Russel, but he had returned to the horse, examining one  of her feet.
“Louisa,” the villager said, approaching his wife in bed. Her belly was so swollen with child that she seemed about to go into labor any minute.
Pandora was drawn to the woman, taking her other hand. Using her magic senses, she could judge the life force of both mother and unborn. The mother was fading, but the babe was strong.
“Bio water and bring me rags and swaddling,” she commanded, rolling up her sleeves. The man jumped, gave Pandora a look that was probably meant to set her down, but he did as she said.
Louisa gazed at Pandora through hazy eyes. “Mother?”
“No. But you will be one today.”
“Today?” she asked, her voice fading as well.
“Yes. You need to gather your strength. I can help, but you must do the work.” Pandora murmured a few words while pulling a round jade stone from her pocket. She pressed it to Louisa's forehead. The woman flushed and nearly sprang from her pillows. She sank back again, but her color stayed, her breathing and pulse both stronger. Pandora took another stone, cool like metal, and put it into Louisa's hand with another whispered word of power.
“What is keeping you, woman?” Russel demanded, barging in.

Thursday, 19 November 2015

Thursday Taster - Pandora 40

Check out all the great tasters on the blog. If you want whole story, what I have is available on WattPad.

Pandora sat atop Thunder while Russel led him by the reins. He wouldn't walk far. Pandora had moved the Fortress near the largest village she knew about. Russel would be able to purchase a horse for her there.
She wasn't sure she wanted one. There were no horses among Tabitha's familiars. A unicorn, she discovered quickly, had only appearance in common with horses. Thunder didn't behave at all like Justine. The unicorn wouldn't let anyone, even Tabitha, ride her. In fact, Pandora wasn't sure she had ever ridden before.
Pandora wondered why Tabitha didn't have a horse. Thunder seemed very intelligent in his own right, though not a patch on Justine. Surely it would be a simple matter to enchant a horse with further intelligence, consciousness. Tabitha had shown her how when she made Genevieve, her latest feline familiar. It was complicated and required more magic than anything she had ever done.
While Russel led quietly, she remembered every detail of the spell that she could. Perhaps this new horse would be her first familiar. Tabitha had said it was easiest done with independent, intelligent creatures than those in herds, those who followed. A horse, she thought, might go either way.
In less than an hour, Russel was haggling with a man over the gold coins in his pocket.
“Pandora,” Russel called. She had stood apart from the men, but she approached now, curious.
“He says I am still short, but he recognizes you. He will give you the horse if you enchant his pregnant wife, give her a safe and easy birth.”
Pandora's eyes widened. “I've never done that.”

Wednesday, 18 November 2015

#Midweektease The Secret Santa by Pablo Michaels

The Secret Santa is the latest release from Pablo Michaels
Ganxy OR XinXii

Waking amidst a cloud of white powder, Devon cannot believe what he beheld, an image of his childhood fantasy, a skimpily dressed hunk, portraying Santa Claus. The Secret Santa, Erik, taunts Devon with erotic gestures in conveying Santa’s message for Devon to be enlisted as a Secret Santa. Devon must perform certain tasks to prove his love and loyalty to his lover, Peter. Continuously appearing and vanishing in a shroud of white powder, Erik guides Devon along his path to attain his goal. But Erik tempts him sexually, especially when Devon is exercising to perfect his body for Peter on Christmas Day. Devon attempts to tell Peter about the mysterious Secret Santa but receives a disbelieving response. Through all the temptations and with approach of the big day, how does Peter react to the surprise Christmas Eve party which he did not want? Does Devon prove his love and loyalty to Peter?

And here is your seasonal tease!

Devon jolted awake from a deep sleep. Opening his eyes, slowly, he focused through a plume of twinkling, white powder to a stranger standing at the foot of the bed. He thought he was imagining this six foot tall man, sculpted like a Greek god. His head was adorned with a red and white Santa hat. His trimmed, snowy white beard blended with the long hair cascading down to his ivory, cropped hairy chest. Scrutinizing him more thoroughly, he realized he was not an apparition but real. Devon’s penis surged into erection, as he stared at the fluffy, red jockstrap, accenting the large bulge beneath. He couldn’t ignore the black leather suspenders attached to the waistband of the Christmas themed loin cloth and the shiny, dark, leather boots, stretching to his knees. He never imagined Santa Claus would excite him as this man did.
“Who are you?” Devon gasped, accelerating his curiosity into unfamiliar fantasies.
“Don’t you recognize me, Devon?” The man bellowed a hearty laugh.
“You look like the Santa Claus from my childhood memories.” Devon mumbled, secretively.
“Have you given up on the true spirit of Christmas?” The Santa Claus imposter smiled and sat at the edge of the bed next to Devon. Devon’s right hand brushed a few strands of his unruly hair from his eyes. Becoming more alert, he focused his eyes more from the previous distorted vision. He turned to wake Peter, but his partner was gone.
“Peter left an hour ago. Don’t you remember he had to work early?”
“How do you know our names?”
“You still don’t believe?” The man smiled, his sparkling, cobalt blue eyes radiating erotic warmth.
“You can’t be the real Santa Claus,” Devon insisted.
“You’re just not. For one, you can’t be real.”
“Oh, I am real. Want to touch?” The man extended his muscular arm within Devon’s reach.
Devon wrapped his two hands around his biceps. “Okay. So you are real. Man, are you really real. But you are not Santa Claus.”
”Well…-no. But I’m a special assistant, assigned to help him.”
“You’re one of his elves, then?”
“No. Look at me. Do I really look like an elf?”
“Yeah right. You can’t be one of Santa’s elves. You’re too big. And the size of that bulge beneath your very revealing jockstrap would definitely eliminate you.”
“I’m a Secret Santa. I was sent here to rekindle your love and happiness.” The secret assistant edged closer, the bulge in his pouch becoming more pronounced.
“Did the real Santa Claus send you to seduce me?”
“Oh; no, no, no! You’ve been selected to be a Secret Santa, like me.” He shimmied next to Devon, until there was physical contact between them. “I’ll teach you how to become a Secret Santa. I’ll reignite the fire of your passion with an exceptional power found in a special recipe from the North Pole’s almighty vault. Ultimately, Peter’s happiness will be restored.” He stooped, rubbing his broad shoulders against Devon’s chest. He looked up at Devon and smiled.
“I’m getting aroused? This shouldn’t be happening, if you were sent by the real Santa.”
“I’m only testing you, and your love for Peter. And to evaluate your qualifications.” He set his hand on Devon’s thigh, massaging it, firmly.
“A test? This is the worst temptation I’ve had in years. What’s your name?”
“It will get easier,” he spoke softly, continuing to grope his leg. “I’m Erik, of Nordic descent.”

Follow Pablo on his blog or like him on Facebook.
Hop along and read all the great teasers!

Thursday, 12 November 2015

Thursday Taster - Pandora 39

Check out all the great tasters on the blog. If you want whole story, what I have is available on WattPad.

“I am the monster you need,” he whispered into her ear, his lips brushing the skin. “The monster that fills you.” His lips drifted down her cheek to her throat. “The monster you want inside you.”
“Damn you,” she mumbled, but her hands, trapped between them, dug into the fabric of his shirt. “If my mother were here-”
“But she's not.” He slid his mouth around to hers and those nimble fingers moved up into his hair. Not breaking the kiss, his hefted her and stumbled toward a bench he could barely see around her. To his surpriise, her legs wrapped around him, bunching her skirt in awkward lumps.
“Pandora,” he murmured.
“Shut up.”
That wasn't a problem. She could do all the talking, well, cussing, as he not only pleased himself, but explored to find all the places pleasured her. Eventually, she nudged him off the bench and into a bedroom. He took full advantage of the soft mattress to arrange her, turn her, expose her as he wished.
She did a fair job of exposing him, although it was definitely in fits and starts as he stole her focus. She lay naked, her skin covered in a slick sheen when he finally succumbed and curled up behind her, feeling her breast rise and fall in his hand.
“Beast,” she muttered.
“Twit,” he replied.
She actually giggled at that. “I'm starved, but I'm not sure I can move.”
“At the moment, I don't think I'd make it far either.”
It was dark before he allowed her up from the bed long enough to find something for them to eat. After, he kept her in that bed until the sun was high in the sky again. He was sure he could repeat that for weeks. He should be satisfied, should be sick of her, but he only wanted more and she was willing and submissive in his hands. When he let her go, though.
“Why don't you get your own food? You know where it is as well as I.”
“Why aren't you tending your horse? Don't you think he needs feeding?”
“When are you leaving? I think it's definitely time for you to go.” It only took a kiss or a nibble to take her mind away from whatever she had decided to pin on him and become soft again. As the days progressed, the shrew made less and less of an appearance. Perhaps his father and King Victor had been right, and this was all he needed to keep her.

Wednesday, 11 November 2015

#Midweektease Blue Moon House 6 - #vampire #gay #voyeur

I have another sample of sixth Blue Moon House book. I'm excited to share my tease along with all the wonderful authors on this hop.

A vampire on the run, Nicholas has the opportunity to make a home at Blue Moon House, if he is able to learn a new way of living. Is there anything he won’t do to stay? What will he do when he inevitably fails?

And your tease:

Another man exited and approached Nicholas. “Come,” he said, crooking a finger and walking past. “I don't want a woman tonight.”
Nicholas grinned and followed. He had no preference between men and women, a lover was a lover. It was something he had in common with this man.
“I am Luke,” he said as he slowed, Nick falling in step beside him.
“A pleasure, Please don't mind the wife. She should be in bed, but one never knows.” He held the door open and Nicholas slipped inside. Would he be able to stay the day tomorrow? He needed to find some way to care for himself.
On the other hand, travelling by night and resting in shadows by day had served him to some extent. Two nights in the city and he wasn't eager to return to that style of refuge. Here he was surrounded by people, lover and prey together.
He pushed the demon back, his thirst slaked for the time being. He followed Luke into a bedroom, but there was no woman inside.
“Hmm. I wonder where she's gone. Just as well.” He turned to Nicholas and kissed him, unfastening the donated pants at the same time.
Nick shrugged off his coat and worked open the buttons on Luke's waistcoat. Neither was gentle, or patient. Luke tore open his coat, the last button flying off.
"Combing My Lady's Tresses"
von Jean-Baptiste Béranger, ca. 1840er
Nicholas tried to save his clothes, keeping Luke from repeating his act by falling to his knees. He freed Luke, stroking him while licking his lips.
“Do you suck like a girl?” Luke asked, his fingers curling in Nicholas' blond hair. Holding his head, Luke rocked his hips, thrusting into Nick's mouth.
Nick sighed at that first taste. Tonight, he took his time, sharing the pleasure. It reached a deeper, more haunting ache inside him. He rolled his tongue over Luke and opened his throat to the other man's thrusts.
Luke pulled out quickly, stopping his climax. “I want more,” he declared, pulling Nick to his feet. Luke's fingers stumbled on the remaining buttons of Nick's fly.
The door opened and both men turned to the lady and her maid. Her eyes brightened. “Well, it seems we've arrived just in time. Undress me, Lilian.” The maid set to work unpinning the woman's curls and removing her dress.
“Don't mind Beatrice,” Luke said, releasing Nick's pants. “She likes to watch.”

Thursday, 5 November 2015

Thursday Taster - Pandora 38

Check out all the great tasters on the blog. If you want whole story, what I have is available on WattPad.

“You! What are you doing here?”
“I thought that would be obvious. I'm here for you.” He watched her jump and run to the back of the room, opening jars and drawers.
“Don't be preparing anything nasty there. You won't throw me off so easily this time.” He sprinted to the nearest door and was relieved when it swung open easily. He could hear Pandora, still rattling away.
Not fool enough to enter the room, he waited beside the door. When she burst through, he slipped behind her and pinned her arms to her sides, sending the potion she was holding skittering across the floor.
Russel inhaled deeply. He was unprepared for how much he wanted her. She struggled, but not vigorously, and as soon as his lips found her neck, she stilled but for a tremble down her spine.
“I hate you,” she said, utterly unconvincing.
“And you and your kingdom are barely worth the trouble you've put me through.”
He loosened his hold and she tore from him to turn. “Me? You are the one who killed my friends and came to me drenched in their blood.” Her pointed nail poked him square in the chest. Not expecting fighting, he'd left his armor in the saddlebags.
“Not drenched,” he argued.
“You fell upon before I'd even woken, forcing me-”
“You were willing enough.”
“-and have been plaguing me in every reflective surface. That handsome face hides the monster who woke me.”
She let out a shriek as he surged forward, arms circling her. Her petulance was so...arousing, damn her.
“I am the monster you need,” he whispered into her ear, his lips brushing the skin. “The monster that fills you.” His lips drifted down her cheek to her throat. “The monster you want inside you.”