Here at the SFR Brigade's Summer Cafe its time for some supernova hotness with space opera erotic romance. Dine in with Scifi Romance Excerpts and a giveaway!
Care to join me for brunch?
Here's all the places we'll be visiting durning the Supernova Hotness week of the blog hop with the SFR Brigade:
Excerpt -- Lots of Fun (NSFW)
Instead of striking me or
chastising me as I expected, he clicked approval and grabbed another bottle of
liquor from his cabinet. He poured my glass full once more. After the fifth
cup, I felt nothing. No desire for Cesar. No need for Cesar. No desire to be
rid of this tall, furry, striped son-of-a bitch with his huge cock swinging in
front of my face. I felt nothing but a floating haze of inebriation.
Liquor was the answer to my problems.
After the sixth cup, I’d was a
grinning fool who could barely stand, perfectly content sprawled across the
Captain’s lap, my cheek rested against his thick, warm cock. There was
something about his gloriously large cock that made me happy, even though I’d
never get it inside me.
I buried my fingers in the fur of
his thighs, giggling and enjoying the feeling of his powerful musculature. I
rubbed my face against the soft fur on his chest. I knew what he wanted, the
same thing every male wants. Instead I teased him and avoided his
ever-hardening cock. When I tried to stand up I fell over and found myself
whisked into his powerful arms. He laid me out on his couch-lounger and hovered
over me, a look of satisfaction on his face.
“I understand you, Angel. I know
you are pained by the loss of your men. For this reason I forgive you … this time.”
He unzipped my suit and I did not
fight him. He stripped my one-piece off and all I could do was giggle. He
grabbed my knees in his clawed grip and squeezed hard enough to draw blood. The
pain brought more trickles of euphoria and a smile to my face. It didn’t matter
if he wanted to hurt me. He’d already destroyed me when he took me from Cesar.
Physical pain was nothing more than pleasure to my twisted nervous system.
Bleeding and smiling, I curled up
naked in his arms, loving the sensations of his slippery, soft fur on my skin.
I had to face the fact this was my place, right here, playing pretend for the
Captain. If I couldn’t be with Cesar, I had to try to salvage a future.
I had to accept the harsh truth: I was not made to be loved. Who could
love a thing designed in a laboratory, an experiment? No love for Angel. But I could still have fun. Lots of fun.
Excerpt -- Make Him Pay (NSFW)
With Cronin’s ship cruising double-time to reach the jump
site at the outer edge of our solar system, I found my fellow concubine curled
into a ball, passed out on the couch in her cabin. Chilla’s beautiful green-striped
fur had bloodstains from a recent round of punishing sex with Cronin. If there
was a hell for Cats, that son-of-a-bitch Cronin had a special corner dedicated
to him.
Seeing her miserable condition lit fires of fury in my
veins. My hands shook with the intense adrenaline rush, the need to lash out
and hurt someone. If he fucking came near me, I’d probably break his claws off
one a time and use them to castrate him.
He tried to enter our cabin a few hours later, without
permission or warning. I kicked him so hard in his fat, fist-sized balls that he
puked all over the hallway as I shoved him back out the door.
Chilla moaned from the couch. “If I deny him, he will short
my payment.”
“And if you’re dead, how will you collect your money?”
She didn’t argue that one. Concubines had died servicing
males who lost control while high on amixa.
She’d admitted as much, and I feared she’d end up like one of her lost sisters,
dead on the floor, fucked and mauled to death.
Chilla’s thighs showed deep scarring from the many times
she’d been mauled during sex with males high on amixa. Her nanomed cream healed her wounds in a couple days, but it
didn’t get rid of the scars. That cream she used religiously was the only reason
she’d survived this long.
The Captain and I couldn’t really have sex, and he didn’t do any permanent damage to me. Though his
massive cock didn’t fit me, he was creative with his games of pretend. Luckily,
my skin healed in hours without a mark. I could serve him well enough to keep
him away from Chilla until she recovered.
Cronin waited a few hours before he knocked on our door with
a polite growl, requesting entry. I hoped his balls were too sore to get it up
and enjoy his drug addiction. Chilla, the fool, answered the door and let him in.
The stupid female worried she wouldn’t get paid if she refused him service.
Though I wanted to crush his swollen testicles in my hands
so I could watch him mewl and puke, I volunteered to service him, to keep him off
Chilla for another day. Like a good little concubine I followed Cronin back to
his cabin. He laid out the bottle of spiced amber-colored liquor with little
spongy squares of spice cake –Angel
treats – and watched me strip off my one-piece suit. The Cats, specifically
Cronin, preferred I wear the clothing of a female Cat – a barely there bra, and
a belted skirt thing that left my legs, thighs and most of my ass bared. My
zipper suit was quickly discarded as the Captain brought out my new outfit,
another facet of his pretend routine.
Standing naked before this massive male, with a swinging
dick as long as my arm, I was glad for the liquor. The potent aphrodisiac
liquor allowed me to perform for this motherfucker, instead of killing him like
I wanted to. He bent me over, sprayed amixa
on my back and ass, and rubbed his monstrous cock between my thighs, pretending
to fuck me. With the heavy meat of his erection rubbing my inner thighs and
pussy raw, I knew somehow, some way, I’d make him pay. If not for all he’d done
to me – for Chilla.
Join Angel 6.0 in her struggle to survive as a concubine to the Gran:
And don't forget about the AWESOME GIVEAWAYS!
Enjoy your time among the stars, and don't overdo it at the bar, that aphrodisiac liquor packs a wallop. You just might find yourself enslaved to a warlike race of alien Cats...
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| Custom artwork inspired by Angel 6.0 |
