I’ve been working slowly but steadily on my erotic paranormal romance featuring a very sexy blue demon and a rocker chic named Cass. Here’s a rough snippet from the beginning of the tale. Eyoen is our hero/blue demon, and as you will soon read, he has a penchant for making nookie where no nookie should be made…
Eyoen shuffled his feet uncomfortably. He was more than 250 years old, and his father made him feel like a pup just weaned.
“Well?” his father’s voice demanded louder. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I didn’t know she was our neighbor, father,” he said softly.
“You didn’t know that you were fucking our neighbor’s daughter?” his sire yelled. “That’s what I’m supposed to tell the man? My son defiled your oldest child, but he might not have if he’d known who she was? She hasn’t been home a full day, and he’s already preparing to send her back to the convent. The convent, Eyoen! How did you manage to corrupt a virgin in less than 24 hours?”
Eyoen sighed. He’d heard that tone of disbelief so many times before. It was one of three tones he had heard from his father in his life: anger, disbelief and unremitting fury.
Carlow sighed and shook his head. “Oh, Eyoen.”
He scowled. He’d forgotten one, disappointment.
Eyoen’s head shot up, his mouth fell open in shock. Locked away from all of Cyanus? From all of the family? “I’m being banished.”
His father sighed irritably. “Stop being so bloody dramatic! If I don’t punish you in some way I’ll have to throw your whoring ass in jail.”
“Jail! For fucking some stiff necked little wanton?” Good grief. She hadn’t been worth all this. All she’d done was lie there with a shocked look on her face, making the same sound over and over with every thrust: “Oh, oh, oh!”
She did have nice tits though. Round and firm, they’d bounced with every swing of his hips. He’d always been partial to the bounce and sway of a woman’s breasts, especially during the sex act. Her pink nipples had been sweet, he recalled. They’d budded with barely a touch, barely a look, really, pebbling like little fruit colored stones.
But sequestered? This was serious business. He thought about lying, saying that he didn’t know she was a virgin. But he didn’t. Even if he could stomach lying to his sire, the girl had had virgin written all over her.
Hot virgin, true, but her innocence had been palpable. It was one reason he’d accepted what she offered in the first place. In his harem full of beauties, virgins were thin on the ground. He hadn’t initiated an innocent in so long. Strange. He remembered it being more fun.
He sighed irritably. Having your virtue stolen wasn’t the end of the world, after all. Certainly it was no small thing, but really. Sequestered? It was ridiculous. He hadn’t harmed a hair on the chit’s head – to be punished like this.
He sighed again. He wouldn’t embarrass the girl further by telling his sire it had been she who had jumped him, not the other way around. Honestly, he was a yellow blooded demon just like everyone else. What could he do when it was thrown at him? It wasn’t like there was anyone within 1,000 parishes who didn’t know that particular shade of blue skin meant royal family. Or that blue skin meant pleasure unparalleled thanks to the pheromones that turned the royal skin that shade of blue to begin with.
The little nun, former nun, he corrected himself, had been so wet, he couldn’t resist her. The scent of her arousal, the sight of those high pink breasts when she stripped off her shift. She’d had an amazing nape he recalled. He’d bitten it as he fucked her from behind.
Eyoen fell to his knees, forehead nearly touching the floor as the wind kicked up, blowing the drapes behind his father’s throne like fabric in a gale. He began to sweat as the temperature in the throne room rose at least 120 degrees. The water in the fountain in the center of the room began to steam along with his father’s anger, and the servants lining the walls seemed to wilt even as they produced fans and began to wave them frantically over the king’s head.
“You will be sequestered in your rooms, away from all but three servants until I can convince our neighbor not to demand your imprisonment. You will stay there until I call for you.”
Eyoen shivered at the warning he heard clearly despite his father’s quiet voice. Menace seemed to underlay every word.
Eyoen rose slowly to his feet and raised his eyes to his father’s. They looked so much alike. The same blue skin the color of a cornflower. The same tall muscular body, though Eyoen was a hair taller than his father’s 6’7”. Despite being the youngest he was the tallest of his six brothers, and only he shared his father’s golden yellow eyes.
“I love you, Eyoen. But you’re going to be the death of me.”
Eyoen sighed happily as his sire began to smile. He came forward slowly, respectfully, his hands folded behind his back, chin and eyes down as was proper.
“Sire,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Suddenly Carlow laughed, his deep, beautiful voice ringing throughout the chamber and into the courtyard beyond. The heat died down as his voice caressed ears nearby. The servants sighed, straightening as their flesh cooled; they put the fronds away.
“How many times have you said that to me, imp?”
No less than a million, Eyoen thought, thinking of himself as a tiny blue demon. He’d listened to no one but his father the first 50 years of his life, and half the time hadn’t even listened to him as he ran uninhibited through the castle.
The last 200 or so years hadn’t been much different.