“Nope. Australian remember? SAS at first then ASIO, with a part-time interest in ninja-ing, and a PhD in rock climbing and hand-to-hand combat. I also knit an awesome scarf.”
He growled the last and leaned over me, close and getting closer. I had to lean back but I kept my grip on my notepad and pen.
“Why is that so important?” He indicated my death grip on my implements.
“My pen? I write therefore I am. It’s a compulsion.”
“You must write?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“I see.” He flung himself down on the bed beside me. “Let me help you then. Where do we begin?”
I swallowed, feeling a lump of words go down. He wanted to help me write. Without fuss, the ceiling spun clockwise, then anticlockwise. The world shuddered.
Hot, hunky, sexy enough to make a rabbit on heat have an army of bunnykins, armed to the teeth because he was like Rambo with fringe benefits...and he wanted to help me write.
“I know what you are,” I whispered.
“What?”
“Oh. Buggery pooh. I’m so stupid, and then there’s the fact I couldn’t figure out that was wrong. Australia doesn’t have a president, so how can his son have been kidnapped?”
“Hmmm.”
I climbed onto my elbow and stared at him. “You’re my muse aren’t you? And I’m trapped in my story. I wonder which chapter this is?”
“The one where all the sex happens?” He cupped my breast then brushed his palm over it, stirring my nipple.
I bit my lip, let it slip from my teeth. “I’m not sure that I should be fucking my muse.”
Chapter 8
G let the door fall open. Ever since Terence had shoved it open, the hinges had misbehaved and the door opened by itself once unlocked. A woman stood on the other side, her mouth quivering in what he assumed was sadness. Her eyes were reddened too. Crying must be her current thing.
“You okay? Lost?” He looked past her but no one accompanied her.
“I don’t think so.” She sniffled and wiped under her eyes with her hand. “Are you her husband?”
“Who?”
“Mr. G? Drama Llama’s hubs?”
“Oh, yes. I’m Gerard. Nice to meet you. A fan? I’m afraid she no longer lives here. We’re separated due to her cheating on me and being locked up in a psychiatric ward.”
“Oh dear. I was hoping to yell at her.”
Gerard blinked.
“She stole my story and made it into a fake one about a person who isn’t me.”
It took all of a minute for him to sort through that then the light came on. “You’re Becca!”
“Yes!” She smiled at him, though soon that smile wobbled. “Sorry. Sorry.” A new set of tears dribbled down her cheeks. “It’s awful!”
“Oh my God. Look, come in and tell me. What happened?”
As they went down the hallway toward the dining room, she blurted more facts.
“Cecil left me. I loved him but he left me. We met on that Farmlife site and everything was going –”
“Wait. Wait.” Gerard spun and leaned back into the kitchen counter. “Farmlife? I thought it was Fetlife?”
“No? No.” She seemed perplexed. “Never that. Anyway, he ran off.” For a few seconds she stared at the floor before ending with a quiet: “I hate life.”
Gerard went to fetch a glass of water. It gave him time to figure out what to say. What did you say in this sort of situation? “There’re plenty of other men. You’re pretty, smart, you’ll find a new man.”
“You think?” she asked brightly. “He’s not a man, though. Cecil is a sheep.”
“Ahh.”
A sheep? Wool, four legs, hooves. Went baaa. Time stood still while he frantically tried to recall if his wife had ever mentioned sex happening. No. No. It was a no for sure. Thank god.
“Probably lucky that he ran off then?”
Becca scowled.
“Right. Maybe not.” The doorbell rang. No one ever used it but he was expecting a guest.
Gerard eyed Becca. Asking this tear-sodden girl to leave might be bad. Would be. She’d possibly go commit hari kiri with a pair of sheep shears. If the publisher found out this was the true story, if the reading public did, wow. Besides, she needed support. Not every day you were dumped by a sheep. Or was it a ram?
“Stay here.” He patted her shoulder. “Grab a beer from the fridge if you want.”
But before he could leave the room, the front door opened and shut. He recognized the sounds. Then the house creaked and groaned as if something exceptionally heavy moved through it, and whatever it was, it was heading for the kitchen.
His friend from Fetlife? Was he made of iron?
Robot Overlord? It was possible, theoretically. Of course, he’d just be a man of bulk.
Agoran arrived, just as he was processing that idea.
The overlord loomed in the doorway leading out to the hall. Six foot plus. Steel-gray hair. Two arms, two legs. Size of a tank and obviously as heavy. And his eyes were the color of a stormy sky.
“Wow.” Gerard discovered his mouth was open and he shut it. “Hi. Agoran?” The name was on the label on his shirt and this was the time they’d agreed on, so the guess was about one hundred percent likely.
“Yes. You are Gerard?”
He nodded. “Yes, sir, Mister Overlord.”
“Call me Agoran.” He stalked to Becca and looked down at her, sniffed. “Another Earthling.”
“I’m Becca.” She put out her hand and Agoran took it, brought it to his mouth, and kissed her knuckles. “Ooo. A gentleman.”
“Sometimes.” He gave her a hard, wolfish smile.
Jealousy ran riot through Gerard. He’d only just met him and she was already stealing the man’s affections? He stepped over. “Becca was telling me that her boyfriend, the sheep, has left her.”
“I see.” Agoran barely moved a muscle and continued looking at Becca. “Then you are free for other...hook-ups?”
“Is that, is that... Umm. What I think it is?”
“Sexual relationships,” Agoran explained, nodding.
“Umm. Yes?”
The hope in the girl’s voice both alarmed and intrigued Gerard. Becca was as pretty as a postcard – one taken on a beach in nineteen hundred and ten. Whatever was beneath her jeans and checked shirt was female and curvaceous yet exceptionally well camouflaged.
He liked her, in other words. But Agoran was his.
This had been arranged, explicitly.
Then Agoran turned to him, fixed him with that laser glare and asked, “Is this agreeable with you? A threesome. A ménage. A relationship with both myself and Becca?”
Fuck. The man was progressing rapidly. He’d barely reasoned his way through all the kinky stuff Agoran had told him about in the messages.
“Oh!” Becca clapped her hands and jumped on the spot. “That sounds fun.”
Well. A woman who thought nothing of a romantic liaison with a sheep probably thought this bland.
Agoran leaned against the counter and opened his arms. “Come to me, both of you.”
With either doing this, or leaving, as his possible avenues, Gerard obeyed. He leaned into the man, feeling his bulk and the iron hardness of his muscles that only going to a gym seven days a week could achieve. Or a bulk shot of steroids.
“My little ones,” Agoran purred.
Something appeared, swayed, and hovered at the periphery of Gerard’s vison. He dared to peek and spied...
“Wow.”
“You like them?” Agoran moved his tentacles in closer. “I informed you of these, did I not?”
“You did. Only, I thought they’d be –”
“Fake? Oh no. These are a part of me. You’ll find this will make our relationship much more pleasurable, for both of you.”
Then he wrapped the three of them in tentacles and squeezed Gerard and Becca, nicely.
“I can probe you everywhere. Every orifice, every opening, and y
our squeals of orgasmic lust will fracture the time continuum and allow me to place Earth under my eternal overlordship.” As he spoke, Agoran was inveigling one tentacle up Gerard’s shorts and playing quietly inside his pants.
This was the reason Gerard didn’t comprehend a single word of Agoran’s speech, and thus he only nodded in blind agreement and swallowed. From her moans, Becca was getting a similar treatment.
Chapter 9
“Screwing my muse is definitely, probably, wrong.”
Mr. S and S only sniffed and groped for her hand. She relinquished the pen and squeezed him back.
“Incestuous even. I should’ve seen this coming. Where did I go wrong? The president was one...”
Her muse trapped one of her fingers. “You need to look at the clues. The plot clues.”
“I sure do. The limo, that was another. What babysitter has a stretch limo? Then there was you. A sexy man throwing himself at me.”
“I wasn’t obvious until late. There were the drugs your husband fed you to make you hallucinate.”
“He did?” she squeaked. “Bastard. I didn’t catch on, at all.”
“Yes. It was in the wine.”
“Fuck. And I thought that early concussion might’ve done it. You know? The keyboard head-desking?”
“I missed that. Good one.”
“Yes.” She sighed. “I’m stuffed. Here I am in a psychiatric ward and I had so much I wanted to add, so many fruitless plot arcs. The Russian spies who were like Babushka dolls...”
“You never sorted out the children either. They’ve vanished.”
“Crap. Oh dear. Crap crapitty crap. They did vanish. I think they must’ve kidnapped the president’s son...the one we don’t have here. I should rewrite, shouldn’t I?”
“Absolutely. Need my help?”
“Always. I was aiming for a sort of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern vibe too, you know?” She turned her head upon the bed and eyed her sexy muse. Dang. She really needed to fuck this man...construct. He looked blankly back at her. “You don’t know them? Shakespeare? Two minor characters from Hamlet who died but instead get to be sort of major characters?”
He shook his head.
“Okay, scrap that then. You know I’m probably typing this in my PJs? With the cat sitting on my chair behind me? How do I get out of this place?”
“Rewrite,” he whispered.
“Fine. I know just what to do first. I want to tidy up the plot thread ends. There was this gun on the cover. It didn’t make sense. Now it will.”
*****
She flung open the trapdoor and gritted her teeth, clutching the back of her gun-holding hand with her left. Master Terence stared up at her, his mouth as wide open as a fridge at a frat party...not that Australia had fraternities.
She squeezed the trigger and watched the impossibly slow bullet burrow through the air in search of that big mouth below. It hit Terence and teeth and blood showered the room like a red fountain of something like blood that was probably blood.
And some brains.
Ick.
The man spun then slumped to the floor, indubitably dead.
“Got ya,” she murmured as she lowered the gun. She kicked the trapdoor shut and sauntered away.
Her ancestors would be most intrigued.
*****
The room shimmied into existence.
Bed still beneath her. Check.
A man’s fingers entwined in hers. Check.
Her bedroom?
She levered herself up and let her gaze traverse the sparsely furnished and mostly metal room. Metal bunks, two of. A door of steel, with a grate. The sink was metal too. All in one room that was big enough to swing only a small kitten.
“Fuck.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I think that backfired. I’m in prison.”
“Never mind,” her muse said warmly. “There are always more words.”
That was true, but... “You know, all I ever wanted to say with this story, the kernel, the core of it all, was that –”
“Fiction can be as real as you want it to be.”
The words were quiet and seemed to permeate the room quietly, like rose petals floating onto a pond kept in the recesses of a mountain where no one ever came.
Quiet. Truth.
“Yes.”
“I’m your muse. I know you.”
“I can write more.” She turned and smiled at him. “But right now, let’s shag until the world shatters and crumbles. Until the eons fall and the angels sing of the coming of the destruction of the universe.”
“Oh my. Big words. I love those, even when they don’t make sense.” He smiled. “That would be a very, long time. And shagging is?”
“I thought you knew me, my muse. It’s fucking.”
And they fell into each other’s arms and screwed each other’s brains out.
They did it over and over again. Lots, in fact. If you used that special police spray and shone a black light, the walls and bed would look like a disco. It took Drama Llama a whole chapter to write her way out of the charge of incest.
DISCLAIMER
In the interests of truth and disclosure.
Ms. Silverwood does have kids and they are somewhere in the house. They are definitely fed.
She does live in Australia.
She doesn’t know E.K. Blair from a bar of soap and neither does she know if Author Anonymous is real. Literary hoaxes are well-known and throughout history but readers will, and should, always make up their own minds anyway. People are weird that way. So are authors.
Her husband does not harbor a hidden or not-so-hidden desire to be pegged. He has also not run off with an evil robot overlord with tentacles.
The Earth is still ours.
Please donate any tar and feathers you’d like to gift Cari with to your favorite charity.
P.S. Cari is also not an alcoholic, yet.
P.P.S. The POV change in Chapter 9 was deliberate as it suited the alteration in reality, plus Cari was too lazy to fix it.
About Cari Silverwood
I love to hear from my readers.
If you enjoyed Fan Anonymous, please consider leaving a review on your favorite retailer or website.
Cari Silverwood is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling writer of kinky darkness or sometimes of dark kinkiness, depending on her moods and the amount of time she’s spent staring into the night. When others are writing bad men doing bad things, you may find her writing good men who accidentally on purpose fall into the abyss and come out with their morals twisted in knots.
If you’d like to learn more go to www.carisilverwood.net
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Pierced Hearts Discussion Group
Also by Cari Silverwood
In the interests of not misleading readers – most of my books are very kinky and some are extremely dark and disturbing. The Squirm Files books are also spoofs and similar to Fan Anonymous, but a lot crazier. The Dark Hearts and Pierced Hearts books are only for those who love dark erotica.
Squirm Files Series
Squirm – virgin captive of the billionaire biker tentacle monster
Strum – virgin captive of the billionaire demon rock star monster
The Well-hung Gun – virgin captive of the billionaire were-squid gunslinger monster
The Steamwork Chronicles Series
Iron Dominance
Lust Plague
Steel Dominance
Preyfinders Series
(Erotic scifi)
Precious Sacrifice
Intimidator
Defiler
Preyfinders – The Trilogy
Preyfinders Universe
Cyberella
The Badass Brats Series
The Dom with a Safeword
The Dom on the Naughty List
Th
e Dom with the Perfect Brats
The Dom with the Clever Tongue
Dark Hearts Series
(Dark erotic fiction)
Wicked Ways
Wicked Weapon
Wicked Hunt
Dark Hearts trilogy collection – Wicked Ways, Wicked Weapon, Wicked Hunt
Wolfe – a spin-off novel from the Dark Hearts trilogy
Pierced Hearts Series
(Dark erotic fiction)
Take me, Break me
Klaus – a novella
Bind and Keep me
Make me Yours Evermore
Seize me From Darkness
Yield
Pierced Hearts Volume 1 – contains books #1, #2 and #3
Pierced Hearts Volume 2 – contains books #2 and #3
Pierced Hearts Volume 3 – contains books #4 and #5
Cataclysm Blues
Cataclysm Blues
(A free erotic scifi novella)
Others
31 Flavors of Kink
Three Days of Dominance
Rough Surrender
(Released by Momentum, an eBook branch of Pan Macmillan)
Blood Glyphs
Acknowledgements & Copyright
Thank you to all those who beta read Fan Anonymous. I sort of threw it at you at light speed and ran away. Lisa Williams, Emma Rose, Carly Odonoghue (despite your phone exploding, you read most of this), Nicolette Hugo, Jody Rhoton, and Heather Briney.
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2016 Cari Silverwood
www.carisilverwood.net
Editor: Nerine Dorman
Cover art: Cari Silverwood
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book only. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials.
Fan Anonymous: A True Story if you squint, sort of...maybe... Look! Squirrel! Page 4
