Paranormal Fantasies: A Promotional Collection of 14 Erotic Supernatural Stories

by Charles, N. S.

  “Not yet, beloved. I want to make this night yours.” I didn’t understand what he meant, but I allowed my hands to drop meekly to my sides. My turn would come, and I would bring him more pleasure than he could ever have imagined.

  His mouth dipped down to take mine again. He was gentle now, probing and seductive. He left my mouth to trail kisses down my throat, pausing at the sensitive flesh between neck and shoulder to nip lightly at the skin. I gasped from the sharp, sudden pain, its stark contrast to the pleasure he’d already given intensifying the growing desire pooling deep in my core.

  While his focus was elsewhere, I pulled apart the ties keeping my gown together and let it fall away, exposing my breasts to him. He growled in approval but pulled my hands away, pinning them to my sides with his own as he continued his path down to my waiting breasts.

  “You are magnificent.” His admiration brought heat rising to my skin and its pale white flushed brighter and brighter while his gaze lingered on my uncovered flesh. When his mouth came down to envelop my exposed breast, it was all I could do not to scream. The warmth of his mouth was breathtaking, and I squirmed beneath him, desperate to feel more of his touch.

  He took his time with me, mouth lingering on my breasts in a delicious tease, blowing warm air across dampened flesh before moving on to work the same magic on the other. It was divine, and I lost myself in the sensation of him. When he pulled away I cried out, my arms struggling against his hold to pull him back to me. He drew my arms above my head and secured them with a single hand, leaving me free to continue my futile struggle for control while he continued his ministrations.

  His free hand set to work pulling the fabric of my gown away from me entirely, letting it fall on the floor in a disused heap so that I stood before him, bare. The heat pooling within me intensified under his gaze, a flame roaring into an all-consuming need for his presence, for his touch. My arms went limp in his hold, my fight for control forgotten under the heat only his eyes could light within me.

  “Sit on the edge of the bed and lie back, but leave your feet over the side,” He commanded, releasing me from his grasp. I did as I was told, eager to feel whatever new pleasure he wished to give me. Trembling with desire, I positioned myself as he’d instructed and waited for him to move.

  For what seemed like an eternity he stood still, inspecting me with his gaze. I ached to feel his touch, but did not dare move for fear of disobeying his command. Finally he moved, parting my knees wide to expose my most sensitive flesh to his view.

  “What will you taste like, beautiful?” He asked, blowing a long draw of warm air across my swollen core. I shivered. “Will you be sweet? I think so.” His words were enough to send liquid rushed to my already wet center.

  The first brush of his tongue was unlike anything I’d ever felt. He’d used his hands in our explorations, but never his tongue, and to feel him between my legs was a greater paradise than I’d ever hoped to see again. With each pass of his tongue pleasure rocketed through me, building and building into a great wave of sensation threatening to crash down on my head and drown me.

  I came in a rushing torrent of pleasure, trembling more each time his tongue swept over my sensitive flesh to elicit little sounds of pleasure from me even after I’d screamed for him.

  “You’re so sweet,” he murmured against me, lifting his gaze to meet mine as I drifted lazily back down from the crash of emotion and pleasure he’d sent through me. “Want to taste?” I nodded greedily and he rose up from the floor to take my mouth with his own.

  It was incredibly erotic, to taste myself on his lips and tongue as he lay claim to my mouth once more. My hands sought out the bulging length of him, still trapped beneath clothes. He groaned when I wrapped my hands around him, breaking the kiss to pull away.

  “Not this time. I want to savor you, and if you touch me like that, I’m afraid I will come undone in your hands before I have the chance to claim you properly.” I allowed him to remove my hands and watched as he pulled away the clothes that were the finally barrier between us. I’d seen his chest before, but it still took my breath away, the hard muscles bulging beneath tightly drawn skin.

  His cock stood at attention, jutting out from his hips like a dangerous weapon waiting to be used. It was enormous, and for a fleeting moment I was afraid I would be unable to take him within me.

  “I will never do anything to harm you, my love. Believe that of me.” His reassurance was all it took to melt away my trepidation. He’d saved me from a nightmare and given me all I could ever ask, and I trusted him completely.

  Sensing that my fear had left me, he moved back into the space between my legs to kiss me once more, his length probing gently at my heated entrance. I moaned at the contact, need building within me again even though I’d only just found release. Hooking an arm around the small of my back, he picked me up to settle me fully on the bed, never quite breaking the kiss.

  He pushed a single finger into me and I gasped, the intrusion strange and wonderful all at once. Tiny movements sent extraordinary pleasure rushing through me, and soon he’d pushed another finger into my dripping entrance, preparing me to take his enormous member. His fingers danced across my clit, arousing me even more to allow me to take another finger inside myself. I squirmed beneath his touch, desperate to feel his length inside me.

  The third finger burned as it pushed its way past my maidenhead, but the pleasures he’d already brought to my writhing body far out weighted the slight discomfort. I cried out as another orgasm swept over me, my inner muscles clenching around his fingers as he continued to stretch my entrance until I could almost feel it tear beneath the cloudy haze of pleasure.

  He withdrew as I floated down from the high of pleasure he’d created within me. I cried out at the loss, the emptiness unnatural after having felt him inside me. His mouth captured mine, swallowing the sound as he positioned himself between my thighs, the swollen head of his member probing my entrance.

  “It’s still going to hurt, and for that I am sorry. But not even I can keep that pain from you.” He kissed me again, as if to apologize for something that was out of his control.

  “I do not blame you for whatever pain you may cause. I want you. Right here and right now. Please don’t deny me this because you fear hurting me.” He smiled at my reply, eyes burning with passion. He guided himself into me, pushing past my maiden barrier with a single, hard stroke.

  I cried out at the suddenness of the pain, tears leaking from my eyes even as he kissed them away, uttering sweet words to calm me until the hurt went away. Once the initial pain faded, I found myself lost to another wave of desire. He filled me fully, the tightness of my inner muscles stretched to their limits to accommodate his size. And when he began to move, I swore to myself that nothing else could ever compare to the pleasure I felt, then and there.

  His strokes became more and more intent, driving in and out of me like a man desperate to lay claim to that which he saw as his. And I was his to claim, riding the waves of emotion and pleasure higher and higher until the world shattered around me, my orgasm blinding in intensity. A few strokes later he joined me, shouting out as he shot his seed inside me. All too soon he pulled away to collapse on the bed, pulling me across rumpled sheets to rest in the warmth of his embrace.

  It's been more years than I can count since that night. He rules his kingdom during the day, but at the first sight of the moon peeking out above the horizon he is mine to do with as I please.

  Sometimes, when I gaze up at the sunless sky and wait for my lord to return to me, I wonder what it would have been like had I repented and gone to paradise. Even with the furthest extent of my imagination, I cannot seem to conceive a notion of a place I would rather be. My home is not one of extreme beauty or delight, and true happiness is rarely found. But he is here, and for me, that makes it grander than even the most perfect paradise could ever hope to be.

  END :)

  If you liked this story, then don't forget to look out fo
r Snow White, coming soon!

  Excerpt:

  It was on a tide of his words that she drifted off to sleep again, her dreams filled with images of men she’d never met going on brave adventures and meeting the loves of their lives.

  When next she woke, the only light was what little starlight filtered down through the trees outside her window and through the lattice to cast their pale light on the wooden floor. Owain no longer occupied the chair at her bedside. She yawned and stretched her arms above her head, needing movement desperately after what seemed like days in bed.

  Hopeful, Eirwen tried to sit, pulling herself up slowly. The room remained stationary, and she managed to pull herself into an upright position. That small battle won, she looked around the room, taking in the soft outlines of the furniture in the glow of the moonlight.

  Not wishing to go back to sleep so soon, she decided to brave standing. It took a good bit of careful movement, but soon she was on her feet. Her first few steps were wobbly, her legs unsure how to work after being unused for so long. But soon she was steady again, if a bit slow. Her first few steps away from the bed were a perilous adventure, but she made it to the door without incident, and began her exploration of the house.

  The hallway was long, with at least half a dozen doors leading off in either direction. She assumed they each led to a bedroom, and did not dare disturb those within. Instead, she braved the stairs in the hopes of exploring the common areas of the house. The handrail proved to be her saving grace as she hobbled to the ground floor. The foot of the stairwell opened up on a large family room. Chairs and benches were arranged in a semi-circle around the fireplace creating a warm, welcoming place to chat in the winter. Large windows opened up onto a garden, shutters thrown wide in welcome to the cool night air.

  Eirwen shivered. Moonlight streamed through the window lattice, highlighting the iridescent pale skin for which she was named. She stood in the soft glow, staring out at the nighttime forest and marveling at how little fear the trees held for her now that she was far from her stepmother’s grasp.

  An unfamiliar sound broke her free of her reverie, drawing her attention from the world outside to the one within the walls. The faint glow of a distant candle led her through an open door to a small hallway, where a single door stood, slightly ajar. Curious, she peered through the crack, seeking out the source of the sound.

  A man she’d never seen before lay sprawled on the bed, entirely naked. He was taller than Owain, fair-headed and muscular where Owain was dark and lean. His large hand grasped at his manhood, pumping up and down in a steady rhythm as he groaned from the sensation. He writhed and spasmed in pleasure, eyes closed as some unseen fantasy played for him.

  Eirwen flushed from head to breast, her skin a warm and vibrant red at the realization of what she was witnessing. A man pleasuring himself in the same way a lover might. Though she’d occasionally stumbled across one of the maids in compromising positions with various male servants in her stepmother’s household, she’d never witnessed such abandon, or even such a lack of clothing.

  It set something deep within her aflame, sending heat to places she’d never thought to feel such things. Backing away from the hall, she sank into a chair and closed her eyes. Images of Owain flashed through her mind. What he would look like, sprawled out on a bed like that. What it would feel like to be the one to do such things to him. She tried to be angry with herself for betraying her prince in such a way, but she couldn’t help the way the thoughts sent little tendrils of pleasure coiling through her, or how those tendrils of pleasure seemed to coalesce into an overwhelming feeling of warmth and happiness.

  She shook herself from the fantasy. She’d only just escaped the loss of her virtue to the huntsman. How could she even begin to think about throwing it away on a man she barely knew? She pulled herself to her feet and started back for the stairs. A good night’s sleep and she’d forget all about her indiscretion.

  She’d just reached the foot of the stairs when she ran into something solid. The unexpected impact sent her tumbling to the floor, a sinking suspicion in the pit of her stomach. Looking up, her suspicions were confirmed. A bare-chested Owain stood over her, concern shining in his remarkable brown eyes.

  “What’re you doing out of bed, miss? You’re not fit to be up and about just yet!”

  Other titles by Lorelai Phoenix include:

  Seducing the Teacher

  Grad student Tracie just can't seem to get her mind off of sexy Professor Browning. When an outrageous stunt lands her an invitation to his office, she slips into sexy schoolgirl fashion to take her punishment. But will her horny professor's demands be too much for her to handle? Warning: This 4,400 word short story contains hot student-teacher action, light bdsm and may be too hot to handle!

  Sleepover Sexprise

  When shy virgin Mitchell refuses to sleep in his own bed, Sharon has a plan. She'll use every trick in the book to seduce him back into his room. But will her womanly wiles win her a place in his heart? Warning: This 3,400 word short story contains steaming showers, lots of oral and a first time you won't soon forget!

  About the Author

  Mild-mannered English teacher by day, raunchy smut-slinger by night, Lorelai Phoenix aims to misbehave. Lorelai lives in the southeast with her husband and their two cats, Chaucer and Captain Nemo.

  * * * * *

  The Hunt

  By

  N.S. Charles

  Copyright © 2012 by N.S. Charles

  * * * * *

  The fire grew low in that cave in the woods. It smelt of bear dander and dried dung, decades past, and now the smell of burning tinder and dried grasses permeated the air. The man next to the fire was leaning back against the wall, his hands making a bit of use in the firelight with his whetstone. He sharpened his blade in the low light, waiting for the grouse to finish cooking.

  One of his hands found another piece of kindling and he threw it into the fire, watching it flare up, hearing it crackle and pop as the flames ate the wood away. He went back to his work, running the smooth, gray stone over his sword, taking care to hold it securely as he worked both sides to razor sharp perfection.

  Something moved in the corner of his eye and he was on to his feet immediately, brandishing the blade in his right hand and grabbing up his leather targe in the other. The hard crack of thunder rebounded off of the craggy, vine-taken walls of the bear’s cave as a sharp streak of lightning blossomed in the sky.

  He’d seen movement on his left, and so he circled to his right, keeping his blade ready. His steps took him outside of the cave into the light drizzle of rain underneath the treetops. The bear’s cave was a blessing in the ill weather, but he worried now that it might have a different inhabitant despite the smells of an animal being long diluted. Sword in hand, he ventured out, catching a glimpse of something disappearing behind the rocks of his warm shelter.

  Already he knew the surrounding woods, having mucked through them for dry kindling. There was a rock about ten feet off on his right; he crept toward it now, not feeling safe to return to the cave. He would leave his meal behind if he had to, not trusting this dark, treacherous wood with its whispering trees. The bear’s cave had been welcome comfort after a long day’s journey, and he would miss it.

  There was a flutter of wings and a bat’s shriek as something black and ferocious leapt from the peak of rock above. He threw up his targe in defense, wishing there had been a moment’s notice to affix its spike to meet this manner of beast head on.

  It came down on him, a fury of talons and leathery bat’s wings, screeching its rage. The swordsman, the hunter, flung the beast back and readied himself for combat.

  “Come beast,” he said. “Come and face death.”

  The bat thing attacked, flapping its great wings and rearing back to strike with its clawed feet. The hunter swung his broadsword to keep it back, feinted left and dodged right as it jumped through the air he had just occupied. They circled around each other as the thun
derclouds above broke and rain poured down over them. The swordsman felt his hair go slack over his eyes, his leather armor bouncing the assaulting rain off of his body.

  He watched, in horror, as the rain sizzled and refused to hit the beast. It rolled off of it, like an invisible barrier surrounded it, a few fingers width over its mangy fur. The daemon thing snarled, screeched its sonic scream and bounded after him.

  The targe took most of the blow, and the swordsman pushed it back, barely. His leather boots slipped and he stumbled for purchase as it leapt forward, its heavy wings beating as it rose up over him and dropped. His sword arm came forward to meet it in a thrust, but it turned to fog before his very eyes, transforming from bat beast to shimmering fog and he took the chance to pull a dagger from his belt.

  If he was to be without the shield spike, so be it, but he would have his main and secondary weapons against so foul a thing. He kept his eyes trained on the fog, trained on the thing, standing at the ready. There was the snapping of a twig in his ears and he looked for a quarter second. The fog shifted, swirling back into the bat thing before it attacked. The second daemon thing, the one that snapped the twig leapt up on his left. He doubted that it knew he had his secondary in his hand. He moved, bringing the targe up to deflect the first, spinning with it to get away with renewed vigor.

  His sword came down on the second, catching it in the wing, slicing into the leathery stretching and causing it to shriek in its pain.