Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Gothic Erotica

As the sole heiress to the Chauncy P. Withersmoot fortune, Rebecca Ravendark moves into a Danish castle where she meets a gruff but handsome gardener named Blunt Headtrauma. Against her uncle's wishes she begins an erotic, haunting, dark, erotic, erotic odyssey of forbidden, mysterious eroticness. From BESTSELLING* author Guinevere Shadowlite, comes the fifth book in the CLASSY EROTIC HAUNTING PARANORMAL ROMANCE SERIES; REBECCA RAVENDARK'S CURSE OF DARK EROTICRY...

The Dark Erotic Haunting of Rebecca Ravendark


Guinevere Shadowlite


"Oh, Blunt! You frightened me. I didn't see you there," she whispered with a gasp in her slender, porcelain, aristocratic throat. A throat full of promises.

"Didn't you, Rebecca?" he said from the dark darkness.

"No," she insisted.

"How about now?" He stepped toward her with his loins.

"Yes. I see you now." Rebecca felt a stirring in her clam. It felt like Christmas in July. Or December, which is the month Christmas actually happens in.

Blunt grabbed her forcefully. She could smell his masculine sweat. He smelled like a stallion after a close race at Suffolk Downs. But without the jockey.

"No, please!" she pleaded. Her breasts both heaved. Blunt's eyes slid like salamanders to her d├ęcolletage. Her bosom was ample. Like abundant pumpkins in late October, which is the month pumpkins usually appear in.

"But is this not what you wanted?" he said. His teeth were perfectly straight. Rebecca marveled at his orthodontia. “Please don’t tease me Rebecca. I like being teased about as much as a badger likes Fig Newtons.”

"Yes, I know. I...wait, what?”

Blunt just looked at her with both eyes. His eyes were dark and filled with lust. But she also saw danger in his eyes. And sour buttermilk. The buttermilk in his eyes had soured and saw into her very soul. For the first time in her life, Rebecca was afraid.

Then she remembered his penis and two (?) testicles.

“Uh... Never mind. Come on, Blunt. Follow me to the solarium, where we can slip into something more comfortable." she offered with a Catholic giggle.

“Like the solarium?” he inquired.

“Oh, yes, Blunt,” she said like a skittish deer.

“What’s a solarium?”

“Oh Blunt! I’ll show you. I’ll show you everything,” she said like a nervous bird in Tuscany.

Blunt grinned at her. "Sounds like a plan, lady."

“You betcha, Ace.”

              --from, The Dark Erotic Haunting of Rebecca Ravendark

*In the Amazon category, Turgid Erotic Paranormal Romance novellas set in 19th Century Denmark.