October 13, 2015
Erotic Paranormal - Romantic Comedy - Fantasy
When she’s good, she’s very good. But when he’s bad, she’s better.
Taming the Beast, Book 2
As a good fairy, Heather is empathetic and chaste to a fault. No bad language, no dirty thoughts, flirting and no sex. But when a satyr named Daemon steps up to her reception desk at From Crud to Stud, she finds herself on the fast track to exquisite corruption.
Daemon is the total bad-boy package with a kiss straight from the dark side. Though he’s here for a supernatural makeover, Heather can’t imagine why any red-blooded woman would want him to change.
A disciple of the god of wine, Daemon has had his share of good times. But sex has never been this good. Heather brings out a new side of him, a side that makes him want to protect as well as pillage.
But Daemon needs a little creative backup to help set his fairy’s naughtiness free. And that means bringing in Mistress Jin. Under the genie’s tutelage and Daemon’s shameless lust, Heather is about to learn what it means to let loose.
Warning: Not your typical bedtime story. May lead to indecent behavior, a taste for voyeurism, discipline, bondage, m/f, m/f/f and f/f action, which will result in screaming orgasms. Proceed with caution.
Heather stared. She’d expected to see his socks, maybe even his bare feet, not hooves. “You’re not a mortal.”
“No kidding.” He puffed out another breath. “That’s why I’m here.” He gestured to the reception area stuffed with potted plants and feathery ferns. The sea of green made the coral walls seem even warmer in comparison, while the faux-gas fixtures provided a dated, romantic feel like the New Orleans of old.
Loud hisses and the clack of snapping teeth filled the hall.
He arched one dark eyebrow even as his gaze raked up and down her. “I take it I’m in the right place?”
Heather’s face and body kept getting hotter while her nipples continued to tighten. “Uh-huh.” She noted the huge bulge behind his fly and made a guess. “You’re a satyr?”
“That’s me. Wine, women and song.” He winked.
One of the zombies moaned.
He looked over. “Speaking of song, you should get a sound system in here. Drown out all those crappy noises with some down-and-dirty heavy metal. You like Behemoth? Their Lucifer kicks some serious ass.”
His bulge kept getting bigger and the folds between her legs damper. Fighting a wave of dizziness, Heather went to her computer, wondering why he was having such an effect on her. Satyrs were charming, sure, and natural seducers. They had to be, considering all they thought about and wanted was sex. However, they didn’t have the power to turn a good fairy against her ingrained principles. At least, she didn’t think they could. “Do you have an appointment, Mister…”
“Daemon. Nope, I’m hoping you can fit me in. What are you?”
Heather stopped keying. “The receptionist.”
He laughed with pleasure, not derision. Her belly fluttered at the deep, virile sound that went straight past her bones and into her marrow.
“I mean what kind of being are you? No,” he said quickly. “Let me guess.” Regarding her, he tapped his forefinger against his bristly jaw.
He wore an ornate silver ring with a large black stone on his right middle finger. His hands were big and rugged but not frightening. Heather wasn’t certain why, but she saw the best kind of strength in them, the sort that protected and made mortal women sigh in appreciation.
She held back a whimper of delight.
“You’re either an elf or a fairy.” He sighed. “I can never tell them apart.”
Only because he wasn’t trying since they weren’t similar at all. Clearly, he wasn’t as perfect as she’d thought. Heather bet he wouldn’t have liked it if she’d mistaken him for a centaur rather than what he was. “I’m a good fairy,” she informed.
“That explains all the white you’re wearing.” He gestured to her peasant blouse, gypsy skirt and ballet flats. An outfit she’d bought at Macy’s, not a uniform store for fairies. When she didn’t comment, he lifted his hands in a show of surrender. “Hey, didn’t mean to touch a nerve. I’m all about pleasing the ladies.” He grinned.
His teeth were white and straight, his smile raffish yet charming.
Heather shook off her arousal. “I’m sure you are and you haven’t.” She hit the keys harder than usual and scanned the appointment book. “Zoe can see to you in twenty minutes.” Zoe was a reformed demon who knew how to keep guys from getting too frisky. “Please grab your boots and follow me.”
He clopped after her, stopping abruptly to read the business’s name and its motto, Suppressing the Beast, painted on the wall. He shook his head. “Damn shame what we guys have to go through now to snag the babes.”
“Mortal women,” she corrected, taking in his awesome biceps, the prominent veins coursing down them. “I understand nymphs are still into satyrs.”
“True, but I want to try the other side.” With one hand on his flat belly, he swiveled his hips. “Boogying in a bar or nightclub rather than Couturie.”
He was referring to Couturie Forest, a sixty-acre woodland within the city. It was a popular recreational spot for mortals. Supernatural beings knew it was also a known habitat for satyrs and nymphs. So far, mortals hadn’t a clue what went on in all that vegetation.
As though he’d been reading her thoughts, he added, “Tourists are getting downright intrusive.”
Well, yeah, if one was frolicking in the nude. Heather warned herself from sneaking another peak at his groin. “What exactly did you want us to do?”
“Make me one hundred percent human-looking on the outside.”
“You don’t want an attitude adjustment to go along with that?”
He continued to stare at her breasts. “Something wrong with my attitude? What’s your name, by the way?”
“Heather. I don’t mean to be rude, but my face is up here.” She pointed.
Daemon didn’t bother to look. His handsome features flushed with what appeared to be arousal. “I want the whole enchilada. New legs, feet, get rid of the tail, my horns.”
No wonder he wore a hat.
“Use magic,” he continued, “cut the stuff off, stick new stuff on, I don’t care. Do what you have to. If things go wrong, so what? I heard this place has a healer.”
When Heather didn’t confirm anything, Daemon moved closer, delivering another wave of his wonderful scent. “Would that be you?” he murmured.
Denial was on her lips, but Heather wasn’t able to speak the words. Good fairies couldn’t lie. She trembled at the heat and raw power radiating from him before ordering herself to turn away. “Let’s see what we can do.”