Happy Valentine’s Day! Seems to me such a drenched-in-red holiday should be celebrated with…vampires!
And I have the perfect boxed set to help immerse you in the vampire culture. While those other folks are gorging on chocolate, you’ll be indulging in something far more decadent, yet entirely unharmful to your thighs. In fact, you’ll probably end up accidentally exercising, as you clench them while reading these rather sinful stories.
So here’s the deal: I wrote a couple vampire books, and they are part of this series called Blood Courtesans.
What’s that, you ask?
In the Blood Courtesan world, humans are aware of vampires’ existence. In fact, humans can make a lot of money if they play their cards right, because vampires need blood to sustain themselves, and they’re willing to pay big bucks for the opportunity to put fang to neck.
Where’s the sexy come in?
You see, these vampires don’t just drink blood out of necessity. Oh no. The process of seeing to their needs involves seduction, wine, and sex. Once someone becomes a vampire, they no longer have need of food, but they still enjoy a delicious glass of wine. Especially if that wine is tasted through the blood of their courtesan.
Oh yeah, and drinking blood makes vampires horny.
If a Blood Courtesan is lucky enough to get chosen to provide sustenance for a vampire, she’s likely to be wined, dined, and then dined on. While experiencing the best sex of her life, I might add. These vamps have been around the block a few thousand times in their long, long existence. They’ve got the Kama Sutra down. They’ve probably written parts of it.
And you can read all about it.
There are 11 full-length novels or novellas in this set. All new stories, all taking place in the Blood Courtesan world. All written by different authors. Some are best sellers. Some are award winners. All are excellent story-tellers.
Want a taste? A nip? A sample?
Here’s a teaser from ETERNITY, the book I wrote as part of this boxed set:
“You don’t fight fair,” I stated flatly. “I can barely resist you.”
An arm snaked around my waist, pulling me to her so that her front pressed against my back. She slid her hand under the hem of my shirt, her nails gently scraping my skin. I closed my eyes and didn’t move away like I should. Instead, I turned my head slightly and breathed in her scent: Magnolias and wine and sugar and cocoa from that cake she’d eaten earlier. I wasn’t hungry; I’d indulged in a courtesan only last night, but I still wanted a nip, a taste of her blood. There was no better dessert than my precious Abigail.
She swivelled her hips, rubbing against my ass, while her hand travelled south. When her fingertips grazed my erection, it was like she’d flipped a switch. I was gone. I couldn’t say no any longer. I needed this as much as she seemed to.
One night. I could handle one more night, couldn’t I? Letting her go the first time had nearly broke me, so I should know better, but clearly, she was a master at seduction. Or perhaps it was my obsession for her. I’d had far more skilled women in my long existence, and none made me remotely as lust-crazed as this one did.
Wrapping my arm around her back, I twisted us both, switching our positions so that her ass now rested against my throbbing erection. Dipping my head, I nipped at her bare shoulder, sliding my fang back and forth over her skin but not penetrating. Yet.
She cupped my backside and her other hand threaded into my hair. I pressed my hardness against her ass and gathered the hem of her dress in my hand so I could get to what was underneath. Her naked flesh, the gathering wetness and heat that was all for me.
“One more night,” I said, vocalizing my thoughts, as if that would somehow give me strength to follow through on the promise. I slipped my hand under the elastic of her panties; my fingers found her shaved mound.
“What?” she said, wiggling, which I took to mean she wanted more. So I pushed my hand lower until it slid through wetness. She arched and moaned and then said, “What did you say?”
No idea. I couldn’t even recall speaking at this point. My entire focus was on the task at hand. She needed an orgasm, multiple ones. I needed to ensure she never forgot this night when I sent her back to her human life.
“I want more,” she said, shifting her hips.
“I’ll give you more. We’ve all night, love.”
“No.” There was a touch of impatience to her voice now, and I finally realized she wasn’t struggling for more, she was trying to get away from me. I tugged my hand out of her panties and turned her around to face me. Her eyes were bright, her color high, her hair mused, and she looked so damn fuckable, I wanted to pick her up and toss her onto the bed and ravish her for the rest of our time together.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, my impatience matching hers. Now that I’ve made this decision, I didn’t want to waste a single moment.
“This.” She waved her finger between the two of us. “This isn’t just one night. I don’t want one night. I want all of eternity.”
All of eternity?
She wanted me to turn her.
And here’s one from UNDONE by Skye Jones:
I leaned forward and took a bite of the mango. As the sweet ripeness hit my taste buds, I gave a small moan. I had never tasted mango like it. This fruit was nothing like the mangos we got in our supermarkets back home. Some juice ran onto my chin and I reached for a napkin, but Dimitri got there first.
He tipped my chin and licked the juice from my skin, ending his shocking display by kissing me on the lips with sensual skill.
Oh my God, if he could make a kiss so damn hot, what would he do with the rest of my body to play with. My nipples, the traitorous things, went hard as granite in my dress, and when Dimitri finally broke the kiss and leaned back his gaze traveled down my body as he smiled to himself.
I felt vulnerable, on display, and horribly turned on. Why did he have this effect on me? I hardly knew him. He represented most of the things I hated in this world—apart from the cool factor of him being Russian—yet he made me tremble with a mere glance.
“Can I kiss your throat?” he murmured, his voice deeper than usual. Husky.
I swallowed and nodded. As he pressed close to me, I closed my eyes and waited for the soft touch of his lips on mine, but before he kissed me, he ran his nose up the length of my neck, inhaling as he did so and making me shiver.
“You smell amazing.”
“It’s Givenchy,” I told him.
“No, pretty one. Not your perfume. You.”
“Ah.” Not sure what to say, I shut up as his lips found the skin right below my ear by my jaw.
He kissed me there, feather light and oh so soft, and began to work his way down my throat. The kisses were so light, so chaste as to be almost nothing but wisps of breath against my skin, but they still made me shiver and sigh. I wanted more. So much more. To feel his lips pressed hard against me. His tongue laving me.
One of his hands slid under the table and gathered up the silky folds of my dress, pulling it up as his hand climbed my leg. When he reached the apex of my thighs, he stilled and left his hand there, cool and tempting against my overheated skin. So close to where I needed him, but still a million miles away.
His other hand played with my hair. He lifted it and let if fall through his fingers. Every now and again, he caught a heavy handful of it and gave a gentle tug, and when he did, he pressed his mouth that bit more firmly against my throat.
I wanted so much more. Between my legs grew obscenely damp, and I’d bet I had soaked the gossamer material of the dress. My breath came in rapid gasps, yet he’d hardly done anything of real consequence. But I needed him to.
“What do you want, pretty one?” He kissed my collarbone, murmuring something in Russian against my skin, and hearing the low words in that exotic accent made me weak at the knees.
“I want more.”
“How much more?”
I wanted it all, and he wanted me to say it, but I had my pride. He’d paid for me. He’d bought me. Why should I be the one to beg?
About to say as much, he chuckled darkly against my skin. “You deny yourself because of pride? I don’t know whether to be annoyed or impressed.”
Those deft fingers of his moved from their resting place at the top of my thigh, and stroked right between my folds, pressing against my most sensitive spot.
“So proud. So beautiful. So different.” He kissed me again when he finished speaking, and this time, it wasn’t gentle or soft. It was insistent and demanding and wild.
And, because this is so much fun (and hot), here’s one more. This one is from CONCEALED by Rosalie Redd:
“Don’t touch the Stradivarius.” Gavin’s cool, minty breath eased over my cheeks, tickling my skin.
Confusion wracked my brain, stalling my thoughts. “What?”
He smiled, and this close, I got a good look at his fangs. Long and pointed, they were nothing like the plastic pair I used to play with as a child.
He dropped his head to my neck, his lips trailing over my jugular once again. “I said, don’t touch the Stradivarius.”
“Why not?” My breaths, short and quick, eased from my mouth.
“Over the last one hundred and twenty years, only my hands have touched that violin.” He grazed his tooth along my neck, pricking at me.
120 years… “How old are you?”
“I was born January 14th, 1879.”
“So that makes you one hundred and thirty-nine.”
“Very good. Smart as well as…beautiful.” He chuckled, and the vibration travelled along my nerves, lighting up my senses.
I gasped as much from his touch as from the hateful word he said even after I’d told him how much I despised it.
With his free hand, he trailed his finger down my rib cage and over my hip. The movement was sensual, possessive, and I couldn’t stop the slow moan as it eased from my lips.
He pressed his knee harder against the wall, pushing up my skirt and encouraging me to spread my legs.
With a soft whimper, I complied.
“And, my spunky Alexandra, how young are you?” Gavin slid his fingers along my thigh until he reached the juncture between my legs.
“Ah, the perfect age.” He brushed his fingers over my panties, circling the outer edges of my mound. My body responded, my nipples peaking under the sheer top.
A groan eased from Gavin’s lips, and he rubbed his chest against mine, teasing the hard nubs. His one eye, vibrant red, stared at me.
Caught like a fly in a web, I couldn’t look away. “The perfect age for what?”
“For sex, of course, dearest Alexandra.”
Want more? Click here for a list of all the various ways you can download this delightful gift to yourself: AWAKENINGS
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Tami Lund writes books, drinks wine, and wins awards. She also participates in fun, sexy boxed sets and anthologies. She currently has a short story published as part of the 12 Magical Nights of Christmas Anthology. If you purchase this anthology, all proceeds are donated to St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital. Grab it here: 12 MAGICAL NIGHTS OF CHRISTMAS