Author
bio and picture if possible
When
she isn't visiting the worlds of immortals, demons, dragons and
goblins, Brantwijn fills her time with artistic endeavors: sketching,
painting, customizing My Little Ponies and sewing plushies for
friends. She can't handle coffee unless there's enough cream and
sugar to make it a milkshake, but try and sweeten her tea and she
will never forgive you. She moonlights as a futon for four lazy cats,
loves tabletop role-play games, and can spend hours watching
Futurama,
American
Horror Story or
Buffy
the Vampire Slayer
while she writes or draws.
In
addition to her novels,
Brantwijn
has self-published erotic short stories available on Smashwords or
Amazon. She's also had a short story published in the Cleiss Press
Big
Book of Orgasm and
the anthology Coming
Together Through The Storm.
She hopes to have several more tales to tell as time goes on. She
has author pages on GoodReads and Amazon, and loves
to
see reader comments on her work. Her short stories occasionally pop
up at Foreplay
and Fangs,
her blog at http://brantwijn.blogspot.com.
Social and buy links
Find Brantwijn on Google+
And on Goodreads
Say hi to her on Twitter
Buy Link to
follow use Amazon page please:
http://www.amazon.com/Brantwijn-Serrah/e/B00H34YFJ8
Even fallen
angels can wish for a miracle.
As
a succubus, preying on humans is Raschael's business, and mortal
feelings are nothing but a waste of time. So maybe her king meant to
punish her when he sent her out to hunt on one of the most holy
mortal holidays. Or maybe he just wanted her far, far away, so he
could banish Raschael's one and only friend.
Now
Raschael must track down a missing fallen angel, and she doesn't have
a clue where to start. Bigger predators are closing in, and Rasche's
only lead is a Christmas stripper named Noelle.
Book
excerpt
The waitress ditched her tray of drinks
and took Rasche by the hand, leading her into one of the back rooms.
The Christmas theme survived even in the private show quarters,
though with a more generous degree of triple-X action. The small
space Raschael's escort chose had been decorated with garlands and
wreaths, and a stocking hung by the door, but on top of the holiday
trimmings there were also striking boudoir pictures. They all
contained the same sweet, golden angel, but in much less "angelic"
form.
Raschael spun to address the woman
personally. "Who are you?"
By way of answer, the woman nodded her
head at the bright red stocking. Noelle, it read in sapphire blue,
glittery letters across the trim.
"Noelle?" Rasche asked.
"Really?"
"Yes, really," Noelle replied
with a brilliant smile. "It really is my God-given name.
Honest."
"Alright, Noelle, then about
Kyrie--"
"Oh, now, now."
Noelle took Rasche's hand again,
stroking her fingers, and led her to the soft red leather seat
stationed in the center of the room. She gestured for Raschael to sit
and, before Raschael could stop her, climbed expertly up into the
succubae's lap.
"First thing's first, gorgeous.
How about we get a little more...intimate?"
She raised a hand and snapped her
fingers. The faded strains of Blink 182 from the main room became
inaudible, as Lady Gaga's "Speechless" flowed into the
room's own speakers. Noelle lowered herself over Raschael's body,
rocking in time with the sultry piano, wrapping arms around the
fallen one's neck.
Forgetting herself for the briefest of
moments, Raschael closed her eyes and let the first swell of carnal
desire stir to life in her loins and chest. The dancer didn't stop
her when she lifted up her hands and cupped them over warm, soft
buttocks.
Noelle smelled of warm vanilla. She had
a luscious body, petite with classic curves, Renaissance in a
way...but with eyes closed, Raschael's mind made her Kyriel, little
and lithe and naughty. Under her hands, Noelle's plump hindquarters
might have been Kyrie's slim, boyish ass instead, and the sweet scent
of heather rose up with the remembered sounds of Kyrie's intoxicated
desire, from earlier in the evening. Rasche lowered her face to
nuzzle against a plentiful swell of tender breasts, and she sighed
before she could stop herself, moving her body against the other
woman's with yearning.
"Why don't you tell me about your
friend," Noelle whispered against her ear, gyrating
ever-so-delightfully against Raschael's body. "Why are you out
searching for her on Christmas Eve, hm?"
"She ran away," Raschael
said. Her palms caressed the dancer's ass greedily. "And I'm
responsible for bringing her back before she gets in trouble."
Noelle tsk'd her. "Now, now,
Raschael. You make her out to be some sort of bad puppy."
The dancer extended a leg and swung
herself neatly around, facing away now to grind her pert little rear
down on the succubae's lap instead. Noelle's hands stole to hers and
guided them up to stroke tits through gauzy white fabric. Raschael's
fingertips found stiffened nipples, and she teased them through the
thin material.
"Who told you my name?" she
asked. "Kyrie?"
"Mm, could be..."
Noelle's hands closed, warm, over
Rasche's own, as the dancer welcomed her to knead, stroke, and
caress. Rasche inclined her head to breathe in deep, relishing the
scent of beautiful blonde hair.
"Listen, honey," she
whispered. "I'm sure as hell enjoying this, and if I had the
time to spare I'd be all over you in ways you can't even conceive."
"Mm-hm," Noelle replied. Her
hips rolled in languid, mesmerizing rhythm, and Rasche let out a
little growl as she returned the the motion in kind.
"Oh, sweetness, I'd fuck you until
you couldn't stand," she said. "But not now. You're going
to tell me if you've seen my girl, and where she is, and then we'll
see about making it up to you. Sound good?”
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