Anya Sigurdson is counting down the days. She's alone, working on an array orbiting a distant moon, the isolation seriously cramping her access to sex. Until her remaining thirteen days are up, her own fingers will have to do--or so she thinks.
The Damianos have other plans. A race of pure energy, the Damianos seek pleasure in flesh and have an unusual talent. They can fracture into as many lovers as Anya needs. She is a rare find, and they intend to enjoy her, love her every chance and every way they can. But to keep her they need an anchor, another body to fix them in her dimension.
And a prime candidate is on his way.
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November 13, 2009
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Excerpt from Demonic Attraction by Kim Knox
The Academy of Sciences insisted on solitary assignments to their platforms. The reason given was too many staff engaged in illicit relationships that interfered with the performance of their duties. Anya snorted. Of course everyone knew it was the vindictive actions of the Academy's director. His partner had fucked his way through his platform's entire staff and the director hadn't taken it at all well. So everyone else now had to suffer.
She shifted over the sheets and the tension grew worse. Anya groaned and cupped her breast, her fingers pinching her nipple, hard. She sucked in a breath, the ache in her pussy deepening. "Thirteen days," she muttered. "Thirteen and I'll have a cock there." Her hand snaked between her legs, teasing, playing, trying to ease the empty ache. "Or a tongue." She swallowed. Shit. She could almost feel it. The lap of a hot, wet tongue sliding between the cleft of her ass, briefly teasing her hole before it sank, deep, deep inside her.
Her heart pounded, her flesh tight at the incredible sensation. The idea of a pointed, rasping tongue had her pushing back against it. It pulled free and pushed in again and again. Orgasm flickered low in her belly and she had to be crazy as the idea of sharpened fingers gripping her thighs and pulling her wide flashed through her. The twisting tongue plunged into her pussy as long and as thick as a cock. But better. So much better.
Anya's breaths came in short bursts, orgasm so close she could almost taste it. Was she asleep, half awake, delusional? She didn't care. If exhaustion drove her to this, she would work herself to the bone.
She turned her head to watch her hips bucking. The sheet shifted over her ass as the imaginary tongue fucked her well and hard, the fierce grip of clawed hands keeping her wide open. Clawed? All right, that was different, but really, who cared? Because the fantasy worked and she was about to come and come hard--
The sheet caught on her knee. Anya didn't care, there was only the moon, always watching, to see her naked, writhing, and she had no problem with watching her ass as an imaginary tongue fucked--
Gone. The tongue, the hands vanished from her body as the sheet dropped to the metal floor.
Anya cursed and buried her face in her pillow, fisting it. She screamed her frustration into its softness. Was her subconscious tormenting her because she agreed to this assignment simply for the money? She was being punished for taking the title of engineer. After all, her specialties lay in the soft sciences, not engineering.
She dragged the sheet over her body and jammed the pillow over her head. Or was it the reflected light of the large moon? It always seemed to have her imagining things. The moon shone too bright into her domed bedroom--she snorted into the sheet--it almost felt as if the bloody thing watched her.
There. Clawed fingers teasing over her thighs. Her heart pounded. Was this her imagination? She pushed her face from the pillow and turned to look over her shoulder...and the sense of hands on her skin faded away.
"All right, you don't want me to look." Anya laughed and hid her face against the pillow again. She was crazy. Certifiable. The isolation had driven her to bargaining with her subconscious. "Not looking. So in your own time, if you want to bring back the fingers, or please, that tongue, I promise, no peeking."
Nothing. Anya held down a groan. She was better finding sleep--
Fingers gripped her thighs and pushed her wide open.
Anya swallowed, her heart jumping. No looking, no talking. All right, she could do that. And it couldn't be her imagination. Something breathed against the wetness of her pussy and the unknown had her aching. The tongue teased her clit and her hips bucked. She bit down a yelp. Her fingers fisted the pillow and she clung to it as the tongue slid toward where she ached for it, easing through her wet, swollen flesh until it teased and curled its way into her pussy.
Anya bit the inside of her cheek to stop the escaping groan. New tension tightened in her belly and she pushed back, finding the clawed hands biting into the firm flesh of her thighs. Whatever it was, it wanted to please and she had no intention of denying it.