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Here come the girls!

When you first start writing, either a particular project, or start writing as a whole, it's hard to know where it's going to take you.

Unlike most writers I know, I didn't start off writing Male/Female and move into Male/Male stories later. M/M was where it all started for me. I wrote a few dozen erotic romances that didn't feature any women at all before the first lady managed to make it into a book and have some fun.

I still don't know why exactly. I didn't sit down and decide that the vast majority of guys in my books would prefer other guys. All the things a lot of M/M writers usually say - about the fantasy aspect, or some sense that it's still a little bit taboo and thrilling and all that. Well, not really for me.

It was never a big deal to be honest. It was more a case of. Oh, this character's gay. *Shrug* Keep writing. Try to find a nice guy for him to live happily ever after with.

But, since the straight population tend to find themselves in the minority in my books, I thought it was time to let them have their moment in the spot light.

I have a grand total of two straight stories available so far. Both in anthologies and both paranormal.

That's another thing I've noticed - the ladies in my books don't tend to end up with straight men that often. Straight vampires, straight werewolves, but not straight forward human men. Not sure why that is either. I guess there's a lot the goes on in my head that I'm not really aware of!

My first M/F title came out earlier this year. It's a Vampire, BDSM story called Whispers and it's part of the TEB Night of the Senses Anthology.

Here's a bit more about it:

Charlotte is more than happy to offer her master her body, her blood and her submission. But her mind is her own, if he really is listening in on her thoughts, he has to stop – Right now!

As soon as Zachariah feeds from Charlotte’s blood, he begins to hear her thoughts whispering into his mind. A rare blood bond forms between them and Zachariah is thrilled. He’s sure the bond and his new insights into Charlotte’s mind will solve all their problems.

Charlotte was ready for her master’s bite to hurt – she was looking forward it. She thought she was ready for anything else too, but she wasn’t ready to let her master into her mind. The bond isn’t the solution to anything. The bond is the problem.

Zachariah has to solve a whole new set of problems if he’s going to prove he’s the master Charlotte’s always wanted, and Charlotte has to learn to do something she’s never done before – trust a master with her mind.

And a quick extract:

Zachariah Radcliff ran his fingertips over Charlotte’s throat, slowly tracing the line of her jugular. It took every ounce of his self control to keep his touch gentle. He’d waited far too long since his last feeding, but now…

He closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself not to assume too soon. Everything still hung on Charlotte’s answer.

“Are you sure, my pet?” Zachariah asked softly.

“Yes, master.”

He brushed her hair away from her neck. The dark curls fell back over her shoulder. Charlotte shivered—a shudder so tiny, it required his heightened senses to perceive.

The room was warm. His armchair stood close to the fire. Although she was naked, her place kneeling at his feet put Charlotte directly in front of the blaze. There was only one reason for his pet to shiver, and it had nothing to do with the temperature.

She appeared perfectly serene, but he sensed her blood pounding, hard and fast through her veins. He knew it was impossible for him to truly understand how Charlotte felt about the imminent feeding, but he looked down at his pet and did his best.

Was the shiver a sign of fear? Desire? He couldn’t read her well enough to be certain. He’d never known a human who was quite so infuriatingly in control of her reactions as Charlotte.

Zachariah forced a deep breath into his lungs and held back a sigh. She’d known who he was, what he was, when she’d come under his protection. She’d been given time to become accustomed to the idea. If she said she was sure, he no longer had any choice but to trust her judgement. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“If you are truly ready for this, come to your master.”

Charlotte stood. Even with the desire for her blood scorching through his veins, he couldn’t fail to appreciate her curves the same way a human man might. Zachariah ran a hand down his pet’s back and caressed the soft swell of her hip as she sat on his lap.

He arranged Charlotte so her back rested against his chest. Her neck hovered temptingly close to his lips. He stroked his hands over her limbs, encouraging her to rest against him. Charlotte moulded herself to fit perfectly against the lines of his body, but she didn’t relax. Charlotte maintained the same tense reserve she always displayed in his presence.

“Bare your neck for me, pet.”

She took her hair and twisted the thick mass of curls together, bringing the rope of hair over her left shoulder to expose the right side of her neck. Her hands showed no sign of an anxious tremble.

Zachariah wished he could trust that to mean she really wasn’t nervous.
He tilted her head back and kissed her neck. Tracing the vein with the tip of his tongue, he pushed back the urge to bite, the way he had so many times over the last few weeks.

Charlotte turned her head to the side, giving her master better access to the vein. It was more than enough encouragement. Coming from a woman who never let her wants and desires show, it was a full orchestral symphony of invitation, with an extra encore thrown in for good measure.

The forms still needed to be properly observed. Zachariah forced the syllables past his lips. His mouth trembled with the effort of forming words when every instinct demanded he forget words existed and just bite. “Give me your answer, pet,” he whispered. “I will not take what is not freely given.”

“Yes, master.”

He couldn’t ignore the calm certainty in her voice. His teeth grazed her skin. Blood immediately seeped to the surface. Zachariah ran his tongue over the wound. He closed his eyes, savouring the first taste of hot, salty liquid on his lips.

He liked to think he would have been able to stop if Charlotte panicked, but the blood on his tongue called to him so strongly, nothing less than a display of real fear would stop him.

She gave no sign of distress.

Zachariah bit.


My next M/F wasn't really a M/F at all. It's M/F/M. But since that's the arrangement where both the men are straight, I'm going to count it anyway.

This was the first M/F/M relationship I ever wrote. The first drafts of it were... interesting, lol. It took me a long time to work out why two possessive, dominant men would agree to share a woman. Sharing really doesn't come naturally to either of them. But while I do promise my character's they'll get a happy ending - I don't promise they'll get what they want all the time.

The only way to get them to share was to simply not give them any choice about it. But I'm quite pleased with how it worked out in the end. It's hard to imagine them not being a three!

Between Tooth and Paw is part of TEB's Caught in the Middle Anthology. It's a Vampire, Werewolf, Older woman / younger men, BDSM story.

Here's a bit more about it:

Caught between two dominant men until they learn to settle their differences, all Jasmine can do is submit – and enjoy.

Thrown in between the future alpha of all the werewolf packs and the next head of all the vampire clans – the entirely human Jasmine Neal is charged with the task of helping the two younger men to forget their differences and set aside their hatred for each other.

Offering Stafford and Hayden her submission is easy. Offering them her body brings her nothing but pleasure. But she’s only been sent to submit to them for one night. When the council of elders return to discover if their scheme to settle the men’s differences is successful, she knows that the joy she finds with the two men will be over.

Jasmine didn’t expect to find one potential master that night, let alone be caught between two. But, that only makes it harder when she has no choice but to lose them both.

And here’s a quick extract:

“This is an incredibly stupid idea.”

“It is the only way.”

“If they kill each other off, that is one thing. But, I will not condone throwing the girl in the middle of it all.”

Jasmine Neal knelt naked in the middle of the hotel bedroom. Her training had long ago instilled in her that during a scene a submissive’s gaze should never rise from the floor. Unable to look up and see anyone’s face, she watched various pairs of expensive shoes walk around her as a dozen eyes trailed over her skin, examining her body from every angle.

Forcing herself to stay still under their casual inspection, she made yet another attempt to work out which voice belonged to which pair of circling shoes.

“Perhaps she will be a good influence on them.” A woman’s voice. High heeled stilettos—very expensive but discreetly so—they fitted the cultured tone of voice perfectly. Old money, a vampire perhaps.

“Huh!” That exclamation, no doubt, belonged to the scuffed loafers. The edge of the man’s trousers had frayed where they’d rubbed on the floor. Poor perhaps or, more likely given the situation, a man who was simply careless of clothes and appearances. Perhaps, a man who felt more at home in a fur coat than a tailored suit—a werewolf.

“Then perhaps she will distract them,” the woman suggested.

“The situation has been explained to her and humans are far more resilient than you give them credit for. I have every confidence she will survive the encounter.”

Jasmine didn’t need the help of footwear to identify that voice. She knew Mr. Washington’s voice very well. Harsh, commanding and undeniably dominant. Even if she hadn’t known already, she would have guessed he’d wear military boots—each one always polished to a gleam by another person’s hands. A submissive’s hands. In this particular case, by her hands.

“It is all the damn humans’ fault anyway. All those stupid stories about how much vampires and werewolves hate each other. It puts ideas into our children’s heads. We’ve lived in peace—each species happily minding its own business for hundreds of generations and now we are brought down to this!”

A new pair of shoes came into her view. Black lace ups. Polished, but not excessively so. Well made, but not by any designer of note. Nondescript, just like the voice she attached to it.

“She is their physical type,” Mr. Washington said. “She’s been well trained and she knows what’s required of her. She’ll follow her orders.”

“She is still only one woman,” that was Mr. Nondescript. Jasmine struggled to attach a species to him. Zombie? Ghoul? Maybe the man was even another human. It was possible a human besides Mr. Washington had made it onto the council of elders—highly unlikely, but possible.

“Do not underestimate women,” the high heeled possible-vampire said from somewhere behind Jasmine. “There are many times when more can be accomplished by a smile from a woman than by the threats of a hundred armed men.”

“I’d prefer to be in the middle of those armed men, if I was going to be the one stuck between those two brats.”

“Threats have had no success with Hayden,” the scuffed loafers said. Jasmine changed his species label from possible-werewolf, to definite-werewolf. An alpha werewolf who didn’t like members of his pack disobeying him one little bit. The growl in his voice came through loud and clear.

“Nor Stafford,” the lady sighed. “Oh well, bring them in. If nothing else, she might keep them out of trouble until tomorrow morning.”

Some signal passed above Jasmine’s head and footsteps hurried from the room. The men and women who made up the council of elders wouldn’t have rushed to follow anyone’s command. A servant must have left the room then—or perhaps another trained submissive like herself.

The position she’d been ordered to assume would have given her a perfect view of anyone entering or leaving the room, if she had been allowed to look up. A few seconds later she heard the door open again and saw two new pairs of shoes stride into her field of vision.

One vampire, one werewolf. She’d been told that when she agreed to take part in the scene and it wasn’t hard to guess which one was which.

The vampire stood on the right—designer shoes and tailored black trousers. On the left stood battered trainers that had obviously been pushed off and on the wearer’s feet without him bothering with the laces, topped by ripped jeans. He wasn’t wearing socks either, she noted.

Jasmine looked for other clues about the men. Long years spent never looking anyone in the eye during a scene had given her a lot of practise at reading people from the knees down. The men were both tall.

Risking glances up as far as the men’s waists, she could see the werewolf carried more muscle, and that he was also an inch or two taller than the vampire. But, from her place on the floor, Jasmine would bet her life that neither man would have a real advantage over the other if it came down to a fight between tooth and paw. And both of them were ready to brawl right then, each man had already adopted a stance which would allow them to attack at any moment.

Tension poured off each man. They stood just a few feet from each other, facing the council. Technically they faced her too—although they were so caught up in hating each other, she doubted they’d even noticed her small, naked presence in the middle of the room.


It might have taken me a while to get to it, but guess what?

I actually have a straight forward, straight title about to go on sale. Well, maybe not entirely straight forward. It is a bit kinky.

Here's a bit more about it.

Hannah will give Vincent one silent night of pleasure, but that’s it. If he wants more, he’ll have to fight for it.

No one in the club has ever heard Hannah say a word, but they’ve all heard the rumours. She won’t accept any man who approaches her – she insists on picking the lucky dominant herself. And when she makes her selection he can have her submission for one silent night, but that’s it. She won’t speak or agree to a second date.

Vincent is an experienced dominant. He knows how the game should be played. When he finds Hannah kneeling at his feet, he assumes she’s just like every other submissive. But Hannah’s different and Vincent soon realises one silent night isn’t enough. He wants more time and he wants Hannah’s voice.
Hannah really doesn’t care what Vincent wants. She has her own reasons for keeping her relationships short and silent. It’ll take a lot more than a display of dominance to convince her to trust him with the truth.

And here’s a quick extract:

“Don’t waste your time.”

Vincent Jennings raised an eyebrow at his friend. If his instincts were right, and Vincent had every confidence they were, the woman standing by the bar was just the sort of submissive lover he’d enjoy hooking up with for the night.

“Trust me. Just pick another girl and save yourself the trouble,” Frank went on, sitting next to Vincent on the low sofa.

Vincent studied the woman on the other side of the room. She displayed no obvious flaws, but Vincent was well aware the bar was Frank’s home territory, not his. He hadn’t moved back into the area long enough to know anyone on the local scene and even the most acute observations couldn’t compete with prior knowledge. “You know her?”

“Her name’s Hannah,” Frank informed him. “Do I need to repeat the thing about it being pointless to approach her?”

Vincent’s gaze trailed over the smooth curve of her neck. She wasn’t wearing a collar, so she couldn’t be committed to the pleasure of any competent dominant. “She’s not owned?” Vincent checked, watching her take a bottle of Coke from the bartender.

“No. She’s free to play, but it won’t be with some idiot who hits on her at the bar. Hannah likes to choose the lucky guy herself.”

She turned around and scanned the room. For a moment, Hannah looked in Vincent’s direction. Their eyes met. Images flashed hot and vivid though his mind. A strapless leather dress hugged her curves, but her limbs were bare and begging for restraints to decorate them. In his mind’s eye he painted wide strips of black leather around her wrists and ankles. Perfect…

A chestnut ringlet escaped from the tumble of curls pinned up on top of her head. She tucked the lock of hair behind her ear and turned away from him.

His eyes narrowed. If she wasn’t already claimed, what the hell was the problem? “She’s a submissive,” he stated. He had no doubts about that.

Even more than the way she dressed, the way she held herself advertised her submission. All her movements were small and spare. There were no grand gestures. She didn’t look a dominant woman on the hunt for new prey. No, if anything, Hannah looked businesslike. That raised another question.

“A working girl?”

Frank shook his head. “She won’t take money—and I know enough guys who’ve offered her serious cash. But, those who kiss and tell say she has a signature.”

“Aren’t they reserved for serial killers?” Vincent still didn’t look away from Hannah. Everyone had to die sooner or later. She looked one hell of a fun way to go.

“Do you want to know what it is, or are you going to keep interrupting?”

Vincent said nothing. He wanted to hear it all.

“As I was saying, the woman has a signature. She comes to this club—and it is always this club—no one’s ever seen her anywhere else. She has a drink. She picks a man. She offers him her submission for the night.”

“She just says ’Would you like to be my master for the night?’“

Vincent imagined her kneeling at his feet and saying those exact words—soft and low—for his ears only. His jeans shrunk a fraction, but he forced himself to stay still in his seat and not draw attention to the fact he was slowly hardening in his pants at the very idea.

Hannah’s stroll around the room brought her closer. He caught a better view of her face. Close up she was pretty rather than beautiful, her face dominated by full, pink lips and big blue eyes. If it wasn’t for the air of submission about her, Vincent would have walked past her without looking twice—but no dominant in their right mind could walk past Hannah.

He was still waiting on an answer from Frank. When his friend let the silence draw out for another long minute, Vincent got the point. “Okay, I’ll shut up.”

That was the problem with Frank. Vincent might have grown up into an intimidating dominant, but Frank still remembered him as a skinny little schoolboy who couldn’t remember his times tables.

“No,” the other man finally resumed, “she doesn’t say that. She doesn’t say anything. I’ve never heard her say a word and apparently she only ever offers completely silent submission. One night—no talking, no repeat performances. That’s it, take it or leave it.”

“Has anyone every left it?”

“Hell no!”


And that's it for the straight guys and girls in my books so far.

What about you?

Do you lean strongly towards the M/M or the M/F or some other pretty combination of letters? Let me know!

Kim Dare.
Kink, love and a happy ending. Do you Dare?

1 comment:

Suzanne Graham said...

Kim - Between Tooth and Paw sounds great. It's on my next-to-be read list. Thanks for the excerpt.