Thursday, January 10, 2019

Superheroine Sex

Sacchi Green



Hey, it’s my first promo day in our new schedule! And I’m going to cheat already by presenting a book that is not classed as erotica, Shadow Hand. I’m not sure how to class it, in fact, since it was supposed to be a superheroine novel to fit into a series by Ylva Publishing, and now, as far as I can tell, fans of superhero fiction don’t like it at all, while some other folks not so much into that genre like it very much.  Yeah, I know, don’t read the reviews, but I’m not that strong-minded.

However, there are some definitely erotic scenes, so I’ll share one of those here. First, the general set-up. Here’s the back-cover blurb:

“A mysterious stone figure of the goddess Ishtar, long-buried in the desert, bestows on US Army Lieutenant Ashton the power to move objects by her mind alone. Ash must learn to control this impressive power, before it controls her. She turns to her tough, steadfast lover Cleo, with talents of her own, to help Ash in her struggle to stay firmly rooted in her humanity.

The women seek a cause worthy of their skills, refusing to allow the destructive side of Ash’s ability to be used by any outside forces—military or mythical. A hazardous rescue mission hurtles them back to the desert they’d left far behind, links their past and present, and just may be what Ishtar had in mind after all.”

Should I add, as a trigger warning, that the battle against sex-trafficking is a major theme in this book, first in the USA (Boston in particular) and eventually back in the mid-east helping women soldiers from the Kurdlsh Peshmerga forces free hundreds of women captured by enemies to sell as sex slaves?

Let’s just move on to a scene where some of the benefits of superpowers turn out to give some interesting twists to sex, until natural forces take over.
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From Shadow Hand, by Sacchi Green:

Ash balanced at the very edge of the bed, leaning forward with her hands on her thighs as though about to spring up. “So that’s it? Without being high or anything? You expect me to believe you
challenged Ishtar, and she told you where I was?” Cleo shifted uneasily, her bravado faltering. “I can’t swear it wasn’t just my imagination. And a whole lot of wishful thinking.
But here I am, and here you are.” The tense expression on Ash’s face was unreadable. Cleo had
always been able to sense her moods before, but not this time. She forged on. “Look, if she didn’t tell me, nobody did. Not the major, not anybody, if that’s what you’re thinking. As far as I know nobody
else knows where you—we—are. Maybe it was just a lucky guess.” Ash’s tension visibly eased. “You were right about the plane. What I saw out the window.” She leaned back, arms braced behind
her, and worked her modified cowboy boots off her feet. Then she swung her long legs onto the bed and stretched them out. Those legs in baggy camouflage fatigues had made Cleo’s pulse pound. In snug blue jeans they made her crotch damp, too.
A smile flickered at the corner of Ash’s mouth. “I was experimenting with moving the clouds apart so I could see below, and wishing you could watch me doing it.”
“Wow!” Cleo was appropriately awestruck. “Do you think you could make the clouds give rain?”
“Always one step ahead of me! But there are too many factors involved in that besides movement. Besides, there’s the whole unintended consequences thing. What if I couldn’t make it stop?”
 “I dunno, you’ve always been so good at making things not stop.” Cleo wriggled in the chair again, this time with clear erotic intent. “I was kind of wondering, if it was a lucky guess that let me find you, just how lucky can I get?”
“I’ll have to think about that.” Ash looked intently at the dusty Army boots Cleo still wore. Slowly and sensuously, the laces untied themselves. Cleo would never have believed bootlaces could be sexy,
but they sure were now. She kicked off the boots.
“You say you stripped for the goddess?” Ash was still five feet away.
“Just my shirt and—ah!” Buttons rapidly unbuttoned themselves. Cleo felt, actually felt, Ash’s hand slide beneath her sports bra and cup her breast. She was still trying to process that sensation when
her belt buckle unclasped and the zipper on her jeans slid down. She gasped as the invisible hand pushed its way under her boxers. “Ah! Uh, been getting a lot of practice, have you?”
“Not like this,” Ash said, “except in dreams.”
“Dreams? When? I had a dream…it was so real…” But “when” didn’t matter. “Now” was everything. Cleo stood, shrugged off her shirt and bra, wriggled out of jeans and boxers, and made it to the bed and onto Ash in one leap. They rolled together, laughing and gasping, until Cleo paused on top. “I like to do things the old-fashioned way.” Her fingers got Ash’s shirt unbuttoned almost as fast as hers had been, made quick work of the rest, and then her skin moved against every inch of Ash she could manage while her mouth ranged from lips to throat to breast and back again.
“So nice to have a bed,” she murmured against Ash’s ear.
“Nicer than in Paris?” Ash flipped Cleo over and started nibbling down from her breasts to her belly.
“Nothing could be nicer than Paris, but wherever we are now is always the best,” Cleo said, then yipped at a nip in a tender place. “Nothing could be better than now,” she went on between gasps,
“even twisting around like pretzels in the…in the jeep when that was the only place we had… Oh!” She arched her hips into the pressure of Ash’s tongue, infuriatingly fleeting. Ash lifted her head and swung their bodies crossways on the mattress.
“And the bed is wide enough for this,” Ash panted, rolling them together from its head to its foot and back again, over and over. The frantic pressure of body on body, hollow on curve on skin slippery
with sweat and arousal, felt so good that it was hard to stop, until the hunger for even more intensity where it was needed most grew, and swelled, and couldn’t be denied.
“Let me…” Cleo managed to raise up enough to press her face down into Ash’s belly, then moved up to her full breasts and went back and forth from one to the other, worshipping them with lips,
tongue, even gentle teeth, feeding on the tantalizing swelling of their tips, until Ash moaned and thrashed and tugged Cleo’s head down between her thighs.
Hands, tongue, lips, Cleo burrowed her whole face into that demanding heat, where every slick, sensitive inch pulsed with hunger for more, harder, harder, more, please! No drawing the pleasure out, as they used to do in the jeep, in the desert; it had been too long now to wait. Ash arched her hips, moving them to a demanding rhythm, and with Cleo’s fingers inside her and Cleo’s mouth impelling her clit to a frantic hardness, she screamed out her wordless triumph.
Cleo stroked Ash with increasing gentleness as she floated down from that peak, her kisses light on Ash’s skin, keeping the brakes on her own need. But when Ash recovered enough for her breathing to
slow, she flipped over and devoted herself to Cleo’s pleasure.
The small breasts, so easily concealed, could tighten and swell and fill a lover’s mouth as enticingly as any other woman’s. Her taut buttocks were a perfect fit for Ash’s hands. She raised Cleo’s hips, ran
her own still-rigid breasts one by one along Cleo’s glistening folds, teasing as long as she dared, then responded to her lover’s desperate pleas with firm strokes of tongue and fingers and an even tighter
hold on her buttocks. Cleo erupted in cries increasingly shrill, all control abandoned in ways she would never have allowed anyone but Ash to hear.
“Shall I stop now, or not?” Ash said when Cleo could focus again.
 “Just…just hold me now.”
So they held each other, breathing each other’s essence, until sweat and the lubrication of their pleasure cooled and they burrowed under the blankets. Cleo could feel the bond they’d had renewed,
and strengthened. She could even sense what Ash was thinking while they were this close together, but some things still needed to be spoken out loud.
“Cleo,” Ash murmured, “nothing is worth giving you up. Nothing. I was a fool. You, being with you, is the only thing that feels like home. Like being me.”
“I know,” Cleo said sleepily. In a few minutes she roused, though, and said, “So what have you been up to? Saved any of the world yet?”
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So there you go. Oh, I should also mention that there's some blood-and-guts action in the ultimate battle to rescue hundreds of Kurdish and Yazidi captives from an ancient fortress in the desert  reinforced by the enemy with surrounding mine fields, but there's also some major use of superpowers, as well as outstanding heroism of the non-supernatural kind.

3 comments:

  1. Oh! I'd never thought about the erotic uses for telekinetic ability (I'm ashamed to say!)

    I've got the book on my tablet... looking forward to starting it.

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  2. We need more superheroines in the real world! This is a great excerpt. I'm just wondering if this Cleo is the air force pilot of the same name from your WW2 stories.

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  3. I did wonder if it was a mistake to use that name again, but I figured that readers of superhero stories are unlikely to have read the former stories. The time frame of this book is semi-contemporary, not WW2, and this character is a redhead with quite a different personality. I don't really know why I named her Cleo. She just sort of named herself.

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