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Category: Erotica/Erotic Fantasy
Description: Dreamspell Erotica Volume 1 -- Edited by Lisa Rene' Smith. Enjoy these four erotic stories: Moira's Tears by S. D. Grady Under the light of the midsummer's moon, Moira watches the men of her village return from the sea. Knowing that no man has ever sought her hand, she sheds seven tears into the ocean. Summoned by his destined mate, the selkie Murtagh rises from the waves to make Moira his own. However, he must battle an evil finnman, who also covets the wild Moira, before the couple can come together and create the bond of their eternal love. Brass Balls and Hysteria by K T Grant Jessamine Starling is in in for the surprise of her life when she sneaks into the factory of her family's biggest competitor and doesn't find a top secret dirigible project, but a steam powered sex chair that helps cures female hysteria. Fantasy Exposed by Roxi Cox Strait-laced Millicent Crescent never breaks the rules. Then an online chat friend offers to make her wildest fantasy come true?if she dares. More than a Feeder by Samantha Stone Picked up after curfew and taken as a feeder, Sandy finds being drained by the Elite sheriff's demanding sexual appetite far better than his other, more deadly hunger.
eBook Publisher: L&L Dreamspell/L&L Dreamspell, 2011 London, Texas
eBookwise Release Date: June 2011

Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [83 KB]
Words: 17581
Reading time: 50-70 min.

Moira's legs carried her over the rugged terrain skirting the black pebble beach. She kept one eye on the tufts of tall, green grass and the other on the barquentine moored just beyond the arms of the small cove. Her long, black hair whipped in the steady breeze. Low clouds scudded just above. It was days like this she felt she could touch the ominous Irish sky. Beyond the three-masted ship she spied the blue of a midsummer's day. The moon would rise full and brilliant tonight.

A longboat lowered from the side of the ship.

Moira's eager steps came to a halt. Standing on the edge of the small cliff, where the sea crashed against the dark gray stone, she frowned. All the women in the village would have even more reason to celebrate tonight. Their men were returned to them.

The familiar ache rose up in her chest.

But not her man.

She fisted the small bag of silver coins and felt its weight.

No man ever begged for Moira's favor. Even fair Connell had avoided her advances when he accepted the King's coin.

"I'm sorry, my sweet," he begged off. "No sane man would leave you behind whilst he's at sea. With your bold eyes and ways, I could never be certain some silver-tongued devil wouldn't spirit you away."

Bitter jealousy ate at her. She chewed her lips to keep the emotion from swelling. Tonight, around the bonfire in the village, every woman would dance beneath the moon with the one that had chosen her as his wife. Except her.

As the sailors rowed, she watched their broad shoulders move in unison.

Oh, what would it be like to feel that strength under her fingers! Tears, unbidden, traced her cheeks. She drew a sniff in annoyance and studied the bag she stitched together out of an old sack. Would it work?

She looked back out to the undulating, briny mass of the ocean.

Would old Mother Ada make her a charm that would summon her true love? For even after all these years, Moira believed that for every woman there existed one who would be hers for all time.

A gust of wind slapped the brown skirt against her legs and stole the breath from her lungs. It swirled around her. Sea spray dampened her face, mingled with her tears, and danced away on the wings of the tempest.

She turned and followed the narrow track along the cliff, toward the far end of the cove. There, hidden beneath the hedge, Mother Ada lived. Moira would purchase the necessary charm to make this Midsummer's Night one to remember.

When the first tear dipped into the sea, the ripple shimmered through the waves. Murtagh paused in his pursuit of a small school of fish and blinked in the murky depths. His body tightened in anticipation when the second, third and fourth drops landed. Eager to know if it was her--the one he had been watching for nigh on twenty years--he twisted and launched himself toward the surface. Flippers and tail pushed in unison, allowing the water to slip over his streamlined body. Bubbles released from under his fur.

He broke into the dull, afternoon sun, his small head bobbing alone in the cove. The tremor he felt when the last three tears broke the crest of a nearby swell shook him to his very core.

At long last, she had called for him. By the grace of her frustration, tonight he could make her ripe body his, in every possible way.

He spied her running along the top of the low cliff. Round, long and supple, her limbs would wrap around him and he would know the wonders of mating with a human.

Hungry for his first taste of Moira--her name had been embedded in his soul since she cried her first breath--Murtagh began the joyous leaping swim to the pebbled beach where he could shed his pelt and walk as a man for this one day. Would it be enough for her gentle, lonely heart? He didn't know. But as a selkie, it was all he had to give.

Moira held the switch before her. The flames licked up the tall sides of the bonfire. Laughter, thick and lusty, encircled her as the pipes and bodhran urged the celebrants into wilder feats. She closed her eyes and tossed the herbs into the fire. She caught the scent of sage and rosehips before it flared into ash.

"Please, send me my one and only tonight."

She wrinkled her nose. Mother Ada had insisted the trite words were essential to the charm. Moira shrugged and opened her eyes.

Through the flickering light of the fire, she saw him. The same as in her dreams...tall with silver hair that brushed his nape and the largest round eyes. She gasped and spun away, her eyes closed tight. Her heart hammered in her chest. It could not be possible. Dreams were wisps of thought and desire, not flesh and bone. He could not be real.

"Will you dance under the moonlight?"

This time when Moira peeked, a man appeared before her, not silver and sinful, but dark and fearsome. Although the smile teased his lips, the sense of joy did not reach his dull, pale eyes. She cast a glance over her shoulder. Her gray phantom had vanished. When she turned back and dipped her head, the stranger bounced up on his toes.

"Is that a yes, my beauty?"