Tag Archives: go deeper press

To Have…Guest Blogger Malin James Talk About Roadhouse Blues!!!

Malin James is a special friend, and as far as I am concerned (and as I tweeted yesterday), she is the gold standard as a writer, and more importantly as a human. I am honored to have her as my guest today, with a decadent post after my own heart to promote her new collection, Roadhouse Blues, with Go Deeper Press!!!

Thank you so much for having me, Ms. F! It’s a privilege and honor to be here! 

My collection of linked short stories, Roadhouse Blues, came out this week with Go Deeper Press, but I didn’t want to do a standard Please Buy My Book!!! promo post, (though if you’re at all inclined to by my book, please do – you won’t hear me complain). Don’t get me wrong, I’m damn proud of the collection, but I wanted to talk about it in a different way—one that taps into some of the aesthetics Ms. F and I share. So. Let’s talk about noir.

I love noir and classic films. I always wanted to include a noir story in Roadhouse Blues, but I wasn’t quite sure how or where a story like that would fit. Roadhouse Blues is set in Styx, a blue-collar, truck stop town in the middle of nowhere. It’s dusty and oppressive and the most glamorous thing around is the tabloid rack at the local Pak ‘n Buy. It’s about as far from a gritty urban jungle full of hard-nosed men and glossy, sinister dames as you can get.

I was about ten stories into drafting the collection and had pretty much decided to save the smoky, Sam Spade feeling for a different collection, when I started writing what would become the title story, “Roadhouse Blues.”

Roadhouse Blues” is one of a handful of stories set in Rowdy’s Roadhouse, the only strip club for miles. Mick, the protagonist, tends bar and keeps a general eye on things. At the start of the story, he’s getting over a messy divorce and has pretty much vowed never to get involved with anyone ever again, but that doesn’t mean he can’t text (and maybe sext) with a woman named Jett, whom he met on a classic film forum online. But when Jett comes to the roadhouse late one night, she upends Mick’s lonely intentions.

Jett is sultry and sassy and damn, can she crack wise. The woman walks around like she was filmed in black and white, but under the Lauren Bacall glamour, she needs to get away from a life that isn’t working, so she runs to the middle of nowhere, straight into Mick.

As soon as Mick saw her standing in the doorway, I knew I had my film noir story. A beautiful woman with a mysterious past, a good man worn down by life…. So, I stayed with it until it became clear that the whole point of the story was to get Mick from “of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine” to “here’s looking at you kid”. It just took a little rough sex to get him there.

While there are no crimes or gangsters or dead bodies in an alley, there’s a lot going on in “Roadhouse Blues” that directly references or pays homage to noir and classic film—the damaged characters with difficult pasts, the spikey chemistry, and yes, rough sex. More than anything, the rough sex. 

In a lot of noir and classic film, sex is a fade to black thing, but there are plenty of women getting slapped or dragged around in an implied sexual context. In the film and fiction from the ‘30’s, ‘40’s and 50’s, casual violence towards women is a window into the attitudes of the early 20th century. It’s an interesting historical snapshot, but not something I wanted to sexualize or glamorize in an erotic story in the 21st. Which is why I wrote the sex scene in “Roadhouse Blues” the way I did. As opposed to the standard trope of the femme fatale getting punished by a dominant man, Mick and Jett unequivocal equals—equals who just happen to want to slap each other around.

I like rough sex. I like it a lot, but only with the right partner. The chemistry has to be right for that kind of dynamic to work. Happily, the chemistry between Mick and Jett was right. I wanted to let consensual violence play out between two strong people, but if I was going to do that, it was important to establish the fact that they were meeting on equal ground. Mick spanks Jett, Jett decks Mick, but they do it in a way that is actively consensual, which let me dig into the dynamic to find the sweetness in the rough. I wanted to give the reader the sense that the night they spend together is full of joy for them.

Mick and Jett have a rare kind of chemistry. They naturally communicate through short hand, like the dialogue in To Have and Have Not or Double Indemnity. Because the connection they have is instinctual and highly tuned, they are able to do things that, with a different partner, would be off the table. Jett holds her own, and Mick trusts her to voice her boundaries. Jett, in turn, trusts Mick to respect them, which he instantly does. It’s an ideal version of how a dynamic like this could play out with two well-paired equals.

Unlike in noir films, when a man slaps a woman and sends her sprawling before a fade to black, Jett gives as good as she gets, and Mick falls for her because of it. I wanted to see how their dynamic would play out, especially with the ghost of black and white film underpinning the story. I wanted to see what would happen if Bogart and Bacall got a little rough with each other while they were falling in love. I didn’t think I’d have a chance to do that in this collection, but Mick and Jett surprised me, and I’m glad they did.


To read an excerpt from the story, “Roadhouse Blues” click here.

Are you swooning like me? Want more Malin? I am so happy to be part of her blog tour–here are the links to the rest of it!

The Go Deeper Press Launch Post

Interview with Xan West

Interview with Emmanuelle de Maupassant 

Review by Ella Dawson

Interview with Jade A. Waters

Review by Jo Henny Wolf





A Slice of Horatio

So when an anthology comes out from Go Deeper Press, the brainchild of Lana Fox and Jake Louder…and Oleander Plume is sharing an excerpt from her upcoming hot af first novel, featuring her sexy mutha protogonist Horatio Slice–I have to share the love! Here is a slice of Horatio, from the hot af anthology Alternative Fucks!  

Gunner snapped out of his cock-induced trance and smacked Horatio’s hand away. “I worked my ass off building a machine for the sole purpose of bringing you back to Earth, and all you want is a blow?”

Horatio glanced at the mass of wires and batteries. “You made this to bring me home?”

“Yes.” Gunner tried his best to look pissed.

“Nice work, kid.” Horatio patted Gunner’s cheek. “Thanks for bringing me back to Earth. Now how about sucking my dick?” He pushed down on Gunner’s shoulders.

Gunner sank to his knees and stared down the length of Horatio’s one-eyed beast. It looked less intimidating from that angle until the wet crown tried to separate his lips. Gunner’s brain told him he should tell Horatio to fuck off, but his tingling balls told a different story. The confusion loosened Gunner’s tongue, and he babbled without thinking.

“Maybe we should get to know each other first.” Gunner said, turning his head away from Horatio’s cock. “We could find clothes for you and then get food, or coffee, or something.”

Gunner cringed over his awkwardness.


“Yeah. You must be hungry, right?”

“Look, kid, I was this close to getting some action. Somebody needs to finish me off before my nads explode. Guess it’s your lucky day.” The delicious flavor of pre-come lingered on Gunner’s tongue. Although he hated to admit it, sucking off Horatio Slice sounded awesome. The man was hot. Hotter than hot. On a scale from one to ten, he was a twenty-seven. And a half. Horatio tapped his cock against Gunner’s bottom lip and said in a sing-song voice, “Come on. You know you want to.”

Once, following a heavy workout, Steven dared Gunner to sniff his jock strap. Not one to back away from a challenge, Gunner took a good whiff and almost heaved. He would remember that rank man funk for the rest of his life. But Horatio didn’t carry the odor of ball sweat and dirty underpants. He gave off the enticing aroma of clean skin, dryer sheets, and male arousal. Gunner took his first tentative lick, followed by another, and then another, quickly falling in love with the taste of Horatio’s cock.

“Damn, that’s good,” Horatio mumbled.

Spurred on by the sounds that Horatio made—moans, grunts, quick breaths—Gunner explored every crevice. He swirled his tongue around the flared edge of Horatio’s cockhead and dug the tip of his tongue into a divot he found underneath. Without thinking, Gunner wrapped his fingers around the shaft, mind-boggled over the girth. A long “Mmm,” slipped out, and he blushed.

Horatio touched Gunner’s hair and said, “Look at me for a second.” Gunner peered up, the tip of Horatio’s cock resting against his tongue, and saw Horatio shiver. “C’mere,” he said, tucking his fingers under Gunner’s chin.

“Why? What did I do?”

“Just c’mere.” Horatio nudged Gunner to his feet, surprising him with a soft kiss that tasted like peppermint and whiskey.

He was kissing Horatio Slice. With tongue, even. 

Gunner’s throat vibrated. Did he moan? Out loud? Fuck it. He didn’t care, especially when Horatio stroked the back of Gunner’s hair with one hand and brought him closer with the other, causing his hard cock to rub against Gunner’s thigh. Gunner’s own bulge bumped against some part of Horatio, and Gunner worried he’d come in his pants because he was damn close to doing just that. Horatio broke away from the kiss and smiled. “Hey cutie,” he said as he tugged open the snap on Gunner’s jeans. “Why am I the only one who’s naked?”

Want more? Look at the hot lineup on the cover, and then click to buy!!!

Guest Blogger Lana Fox Invites Us Inside the Castle of Depravity!!!

Lana Fox is no stranger to my blog, and I am delighted to have her back to talk about her latest, Castle of Depravity! Ever the sensualist, get ready for Lana to set your senses to boiling with this one, another nod to Anaïs Nin!

On Kinking Shame – Castle of Depravity

Shame. I was raised in it, soaked in it, and I “left my body” because of it. I believed my erotic feelings, which saturated me as a teen, were the reason I’d go to Hell.

I thought the universe loathed me.

But you know what? When I found erotica, I started to say, “If I’m going to Hell, then I might as well choose it. And I might as well have fun before I burn.”

It took several years of reading erotica before I put pen to paper myself, but once I had, I began to realize that the shame I was recovering from was the same stuff I longed to kink. In fact, I was obsessed with the Baron in Anaïs Nin’s ‘The Hungarian Adventurer’ in Delta of Venus, and enjoyed The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty by Anne Rice, both of which indulge in what I call “kinking shame.”

My most recent release is a 1920s series entitled Belted Venus, which honors Anaïs Nin in its title (you’ll notice it’s similar to Delta of Venus) also plays with this kink. In fact, the delectable chastity belt in Delta of Venus helped to inspire Book One, Castle of Depravity (also available at NOOK).

In Castle of Depravity, Lucerne comes of age and goes to stay with her stepbrother Simeon whom she hasn’t seen for years, even though he has forbidden her visit because of the sordid life he leads. As Lucerne soon finds out, Simeon lives in what he calls “a castle of depravity”—an old castle by the sea where rich, sexually adventurous Englishmen pour their wealth into a life of carnal pleasures. Simeon, rather like myself as a teen, has accepted that he is surely going to Hell, but when he and his sister find themselves desperately attracted to each other, he has to decide whether he can bear Lucerne going to Hell too—and all because of the power of his desires.

So strong is their attraction, in fact, that watching his sister being seduced by his friends is both torture and delectation for Simeon. After all, she is still a virgin—and one who longs to lose that “chastity.” Even so, Simeon soon finds a delicious way to kink his own shame and prevent his sister from taking all that she truly wants:

My brother slid the chastity belt up my legs, glossing my bare skin. We were in my bedroom at the time, moonlight dancing through the arched castle window, and he was crouching behind me, his hot breath falling against the small of my back. Standing next to the mirrored wardrobe, I was naked in front of him. I felt like every feather-light touch might tip me into an agony of bliss — one I desperately needed.

I was trembling and wetter than ever before.

The belt was formed of layer upon layer of gold chains that clinked and jingled against my flesh, rather like the jangling contraptions that bellydancers wore — or so I’d heard. These chains also formed a gusset at the center, which would pull between my thighs like underwear, clutching at my sex and hanging heavily on my hips, as if desperate to drag me to the ground. I whimpered with excitement. This was all too sensual, too torturing and forbidden.

He rose as he slid the belt higher and higher. At one point, he clasped my lower thigh as if he might fall if he didn’t, and the groan he released made me run my hand over my naked breasts.

I was quivering, amazed at the sensations in my body, which were pouring through me, crashing into my sex, hardening my nipples like never before. Every graze and shimmy of the metal against my skin made me gasp with pleasure, especially since I knew the perpetrator was my own stepbrother.

When he pulled the belt over my thighs, where its coldness broke my breath, I grew dizzy and had to steady myself against the wardrobe door because my brother was touching me where a brother never should! As I caught myself, he let out the deepest of moans and clutched my thigh suddenly, as if he, too, had stumbled from sheer erotic need.

The chastity belt that stimulates and also denies struck me as a wonderful BDSM punishment. If every step you take brings you both pleasure and captivity, prolonging your erotic torture and thus building your thirst, how deeply you can kink the notion of shame. You are, after all, prevented from true release, yet also erotically tortured for your “sordid” desires.

The belt also pushes me to be erotically inventive as an author. And yes, there’s tons of ridiculously kinky sex that can be had while it stays on….

What fun!

I have to say, I think the kinks in Castle of Depravity have been more erotically enticing for me to write than almost any other. That castle by the sea brings a whole host of exciting scenarios, and a reason to lavish every scene with deeply explicit material.

I hope you’ll take a look and let me know what you think, if you do….

Thank you to the lovely, talented F. Leonora for having me!

Buy Castle of Depravity at Amazon

Buy Caslte of Depravity at NOOK

Go Deeper with TIE ME UP & Lana Fox!!!

I am sooooo excited to have Tie Me Up, be today’s Go Deeper Press Deeper Daily! I feel really lucky because a lot of the people that I love are brilliant writers and/or editors. Lana Fox is no exception, aside from running Go Deeper Press, she is a truly gifted writer. So when you go to their site to see the Tie Me Up Deeper Daily by the lovely Tabitha Kitten (which has also been excerpted on Janine Ashbless’s blog)…let your eyes meander to this new goodness from Lana, Criminally Gorgeous:


Bethany can’t help it. Risk turns her on. But when, thanks to a crazy dare, she sneaks into a stranger’s apartment, the last thing she expects is to be sprung by a gorgeous intruder and seduced into a super-hot scene. 

It turns out this gatecrasher is Leo, an ex-lawyer billionaire who housebreaks for kicks and is also a sexual dominant. He’s the hottest man Bethany’s ever met. When he suggests she be his paid partner, breaking in with him for sex and thrills, Bethany couldn’t be more tempted.

However, her father Jim is a lifelong criminal, and he’s currently on the run, in danger of doing time. Bethany’s vowed to never follow in his footsteps. How far down this criminal road can she travel with Leo? And with a partner and Dom this gorgeous, perhaps there’s even more at stake.

Is Bethany Croft prepared to fall in love?

You can download Criminally Gorgeous on All Romance, Amazon, Nook and Smash Words!

Happy Reading!

I'm Being Interviewed by Go Deeper Press, Go Deep with Me!

I am so honored to be interviewed by the amazing Go Deeper Press today…go deep and follow me there! And while you are at it, do browse around and take in all their exquisite sexiness…

Guest Blogger Dario Dalla Lasta Talks Squeeze Pants, and a Delicious Excerpt!

So you might know that I am featured in this little anthology called Chemical [se]X, which has gotten a great deal of accolade. In the process, I got to communicate with a lot of fabulous authors and developed quite the author crush on Dario Dalla Lasta. Dario has so much going on, I am breathless just thinking about it! He has a brand new anthology out called Squeeze Pants published by the fabulous Go Deeper Press! His erotica is sexy, fun and filled with a lot of emotion. Dario is my guest today, offering a little commentary on the pieces that I love by him–both of which include toilet stalls–and talking just a bit about the nature of desire.

Without further ado–here’s Dario first on his process, followed by a delicious excerpt!

As for my fascination with toilet stalls, what’s not to love? There is always something (or someone) of interest in a restroom. Every since I was a child, I’ve been both obsessed and repelled by public/school restrooms; they’re scary and stinky, private and public, revolting and sexy. And bathroom graffiti alone is worth the trip. I still remember a childish scribble on a YMCA bathroom stall when I was taking swimming lessons as a young boy: “Here I sit, brokenhearted, paid a dime and only farted.” I have never forgotten that, even after 40 years! Obviously, I’ve had several incidents in bathrooms that were major turn-ons. Living in New York amongst several million people, you find yourself crowded into bathrooms on a regular basis. Especially at bars. Plus, stalls are an easy refuge to escape to for some deliciously deviant behavior with another buddy. Both of my stories (“[du]X” from the “Chemical [se]X” anthology and “Marble Sentinels” from “Squeeze Pants”) are partly autobiographical. I had a delicious run-in with a hot stud I had known for years, back when the Roxy nightclub had roller skating nights. He was definitely my muse for that erotic story! “Marble Sentinels” came about because of my crush on the superintendent of the building where I used to work. The mens’ bathroom there had two large, old-fashioned marble urinals that were just ripe for fantasizing about. I guess I like having a back story about men desiring one other over a period of time. The timing needs to be right, and “timing is everything” or so it’s been said. I myself have had years-long obsessions with boys that never came to fruition, so writing about it happening to characters from my imagination was cathartic.

Two minutes. In only two minutes, the studly superintendent’s cock will be mine. I adjust the junk in my boxer shorts, pop a breath mint, and walk as casually as possible back to the bathroom, praying no one else blocks my way. I’m in luck. The sign is still up and there’s no one around. This time, when I push on the door, it swings open into a darkened room, the white linoleum and marbled equipment barely a gleam in the gloom. “Hello?” I whisper. No answer. I dare not flick the light switch on, hoping to keep the pretense up of the toilet being closed for repairs. Instead, I carefully feel my way over to the last stall on the left, where I let myself in and wait. After a few tense moments, the swinging door opens, the click of a lock falls into place, and a pair of footsteps shuffles my way. “Pssst! Where you at?” “In here.” He knows exactly where I am. The stall door pushes open, and immediately a pair of arms wrap around my waist, his soft lips crushing against mine with feverish intent. He must be even hornier than me. I kiss back with just as much fervor while entwining my arms around his sinewy back until my hands rest on his ass shelf. Damn, boy has got a booty on him. My erection makes its presence known, especially after Joey’s packed crotch grinds against mine. His dick feels like a coiled snake, ready to strike. I throw my head back for a succession of kisses he plants along my neck. Our excitement echoes within the tiled walls, escalating as our fumblings turn more intense. By this point, my hands crawl up his shirt, playing with his nipples and smoothing down his fuzzy six pack. His tongue twirls in my ear, and his hot breath pours down the side of my face, ratcheting up my hotness to the boiling point. My cock drips with pre-come, the wetness spreading by the minute. Frantically, I begin undoing his belt by touch alone, my eyes blind in the dark, my tongue now swirling inside his mouth, trying to taste him, to get deeper inside this hunky man who I’ve been pining away for, this sexy stud who kisses me like a long-lost lover. No doubt he hasn’t kissed another man in quite some time from the way he paws at me. The belt buckle undone, I unzip his pants to discover an insistent pecker knocking on my knuckles trying to get out of its tight cage. No problem there. I pull the briefs down his thighs and disengage our mouths to concentrate on what has sprung out of his pants. A lively and long beast, from the feel of it. My palm runs up and down the silky length of it, and I grasp the burning shaft in my fist, squeezing all the way to the tip until a drop of semen seeps out. My finger swipes at it, and I lick it off. Joey squirms under my touch and swoops down to bite my nipple. When his teeth start to hurt me, I push him back so that I can fall to my knees and begin worshipping that gorgeous cock with my hungry mouth and loving hands. After a few sucks, his knees tremble and he almost pulls out. I refuse to let that happen and keep his cock right where it is. He relents, exhales loudly, and grabs the back of my neck. Forcing himself further down my throat, he pushes all the way in until I gag. My eyes begin watering; no doubt from happiness, at this point. He feels so good in there that I know his perfect-sized dick belongs in my mouth. He must agree with me, for then he begins face-fucking me faster and harder until his erection is ramming down my esophagus like a piston. Like I give a shit. I suck as if his dick is oxygen giving me life. I live for his fingers mauling my hair, for his groans of pleasure, for the nasty slurping sounds I make, and for the jizz that builds up in his bouncy balls that slap my chin. I want to drain him dry. “I’m—I’m gonna come,” he pants in ragged breaths. I egg him on by jerking his shaft while the dripping head is still plunged down my gullet, my tongue slathering up his pillar so much that strings of spit hang from the sides of my mouth. When he hits his orgasm, he yelps like a wounded creature, and I almost choke from the spurts that coat my throat, losing count of the repetitions. Swallowing as fast as I can, I hold him in place until his heaving subsides, loving his spent tool resting on my tongue. I don’t want to let him go. After a few moments, I reluctantly release him when he growls, “Now it’s your turn, captain. Get over to the urinals. Now!” Standing up on shaky legs, I swallow again, the salty sweetness of his come lingering in my mouth. Like the come slut I am, I want more. Curbing my appetites is a constant struggle, especially since I seem to have forgotten that glorious taste. It’s been a while, okay? Joey drags me out of the stall and pushes me toward the two stately sentries that hug the wall as they have for decades. What have they seen? How many cocks have expelled yellow piss down their drains? A staggering number fills my brain. “See these two urinals?” he asks me. “We’ve spent lots of time standing in front of them. I know how much you love them and how often you stare at my dick when we’re going next to other.” Not answering, I merely nod, even though he can barely see me in the dark. “So, because of that, I want you to fuck me right here, right now, so that you always think of me when you take a piss here. I wanna breathe the urinals in as I bend over them and you plow me from behind. ’Cause you’re gonna shoot up my ass, got it? Here,” he continues, placing something into my hand. A condom. The man comes prepared. I place it in my pocket until it is needed. But first things first. “Pull your pants down and bend over,” I order. What I am about to do is incomprehensible to me, although I am not about to let this opportunity pass by. Joey complies as instructed and immediately his pants are down about his boots, his butt poised like a dancer in Magic Mike. What I cannot discern clearly in the shadows has already been memorized in my mind. I kneel down behind him and pry his butt cheeks apart, exhaling with desire at the deed. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine eating out Joey’s ass. My tongue reaches his pucker hole instantly, and when I lick it hungrily, he instinctually moves back to me, asking for more. Rising to the challenge, I adjust my knees and get comfortable, planning to be down there for as long as possible. Once there’s an ass in my face to devour, I’m content. The super doesn’t let me down. He allows me all the time I want, and in between working over his hole, I run my tongue over the entire length of his crack, stopping here and there to lick his taint and fondle his ball sack, which drives him wild. He tastes both sweet and tart down there, an unusual combination I find as compelling as an aphrodisiac. As a result, I gobble his ass like a ravenous pig and drill my tongue so far up his tasty hole that the fucking has already commenced. His whimpers fill me with encouragement, and before long, my cock is in one hand with his in the other. I stroke our dicks in time to my tongue thrusts until I almost shoot on the cold floor. I pinch my dick to stop the convulsions, deciding to bring this madness to the next level. Besides, he is more than ready for me to enter; I mean, after all, the dude’s salad has been dutifully tossed. Now the condom can come out.