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It's release day for my good friend and fellow author, K.b. Cutter. Welcome him back and enjoy an erotic excerpt from his new book and his perspective on what attracts us to dark romance!

I'm happy to be back here at Romance with SASS. It's like a favorite bar or café, where everyone knows your name. Hey, hold the phone . . . that sounds like a wholly original idea for a sit-com.  Hmmmm . . . what should I call it . . .

I'd like to thank Margie Church for allowing me to, once again, lower the property values at her web digs. The check is in the mail, mah friend . . .

So, what the heck am I doing here?  Well, I'm celebrating the release of my FIRST novel length work: The Darker Side of Heaven, available TODAY from Noble Romance Publishing.

In conjunction with this auspicious occasion, I'd like to talk about the darker side of . . . you guessed it . . . quilting!  Whoa . . . fabric, needles, stuffing, can you say sexy AND sinister?

Actually, I'm focusing on the darker side of romance, its attraction and longevity in such a crowded genre.

Why? Well I'll tell ya, kiddos, dark is sexy. Take a gander at popular culture the last decade or two, Anne Rice and Laurel Hamilton's series of books featuring vampires, vampire hunters and everything in between.  In film and TV, such series as True Blood, the Vampire Diaries and films like Underworld and  . . . yes, even Twilight.


Dark angst made sensual.

One could argue that as far back as Bram Stoker's Dracula, the Prince of Night, has morphed into quite the menacing sex symbol over the years.

We all have a dark side. Most of us lead normal everyday lives; we strive to navigate by a moral compass (mine always points south. Guess that's where I'm headed.  I'd better bring along Hades brand SPF 1,000) and do right by our fellow human beings.  Regrettably, we may have to tap into that primordial black cauldron in times of great strife or life and death struggle.

So how do we safely dive into that obsidian pool of swirling, shadowy emotion?  We read books and watch visual media, kiddies, unless you want to do a nickel in the pen for some debauched, sexual act.  If you decide to go that route, film it. I'm willing to pay top dollar.

The written word has more power that the motion picture. A book allows us to conjure our own images, thus we are not regulated to the vision of another.

Let me tell ya, what goes on in my head is a helluva lot more sexual and goose-pimple-inducing than what is on the screen. I'm sure for a lot of you folks reading this, it's true as well.

-blinks-

C'mon, you ain't fooling nobody.

Any-hoo, once you delve into a paranormal story or black fantasy, you can shrug off the constraints of civilization, of societal convention as you immerse yourself in the author's tale.  In essence, you become free from morality, like the shape shifter on the midnight prowl or the ghostly lover who slips under the bedroom door as vapor then coalesces into a gorgeous, hypnotic lover.

However, it would be wise to avoid wooden stakes and silver bullets . . .

I'd like to know what y'all think about this subject, so I'm going to offer a free copy of The Darker Side of Heaven to one lucky commenter.

I would also like to thank Jill Noble for creating the story idea, which is the foundation for The Darker Side of Heaven and for my editor, Bryl Tyne, whose expert skill and story recommendations made this gritty, darkly erotic tale shine.

Big hugs and smooches to Margie for being my friend, confidant and fountain of authorial information.

  The pleasure is all mine, Kb.


Please enjoy an excerpt from Darker Side of Heaven. Read on, if you dare!

 Fire Island, N.Y.

Chalice Noire wanted to slit their throats. Instead, she caressed the prominent bulge in the cultured man's trousers and slowly ground her ass against the crotch of the biker behind her.

The bloodletting would come later.

"I think someone wants to party." The one named Victor kept his hooded gaze on her hand as she massaged his crotch.

Chalice tightened her grip on the outline of his fierce erection.

Victor winced, his breath hitching in his throat.

"I'm not the only one." Chalice murmured in his ear.

She suppressed the urge to do a Mike Tyson on his lobe.

The biker grabbed her by the waist. She could feel his insistent heat pressing hard against the flimsy fabric of her summer dress.

"You know what they say, two's company, and three's a ménage." The biker's voice was raspy as if he gargled with razor blades.

Chalice felt his rough hands gliding along her bare legs. The bastard's hand pushed the fabric of her dress higher, exposing her ass.

"Christ, Victor, she's a fucking party girl, all right. Kinky fuck me boots and little bitch's goin' commando!"

Chalice gritted her teeth.

Anger welled up in her breast, a red beast clawing its way to the surface. She did not want to lose control. Her own base instincts began to clamor for attention. She willed herself to resist the insistent energy, the pulsating desire that made blood throb in her temples, in her clit.

She squeezed Victors' cock harder.

"Ow! My sweet, I do so enjoy your robust enthusiasm, but I'm not a masochist."

Bullshit, Victor Kozlov, I am privy to the darkness that lurks within your corrupted soul.

The biker, Dominic Stone, continued to paw at her ass. He bore a bullshit name, but it wouldn't matter much longer. His groping hands dipped between her legs, massaged her sex. The son-of-a-bitch could introduce himself to the Devil when she was through with him.

Simultaneously repulsed and sexually charged, she struggled to control the part of her that made her wet from their touch.

"I'm gonna fuck you right here and now. My cock's so hard for your wet pussy, baby. It's practically busting through my zipper."

"Dominic, please; no need to voice such vulgarities. The way our bodies react to this gorgeous creature, our flesh speaks volumes, and our tongues should be put to better use."

Victor's voice was a rich, soothing bass. No wonder women fell under his charm. Tall, dark, and aristocratically handsome, with a hint of eastern European accent, he appeared the consummate bon vivant.

Chalice knew better. Beneath Victor's cultured facade, lurked a career criminal with a specialty in trafficking flesh, preying on the innocent, the unwary. She tracked him across the entire breadth of Asia and through half of Eastern Europe. She had always been one-step behind.

Until now.

 His vanity would be his demise, alongside his liaisons with things of a dark nature. The women were not always bound for the sex trade. Some suffered a fate far worse than prostitution. Victor had to satiate the black appetites of beings not of this world who aided him in his desire for money and power. The Audro Council, the shadowy Vatican based organization she worked for to help rid the world of evil and those who consorted with the legion of the Devil's spawn had long sought to end the Russian criminal enterprise. She thought it ironic the Church recruited her, she an offspring of an unholy union of half human-half demon succubus and corrupted angel. It was her talent for bloodshed that kept the questioning lips of certain cardinals and bishops still concerned over her suspect linage trembling. In the early days, she thought of herself as an Avenger, now . . . she wasn't so sure.

Chalice often wondered how innocent the girls actually were. To be so blindly ignorant, so stupidly naive to fall for Victor's line of bullshit, perhaps they deserved their fate of sexually indentured servitude.

She felt nothing for these women, not anger, or sorrow. Tonight, however, a small vestige of humanity smoldered inside of her.

A tiny flame in the dark.

Pity.

Useless emotion, girl. Get your head out of your ass or get killed.

Dominic's hoarse voice dissipated the fog of her self-rumination. "Whatever, Victor, all I know, is I like what I see and feel and what I want, I fucking take. This piece of ass is gonna take all my fat cock deep in her soaking cunt."

Chalice sensed movement behind her. Dominic grunted, undoubtedly trying to extract his turgid member from his jeans. She wondered how a Russian criminal oligarch like Victor Kozlov hooked up with a Pagan biker enforcer like Stone. It was obviously a business arrangement. Victor supplied the women; Dominic got them strung out on drugs, and eventually they hustled their scrawny asses in biker-run strips joints or Russian mafia-backed whorehouses.

Chalice shivered. The slick, bulbous head of Dominic's cock pressed against her ass.

Damn, girl, get a grip. Don't lose it now.

Chalice rarely let her body respond so viscerally. She hadn't had sex in weeks. The need for it burned in every fiber of her being. Her accursed lineage stirred the lustful beast within. Perhaps it was a mistake taking on two powerfully built men alone, no back up, no one ghosting her movements, especially on a goddamned island. Chalice knew it was risky, deadly, but she rarely second guessed her instincts. Doing so in her line of work got you one thing: dead. Chalice had to go it alone. She preferred it that way. Whatever transpired, it was on her, no trigger-happy cowboy heroes crashing through doors at the wrong moment.

"Hey, Dom, baby, slow down or you're gonna blow your wad too soon. Lets' get little Victor to come out and play." Chalice cooed.

"He is not so little, my love."

Dominic slapped Chalice's ass. She barely resisted the urge to reach behind her and rip his balls off.

"Sorry, little darlin'. It's like a fire hose; once the pressure is on, it's gonna be a gusher. Fuck, c'mon Victor, whip it out unless you gone fag or somethin'. I ain't got all goddamn night."

Chalice grinned inwardly.

Neither do I.

Victor's eyes narrowed into piercing black coals. His gaze pure malice, body tensing. He obviously didn't like to be addressed in such a vulgar manner.

Chalice slowly pulled Victor's zipper down, diffusing the palpable tension. She worked his thick cock out, grasping his shaft, stroking his expanding flesh.

"Oh Victor's not gone fag—quite the contrary."

Chalice smiled, gently blowing on the tip of Victor's cock. He shivered in her touch, precum leaking from the tip.

Dominic grunted. Chalice could feel his pelvis against her ass, the large head of his cock about to part the folds of her sex. Victor began to stroke Chalice's hair, his eyes closing, obviously anticipating her mouth upon his swollen cock.

Her gaze narrowed.

The party has started.

Tell Kb what you think about the attraction to dark heroes and romance and you could win a copy of his brand new book, The Darker Side of Heaven. Please include your email in your post.