SLIPSTREAM
Cyber Ops Book One
Skhye Moncrief
Genre: erotic futuristic
romance
ASIN: B00BA99IJE
Number of pages: 312
pages
Word Count: 79,000 words
Cover Artist: Erin
Dameron-Hill
Book Description:
Congratulations, Dr. Charlotte Barley! You
won a one-way ticket to Diablo's Shithole!
Yes, Dr. Barley, you saved earth from humanity's
extinction brought on by overpopulation, discovered wormholes, and gave
humanity a new lease on life. But, you're being hunted by someone using a
wormhole device you can't fathom, plagued by a type of sleepwalking that
involves reliving your alien sexual experiences gleaned from wormhole journeys,
and, yes, we see that you can't deal with your murdered bodyguards--mercenary
Space Marines forced to anchor your body to a bed at night by acting out the
sex memories haunting your REM cycle. Get over it already because there's
nowhere left to hide except Diablo's Shithole...And the shit is about to hit
Diablo's fan more than you could ever imagine...Because, deep down inside, you
know you're into all that kinky sex.
So, who will the next victim be? Is tall, long,
and corded astrophysicist Major Fitzroy capable of dancing with death to save
your ass, or are you willing to sacrifice hotter-than-sin muscle-bound explosives
fanatic Corporal Laurel? Just don't let their nuts rub together. And you know
your alien-infested sexual dreams are a huge turn on for you. Just face the
music, honey. Can your bodyguards fulfill the sexual fantasy of the king of all
alien kings and his troop of humping brothers until the truth is exposed to
save your ass?
So, Dr. Barley, you slut, ready for another
slide down a slippery wormhole to Diablo's Shithole? It looks like a lot of
fun. And more than those feet are going to get wet in the SLIPSTREAM.
Warning: Reader should be prepared for a heroine
who curses like a sailor and knows she's a slut, Space Marines with sex on the
brain, a Corporal with a clit fetish, aliens who bite and harvest things best
left hush hush, as well as a little human m/f/m, even more alien m/f/m/m/m/m,
and a plenty m/f in a plot heavily laden with reproduction and sexual
gratification. Finally, this story proves one universal constant: it never
hurts to drop the soap.
Excerpt:
Laurel
continued to study his cards.
Like
he tried to avoid showing any emotion about what he held in his hand. Certainly
his hand was better than my useless unrelated two, five, nine, jack, and king.
Absolutely utterly useless. What can I do with these pathetic cards? It's just
time to head back to work. Or something equally conducive to saving my neck.
More so because Laurel's enormous don't-fuck-with-me form is certainly giving
me ideas. Maybe it's the fact he's wearing just a black tank top stretched to
the damned max with dark hairs curling over the hem near his heart? Maybe it's
the fascinating linear vein on his bulging bicep that keeps drawing my
attention? Or, rather, it's the suggestive items he's using for chips on the
table…
Laurel's
gaze slid up to monitor the central pile of pre-packaged instant coffee,
chocolate mints, Space Marine beer vouchers, and one long somewhat-flat golden
rectangular heat-sealed wrapper.
As
if he could read my mind about his body, leading to…What he'd tossed onto the
pot. Some things were outright necessities like instant coffee and blood. You
just never know when you'll find yourself shit out of luck, especially serving
a joy of a sentence on an uninhabited forested rock in the middle of nowhere
deep space like me now, without coffee. But Laurel was preoccupied with an item
that was outright useless on Diablo's Shithole. An Omega Tickler condom. Black
Cherry Fire.
The
table's bleeding.
Not
good. My favorite flavor on one heck of a scary-looking black rubber to the
uninitiated. Toss in the big heat factor that's just enough to keep a man and
woman warm when shifting positions…With all the damned ticklers on the tip and
rubbery spikes protruding along the shaft. Talk about subtle unavoidable
friction that will feel like pure ecstasy when riding a fully-engorged cock.
One monster cock owned by the Corps' prized beast across the table.
My
heart swan-dived to the lowest pit of my core and left me feeling like magma
oozed between my legs.
Dear.
God.
His
gaze snapped up to anchor upon mine.
As
if he's toying with me by dangling a carrot, or he can sense my reaction to his
poker chip. Rather his poker! Either
way, Laurel wasn't the type to play games. His type dives for the jugular with
the Cherry-Fire-Tickler option. Cold. Ruthless. Who in her right mind would say
no to that?
Right
mind. Right mind. I should have one. But I haven't slept in two days. Let me
see if I can find some right mind
around here. I slid my gaze across the boring tabletop to Fitzroy.
The
major leaned on an elbow planted atop the metal table.
Shooting
me an indefinable expression.
Why?
Does he know I've been contemplating sex with that condom? One that is
advertised by the twenty-first century's horrible marketing tactic geared
toward safe sex with Space service: keep
your cool on the dark side when popping cherries. On the other hand, if
Fitzroy is in the mood for cherries, I don't mind. But he hasn't said a thing
about sex. Nor has he bothered to hint he's willing. No, he's no Laurel with a
coy yet blatant slap-it-on-the-table attitude.
Like
throw me down and use that condom on me. Someone.
Oh.
No.
A
chill fingered along my arms.
Just
enough to cause the fireworks of an epiphany--at the moment the point that
either big marine could throw me down. I won't mind. It's not like I'm going to
live long enough to fret over the bad reputation certainly nurtured from my
needs. Needs demanding big muscled man between my thighs.
"I'm
sick of waiting," Fitzroy said.
Breaking
my train of ridiculous thought with an equally ridiculous one. He's sick of waiting?
"Can
anyone beat a full house?" Fitzroy placed his fan of cards on the table
with great care like they were highly explosive.
Seriously,
toss a grenade into the pot too. I could use a quick blast out of this madness.
Maybe I'd land on a big cock? Speared. God. I hope I'm not groaning like a
desperate prisoner resigned to the fact anything I want beyond roaches and rat
for dinner is wishful thinking. But that's reality in a nutshell.
Laurel
and Denton sighed and tossed their cards face down.
Like
they skewered a rat on a spit for my pleasure. I hate a subconscious that does
nothing but make me horny. I dropped my horrible hand.
Fitzroy
sighed a contented sound and reached for the loot.
Separating
the chocolates by pushing them my direction. I guess I shouldn't be a sore
loser. Although, sore and losing could be quite an interesting combination in
the light of the right perspective. What I'd really appreciate is both in
conjunction with being abused by that prized condom. But Fitzroy tucked it
inside the breast pocket of his camouflage shirt before shooting me what had to
be a behave look. All the while that
golden package stuck out of the top of his pocket like a freaking trophy.
How
can you behave when your panties are so wet you're getting a chill? And he's
seriously not planning on deploying the Cherry Fire.
I'm
so the anti-thesis of being screwed. Literally.
Slipstream Cyber Ops 1
Skhyne Moncrief
Sci-Fi/Fantasy
BDSM. M/F. M/F/M. M/F/M/M/M/M. Ménage
324 pages
4 Star
General Barkley has the nickname of Mad Axe and is one tough space marine and his niece is headed to Diablo's Shithole which is under his command. Charlotte is called The Creator of subspace transport and she is also one tough cookie but she has brains to go with all the problems she is bringing with her.
John has been chosen to be her guard while on the planet and he has a big challenge ahead of him but he not only takes orders from Mad Axe but likes and respects him as a man.
Charlotte arrives through the wormhole as expected but she is having a hard time getting her pieces and parts back from the experience. During all the confusion and disorientation Mad Axe hands her to John and says "I now pronounce you man and wife".
Charlotte has chanced another wormhole trip to this location in hopes of finding answers to problems that have come up since she opened the wormholes for travel. "Can we harness the powers of the most basic constituents of the universe?"
When Charlotte sleeps she is subject to relieve sexual experiences when she was on the planet. She has sex with Ext and his five brothers and therefore needs guards because she is not aware of what she is actually doing except that she needs to actually perform because the dream is so real. Her guards in the past have turned up dead and it is time to figure why.
Mad Axe is aware of the problem and has assigned John and Laural to guard her and do whatever is necessary to keep her safe. John has been with Charlotte and satisfying her needs but he needs to check on something important so he sends Laural into guard her with orders to do whatever she orders, nothing else.
Corporal Laural decides this is his chance to have his way with Charlotte and as she awakens he proceeds to tie her to a table and feast on her. Strangely enough Charlotte is awake and is totally enjoying herself. When John finds out what happened he and Laural go rounds and only one person can stop these two Space Marines from killing each other and that is Charlotte.
While this sexual romp is going on Charlotte discovers that sex with Laural while awake was most enjoyable and that he really can be a big cuddly bear. Things quickly change when it is discovered that the two other marines were killed in attempts to get to Charlotte, by the planet's natives.
It is finally decided that the Snarians somehow are tracking Charlotte and it had to have been when the King bit her when she visited the planet some time ago when Ext and his brothers drugged Charlotte and stole her eggs and used her for their pleasure.
At times thoughts are expressed and it takes a while to figure out who is thinking or actually speaking.
Charlotte knows she has to do whatever it takes to keep Earth safe and is willing to go back to the planet to blow things up if that is what is needed.
Global Bureauracy has their hands on everything and so much seems impossible because of it but Mad Axe is sure to back up his people no matter what comes down.
The underlying plots are fantastic and there is never a dull moment technically nor sexually. The sleep sex is truly out of this world but the actual eye open sex events show tender moments, lust and a whole lot of good erotic fun. Doors are opened and exploration has not ended.
About the Author:
Educated
in geology and anthropology, writing lured Skhye away from finishing her thesis
in (bio-archaeology) anthropology. Aside from muscled men in fur, leather,
denim, and kilts, Skhye loves cultural ecology, cultural evolution, cultural
relativism, and natural processes…Big ideas…Simple concepts that manifest in
world building to crazy people like Skhye who studied anthropology and geology ad nauseum before turning to writing
romantic fiction. Her rule of thumb is to love the good, the bad, and the ugly
of every culture in her tales so that every culture in her tales and every
aspect of her stories resonates as real as possible. And yes, she's
"certifiably" geek.
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