May 12, 2013

In the Spotlight - Aubrey Ross





When my parents realized I had an aptitude for storytelling--okay, even at an early age I was a consummate liar--they encouraged me to find constructive ways to put all that "creativity" to use. I wrote my first novel when I was in junior high school. It was a typical teenage girl's fantasy about being kidnapped by a rock star, finding out he was really a misunderstood millionaire's son, and living happily ever after with the reformed rebel. Erotic romance just seemed like an inevitable destination for someone with my naughty muse.

Now I spend my days, and many of my nights, trying to keep up with the characters springing to life within my mind. I find creative ways of avoiding errands and housework because I can't drag myself away from the dramas unfolding in my latest story. And every day I thank God I was able to quit my day job and actively pursue my dream!


Major Sasha Young has been stationed at Alpha Colony for the past three years, part of an elite military team assigned to maintain order and resolve conflicts between the shapeshifters. She has watched the hostile morphs, secretly fascinated by their predatory grace and animal magnetism. The colonies were established to protect defenseless humans from these genetic anomalies. So why does she feel like the morphs are the ones being victimized?

Grayson Evans, a rare white-tiger shifter, is frustrated and appalled by how little their human keepers understand the average “morph.” After an especially violent altercation between leopard and tiger shifters, he decides it’s time to educate them. He’s had his eye on Sasha ever since she arrived, and introducing the feisty beauty to the full potential of a felidae-morph is going to be his pleasure -- and hers!


Strong fingers closed around her upper arm, and she was yanked into a dense cluster of trees. A large hand covered her mouth, muffling her startled gasp. Even in the moonlight, Grayson’s pale blond hair was unmistakable. She exhaled, tilted her head, and stared up into his shimmering eyes. The night concealed their color, but she knew they were powder blue.

His head lowered, and he inhaled deeply as he urged her back against a tree. Holding her in place with the press of his body, he knocked her helmet to the ground and jerked her rifle out of its holder, tossing it a short distance away. Awareness arced between them, hot and electric.

“Eric’s right.” His breath caressed her lips, warm and inviting. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“I’m not alone.” He’d never touched her before. Their gazes had locked countless times, each knowing what the other was thinking, imagining. Still, he’d always kept his distance, always remained professional. “We need to talk.”

“You might need to talk. I need… to be inside you.” Even through her protective suit his erection was obvious. He was naked and fully aroused. He needed to fuck, needed a release from the bloodlust humming through his system.

His fingers pushed into the hair at the base of her neck. His thumb stroked across her cheek as he stared into her eyes. A moment’s pause was all the warning she got before he pounced. Then his lips ravished hers with ruthless purpose and unquestionable skill. His tongue teased and soothed, easing his way deeper with such tender care that she didn’t realize she was being claimed until he thrust in and out of her mouth, an unmistakable parody of sex.

She had to stop him, unless she wanted to wrap her legs around his waist and take him deep into her body. Excitement tingled down her spine and gathered between her legs, a teasing foreshadowing of the pleasure to come.

“Will I be your first morph?” He used her braid to urge her head back, then nibbled his way from her chin to her earlobe.

“You say that as if it’s a foregone conclusion.” She panted, unable to steady her breathing or stop her hips from grinding against his hardened cock. “Maybe I don’t want to have sex with you.”
His free hand skimmed over her breast, his thumb effortlessly finding her nipple. “How often do you come with my image in your mind? I think of you so often it feels like we’ve been lovers for years.”

No matter how much she wanted him, sexual interaction with morphs was strictly prohibited. In fact it could be dangerous. The semen of some morphs was highly toxic to humans. “Grayson, this isn’t going to happen. Back off.”

She kept her hands fisted at her side, refusing to touch him. His sculpted body was a blur in the darkness. Thank God. If he looked half as good as he felt pressed against her, she might damn the consequences and play out her fantasies.

His lips returned to her mouth, hovering and teasing. “So we won’t fuck. Just touch me and let me touch you.”

He reached for the clasp at the top of her suit, and she caught his wrist with both hands. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

Moving his hands to the tree above her head, he closed his eyes while his chest heaved. “I’m not sure I can talk myself down. I’m… crawling out of my skin.”

Of course he was. The fight had been interrupted. He was locked in the throes of bloodlust.
A wicked idea took root in her mind. Perhaps she could indulge herself just a little, while helping him out of his predicament. “Turn around.” His eyes opened. His gaze bored into hers for a long moment before he pushed off the tree and complied. She pressed her hands against his back, feeling his muscles flex beneath her palms. “I’ll touch you while you… relieve the pressure.”

His breath escaped in a ragged hiss as her hands began to stroke. She explored his wide shoulders and combed his long hair with her fingers. He shifted restlessly, his body swaying as her hands swept up and down his sides.

Desire flowed through her, hot and heavy, pulsing between her thighs. She had dreamed of touching him for so long, imagined all the ways they could pleasure each other. His skin was amazingly warm given the coolness of the night. She rubbed her breasts against his back, wishing she were naked too, wanting nothing between his flesh and hers.

She pushed her hands down the fronts of his thighs as his hips began a subtle rocking. He was touching himself as she’d suggested, driving himself toward release.

Her lips settled against his spine, her tongue slowly tasting. Salty, warm, wild, his taste was everything she’d imagined and more. She wanted to kiss her way around and kneel before him, learn how the rest of him tasted. But she couldn’t. It was far too dangerous.

With a throaty moan, he guided her hand to his cock, curving her fingers against his shaft. She muffled her gasp against his back, wanting to touch him more than anything, yet knowing this crossed the line from fantasy into reality. This was sexual, inexcusable, forbidden.

His hand covered hers, showing her how hard to grasp and how fast to pump, controlling her movements. Of its own volition, her other hand cupped his balls, needing no urging, accepting the inevitability of what they were doing.

“Let’s do this right,” he whispered, but his hips kept right on rocking as he helplessly fucked her fist. “I want you beneath me. I need to be inside you. This will never satisfy me for long.”

“Pretend.” She tightened her fingers as her hand slid up and down. “Close your eyes and imagine you’re inside me.”


Q: Is there a word or phrase you catch yourself overusing? 
I write erotic romance, so there are many: thrust, gasp, groan, and countless euphemisms for body parts. I try to keep each sex scene fresh and emotional, but there really are only so many ways to describe sex.

Q: Are you a Swooper (write first, edit later,) a Basher (edit each sentence as you go,) or both? 
I’m definitely a swooper. I leave editing to the second or third pass, especially when creativity is flowing. 

Q: What is the one thing you must have to be able to write? 
A computer. LOL I’m much too hyper for longhand or even a typewriter.

Q: What are you currently working on? How is it different from other books you’ve written? 
A bunch of the titles in my backlist came up for renewal this year, so I decided to take a stab at self-publishing. It has been intimidating, exasperating and exciting. I wouldn’t recommend it for everyone, but I’ve finally gotten to a point where I’m enjoying the process. The creative freedom and higher royalty rates are amazing. I’ve also enjoyed revisiting some of my older stories. Wow has my writing style changed in the past eight years.

Q: How do you feel about the term “Mommy Porn”? 
I find it annoying. My stories have complex plots and fully developed characters. I’m pretty sure no one would say the same about porn. 

Q: What is your least favorite part of the writing process? 
Finishing a book. Once I know everything that is going to happen, my muse tends to move on to my next project. I love writing, but the last few chapters of every book are work for me. 


1 comment:

  1. Lovely excerpt and pretty cover. Look forward to reading.

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