"Not Your Childhood Fairy Tales but Great Fairy Tales for Grownups"
Reviewed by Gabrielle Lee
Posted August 3, 2012
Erotic
LUSTFULLY EVER AFTER is a book full of wonderful authors
retelling fairy tales in an adult fashion. These tales are
hot and are certainly not the ones we all heard as children!
These stories burn up the pages and contain some strong
sexual content. If you enjoy fairy tales for adults than you
will love this book. I enjoyed all the stories and would be
hard pressed to find a bad one in the bunch. All the
favorites are included here. We get to see a new and
exciting side to the beloved characters that we knew as
children.
Each author has given us short stories that you can read and
finish quickly and still feel as if you are immersed in
their world. There are many different stories by talented
authors to inflame your imagination. LUSTFULLY EVER AFTER is
a hot and
steamy read that will keep your attention from the first
story to the last. Each story is sexually charged and ranges
from the tame to the more erotic lifestyles of BDSM, and even
ménage a trios.
I had a good time figuring out who each
story was about and even compared this adult version to the
childhood ones. Finding many of my favorites and enjoying
the new adult spin on them. Some of the stories were a bit
shorter than I would have liked and I would have enjoyed
spending a bit more time in their worlds but all in all
LUSTFULLY EVER AFTER
is a good read.
I love fairy tales and enjoyed reading this book as it took
the fairy tale characters that we all know and love and
shows us their erotic side. If you are familiar with the
original tales I think that you will enjoy LUSTFULLY EVER
AFTER as much
as I did. It is an intriguing look at the darker side of
fairy tales.
SUMMARY
In Lustfully Ever After, classic fairy tales are
reimagined for an adult audience with twists (and kinks) to
keep readers entertained. In Michelle Augello-Page's
romantically charged BDSM tale "Wolf Moon," Little Red
Riding Hood is the big bad wolf, while Kristina Lloyd
rewrites "The Twelve Dancing Princesses" as a scorching hot
MFM threesome in "The Shoes That Were Danced to Pieces."
Shanna Germain's "Mirror Mirror" shows the sensual Sapphic
side of Snow White's stepmother and Andrea Dale pens a
contemporary version of "The Steadfast Tin Soldier" in the
poignantly erotic "Steadfast." This delightful collection of
fairy tales will lead you down a magical path into forbidden
romance and erotic love. You won’t need those bread
crumbs to find your way home— for home is where the
heart is and the authors of Lustfully Ever After know your
heart’s most wicked and secret desires.
ExcerptA Sea Change
Kristina Wright
Mara tipped the champagne bottle to her mouth and felt
the cold liquid turned to fire in her throat. She nestled
the bottle into the damp sand and looked out toward the
ocean. There wasn't much to see. Clouds hung low in the sky,
dark ominous things that reached down to the water,
obscuring the crescent moon. The only clue that there was an
ocean in the inky blackness before her was the steady sound
of the waves washing against the beach.
The wind whipped her hair across her face and peppered
her face with damp sand. She shivered and pulled her knees
up to her chest, pressing her hands to her hot,
tear–stained cheeks.
It should have been a happy night. A big promotion for
Jack, a beautiful new beach house, friends and family
gathering to celebrate their twentieth wedding anniversary.
Everyone adored the happy Bennetts. What no one knew, what
she wouldn't let anyone know, was that it was all a sham.
Jack had been a ladies' man long before she'd met him.
But she had been so head over heels in love, so flattered
that he'd even noticed her—her, the mousy, quiet girl
who spent her lunch hour in the library—that she'd
ignored his proclivities and pretended not to notice. For
twenty years Jack had collected pretty, young executive
assistants with the same gusto he used to collect fine wine
and expensive electronics.
Mara rocked herself in the sand, releasing two decades of
pent–up emotion. Never had she felt more alone than
she did at this moment. She should have seen it coming, of
course. It was only a matter of time before Jack's running
around caught up with him and she—not Jack—paid
the price. His twenty–two–year–old
girlfriend was pregnant with his child and he fancied
himself in love with her. And tonight, while fifty of their
closest friends were on their way to celebrate Jack and
Mara's anniversary, Jack had asked for a divorce. Tonight,
of all nights.
Flinging herself back on the sand, she stared at the
storm–clouded sky and imagined how different her life
might have been. Her entire existence had been about
pleasing others. First her family, then Jack; always
compromising, giving in, never feeling like she belonged
anywhere and desperately needing to belong. To someone,
something. She felt like the biggest fool on the planet.
A voice in the darkness asked, "Are you all right?"
She bolted upright, startled that her solitude had been
disturbed. The darkness masked the man's features, but she
was sure he wasn't someone she knew. Even from her vantage
point on the ground, she could tell he was tall. He was also
half–naked, wearing nothing more than a pair of faded
trousers with ragged hems.
Her pulse accelerated. Jack was constantly nagging the
local police about drifters sleeping on their private beach.
She should give in to her flight urge, but some small
measure of rebellion made her stay. It would be ironic if
the one time she stood up for herself, it got her killed.
"No, I'm fine. I live here," she said, mustering an
authority she didn't feel. She didn't belong in the house up
on the hill any more than this man did.
Rather than walk away, he sat next to her. He smelled of
the ocean, a rich, sea–salt smell...and something
else. Something decidedly masculine and raw. His hair was as
light as his pants—white or blond, she couldn't be
sure in the darkness. He had a handsome face with a strong,
aquiline nose, though it was impossible to judge his age as
shadows played across his angular features.
The stranger smiled, white teeth flashing in the
darkness. "I'm Dylan."
"If you don't mind—" She stopped mid–sentence
as his gaze met hers. She couldn't tell what color his eyes
were, but he stared at her—through her—with such
intensity, she couldn't finish her thought.
"I heard you crying."
The sympathy and concern in his voice angered rather than
comforted her. "This is a private beach, you know," she
said, fueled by too much champagne.
He smiled again. "Do you want me to go?" he asked softly.
"I'll go if you want me to."
She wanted to be alone, but suddenly it didn't seem to
matter whether the stranger stayed or left. She'd always
felt alone even in a crowded room, even with Jack. Her
shoulders slumped as she rested her chin in her hands and
looked out toward the sea.
"It doesn't matter," she said flatly.
"Doesn't it?"
She refused to acknowledge that he'd spoken. Soon enough,
he'd get tired of this game—if that's what it
was—and move on. But he didn't. Minutes passed as she
counted the waves that rolled softly toward her.
Occasionally, she could make out the white foamy caps, but
mostly she saw only blackness and was reminded of the black
hole that was her heart.
"It hurts," he said a long time later. "And yet, it
doesn't."
Mara looked over and saw that he had mimicked her
posture. Legs crossed, chin resting on his laced fingers.
She felt curiosity tugging at her but dismissed it. Whoever
he was, whatever he was doing on this isolated stretch of
beach, it didn't matter. And yet, his words echoed inside
her. It did hurt, losing everything she'd always had, facing
the god–awful truth that had gnawed at her for twenty
years. And yet there was an acceptance, a quiet
understanding that somehow, someway, she was starting anew.
If she could find the courage. If she could stop being what
everyone else wanted her to be and figure out who she was.
"It takes time."
Mara couldn't decide if his one–sided dialogue came
before or after her own thoughts. She glanced at him. He was
studying her face as if he were memorizing every detail.
Finally, he paused at her lips, his gaze lingering over her
mouth for so long her lips felt warm.
She knew, although she couldn't say how she knew, he was
going to kiss her. She knew it just as she knew she was
going to let him. She waited, holding her breath, almost
afraid of what was to come. When he didn't move, she felt
ridiculously disappointed.
She closed her eyes to absorb her disappointment and then
it happened, his mouth was on hers. His lips were damp and
cool, firm and strong. He kissed her with the same quiet
intensity he had in his stare. Tentative at first, but
gradually turning bolder, learning every inch of her mouth
in slow, deep kisses.
After the first touch, she kissed him back, giving as
good as she was getting. For long, precious minutes they
made love with only their mouths, their bodies close but not
quite touching, their hands buried in the sand.
Finally, Mara pulled away, gasping for much–needed
air. She wanted to speak, but no words would come. What she
had just done wasn't like her, but it was impossible to
ignore the tiny thrill of excitement that slid up her spine.
"Kiss me again," he said, leaning closer so that their
shoulders brushed. "Kiss me and stop thinking."
She didn't hesitate. She leaned toward him and pressed
her open mouth to his. There was nothing tentative about the
way they kissed this time. His hands came up to hold her
face as he tasted her mouth. When she finally pulled away so
she could catch her breath, he didn't need to ask again. She
came back for more, kissing him, devouring his taste and
absorbing his touch.
His skin felt damp. Not clammy exactly, but moist. As if
he'd just gotten out of the shower and hadn't had a chance
to towel himself off yet. She ran her fingertips over his
muscular shoulders and a soft, guttural moan slipped from
his lips at her gentle caress. He mirrored her actions,
using his hands to smooth the thin silk straps of her dress
over her shoulders. She shivered, wanting to both pull him
closer and push him away at the same time.
"I—I shouldn't do this," she murmured even while
her fingers discovered the soft mat of hair on his chest.
"Don't tell me what you should do," he said, his voice as
ethereal as the sound of the ocean. "Tell me what you want
to do."
I want to throw you back on the sand and fuck you
senseless, she thought and was startled to see him smile.
"Then do it," he answered, though the words had never
passed her lips.
"How—" she gasped, but he then he was pulling her
onto his lap and smothering her mouth with his.
She felt like she was drowning, but it wasn't an
unpleasant sensation. His erection pressed insistently
against her bottom and she wiggled, wanting him. She'd never
been with another man besides Jack, but suddenly,
impossibly, she wanted this man. Now.
"Sit still, sweet Mara," he gasped as she rotated her ass
on him. "There is time."
Arousal surged within her at his words. They had time.
Time. She melted against him, feeling as if every breath she
took came from him. She kissed her way across his strong jaw
line, his skin as cool and smooth as a bit of sea glass. She
continued her exploration down his neck, pausing to nibble
the strong, steady pulse that thrummed there.
He spread his legs and she snuggled against him, running
her tongue across his collar bone, down to a pebbled nipple.
He groaned when she sucked the tender flesh into her mouth.
Her own arousal built as she alternated between his nipples,
licking and sucking them. He tangled his hands in her long
hair and moaned her name.
A sense of urgency was growing between them as she slid
down a bit further and swirled her tongue against his
muscular belly. He released her hair and lay back in the
sand, his magnificent form stretched out before her like the
finest of banquets. She stared at the shaft straining
against his thin cotton pants. Even clothed he looked
enormous. Her breath caught in her throat as she thought
about what she wanted.
"Whatever you want, take it," he murmured. Unlike before,
she wasn't startled that he could read her mind now. It felt
right.
She reached for his zipper with a trembling hand. Only,
there were buttons instead of a zipper. She fumbled with
them until he helped her. Together, they made quick work of
the obstacles in her way. The gap in his pants widened as
each button was released until she felt hard flesh brush
against her skin. She freed his cock, gently, reverently,
mesmerized by the column of flesh that rose from a tangle of
blond hair at his groin.
"You're so beautiful," she murmured, not even aware she'd
spoken until the words echoed in her ears.
He moaned softly in response. A wave of tenderness so
pure it brought tears to her eyes washed over her. She
caressed him gently, feeling his flesh pulse and twitch
against her. His penis was beautiful, long and thick, the
head large and dark like a ripe plum. Unable to wait a
moment longer, she ran her tongue over the spongy tip. It
was the softest, smoothest thing she'd ever felt in her
life. And she wanted more. So much more.
"Oh, Mara," he gasped. When she looked up at him, she saw
his head thrown back, the muscles of his neck flexed.
"Please, love, take me in your mouth. I need you."
His pleas inflamed her. Mara lowered her head once more
and sucked him between her lips. He fit so perfectly,
cradled on the hollow of her tongue. Some primal, basic part
of her soul knew she had tasted him this way before. She
used her tongue to wet his cock until it glided smoothly in
and out of her mouth. Once more she felt his hands in her
hair, not pushing, never forcing, simply holding her,
stroking her.
Mara concentrated on the feel of him between her lips.
She stroked and sucked him, worshiping him, kneeling between
his legs and coaxing long, low moans from him. All rational
thought vanished, all worries and concerns fled her mind.
There was only her and this man and the hard flesh in her
mouth.
She could feel the need building in him as if she were
the one being pleasured. Every muscle in his body drew taut,
and he almost hummed with the intensity of his desire. She
knew what was to come, and she felt herself grow hot and
moist at the thought.
He gasped as he flooded her mouth, and she welcomed the
salty taste of his arousal. She rubbed her pussy against his
leg, painting his hair–roughened thigh with her
wetness as she gently sucked his softening cock. Finally,
when she had taken all he could give, she released him. She
had devoured him—not just his semen, but his very
essence—and it made her feel strong.
He pulled her into his arms, holding her against his
chest as his breathing returned to normal. His hands stroked
her body, pausing occasionally to caress the mole on her
bare shoulder or stroke her hardened nipples through the
silk of her dress until she moaned. With gentle hands he
stripped her, sliding her dress over her head, unclasping
her bra and releasing her breasts, skimming her moist
panties down her legs.
When she was naked, he cupped her breasts in his big
hands before trailing his fingers down her ribs and over her
stomach. His fingers slipped lower to her mound and squeezed
her pussy in the palm of his hand until she gasped and
pressed against him.
She nuzzled his neck, nipping at corded muscle. She felt
the steady beat of his pulse against her lips and heard the
matching rhythm of the waves against the beach. Her hand
trailed low over his flat belly to fondle his
still–damp cock. Much to her delight, he began to
swell beneath her touch.
"Wet," he murmured, his fingers caressing the delicate
folds of her pussy so gently she thought she would scream.
"I knew you would be, for me. As wet as the sea. Taste
yourself, Mara."
Before she could refuse, his finger slid between her
parted lips and she tasted her own desire. She moaned low in
her throat, reckless with her need as she palmed his heavy
erection in her hand. Even here, where he should be hot, he
was cool. She stroked the velvety soft tip of him, swirling
a teardrop of arousal around the velvety head until he
captured her hand and dragged it away.
"I want you inside me," she whispered, so softly she
wasn't sure he heard her.
"I know, Mara, I know." He pulled her onto his lap and
she wrapped her legs around his waist, his erection nudging
the cleft of her pussy.
"I want, I want," she gasped, unable to voice her need,
unsure even what it was she needed.
"You will have what you want," he said, laying back on
the sand and pulling her with him. "As much as you want.
Take it."
Their bodies pressed together, shoulder to hip, and she
had only to shift her weight and he was inside her. She
looked down into his magnificent face, rugged and strong, as
he guided into her so swiftly and smoothly it was as if he'd
always been there.
No moment in her life had prepared her for this utter
sense of completion. Every sad thought, every bad memory
melted away as she rocked her pelvis against the thickness
of his erection. She was in control, and the rest was all an
illusion.
Mara lay across Dylan's body, pressing her engorged
clitoris into his flat, muscular belly. She could see her
desire mirrored in his expression, could feel his pulse in
the flesh embedded inside her. And suddenly, like a flash of
heat lightning that's gone almost as soon as it's seen, she
felt his thoughts.
Come with me, Mara. Come with me.
She stared into his face, his breath coming in short,
rasping pants that matched her own. She wanted to ask how,
why, but then her physical need took over, straining toward
the orgasm that trembled just beyond her reach. She shifted
her weight, grinding against him, and that was all it took.
She screamed her release even as he pulled her head down to
him and kissed her.
She whimpered into his mouth, tasting him, tasting
herself. Wetness, so much wetness. Her climax seemed never
ending, spiraling higher and higher as he tensed beneath
her. His gasps turned to moans in her open mouth. She
swallowed his breath and clenched her body around his as he
came.
They lay together in a warm, damp tangle of limbs, hearts
beating in sync. She felt no shame or regret, only a strong
sense of satisfaction and belonging. She closed her eyes and
felt the gentle swell of his chest beneath her head keeping
time with the waves.
"I have to go," he said, his voice heavy with regret. He
gently released her and rolled away to button his pants.
She reached out, but before she touched him she let her
hand fall to the sand. It was better this way. Better or
safer? Her mind taunted her, but she ignored the crazy,
impetuousness that had led her to make love to a stranger.
Dylan stood, looking down at her. "I must go."
She made no move to cover herself, basking in his
approving gaze. "Thank you." The murmured words could hardly
do her emotions justice, but it was all she could offer him.
"Thank you."
He hesitated, raking his hand through his sandy, tousled
hair. "If only..." His words trailed off and were carried
away on the wind. "Trust your heart, Mara," he said softly,
insistently. "Trust your heart."
Before she could speak, he turned and walked away. He
followed the line of the shore for several yards, then
veered off, toward the ocean. The tide was going out,
leaving a dark, wet stain of sand behind each time the waves
rolled back out. Dylan never paused as his feet splashed in
the surf. He walked into the ocean, ankle deep, knee deep,
chest deep.
Suddenly frightened, Mara stood and ran toward him.
"Dylan! What are you doing?"
He never looked back.
Mara watched as he disappeared into the sea, his blond
hair disappearing from view. She clutched her hands to her
pounding heart. "Dylan," she whispered hoarsely.
She searched the dark void for some sign of him, but
Dylan was gone. She turned, blindly looking for her clothes
before realizing she'd run some distance away from where
they'd been. She had to get dressed and back to the house,
call 911, call the Coast Guard. Her mind raced but her body
was frozen in place, staring at her footprints in the damp
sand. Her footsteps. Only her footsteps.
Her mind tried to make sense of what had happened as she
stared at the marks in the sand. Dylan had walked this same
path, yet the only sign the sand had been disturbed was the
footprints she had left. Even while she told herself the
tide had washed his footprints away, she heard him call her.
Mara, trust your heart.
She looked frantically out to sea even though she knew it
wasn't possible to have heard him. Even if he hadn't
drowned, he was too far away for her to hear his voice.
Mara.
The thunderclouds finally kept their promise and opened
up, releasing a torrent of rain. The ocean churned violently
while rain coursed down her naked body. She crumpled to her
knees and bowed her head, feeling as if she were losing her
sanity. Sobs racked her body, but her tears were washed away
in the rain. She hadn't told him her name. She'd never told
him her name, and yet he knew.
Mara, come with me.
Suddenly, his words took on a different meaning. She
raised her head, wet hair streaming down her back. "What do
you want from me?" she screamed. "Who are you?"
No answer came, nothing but silence and the rain. She
curled up on her side in the sand, her body aching, her soul
dying. The rain felt hot and prickly on her skin, and she
sobbed her fear and confusion into her chest, holding
herself the way Dylan had held her only minutes earlier.
Mara, love. Please. I've waited so long for you.
She ignored the voice that penetrated into her conscious.
She was losing her mind. There was no other possible answer.
Mara?
She opened her eyes, feeling the sting of tears and rain.
"What," she whispered hoarsely. "What do you want?"
What do you want, Mara? She could hear his voice inside
her, soothing her. What do you want?
"Love," she answered, feeling small and pathetic and
alone. "Peace. Belonging. Everything I've never known."
Come with me, Mara. Let me show you how it can be.
It made no sense, but some small flicker of hope, a need
to believe in something bigger and greater than herself,
forced her to unfold from the sand and walk toward the
ocean. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, fat drops splashing
against her hot skin. She took one hesitant step toward the
water. Then another.
Come with me.
"I'm afraid," she whispered, knowing no one could
possibly hear her. "So afraid."
Don't be, love. I'm here. Always.
She wanted to believe. Truly she did. But rational
thought told her it was the strain of the day and the
champagne and exhaustion that was guiding her. She took a
fumbling step backward, reason returning. This was crazy.
Insane.
And then she saw him. He stood naked in the surf not ten
feet in front of her, the foam of the ocean clinging to his
chest, his hair slicked back, his skin glowing with a
strange luminescence. Incredibly, impossibly, he was there.
He hadn't left her.
"Dylan," she pleaded, not even sure what it was she was
asking of him.
Come with me, Mara.
She wanted to. Oh, God, how she wanted to. She walked
toward him, feeling the first chilly brush of water against
her feet. Her skin felt fevered and the ocean felt so good,
so right. A few more steps and the water was up to her
knees. Her nipples tightened almost painfully, whether from
arousal or cold she couldn't be sure. Excitement tinged with
fear coursed through her. A few more steps and she was in
front of him. Close enough to touch him, but holding back.
Go ahead, touch me.
This time, she knew he hadn't spoken aloud. She had known
it all along, she realized, but here now was proof. "How?"
she asked softly.
Don't speak. I know your thoughts just as you know mine.
She didn't know how it was possible, but it was true. I'm
afraid, she thought. What's happening to me?
Don't you know? His thoughts teased her senses.
Everything you always wanted. Love. Peace. Belonging. Take
it, Mara. You deserve it all and so much more.
She didn't know what to believe, she only knew she felt a
lightness in her soul she'd never felt before. When he put
his arms around her, she melted against him. Buoyed by the
water, the tide gently pulled them out to sea.
"Where are we going?" she asked aloud, a sense of peace
settling over her even as the water rose to her chin.
"Home," Dylan answered, his voice sounding strange,
almost foreign, after hearing him inside her head. His
fingers, cool and strong, wrapped around her shoulders and
pulled her closer.
She clung to him as they kissed, feeling his cock, his
thick, exquisite cock, swell against her belly. "Dylan," she
murmured against his mouth, ready for him. Needing him. He
slid quickly and smoothly into her warm wetness as a wave
rolled them higher.
She moaned.
Let go, Mara.
He undulated against her, their bodies wrapped around
each other.
She looked past his shoulder toward the shore and was
frightened by how far away it seemed. She could see the
lights from her house twinkling against the horizon. As
Dylan moved into her, she idly wondered how long it would be
before they would miss her. Would they think she'd drowned
herself? Would they find her clothes and think she'd been
attacked? It didn't really matter. None of it seemed to
matter anymore.
Cradled in Dylan's arms, she slipped beneath the water.
The remnants of fear and uncertainty ebbing away as Dylan's
body molded to hers and slipped deeper inside her. Her lungs
swelled with her desire to moan, yet there was no
overpowering need to breathe. A gentle, fluid feeling
coursed through her veins as her skin was soothed by the
cool touch of the sea. She felt her body changing, adapting
to the new environment of the sea, could feel the same
changes transpiring in Dylan's body as he embraced her.
You are so beautiful, Mara. You belong here. You know
that you do. With me. Always.
Her hair made a cloud around her head as she arched her
back and pressed her body against him. His words floated
through her mind and laughter bubbled low in her belly. I
hear you, she thought. I hear you!
At last, she'd found her home. She looked up through the
water far above her and saw moonlight glimmering on the
surface of the ocean. She looked at the man–creature
she clung to, whose body felt as right and natural as her
own, and smiled.
I'm home, Dylan. You've brought me home.
Where you belong.
As they drifted on the ocean's current, Mara let go of
everything she thought she was, everything she had ever
believed in. She let go of everything she knew and embraced
the unknown.
She was home.
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