VIRGIN ON HUMAN

​Excerpt from Book 1 of The DMA Files

All of my preparation went out the window when Quinn entered the kitchen as I cleaned up the remaining dishes. 

“Quinn, you missed dinner. Should I prepare something for you? The chefs have left, but I am programmed with basic culinary skills.” I put the dish back into the soapy water and dried my hands on the dish towel I had slung over my shoulder. 

“Are you really going out with Paisley to get laid tonight?” He asked me with his hands on his hips. His manner was very confrontational. 

“That does not answer my question about the food.” 

“I want an answer to my question first.” He folded his arms over his chest. His forearms flexed and I admired the musculature under his skin. I wondered if any of his arms were mechanics. 

“I was planning on dancing more. I was not planning on lying down.” 

He exhaled and dropped his arms. “Then yes, I would love a sandwich.” 

I prepared him a sandwich and removed some of the fennel salad to put on his plate as well. I waited for him to make noises of contentment around his meal before I continued the conversation. “I will, however, have sex should the opportunity arise. I find myself anticipating the opportunity to have another orgasm.” 

Quinn began choking. He had inhaled his sandwich. That was no way to process nutrients. I walked behind him and slapped him on the back to break up any large particles in his airway. He sputtered and made noises, but drank the water I put in front of him and seemed to recover nicely. 

I would have given him the Heimlich maneuver, but I found myself wanting to touch him in other places and it would not have been easy to keep my hands in the proper position. 

“Coral, you can’t go pick up men and have sex with them.” 

“I will do my best to give them an orgasm as well. I want to make sure the experience is satisfactory for all parties involved.” I went back to the dishes. Quinn should have been satisfied now that I had explained I would not be seeking only my pleasure. 
He wasn’t.

“That’s not what I am getting at.” He got up and stood right behind me. My skin felt warmer even without him touching me. Was there some kind of strange reaction that our systems had with each other? 

I pulled the drain as I set the last clean dish in the drying rack and turned towards the man behind me. I was going to explain that this was not negotiable. I was going to explain that just because I was mechanics didn’t mean I couldn’t give and receive this kind of pleasure. 

I had all of the words in queue to be processed through my vocal chords. Then Quinn gripped me by my upper arms and leaned in to kiss me. His lips pressed against mine. His body pushed mine up against the sink behind us.

I’d never been more uncomfortable in my maid’s uniform. I wanted all of it off. Quinn couldn’t touch my pussy with my stockings and underwear on. He needed to touch my pussy. I felt myself getting wet at the thought of him touching me like he did last night. I pressed my hips against his. That’s when I knew there were mechanics in both his arms, because he held me tight. 

His tongue slipped against my lips. I opened my mouth to ask him why he was licking me on my face when he could have been licking my pussy again. Instead of my argument my tongue was busy wrapping and sliding around Quinn’s. This felt good too. 

I lifted my hands to his chest and gripped his shirt to pull him closer. When he realized I was not going to push him away he released my arms and wrapped his strong limbs around me. One hand rose to grip the French twist in my hair and move my head where he wanted while he kissed me. The other hand went lower and gripped my ass. He pressed my body harder against his. I liked that. 

​His erection pressed against my stomach and I wanted to have sex even more. If my pleasure receptors were firing off this much data at the touch of his penis on my belly… through all these layers of clothes…I wanted to have sex. Immediately. 

I've been hemming and hawing about what the hell to do with my Hart Clan Hybrids books. And to be honest, I still don't know.

But I did download my books to my kindle and am prepping a read through. 

Did you know that going back to the first book you ever wrote is fucking terrifying? Because...DAMN. It is. This book made me a published author. This book got me PAN status in RWA, and it was published on my fucking birthday. There's so many happy memories associated with this story. So I thought I'd share how Roxy Mews began...

A Love Worth Biting For

Chapter One

I wasn't prepared for it. That's what everybody says when they meet the love of their lives. But I'm not everybody. Hell, most of the time I'm nobody, or at least I try to be. I was given the name Amber Paulson for crying out loud. A name like that does not a rock career make. Daddy always told me that the urge to mate is something you can't control. That you would just find yourself smacked upside the head one day. If you were lucky.

I didn't know anyone in my Pack who was mated. That's not to say we are virgins. Hell no. Everybody that uses the expression "Fuck like bunnies?" Well, those people obviously haven't met a werewolf. Me and the rest of my Pack get furry on occassion, but for the rest of the time we rocked a decidedly human form. Those forms just have libidos of epic proportions.

Anyway, I was walking through the latest campus we had moved to. It was some little rinky-dink town in Indiana of all places. Land-locked, but lots of places just outside the city for a wolf to run. Big enough to get lost in, small enough to get away from everybody when you needed to. The campus was walkable, and I took my time, because if I hurried, I could outrun an Olympic medalist. And I still had plenty of time until my next class.

Mary called and reminded me not to be late. Mary Fields was my best friend these days. I liked humans, but I loved Mary most. I met her on my first day of orientation, and somehow she puts up with me. I threw her a quick text to let her know I'd see her in class. 

Did you know the average werewolf lives for four hundred years after turning? I've been around for fifty as my wolfy self, so the American History class was one I have repeated often. From the complete lack of effort needed this time through, either I was radically expanding my brainpower, or society was expecting less and less intelligence from the general student body. Which brings me back to me not being prepared. I was walking slowly to class, when one student body in particular caught my attention. 

There always seems to be an impromptu game of football being played on the practice field outside the cafeteria that involves guys taking their shirts off and trying to impress the co-eds in hopes of getting the chicks' shirts off later. Personally, unless you're taking down a twelve-point buck with your shirt off -- while covered in hair -- I am not usually impressed.

That day was different. For some reason, my feet stopped moving when they hit the spray-painted white line on the field. Guys and girls chased the pigskin in the sunshine. The temperature was a degree below fried eggs, and not a cloud was in the sky. I heard a bottle pop open, and what should have been a glance turned into a full-on ogling. He still had his shirt on, but had begun pouring the open bottle of water across his chest in an effort to cool off. 

My increased hearing picked up on the sighs and elevated heart rates from the women around me as the thin fabric of his shirt clung to his body and drops of water cascaded down. Deep tan skin began to peek through. His chocolate-brown nipples puckered. The water must have been cold. Thank you Jesus for whoever had those puppies in a cooler. 

I could see a slight smattering of chest hair sandwiched between his skin and tee. Then he pulled up the shirt to wring it out, and I caught the brief glimpse of his six-pack and a trail of body hair that drew my attention down to his black shorts. I swear it was like an arrow directing me where to go. Boy, did I want to follow it.

The healthy dose of yum shook the water from his head and hands. The shirt fell, and I pulled my jaw up off the ground just in time to not have my tongue loll out the side like a freaking German Shepherd.

He looked up and waved. My hand waved back on instinct. When his eyebrows drew together and he began jogging back toward the game, I looked around to see a petite blonde behind me with her hand also up in greeting. I gave her the "I'm an idiot, never mind me" salute and started off toward campus. What the hell was wrong with me? He wasn't even Pack. Why was I ogling him like I was headed into my first heat?

"Hey! Wait up!" A feminine voice called from behind me.

I slowed my pace to about half my pulse rate. I had learned that to step below my pulse rate was a great way to appear more human. The fact that I was still speeding through campus told me my pulse was hammering like a hippie playing bongos. 

"Sorry, I...oh. Were you talking to me?"

The blonde from the practice field jogged to catch up with me. Her little perky boobs bobbed with her ponytail, but nothing else on her jiggled. I hated her instantly.

"Yeah. Damn you're fast." A smile broke her face, and not even a drop of perspiration dotted her brow. I really hated her. "Do you know Jake?"

"Who?"

"Jake's my brother. You know, the guy who put on a water show at the practice field." She knocked her elbow into me.

Little tip from a werewolf -- don't touch us. It's considered a confrontational act. Lucky for this chick, it was pretty obvious to my wolf that her little five-foot-nothing frame was no match for my five-feet-ten-inches of overgrowth. When my instincts settled, I noticed she smelled different. She wasn't from this area. For some reason, everyone here smelled faintly of earth and plants. Okay, they smelled like corn, but I don't want to sound prejudiced. This little waif smelled empty. Like, clay or wood. You know that smell you get when you open a really old box or jar? Not moldy or musty, just...empty.

"So I saw you looking at my brother."

"What? No I wasn't. I was watching the game."

"They were taking a break." Her voice shifted from upbeat to dead serious in a second.

"Yup. I noticed that. Why I left. Have a good one." I turned and tried to pace my steps. Then an image of Jake filtered into my brain, and I found my steps increasing their tempo. I tried to slow them, with the old standby of listening to the closest pulse. My feet stopped midstride when I realized the closest pulse wasn't inside my little cling-on. I couldn't hear the small blonde chick's pulse. She didn't have one. Fuck. Vampires.



So what do you think? Should I bring them back?

I can already tell I want to get my hands back in this book and edit it. There is also a chapter from the hero's POV that never made it into the final cut before. So I'm tempted to bring it back and give him his chapter. 

Let me know if you're intrigued. Let me know if I should let the hybrids loose. 

~Roxy

I'm working on a draft for some more #ROBOSEX at the moment, but until I can wrap up this couple in a tidy bow, I thought I'd share a taste of Coral's story. 

The Coral-600 is a biometal mechanical entity with a human skin overlay infused with sea life DNA. This means she will basically be young and hot for an indeterminate period of time. But as much as you'd think you'd want to hate her because of that, her innocence and joy at her body's reaction to desire will put a smile on your face. 

Coral's desire wakes up inside her when a man named Quinn comes to stay at the palace. After a long night of dancing and learning just a little about the human mating rituals, Coral finds herself alone with Quinn.  

Enjoy this excerpt from Virgin on Human

All of my preparation went out the window when Quinn entered the kitchen as I cleaned up the remaining dishes.

“Quinn, you missed dinner. Should I prepare something for you? The chefs have left, but I am programmed with basic culinary skills.” I put the dish back into the soapy water and dried my hands on the dish towel I had slung over my shoulder.

“Are you really going out with Paisley to get laid tonight?” He asked me with his hands on his hips. His manner was very confrontational.

“That does not answer my question about the food.”

“I want an answer to my question first.” He folded his arms over his chest. His forearms flexed and I admired the musculature under his skin. I wondered if any of his arms were mechanics.

“I was planning on dancing more. I was not planning on lying down.”

He exhaled and dropped his arms. “Then yes, I would love a sandwich.”

I prepared him a sandwich and removed some of the fennel salad to put on his plate as well. I waited for him to make noises of contentment around his meal before I continued the conversation. “I will, however, have sex should the opportunity arise. I find myself anticipating the opportunity to have another orgasm.”

Quinn began choking. He had inhaled his sandwich. That was no way to process nutrients. I walked behind him and slapped him on the back to break up any large particles in his airway. He sputtered and made noises, but drank the water I put in front of him and seemed to recover nicely.

I would have given him the Heimlich maneuver, but I found myself wanting to touch him in other places and it would not have been easy to keep my hands in the proper position.

“Coral, you can’t go pick up men and have sex with them.”

“I will do my best to give them an orgasm as well. I want to make sure the experience is satisfactory for all parties involved.” I went back to the dishes. Quinn should have been satisfied now that I had explained I would not be seeking only my pleasure.

He wasn’t.

“That’s not what I am getting at.” He got up and stood right behind me. My skin felt warmer even without him touching me. Was there some kind of strange reaction that our systems had with each other?

I pulled the drain as I set the last clean dish in the drying rack and turned towards the man behind me. I was going to explain that this was not negotiable. I was going to explain that just because I was mechanics didn’t mean I couldn’t give and receive this kind of pleasure.

I had all of the words in queue to be processed through my vocal chords. Then Quinn gripped me by my upper arms and leaned in to kiss me. His lips pressed against mine. His body pushed mine up against the sink behind us.

I’d never been more uncomfortable in my maid’s uniform. I wanted all of it off. Quinn couldn’t touch my pussy with my stockings and underwear on. He needed to touch my pussy. I felt myself getting wet at the thought of him touching me like he did last night. I pressed my hips against his. That’s when I knew there were mechanics in both his arms, because he held me tight.

His tongue slipped against my lips. I opened my mouth to ask him why he was licking me on my face when he could have been licking my pussy again. Instead of my argument my tongue was busy wrapping and sliding around Quinn’s. This felt good too.

I lifted my hands to his chest and gripped his shirt to pull him closer. When he realized I was not going to push him away he released my arms and wrapped his strong limbs around me. One hand rose to grip the French twist in my hair and move my head where he wanted while he kissed me. The other hand went lower and gripped my ass. He pressed my body harder against his. I liked that.

​His erection pressed against my stomach and I wanted to have sex even more. If my pleasure receptors were firing off this much data at the touch of his penis on my belly… through all these layers of clothes…I wanted to have sex. Immediately. 

How was that for a first kiss? I wish mine had been that explosive. But then again, I didn't wait ninety-some odd years to have one. Coral had some anticipation built up. 

Have you read my first #ROBOSEX book? What did you think? And what would you like to see in the series?

​~Roxy