Be My Guest On Tuesday: Cari Silverwood and Blade (Dark Monster Fantasy Book 3)


Attention, today I have some monsters and cyborgs with wiggly bits on Be My Guest On Tuesday. Cari Silverwood was kind enough to pass by and present you her latest dark monster fantasy.


When irresistible force meets irresistible girl more than sparks will fly – fur, spiky bits, and possibly tentacles.

Ledderik is a slightly homicidal cyborg and is ready to lose himself in a virtual world for the rest of his tomorrows, until he saves Thorn from death and gets sucked into the wake of her cataclysmic siren attraction.
Maybe life can be fun?
Besides, she has such a cute … tail.

One small problem, Led no longer owns his body.

Thorn has also lost everything in one day. Cross out being a starship captain or her own species, or having friends. Instead she’s been cursed with being a hurricane force sexual magnet.

She has questions.
Why is she a biohazard on most reputable planets and how can she avoid triggering an extinction event and killing every male nearby? The two of them cross the galaxy, with Led swapping from loaner body to loaner body.

He’s the one male who can resist her, and he’s upskilling.
Up against the wall? Upside down? With tentacles and DD drilling power? Led is good at what he does. Always.

Meet the hot ex-cyborg who no longer looks in the mirror, in case his latest loaner body is ugly. He has one priority – make sure the downstairs department is BIG.

Warning. This story may contain robots, cyborgs, dark naughtiness, and species that come equipped with extra wriggly bits.

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He made his cyborg hand crunch into a fist, watching the gold-toned metal relays glint and shunt. Before this, he’d covered it up, worn synthskin over it or hidden his hand inside a coat sleeve. It scared people less but mostly he’d done it to be secretive.

He swiveled and set his back to the bar.

The bartender kept talking. “How many –”

His words never did get said.

From the street, a girl walked into the bar crowd, stalked through in thigh-length red coat and mostly white uniform, trailing a what-the-fuck attitude and what Ledderik could only assume were nuclear pheromones. Her hair was white, short, and sculpted, but he’d swear he could see tendrils of it unfurling, waving outward in a gravity-impossible fashion.

The fabric used in her uniform must be way thin as he could distinctly see the pop of her nipple buds, areolae and all. His sxsynthcock stood up and waved hello in his pants for the first time ever. The air around her seemed to froth and shimmy, rendering those in her background into slightly unfocused figures, as if seen at the bottom of a glass.

And that tail of hers lashing from under the coat’s edge. Something about it…about the idea of grabbing it and hauling her to him…he almost swallowed his tongue.

Ledderik scowled and glanced into the glass he held. No, wasn’t that. He knew how alcohol affected him. So the cock worked? He’d considered a complaint to the cybermonk manufacturers until he learned of their deaths. His warranty was shafted.

Maybe before it had just been him and his shitty attitude?

Of all the women in the universe it had to be this one – a s’kar, star-faring, star-trading harrier. The s’kars of the harrier type had their morals and ethics so far up their asses one would need a probe and a mountaineer to reach them. Sex was not a priority with the females and always, always, they did it with their own kind.

“Down, dick-thing,” he whispered. Maybe the on-off switch was stuck? That ass was rapidly vanishing into the morass of aliens.

Tentacles and eyes on stalks were swiveling her way.

Weapons were pinging on, being quietly drawn from holsters, as audible as a shout to his cyborg-enhanced ears.

He’d swear he could also hear dicks erecting and the bump of male hearts as their pulse amplitude rose to bounding, lustful heights. They were watching her as if she was a delicacy on a stick.

Had she been drenched in some arousal drug?




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What lay outside in dappled sunlight enticed her.

The space flowed from bedroom to the distant pool. There were no doors, and she padded to where the stippled gray floor tiles gave out to a bumpier mock-rock, then to real boulders and a slope into a perfectly clear pool. Plants fluttered their leaves or vast fronds, draping above the pool. Cliff walls surrounded this grotto and fat, finger-sized blue-and-white fish cruised in the water.

A waterfall tumbling down the left cliff face churned the water lightly. It lent the air the scent of lemon and flourishing plants. Tiny white blossoms dripped from crevices.

“To your liking?” Led growl-purred from behind her, ending his question with a series of clicks.

It was a sound distinctive to molloks, as far as she could tell.

The clicking made her tense up and take notice. It seemed predatory…frightening…a premonition of sexual intent. My, my.

Turning slowly, she watched his advance.

“We’re talking, Led. Remember?”

“Soon. I feel you need a different approach. A more powerful one.”

“Ummm.” She backed a step. “Talk does not require force.”

She’d known; she’d known he had ideas.

“Why did you sign the agreement at reception?”

“Because talking is exactly…” Another step back and she felt the rougher stone under her feet. The flare of his tentacles made her heart clench and pause a moment in its infinite beating. “It’s what we need to do?”

“I detect a question in your tone, Thorn. Why? I saw your arousal. Do you wish me to show you it again to prove this?”

This was not appropriate, and she’d sort of hoped…or not. Where was the lie? In herself, surely. “I’m not cycling. I cannot want sex at such a time. Pleasure is not a need.”

“Cannot, must not? Is this beyond your understanding? You’re half siren. You can deny this but your body shows what you are – a female who has desires.”

He reached for her with those sinuous appendages, with the blunt spikes on them erecting and undulating.

“You’re…” Stuttering, she flailed about for an answer even as he wrapped a tentacle beneath her dress, across where her bottom was bare, and hauled her to him. Though her feet skidded, she was forced to walk. “It’s the mollok you’re in. This isn’t you.”

“Isn’t it?”

With Ledderik in this stern-faced mollok form, the effort of refusing was growing ever more difficult.

She’d known this was his intent.

“It is me. I am allowing the mollok inclinations to take dominance, yes, but I know what I am doing – the same as I allowed the dalk to show me how to dance.”

His tentacles twisted about her at wrists and ankles then, in a swift second, he upended her, leaving her dress to fall over her face. Swinging back and forth, she bit back a shriek and found the floor just out of reach of her fingertips.

He readjusted his grip and began to strip the dress from her, undoing the cord ties at the back and peeling it down her arms. Her underwear were removed last and flung somewhere off to the side. She found herself naked and upside-down.

“Now I have you where I want you, girl.”

“Wait! If you’d just –”

A tentacle slid into her mouth, stuffing itself in enough to still her tongue no matter how she tried to spit it out.

His smile irked her to extremes, even as his pesky tentacles began to caress her, worming around her breasts and gripping them tightly, then tighter, sliding over her clit and through her legs. They nudged her with those spikes that did not hurt but instead delivered minute jolts of some form of organic electricity. One such zap made her squeal and wriggle.

She’d swear it’d made her clit stand up and hum.

“Pleasure is your right,” he growled, ending with those intimidating clicks. “I will no longer allow you to deny your body and your mind. Let me show you what a mollok does with his cock.”

The tentacle in her mouth stayed in place as he laid her belly down on the ground beside the pool, pinioned and spread-eagled with her nipples chilled by the cool floor.

He pulled her legs even further apart and she heard the rustle of clothes. Glancing back, throat tightening in apprehension, she glimpsed him as he kneeled behind her, still with his coat on but his pants open. He’d freed that aforesaid intimidating cock.




29597659_1896302997111186_5823654464453569071_nCari Silverwood is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling writer of kinky darkness or sometimes of dark kinkiness, depending on her moods and the amount of time she’s spent staring into the night. When others are writing bad men doing bad things you may find her writing good men who accidentally on purpose fall into the abyss and come out with their morals twisted in knots.

My website, if you’re curious about my other evil pursuits:

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Twitter: @CariSilverwood

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