Authors Kallysten and Tricia Schneider organized this Very Paranormal holidays Blog Hop to share their love for paranormal romance, help you discover new authors, win books, prizes… and maybe a brand new Kindle Fire! There are lots of prizes to be had for your paranormal holiday pleasure! I’ll be giving away a $20 Amazon Gift Card to one lucky winner and 3 eCopies of Headspace, my very sexy sci-fi Christmas read, on sale now:
“Hell, no. You’ve made it so much better than that. You’re a genius,” I say.
“I am that, true. So it hums in your heart when a friend calls?”
“It does. It just did when you called. It’s a very pleasurable sensation.”
“Good, that’s good. And when your mom calls?”
“It buzzes like a fly.”
“Static. All I hear is static.”
“How does the ‘ignore’ feature work?”
“Great. I tap my right cheek and the caller gets a ‘do not disturb’ message.”
“‘Send to message memory’ work okay?”
“Yep, I just run my fingers through my hair and it takes a message.”
Kaama chuckles. “You’re sure old school, V.”
“Because I don’t see a projection of who’s calling?”
“Yeah, well no one has the badass system that I’ve got. And those other people…” I wave my hand in the air. “They don’t have the freak skills that I have. I like the element of surprise. So much of the time I sense and know things ahead of time, it’s good to be surprised now and then. I think your system kind of scrambles the impulses; otherwise I’d know who it was each and every time. I’m telling you, you’re a frigging genius.”
“Thanks. Oh, and how about if one of your clients calls?”
Kaama’s perhaps the only one who knows what I do. He helped me create the means with which to do it. “Mmm,” I reply, closing my eyes. “I get a series of distinct sensations like someone is drawing a feather down my cheeks or tenderly pushing a drop of creamy oil along the skin of my neck.”
Kaama laughs. “That was your brilliant touch. Foreplay.”
“We make a hell of a team, Kaama.” The sensation of soft feathers pulses down my face. “Speaking of which, I gotta go. It’s time to get to work.” We disconnect and I enter the room I call the Headspace Hall of Sexual Delights, or just Headspace, stand in the middle of the room, take a deep breath, and assume the voice of Sultana, one of my crowd-pleasing favorites. I stroke my mouth as I reaffix the nodes and get ready for action. “Hey, big dog. Who wants to come out and play?”
“Sultana,” comes the oozy, dripping, oily voice. “It’s me.”
They always speak as if they know me personally, not just a projection of my personality. I roll my eyes. Ew. It’s that guy. Little do they know that when I’m in this Sexual Headspace, I can access whatever I need or care to know about them. It’s a one-way street and only I know the way. I let my voice melt into a silky purr. “Hello, handsome. What can I do for you today?” I already know the answer. Today Captain Jack—that’s the name he uses—wants me to pretend I’m his love slave, get down on all fours, and stick my tongue between his toes while he comes all over my hair. He wants me to fawn all over him and let him know that he’s The Man. Ew, ew, and double ew. Good thing it’s all virtual fantasy.
“Get down on your knees, you bitch,” he commands.
I roll my eyes again. I know that outside of this room the guy is a pathetic loser. He’s fifty pounds overweight. Smokes Camels. Drinks bourbon, neat. His wife wants to leave him. He’s in a dead-end job. This is the only place where he feels a sense of control. “Anything for you, baby,” I say, dropping to all fours and closing my eyes in disgust.
“Why can’t I see you? Are you trying to be coy, you little bitch?”
I look up. There’s something wrong with the terminal that powers this space, which means there’s something wrong with me.
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