Welcome to the website of Janine Ashbless. I'm a writer of fantasy and paranormal erotica and - more rarely - scorching romantic adventure. I like to write about magic and myth and mystery, dangerous power dynamics, borderline terror, and the not-quite-human. And hot filthy sex, obviously...

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News:

Lust in the Dust

An anthology of post-apocalyptic erotica

Ten stories, various authors, OUT NOW from Sinful Press
The Prison of the Angels

Romance Novel: third in the Book of the Watchers trilogy

The third in my fallen angel trilogy, The Prison of the Angels, has been released by Sinful Press!
Named and Shamed
Fierce Enchantments
Rights to Named and Shamed and Fierce Enchantments have reverted with the closing of Sweetmeats Press - both have now been re-published with lovely new covers by Sinful Press.

Bound in Skin
I have begun self-publishing reverted works with my Ashbless "brand" covers. Erotica is released with red covers, Erotic Romance with blue, as above.

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To my absolute delight I am immortalised on the "Islands of Erotica" in the Map of Literature by artist Martin Vargic. You should so buy this awesome best-seller of a book!

Recent Publications:

Sweet Hel Below

Short story: Sourdough

Bound in Skin
Heart of Flame

Latest Blog Post

Blue Monday: Lea Bronsen guests

Mondays are the days I post a sexy excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's guest is
Lea Bronsen with her dark erotic romance Shade Addiction. Can I just say how much I love that tagline?



Ex-boxer Mike Logan struggles to put a brutal past behind and make ends meet as a bus driver. When a young runaway settles for an all-night ride, he seizes the chance to do a good deed—get her home safely. But first, they’ll drive around and talk.

What he doesn’t anticipate is that this broken night angel is also a sexy little minx needing a lot more…and not just the gentle kind.



Hours later, I carry my lunch tray through the employee restaurant at the bus terminal to my usual table in a corner. I’ll eat alone. Being the broody kind doesn’t get me many friends, but I don’t care. My struggle is simple: Make it another day, then another, putting more time between me and the tragic event from all those years ago until one day, I’m freed of it all, six feet under.

The door opens, and there she stands, wild and beautiful, with a rainfall of black-purple curls over a red leather jacket, fishnet stockings, shiny high-heels, and a mini skirt.

Fuck me!

She searches the room, and we connect. My heart jumps to the goddamn roof, before questions assault me. How did she get in the secure building? Why did she go through that trouble to find me? And what does she think she’ll get from seeing me again?

My panicky attempt to reason doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see her. I am. I’m heating all over, every hair on my body standing.

She walks toward me, seemingly uncaring that a dozen of my male colleagues glance from her to me until she plumps into a seat in front of me and steals my plate.

Dumbstruck, I sit and watch as she scarfs down mouthfuls of meatballs, salad, and bread. I should ask her responsible stuff like how things are going at home, whether she made up with her parents, but all I can do is lean over the table and whisper, “What do you want?”

She wipes her mouth and flashes me a smile. “You.”

That sends a dart of heat to my groin, but I have to keep my cool. Can’t let her get to my head. She’s way out of my league, for fuck’s sake. I don’t want to hurt her, but best stop anything from growing in her little head before it’s too late. “It can’t happen,” I say, leaning back and crossing my arms. “You’re too young for me, and I’m definitely not your kinda guy.”

“Well, then I’ll just get what I need from my ‘friends’.” She makes quote marks in the air and rolls her tongue on her lips. “They know how to treat a girl, see.”

Oh, no, can’t let that happen! Anger shoots to my brain. I can’t stand the idea of her messing with other men, of someone other than me drooling on her. As crazy as it sounds, a voice inside me screams, “You’re mine!” 

Without a word, I slip out of my seat, trying not to overturn the table between us, take her hand, and lead her through the restaurant. Heads turn, but I ignore them.

Out the door, in an empty hall, I press her against the wall, chest-to-chest, stomach-to-stomach, and hold her hands above her head. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re playing with.”

“I’ve missed you.” She squirms in my tight grip and rubs against my cock so it rises to attention. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You’re insane,” I growl. “Out of your fucking mind.”

Staring at my lips, she flutters her black eyelashes once, slowly, lazily. “No, Mike. It’s true. I haven’t been able to function without you. I need you. I need a strong man like you, a real man. I told you, the other night.”

My inner voice yells, “But you don’t know me!” yet her words make me sway, my limbs feel like Jell-O, and my resolution goes down the drain. I should insist that she leave and stay the fuck away from me, but…I can’t. I’ve missed her too, and God knows I need a hot chick like her. I’m so damn tired of being alone and feeling miserable. If she can bring a little joy into my life, why would that be such a bad thing? We’re two consenting adults.

“Fuck,” I growl. “We can’t do this here.” I release her, grab her hand, and bring her to a small restroom down the hall. She trots happily by my side, wiggling her sweet ass. Part of me says I can’t wait to get inside her, the other warns she’s only nineteen. Then again, she’s been with several guys, so she’s no newbie in the business.

After locking the door, I plaster her to a wall again, in a corner, this time lifting one of her legs and pressing my erection between her thighs. She throws her head back, spreading that stunning purple hair on the wall like a peacock displaying its feathers, and moans.

Sounds like she likes it rough.

Yeah?

If that’s what she wants, that’s what she’ll get, and rather from me than from an insecure, pimple-faced kid using the opportunity to hurt her just so he can feel like a man. I can do her hard, but in a controlled way. “You got a condom?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

Well, one way or the other… I rub my stiffness against her pussy, back and forth, in a rhythmic and insistent manner. With my free hand beneath her shirt, I cup her breast that fills my hand so nicely and stroke the full, oh-so-soft flesh before squeezing its firm bud.

Lips parted, breaths heavy, she mews while rocking against me, meeting my rhythm stroke for stroke. Sweat makes her blushing face shine.

I move my hand to her shoulder bone, rubbing on my way up to her throat and leaving red marks on her skin. Her breathing comes out ragged, needy. Reaching her face, I insert a finger between her teeth, and she sucks on it—then bites.

“Ouch.” The sting makes me even harder.

“Kiss me,” she begs. “I want to feel you everywhere.”

Fuck, she’s hot. I oblige, covering her mouth with mine and driving my tongue inside to conquer and devour hers. She squeals, her rocking against me more insistent. I move both my hands to her butt and lift her in the air so I can increase my rhythm and rub every single inch of her pussy, clit and all, back and forth.

There, she arches her back like a bow and jerks in my hold.

Good girl. 

She screams, but I swallow the sound, my excitement at such an unbearable level, it takes all my willpower and focus not to shoot in my pants.


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Lea Bronsen

likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After a deep dive on the unforgiving world of gangsters with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between romantic suspenses, dark erotic romances, and crime thrillers.


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