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:

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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!

I will be attending Smut by the Sea, on the 28th May 2016 in Scarborough, where I'll be giving a workshop on "Writing Fantasy Erotica"

Nine Worlds Geekfest, on the 12th-14th August 2016 in London,

and FantasyCon UK, on the 23rd-25th September 2016 also in Scarborough (no connection!)

Recent Publications:

Falling Deep

Erotic Novel: Second in the Lovers' Wheel quartet

Coming Together in Verse

Three Poems: On Erotic Vocabulary, Minotaur and Song for Whoeveryone

Libidinous Zombie

Short Story: The Sorcerer's Apprentice

Cover Him with Darkness

Romantic Novel: First book in The Watchers trilogy

Latest Blog Post

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's excerpt is fromIn Real Life which has just been published in Silence is Golden (ed. Anna Sky). Which means I am now officially a Sexy Little Author :-D

If someone is unable to speak, how do they communicate with their partner? If a sub or Dom can't hear well in crowds but loves to play at parties, what mechanisms are in place to ensure everyone stays safe?

The kink-inspired stories in Silence is Golden are sexy and bold. You'll meet strong, diverse characters across the spectrum of sexuality who revel in their desires. From silent Doms and Deaf lovers to submissives who can't be silenced and those who seek out the quiet. This sizzling collection brings together the finest erotic stories from Annabeth Leong, Dale Cameron Lowry, Sienna Saint-Cyr, Leandra Vane, Anna Sky and Janine Ashbless.

 In Real Life: Ellie is out on a blind date with Bryn, who is deaf - and accompanied by his signer Hugh.




‘What’s wrong?’ Hugh demands. They’re both hovering behind me, staring.
  
‘I’m really sorry! I’ve got to head back to the station or I’m going to miss the last train tonight. I’m really sorry – I just forgot.’ I squeeze both their arms in turn. ‘I was having such a great time!’        
  
‘We’ll walk you there,’ Hugh says. He and Bryn are signalling frantically at each other as we leave the club, and I get the impression that there’s a heated discussion going on, but it’s all over my head and I shrug it off. Outside the air is crisp and smells faintly of gunpowder from the midnight fireworks. The streets are full of underdressed people making their way from club to club. The chill air bites at my legs too; I shed my patterned winter tights when we reached the bar and now there’s nothing but bare skin between the tops of my boots and the bottom of my short skirt. I figure I’ll manage.
  
As I get myself sorted I realise I’ve got a few more minutes than I was counting on; my printout with the train time says Ten Past, not Ten To. We all relax a bit then. Bryn holds his arm out and I link mine in his, pleased. We walk through the streets, taking turns down quieter roads to avoid the crushes outside more popular venues, and when we get to a pedestrian bridge over a canal I pause to look down into the water, charmed by the glints of reflected light.
  
Hugh instantly takes the opportunity to light a fresh cigarette.
 
 Turning to put my back to the handrail, I look at Bryn with a faint smile. Wordlessly, like a man in a dream, he moves in to kiss me again, shielding me from the night air with his body. One hand slips under my open coat to clasp the small of my back and I arch into the lean of his torso, flowing against him. My thighs feel liquid, without resistance, and he feels more solid by the second. His mouth explores mine with a growing hunger; I’d like him to eat me up. He’s half-hard already. When I moan into his mouth he feels the vibration, and I know that by the immediate flex of his erection and the tensing shift of his muscles. A hand moves up to cup my breast and a thumb drifts over my right nipple, already stiff from the chill, flicking it softly and revelling in its fullness.
  
Oh God, that touch sends electric messages chasing through every part of my body, lighting up my clit. I feel the tracks of my nerves flaring like strings of LEDs under my skin. I can’t help squirming against him, and I don’t want to help it. I’m wildly turned on; I have been all evening.  My pussy aches, wanting him to full it, and the cold outside is more than balanced by the heat burning inside me.
  
We part, gasping a little, and experiment with smaller, biting kisses. I wrap my arms about his neck and ruffle that mown turf at the back of his scalp, wondering how soft that velvet would feel between my thighs. Bryn stoops to nibble at my ear and kiss my neck, and through his careful gentleness I can feel his breath coming hard and shallow. The hand on my breast deserts its station to clasp my bum-cheek, squeezing me through my skirt.
 
 Stretching my throat for him, I tilt my head and let my gaze fall on Hugh. He’s leaning forward on the railing a few feet away, smoking his roll-up idly and watching us, his expression inscrutable. Lifting my right thigh around Bryn’s in an unambiguous invitation for him to nestle closer, I feel my skirt ride up, gifting Hugh with a new view. His attention zeroes in and his lips tighten. My eyelids droop and flutter as Bryn shifts his grip on my bottom, reaching round and down for the hem of my skirt, sliding it up to explore the full swell. My skin thrills to his big warm hand.  He’s looking for the edge of my panties, I realise, but it takes him a while to find that because I’m wearing a thong; a wispy, lacy little thing picked deliberately for our meeting: might-get-lucky knickers, fuck-me panties. When he tucks a thumb under the elasticated lace at my hip I gasp involuntarily, knowing he’s crossing a boundary.
  
That’s when Bryn’s hand makes its irrevocable move to the front, under my rucked-up skirt, his fingertips delicate on the hidden fabric; tickling my pussy, teasing the barely-concealed nub of my clit, tugging the silky gusset aside. Hugh has forgotten to inhale and his cigarette trembles in his fingers. I’m past resistance now, if I ever was capable of it. I don’t care we’re on a public footbridge and that there are people walking past every few minutes. I don’t care what a slut I must look. I just want Bryn to touch me more. I just want to welcome his fingers into my wet and I’m so grateful for their slick caress on my swollen clit that when it finally happens I whimper out loud.
  
Bryn lifts his head from my throat and looks at me searchingly. Withdrawing his hands, he lifts them to sign; I grab his hips in frustration and pull his pelvis harder in to me, grinding my bereft mound against him.
 
‘He wants to know if you mind me watching,’ Hugh asks, his voice all woolly and hoarse.
  
I kiss Bryn softly, eagerly, and shake my head. ‘Not in the least.’
  
Hands dance again. I want them to dance on my breasts, in my wet slot.
  
‘He wants to know if you’d like me to touch you too.’
 
 I swallow, my throat suddenly dry, my heart pounding. ‘I’d like that very much,’ I whisper.




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