Erotica Harem

Title: "On the Road -- Revised" 

Chapter: "On the Road - Chapter One" 

Author: Max Griffin 🏳️‍🌈

Plot: Not sure of the plot here yet. We meet Kiernan leaving after a tryst with a man he didn’t know. On his way home in a storm, he is nearly in an accident that kills several others. A strange man with blond hair and gold eyes appears to him, and later at home he thinks he sees those golden eyes in the corner of his bedroom. This has my interest now. I must read on. Oh, and Kiernan is set to go on vacation.

Style & Voice: I really like your voice and style they are strong and clear.

Referencing: Everything is fine here.

Scene/Setting: You did a fantastic, vivid job of description on the freeway and with the accident. I just wanted to make mention of the semi, remember they don’t stop easily. The can gross up to 80,000 lbs with a loaded trailer. I think you did quite well with that, though. My thing and it’s probably just me, but since I’m married to a truck driver I like making sure facts are right about these big rigs. People are so quick to blame trucks and truck drivers for accidents and thing that go wrong, but not many are aware of how they operate or the rules the drivers are under. It’s not like running around in your car. Oops, sorry, on a soap box there. I didn’t mean to give lecture.

Characters: Mostly Kiernan. I need more time to get to know him.

Grammar: No grammar problems, except for a semi-colon and I added a comment below about that. Not really a big thing.

Just My Personal Opinion: This has got my attention. I must read more.

Suggestion are in green.
Grammar and other fixes are in red.
Repeats are underlined and bolded
Personal comments are in blue.

This is just my personal opinion, take what you want and throw the rest away.


The naked man leaned against his doorway, and ran a finger down Kiernan's cheek. "You can stay the night, if you want." His voice was wistful, inviting.

Kiernan couldn't recall his name. "Thanks, I really need to go."

"You've got my number? I'd like to get together again."

Kiernan patted his shirt pocket. "Yeah, right here." He hesitated, and pecked the man on the cheek. "It was great, man. Thanks." He slipped out the door without bothering to button his shirt. As he strode towards his car, he savored the pleasant burn in his ass where the guy had so recently been inside him, fucking him. He was hot. Maybe I will call him. He knew he wouldn't.

Dark clouds obscured the stars. Flashes of lightning flickered and thunder grumbled. A cold wind rippled through his blond hair and his clothes fluttered against his lithe form. He shivered, and clutched his shirt to himself. He hurried through the crowded cars and climbed into his ancient Celica.

He tried to find a radio station, but the only one not obscured by static was a hell-fire-and-damnation preacher. "Fuck that." He snapped off the radio and pulled onto the street. By the time he turned onto the expressway, rain splattered across his windshield, and soon turned to a steady downpour. The little car shimmied and fought the wind as the storm intensified.

Kiernan thought ahead to his vacation later in the week, and visions of the baths in Saint Louis danced in his imagination. Been a long time since I've been out of town. Should be more action than I know what to do with, even on a weeknightone word.

He sped up, hoping to beat the storm to his apartment on Chicago's north side. He'd met his nameless trick in a dance club on Halsted, and followed him all the way to Evanston. Shit, I would have found someone else if I'd known he lived this far away.

He turned the wipers to high when a semi-trailer rig passed him. The spray off the tires left him blind for an instant, and he tapped his brakes. "Take it easy, now." His tires gave a sickening veer as they hydroplaned against the pavement. He slowed even more. The rain fell in furious torrents, sheets that swallowed the road. "Fuck, I can't even see the edge of the highway." He braked again. "Thirty five. At this rate, it'll take me an hour to get home."

A van zoomed past, racing along at least twice his speed. The spray in its wake washed across his windshield. For an instant, he again could see nothing but glistening red lights in front of him. He leaned forward, gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, and peered at the roadway. There's the edge. God, these people drive like suicidal idiots

His wipers swiped twice and he could see again, just as another semi-trailer rig roared by him. This time the spray was like driving under Niagara Falls;Bill, Dawne and several other published writers have told me to watch the semi-colons. Seem publishers don’t like them. They’d rather see a clean break. Two sentences. water cascaded everywhere and drummed on the roof of his car. He tapped his brakes twice more and peered into the murk. In front of him, a billboard shined through the haze, urging tourists to stop at Meramec Caverns in Missouri.

Ahead of him, the semi caught up with the van, tailgating mere yards behind it. Homicidal maniac meets suicidal maniac. Perfect. Water pooled in the tracks worn into the roadway by years of traffic. His car veered again as it struck those puddles and lost traction. Maybe I can get in the drift of the semi, where it's swept the water away. He tapped the accelerator.

In the blink of an eye, the headlights for the van twirled about and pointed sideways toward the right ditch. The taillights of the semi flashed blood-red. Its tires squealed and its brakes smoked as it fishtailed to avoid the van. As if in slow motion, the two struck and the van floated through the air, spinning about, and crashing on its roof in the lane in front of him. Sparks flashed from where it scraped along the blacktop, whirling towards him.

Kiernan's feet leaped to the brakes as the van blazed towards him. His leg responded as though it moved through wet concrete. He fought with the steering wheel. It resisted, as though the very air about him were molasses. Nothing helped. The van, the sparks, his car, his very self, slowed to a crawl.

Time stopped.

In a flash, he found himself sitting in his car, on the shoulder, his hands, cold and rigid, locked onto the steering wheel. "Mary, Mother of God, how did I manage to miss that damned thing? I thought I was toast, for sure." Headlights flashed across a bloody form that lay crumpled on the shoulder behind him. "Fuck, that could have been me!" A young man with flaxen hair knelt over the bloodied victim, holding his hand. When he looked up, his golden eyes dazzled and his wet hair bristled like straw in the wind. Kiernan blinked, and the body and the man were gone.

Shaking from the near miss, he jumped from this car and ran to the van. One wheel still spun and the smell of gasoline mixed with the wet fury of the storm. Inside, someone screamed and screamed.

The truck driver ran up to him. "Get off the road! Don't let another car hit you!"

Kiernan jerked as the spray from a passing car drenched him. He ran with the trucker to the shoulder and shouted, "What do we do?"

"I've called it in. I don't think..."

A fire flickered in the van's engine compartment and spread to one of the tires. A foul stench filled the night air and smoke billowed. The screams stopped. That can't be good. Another car screeched and swerved to avoid the wreck. The flickering light revealed two bodies, broken and bloody, on the road. Kiernan ran to one to pull it out of the way of passing traffic.

"Don't move him, son. You might make things worse." The trucker lit a flare and put it next to the still form. "Go see how that one's doing." He pointed to the other body, the one lying on the shoulder.

Kiernan trotted over to him. A bone stuck out of his leg and the impact had left his shirt in tatters. One arm flopped as he tried to move. "Take it easy. Help's on the way." He knelt by the man and held his hand.

"My daughter. How is she?"

"She's fine. Don't worry." Fuck, I don't have any idea if she's fine or not. I hope she wasn't the one screaming in the van. He tried to control his trembling voice. "Just hang on. Help's coming."

The man stopped struggling and gripped his hand like a vice. "Don't leave me." His voice was a whisper, a hoary stump of a human sound. "What's your name?"

"Kiernan. Don't worry, I won't leave. Stick with me. Everything's going to be fine." The man's face, even bloodied, spoke of strength in its honed features. He had a crew cut, dark hair flecked with gray.

His eyes rolled. Blood flowed from the gash on his head. "I'm Jase. My leg hurts."

Kiernan glanced down where white bone jutted from torn flesh. A fluttering spout of blood pumped from the open wound, smaller and smaller with each passing moment. Then it stopped. Kiernan looked back at the man's ashen face. "Stay with me. Help's coming. Don't die!" The man's hand grew limp and cold in his fingers.

The trucker gripped his shoulder. "He's gone, son. You can't do any more for him."

"He can't be dead! He just spoke to me!" Kiernan stared into Jase's face, and knew he'd never forget the man's features or this night.

"They're all dead. You did good, kid. Real good. You made it easy for him." He pulled Kiernan to his feet. "Here come the cops. Ambulance too. That was fast."

Red lights strobed through the storm, and sirens screamed. An officer pulled him to one side, and yelled, "Stay off the road!" The ambulances and fire trucks arrived, but it was too late.

Kiernan wanted to stay, wanted to help. But the highway patrolmen just took his name and told him to leave. "We'll contact you if we need anything. It's not safe hanging around here."

As if having taken its toll, the storm abated to a drizzle, with thunder growling in the distance and lightning flickering on the horizon. Still trembling, his breath heaving, Kiernan drove at a crawl to his garage apartment. He didn't remember climbing the stairs or unlocking his door. He stood in his bedroom, alone and shivering. His cat, Scratchy, blinked at him from his perch on the bed, and went back to sleep. Kiernan pawed in his nightstand, found two sleeping pills, and collapsed.

Two golden eyes seemed to peer at him from a darkened corner of the room. Above them, flickering from light to shadow, hovered what might have been a man's blond locks. What a strange reflection...must be from the new streetlight, he mused, too weary to investigate. He tugged at the sheets, and the drugs pulled him into the welcome arms of sleep.


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Ebook ISBN 978-1-60054-231-2
Length: 15,250 words
Genre: Erotic
Category: Dark Fantasy
Rating: Shooting Star
Price: $3.00


Available at:
https://www.loveyoudivine.com


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ISBN: 978-60054-230-5
Author: Anastasia Rabiyah, Bret Jordan, Cerise Amour, Crymsyn Hart, Dahlia Rose, Dawné Dominique, S.D. Grady
Length: 432 Pages / 100,660 Words
Genre: Dark Fantasy/Erotic Romance
Rating: Shooting Star
Price: 17.00

Available at:
https://www.loveyoudivine.com
http://www.amazon.com/Gremlins-Anthology-Bret-Jordan/dp/1600542301/ref=sr_1_34?i...