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Sunday Snog!

Happy Sunday, my friends!

Author Victoria Blisse is celebrating her 250th Sunday Snog AND raising money for a good cause; namely, FPA, the sexual health charity. You can make a donation here.


I’m going to join in the fun by offering an excerpt from Persephone Remembers the Pomegranates, an erotic short story I’ll be releasing in 2017. I figured a kissing scene with Hades would fit the season…



There was a man watching me. He was tall and pale, his dark hair falling to his shoulders. His eyes burned with a strange intensity, and his full lips curled into a smile. I gasped and pulled my hand from between my thighs, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I’d thought I was hidden, here. I’d thought no one could find me.

I didn’t recognize him, not then. I later learned he’d gone to great lengths to make himself as attractive as possible. He needn’t have bothered; I always found him attractive. In any state.

“You’re very beautiful,” he said. His voice was resonant and strangely thick. I did not then recognize the sound of his arousal, the way it made his strong voice even deeper.

I smiled. As I said, I was very young.

“I don’t think I know you,” I said, coming to my feet. He was quite tall; even standing I came only to his chest.

“Forgive my intrusion, then,” he said. “I am Hades.” He bent and took my hand in his, kissing me gently.

I shivered as his lips touched my fingertips. Hades. Of course I knew who he was, but he was nothing like I’d expected. The man in front of me did not seem stern or fearsome. And he was not cold, oh no, not at all. His lips against my fingers made my entire body burn.

“Am I dead?” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat.

He smiled and moved his lips to the inside of my wrist, covering my skin with his soft, warm kisses. My pulse hammered against his mouth. His lips traced the length of my arm, making my skin flush and my nipples harden under my chiton. He felt so good I was half convinced I’d imagined him, that by bringing my hands to my sex I’d somehow summoned this gorgeous man to satisfy me.

He stopped once his chest was next to mine, and he turned to smile at me. “No,” he whispered. “You are not dead.”

My body curved to fit against his, and I met his dark eyes. My hand traced the length of his arms, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath his cloak. His body trembled slightly under my touch, and he sighed softly, almost imperceptibly.

“May I kiss you?” he asked.

I nodded. My heart hammered against the cage of my chest and heat poured off my body, slicking the space between my thighs. Without speaking, I leaned into him, tilting my head to meet his. His lips were cool against mine, his body stiff as I wrapped my arms around his waist. But he yielded as I embraced him, moving his hands up my back, opening his mouth to welcome my tongue.

I’d thought I had kissed before. I’d thought Erata had given me all he had, had kissed me in all the ways a man could kiss a woman.

I was wrong.

Hades’ kiss was gentle at first, soft and sweet, opening to me with shy hesitation as I explored him. Then I rubbed my hips against his, enjoying the feeling of his arousal. He moaned inside my mouth, and his kiss changed, became wild, became hungry. He pressed into me as though he wanted us to fill the same space, to share the same skin, as though he’d die if he couldn’t taste me. His tongue filled me, sending shivers down my spine, and his fingers gripped my hips, clinging to my body.

He stopped suddenly, pulling back as though I’d hurt him. He stumbled backward and I reached for him, grabbing his wrist.

“Don’t go,” I said, breathless.


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