Michal Scott's Christian Erotica
and Christian Erotic Romance

My Works In Progress

 Christian Erotica:

Here's an excerpt sample from All My Sins Remembered which won second place in NJRW's 2015 Put Your Heart in a Book romantic suspense category:

The Emergency Worker had been professional and kind. Peri sensed real sympathy from her and appreciated it more than the balm applied to her abrasions.

“Rub this cream into the welts each morning. It’ll anesthetize the pain and act as a concealer. Your wounds will be gone within two to three days.”

Peri studied her wrists, marveling how the bright red of the welts had already yielded to a taupe closer to her skin color. Now if only the confusion and turmoil she felt would yield to clarity and peace. She stared at the bed, shaken that desire raged stronger than relief within her. What had happened here?

“Ms. Wilson.”

Peri looked up. A twenty-first century Amazon towered over her. She should have been astride a horse with bow and quiver strapped to her back. Peri imagined her vanquishing all foes with an expertly wielded labris. Tall and warrior-like, her face could have been chiseled on Mount Rushmore.

“I’m Supervisor Branca Fernao.” She stepped to the door, scanned the living room then came back and stood over Peri again. “I’m here to escort you to your room and take a statement.”

Peri stared, mesmerized by the samba-like fluidity of Fernao’s stride. A rhythm sensuous as that erotic dance rippled across the supervisor’s limbs. An aura powerful as the eddies of the Amazon radiated around the woman. The right side of her chest lay considerably flatter than the left. A small emerald colored pin sparkled there. Peri squinted to get a better look at it and recognized the shape of a cross labris. The miniature axe cleaved her psyche. Fear bled from the wound.

“I—I don’t want to make a statement, Supervisor.” She adjusted the strapless bodice of her dress, tugging it up as high as it would go. “I just want to forget all about this.”

“As you wish. I will, however, have to see you to your room.”

Peri nodded. She didn’t have the energy to argue. Tension throbbed at her temples and behind her ears. Rivulets of perspiration trickled down her spine and along the cleft of her breasts.

She stood and, keeping her right hand pressed between her breasts, walked ahead of Fernao. The room wavered for an instant. She paused and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Tau stood before her. A feral light gleamed in his eyes. He looked every bit a “lion.”

“Ms. Wilson, please let me apologize for this horrific intrusion.” He spread his arms in apology. “I didn’t think consensual sex was a matter for law enforcement. Had I known our coupling would bring detectors down on us–”

She held up her hand to stop him from speaking any further. His voice pricked pain in her ears. “No apology necessary.”

His smile broadened. “I’m so glad.”

He moved forward with his hand extended. She reached for it, but Fernao stepped between them before they could touch. Irritation welled up in the consul’s eyes. Peri shivered, but Fernao continued unaffected.

“If you still feel a formal apology is in order, I suggest you have one of your attachés contact Ms. Wilson in the morning.”

She gripped Peri’s upper arm and ushered her from the suite into the hotel corridor.

A flash of heat welled up beneath the palm pressed against her arm. Surprised, she pulled back and stared at the reddened flesh. Fernao stared at her hand with a look of equal surprise.

The heat from Fernao’s touch swept through Peri’s body like a rumor at church. She swayed forward and fell against the elevator doors. Fernao caught her and held her upright. A tingling she couldn’t stop surged up her arm to her shoulder, shot across her chest then down to her groin. Arousal warmed and swelled her labia. Her eyes widened with astonishment. She forced a hand over her mouth to smother her cry as orgasm jolted through her body.

“Make it stop.” Staccato breaths burst past Peri’s lips. “Oh God, make it stop.”

Fernao jumped back. Startled by the unbidden arousal zinging through her.

The elevator arrived. She shoved Peri inside. Heat flared against her fingers as if she’d handled red-hot coals. She blew against her palms and waved her hands back and forth in an attempt to cool them off.

“Damn.” She stared at the little blisters forming around the communicator embedded in her palm. “What the hell?”

She heard a groan. To her right Peri slumped against a corner, gasping. The red silk of her dress stretched across her sweat-drenched chest. Her face glowed. Its sheen reflected off the mirrored walls of the elevator, infusing the small space with an unearthly radiance. Her desperate wheezes filled the air. Her chest heaved upward and a cross dangling on a thin silver chain glinted into view. A peridot colored labris shimmered at the apex of the crosspieces.

Fernao recognized the symbol and let off a low whistle.

Christ. Peridot Wilson is a Deologist. And a powerful adherent at that. No wonder Gordon thought she was a Zeraph.

Only those who practiced Deology wore the cross-labris symbol. Like the fish symbol helped Roman Empire era Christians find sanctuary and allies, the cross-labris helped Deologists know whom they could trust.

“Ms. Wilson, can you hear me?”

Peri moaned. “What—what’s happening to me?”

“You know damn well what’s happening to you,” Fernao growled, annoyed at how her mouth watered with each lungful of Peri’s fragrant sweat and juices. “You’re on the verge of a stage one gem-induced orgasm.”

She turned to the control panel and pressed the stop button. Inserting a master key in a hidden slot, she disarmed the elevator’s alarm and surveillance cameras. Her authorization code would curtail any attempt by the hotel management to interrupt or inquire. She turned back to Peri, her skin luminous and growing brighter by the second.

Peri winced. Her body trembled. “But—but he didn’t penetrate me.”

“Bullshit. A peridot had to have entered you somewhere.”

Peri’s sharp edged wheeze sliced the air between them. “My mou--mouth. But—but it didn’t—I didn’t touch it. He—he wrapped it in a han—handkerchief.”

“Then you must have prayed to come.”

“I—I don’t re—remember praying. Hel—help me.”

Fernao shook her head. “I can’t touch you again. You’re going to have to bring yourself off.”

“Can—can’t move.” Each syllable hitched higher, squeezed through the spaces of her clenched teeth. “Too—too painful.”

Fernao’s own body pulsed with empathy. She too had experienced the heaviness of glory, the ecstasy of transfiguration.

 “Find a way,” she ordered. “Your passion is burning you up. If you don’t come, you’ll spontaneously combust.” She’d never seen a Sarx combust, but had no reason to think they didn’t. Hedons did all the time.

Peri pulled her dress up and fumbled past her thong for her clit. The sweat coating her skin made her hands slip and miss their target.

Fernao bit her lip, unable to tear her gaze away from the little nub of flesh Peri couldn’t reach. She closed her eyes. A moan gurgled up her throat. She sucked air laden with the odor of her own arousal into her mouth and held it there before taking it into her lungs. Her thighs trembled and bowed in response to Peri’s moans. She hadn’t experienced anything this powerful since she left the Deologists five years ago. If her fingers weren’t so raw, she’d have them twisting and turning in her own channel right now. She grit her teeth in a fight for control and thanked God this wasn’t being recorded, more for her sake than Peri’s.

A sob from Peri forced Fernao’s eyes open.

“I—I can’t,” the younger woman cried.

“To hell with can’t. Do it.”

Tears flowed down Peri’s face. Her hands rested at her sides in defeat. “I—I’m going to die.”

Merda. Not on my watch.

Fernao dropped to her knees and prayed.

“Gracious God, Father and Mother of us all, you promised your Spirit would intercede for us. Intercede for Peri through me, Most High. Recall to my mind the words from the ancient texts to help my sister now.”

She pushed the pad of her thumb against Peri’s clit. The little nub of flesh pulsed in welcome. Heat flared along Fernao’s thumb then up her arm like a flame racing along a line of gasoline. She hissed against the burn. A different kind of heat flared in her mind and inflamed her ears with words from the prayer book. As if entranced, she spoke.

            “‘How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride!
            How much more pleasing is your love than wine,
            And the fragrance of your perfume than any spice
. ’”

Ignoring the burn ignited in her own core, Fernao slipped two fingers into Peri’s cum-slick channel and continued:

            “‘Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride;
            Milk and honey are under your tongue.
            The fragrance of your garments is like that of Lebanon.”

Peri’s moans hitched higher and higher. Each raspy tone thrummed across Fernao’s body as if she were being played by Segovia. Her stomach and thigh muscles tightened. Her own clit throbbed in sympathetic recognition of how close Peri was to coming.

She circled Peri’s clit two more times with the pad of her thumb and continued the recitation.

            “‘You are a garden locked up, my sister, my bride;
            You are a spring enclosed, a sealed fountain
.’

She gasped and wheezed out the conclusion of her prayer.

“Oh Originator, we are filled with your joy, with your power. Bring us into the ever-present, ever-creative erotic reality of your love.”

Peri’s body jerked upward to a sitting position. Her back bowed, held suspended in the grip of orgasm. She dropped her head back and screamed.

Fernao closed her eyes and screamed with her.         

A mile across town, Gordon Manning screamed too. 

Mystic Sweet Communion: Seminarian Narvella Anderson resigns herself to a future as a soon-to-be dutiful missionary wife, sublimating her wishes and desires to the needs and duties expected of one focused on saving souls. Before taking this step, she spends a month with her renegade cousin Jackie, who helps Narvella discover the nexus between her spiritual and sexual selves by exploring and experiencing the ecstatic pleasures enjoyed by the love mystics of the Middle Ages.  

No Praying Allowed: Disconcerting rumors have reached the governing board of Canon Presbyterian Church. The prayer service of the Presbyterian Women's Lydia circle is accused of engaging in lascivious and carnal acts that have nothing to do with prayer. As the new associate pastor, Ermilla Seaton, is ordered to attend the meetings and stop any unChristian behavior. What Ermilla learns about the power of prayer and its relation to her power as a sexual being, not only challenges her faith but forces her re-examine and redefine herself in light of a new understanding of the phrase, God is love.

Christian Erotic Romance WIPs:

Alone On Earth Trilogy: Alone on Earth, Armaggedon, Aftermath

A Little Golden Tail:

Immortal Longings: 

Erotic Romances WIPs:

Better To Marry Than To Burn:

Haunted By Eden:

Pandora's Box:

Possessed By the Past: