The ’51st shade of erotica in literary form’
Every once in a blue moon, a new erotic book is released that really hits the nail on the head and pushes all the right kinky buttons! “Seducing Olympus” fits the bill in every way and is one of the best erotic novels I have read in recent memory that transcends the usual romantic/erotic fiction niches. Well-written and compelling, this book combines smart and sexy storyline with Greek mythology and a touch of kinky and is a “must read”!
Synopsis: Eva’s life is just the way she likes it: biking to class, writing her dissertation on Greek Mythology, and engaging her distinguished adviser about the relevancy of ancient Gods. In the library late one night, a Satyr erupts out of her dream and introduces her to an enchanted world of Greek Gods entwined with our human reality. When she falls for Adonis, God of Beauty and Desire, she finds out how sensual and maddening an erotic encounter with the divine can be.
Humor take: sensual, intellectual woman can only find her erotic satisfaction when encountering a Greek God.
About The Author: Emma Potts is a lawyer, wife and mother. After a lifetime of telling herself stories, she has thrown caution into the Montana wind and let her imagination out into book form. Seducing Olympus is her very first erotica book.
Emma Potts’ brain simply won’t quit telling stories, no matter how she cajoles it to stop, so there will be a new one soon enough.
Excerpt From “Seducing Olympus”, Chapter 1:
Eva looks down at her collection of rainwear for a moment, considering the relative merits of tucking them into a plastic sack that might just be lurking at the bottom of her messenger bag.
“Screw it.” Eva shoulders the bag and heaps biking gear into her arms like a bedraggled, multi-colored octopus. She mounts the steps and pushes inside a looming neo-soviet concrete building, where the cool, conditioned air releases her from the grip of Madison’s humid embrace. She dodges past the imposing circulation desk, nodding to the University staff, to make her way through a labyrinth of stairs and halls and stacks and study carrels crammed into every available space. Finally she tosses her armful of booty underneath a study carrel locked up with a metal grate and padlock.
“Home again, home again.” Genuine warmth belies Eva’s shrug of her broad shoulders. The padlock falls into a waiting palm, and the cage flips upwards to access a stack of hardbound books, yellow pads and cheap blue roller pens. Eva extracts a laptop from her bag and plops into a not-uncomfortable wooden chair. “Jiggety, Jig.”
Eva selects a large volume from the imposing stack and flips to a page marked by a dark chocolate bar wrapper.
“Hello, you.” She fumbles with her tortoise shell reading glasses, removing them from the hard case and pushing them on her face without looking. Her finger delicately traces words written in a language that doesn’t use roman lettering. In fact, it pre-dates the Romans and their Latin language altogether. Eva sighs contentedly and sinks into her work.
“I’m dripping . . . wet.” Eva murmurs into one of her hardbound books, eyelids shut and twitching. A desk light illuminates a confined radius around her study carrel, but shadow shrouds the nearby stacks. From around the last stack comes a glow from an out-of-sight exit sign. No other students occupy the lonely hall.
Instead of reading the propped-open book entitled “Greek Gods, Human Lives: What We Can Learn from Myths,” Eva is apparently trying to absorb Mary Lefkowitz’s scholarly wisdom through her cheek.
Her dream, though, refuses to leave her to her task. “Mmmmm. That feels good.” Eva purrs into the book crease.
A satyr licks Eva’s exposed collarbone, slowly tracing a path up her neck to behind her ear. Eva smiles into the tome, wetting her lips with the tip of her pink tongue.
The satyr brushes aside Eva’s long French braid, leaning in to inhale her warm human scent. He smoothes down some straggling chestnut brown hairs. He nibbles lightly on Eva’s earlobe, gently at first then growling as he tugs at the soft white flesh.
Eva’s head twitches and her brow furrows. The satyr’s rough tongue moistens the nape of Eva’s neck, and then he blows on the wet skin, causing Eva to shudder with chill.
Eva’s sleep-heavy purple eyelids blink, exposing pale blue eyes. She frowns and waves her hand around her shoulder, expecting to meet with, at most, a blue bottle fly. The hand, however, encounters something much more substantial. Her fingers thwack into bare skin, solid muscle stopping her dismissive gesture.
“What the . . . ?” Eva shouts in irritation, spinning her chair and lifting herself up. Two hands with improbably long fingers push her back down.
“Hell?” Eva breathes the end of her sentence as her dream steadfastly refuses to vanish back into the musty pages of Greek mythology scholarship.
The naked, sturdy chest is out of place enough. Eva, however, can’t stop staring at everything supporting that naked, sturdy chest. No clothing breaks the minimalist look, but a thick, sleek brown pelt covers the preternaturally prancing, over-sized goat legs.
“Want to stroke my fur?” The satyr grins – a not altogether wholesome smile, but not entirely predatory either. He speaks in ancient Greek, which takes a moment to flow into Eva’s habitually English-structured hearing. “Or are you more interested in your pretty little book there?”
The satyr reaches across Eva, grazing the side of her right breast with his human arm, flicking the open page of the book Eva had been reading not-so-long-ago.
“Not supposed to pop up out of ancient mythology and sneak up on unsuspecting graduate students, are we?” His fingers withdraw slowly, pausing in front of Eva’s chest before reaching up to gently stroke her cheek. His fingers linger, burning her flesh with supernatural tingling.
Under her furrowed brow, Eva’s eyes follow the satyr. Her lips part, exposing white, nearly straight teeth, save that little gap between the two top front teeth. She is ready to speak, but no sound comes out.
“Damn grad students. Lock themselves into a library and lose all ability to speak coherently to salt-of-the-earth type folks.” The satyr bends one hoof behind the other, gracefully curtsying while flourishing one hand through the air. “I am, my dear, in case you are even slightly interested, Silenus. A humble satyr. But then, you have already taken in that much of me.”
Eva raises her eyes from Silenus’ legs and up to his chocolate brown eyes – stopping at the disturbing sideways oval irises.
“Silenus. Satyr.” About to make a leap to coherent thought, Eva catches sight of two distinctly triangular folds of soft fur peaking from the long curly human hair on the top of Silenus’ head.
Silenus tips his head slightly toward Eva, perking up his goat ears like an expectant dog. “You have studied enough to come across the concept of a goat-human hybrid, yes?” This time his words are in English.
“Wait. You speak English?” Eva puzzles.
Silenus rolls his goat eyes. “Of course I know your Lingua Franca. I thought you might appreciate a bit of dialogue in Greek, but you don’t seem to be keeping up.”
“No need to be cross.” Eva replies in fluent Greek. “To answer your question, yes, I’ve studied satyrs. In theory.”
She sputters, not taking her eyes off the fuzzy ears, “No. Not in theory at all. In myth. Made up. Made up to explain archetypal impulses and the primal human condition.”
“Ooooh. La-ti-da. You have done something other than just slumber on those books. I do admit to something quite primal about my impulses.” Silenus trails his fingers down Eva’s arm leaving a trail of tingling flesh. He stops at her wrist, catching it firmly between his thumb and middle finger.
Eva involuntarily glares at his daring fingers, jerking her wrist away from the cheeky goat.
Silenus laughs deeply, torquing her wrist back around toward him, pulling Eva closer to his naked flesh. Eva feels the soft curl of his fur against the back of her hand and twists her wrist counter-clockwise to allow her fingers to lightly explore the unexpected pleasure of his soft fur coat. Silenus smiles down at her with eyelids narrowed over the brown parts of his eyes. He loosens his grip on Eva’s wrist.
Eva returns his smile, with full cerise lips firmly closed. Her fingers retract into a fist, pulling the luxurious fur taught. “Now. I need a bit more information. Not about who you are – I’ve studied all about that. You’re the chief of the satyrs who provide male companionship to Dionysus. You get up to all sorts of pranks and tend toward music, dancing and drink. That’s all in the books. What I don’t know is why you are.”
Silenus closes his eyes and sighs, pulling slightly away to increase the tension on his skin from Eva’s tangled fingers. “Why? Why am I? Such probing philosophical questions from a new acquaintance. Dionysus might know the purpose of my puny existence. But I doubt he gives it
much thought, what with all the planning for Bacchanal orgies and whatnot.” Silenus’ sarcastic smirk took in all of Eva’s body, making her feel as naked as the satyr minus his modest fur coat.
“We could reenact the entire debacle, how I came to be. The ultimate corruption of an otherwise gentle and kind creature of the forest. Bad, bad Dionysus, tempting us all with his sexual perversions.”
Silenus leans down and licks Eva’s shocked and confused mouth up to the corner of her left eye. “But then, bad can be oh-so-much-fun. Can’t it, Eva?”
Without permission from her logical mind, Eva’s pussy tightens, rubbing against her constricting denim pants. She breathes in a long, sharp breath and exhales the air in one quick burst.
“I have no doubt you could teach me a thing or two about Dionysus that isn’t covered by all the books in this library.” Eva’s fingers relax from Silenus’ right haunch, stroking the thick, buoyant curls. “But what I really want to know is why you are here in this library. With me. Now.”
In her thoughts, Eva adds: Are you in my mind? Could this be an incredibly real dream? Have I lost my grip on sanity? What the hell is going on?
Silenus snorts. “Always wanting answers, these humans. Can’t just accept the moment. Oh no. Gotta name everything.”
His peculiar side-slit eyes roll toward the library’s close, flecked white ceiling. He releases Eva’s wrist, making her regret the sudden absence.
“Here it is. For the satisfaction of your left brain.” He taps Eva’s forehead. “Myth is reality. At least to those who can see it. What one expects to see, one sees. You, my dear, have studied Greek mythology until we mythical inhabitants are more real to you than the couple who lives downstairs from you.”
Eva frowns. “They are real enough. I think. A couple of undergrads with a fat yellow cat who drinks beer.”
A rumble of laughter echoes through the shadowy stacks. “Exactly. Do you know names? Motivations? Alliances? Do you even care enough to find these things out about that real-enough-normal couple with the overweight feline?”
Eva shakes her head slightly, thinking about the last party that couple had thrown. The man, drunk and standing too close, had cornered Eva and accosted her about why she bothered to study a dead religion.
“Didn’t think so. But you do know all of those things about me, don’t you? And Dionysus. And all the Gods and Goddesses on Olympus. You know us inside and out.” Silenus gently guides Eva’s hand back toward his groin, pressing it against his hard, all-too-human cock.
Eva’s fingers instantly recoil from the abrupt intimacy. Somewhere deep in her primal brain, though, curious desire builds. She allows the back of her hand to rest against the soft skin covering the hardened flesh. Her eyes remain determined. “But, that shouldn’t make you real. Just because I have studied you. And know you.”
“You could know me so much better.” Silenus thrusts his hips toward Eva. “But you already know enough to see me. I’m surprised you can still see those silly mundane neighbors of yours. But what we expect to see, we see. You expect human neighbors, so you have them. You expect pornographic satyrs, so here I am, trying my best not to disappoint. Is it really so hard to accept that the archetypes you go on about, the collective unconscious of billions of humans, form a tangible zeitgeist?”
Eva’s mind grapples with the satyr’s curious blend of physical seduction and philosophy. “Tangible zeitgeist?”
“Sure. Billions of humans exude their psychic energy, which is all oddly similar. Primal, if you will. That energy doesn’t just dissipate, it collects. It collects and forms archetypes that resemble the type of energy humans release.” Silenus brushes Eva’s hair from her shoulder, exposing a bright blueberry streak woven into the braid.
“Not many can see the archetype for debauchery as Dionysus because not many expect to see him. More these days see the devil. Or a vampire. Or maybe a dead-sexy zombie. The collective archetypal energy is there, it just depends on what the particular human expects to see. If they expect to see their tiresome neighbors making a bumbling pass, well, then, that’s what they will see.”
“So I see the collective unconscious of human chaos as a clever, sexy satyr because I dig Greek myth?” Eva grasps Silenus’ cock and holds it without moving her hand. Did I do that? Eva watches her hand act seemingly without a link to her own better judgment.
“Something like this.” The satyr stretches his body as tall as it will go, providing friction against Eva’s fingers. “You could have been stuck with those tedious neighbors. Or worse yet, a devil vomiting green bile. So sticky and decidedly not erotic.”
Silenus rubs Eva’s jeans in tight circles, pressing her pussy lips into her clit and sending a wave of primal desire up her core.
Eva shifts her weight against the satyr’s hand, willing her jeans to dissolve so those long fingers could explore her wet cunt. Then she remembers, he is half goat, and that’s the half that does the heavy lifting. Eva lets go her grip on Silenus’ cock.
His hand stops the circular motion and firmly slaps Eva’s jean-covered pussy. Twice.
Surprised, a little indignant, and definitely aroused, Eva backs up quickly. Her chair scoots loudly into her carrel.
Silenus bows genteelly as he takes two mincing steps back, his hooves clicking on the faded industrial linoleum.
“Let’s have some fun, shall we?” He points to the window behind her, fogged over from the humid night air.
Eva turns to see an address scrawled in the condensation. From the outside.
“What do you mean . . . .” She spins back around, but the library’s shadows hold no Greek myths come to life, only dampish old treatises stacked on metal shelves. Eva’s reality spins off-kilter. Am I dreaming? Am I insane? Her heart pounds and her eyes cloud a bit. Heart attack? Food poisoning? Overactive libido?
No rational answers explain her experience, excepting ones she doesn’t really want to consider. A comforting stack of musty papers bound in canvass catch her eye. Something familiar. That’s what I need.
Eva evicts thoughts of sex and satyrs and tangible archetypes from her mind.
“Something not erotic.” Eva mutters as she lowers herself back into her chair and pretends to read…
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