Slipstream Literature Novels & Stories

They were no longer refugees; they were explorers. They turned the city's primary "Void-Vane" into a "Lunar-Bridge." By focusing the aurora’s energy into a tight, coherent beam, they could create a "Slipstream" to the moon. This was the first step toward the stars. The chapter ends as the first manned "Frost-Sled" enters the slipstream, its pilot—a First-Gen survivor—letting out a defiant roar as he leaves the atmosphere he spent a lifetime trying to reach.

The moment the procedure slip hit the floor, Solana instinctively snatched it up and stuffed it away as quickly as she could. However, Isaiah's sharp eyes had already caught sight of the words "procedure slip" on the paper. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it had jumped to her throat, and she could even hear the thumping of her heart in her ears. She fumbled for a moment, trying to come up with something believable. Finally, she mumbled, "It's nothing; it's just a simple dental procedure. Dr. Bates said I should take care of any dental issues early during pregnancy, or it'll cause trouble later."

My hands found his belt, I unbuckled it, then slid his zipper down and his cock didn't wait, it sprang out with force in his boxers. I slid my hand in and found his throbbing cock. It was strong, erect with veins prominently lined on it threatening to burst out of the boxers. I pulled it out and gently started rubbing it. My fingers brushed over the tip and the precum wet my fingers. The precum served as a lubricant. Reducing friction of the handjob I was giving him. He let out an animalistic groan as more precum spat out of his tip. Then he planted his soft, succulent lips on mine again and started kissing me with a hunger and passion Justin has never kissed me with.

Reality was worse than anything he'd imagined. … The sharp smell of antiseptic filled my lungs. I lay in bed, drifting in and out of awareness. "The patient has suffered a slight concussion and requires a 24-hour observation," said the doctor, but his voice sounded far away. I closed my eyes, my mind replaying that brutal night. I remembered the burglar's twisted face, the speeding car, and the deafening explosion. When I woke up again, the TV was talking about that incident. "A traffic accident involving a tanker truck and a private vehicle occurred on Goodrich Avenue last night. The collision triggered an explosion. A charred body was recovered from the car. Police believe the victim to be

​The Andromeda Slipstream didn't just carry the Unified Fleet across the parsecs; it acted as a sensory deprivation tank. Inside the Respiration’s living hull, the "Song of the Still-World"—the new verse gifted by the liberated Silent-Caste—vibrated like a cold, silver needle. It was a frequency of Persistence, a low-end hum that felt like the groaning of tectonic plates.

When I see Reese Chapman again, it is exactly three years after I sever our mate bond. It is also the third year since I completely seal my wolf and hide at the edge of the Shadow pack territory, living as an insignificant healer. Tonight, the air in the clinic feels heavy and icy under his overwhelming aura. He carries a lightly injured female companion in his arms and forcibly takes over the best VIP ward in the clinic. During my shift, he summons me three times through his guards. The first time, he coldly orders, "There are wolfsbane fragments on the bedsheets. Change them." I send an apprentice herbalist to handle it. Two hours later, he has a nurse relay another order. "The smell

“You drip like the River Jordan. Tonight, I anoint you. You don’t cum until the Lion says.” The cool night air teased her overheated skin while his scorching mouth devoured her. The thunder of the falls roared like Nyabinghi drums in the distance. Selamawit cried out, head falling back as spiritual and carnal pleasure merged. But he edged her mercilessly. Every time she neared the edge, he pulled back, leaving her whimpering and clenching around nothing. Her juices ran freely down her thighs and into the glowing pool. By the fourth edge she was sobbing, tears mixing with sweat on her glowing skin.

I don’t think the sliding has ever gone away. I think it’s always been with me, since that day. But maybe I didn’t hear it, because in all my writing that got published, I wasn’t seeing . . . except for that first book, about Michael Lockenstein and really, THAT’s why I stopped writing the sequel to Shades of Darkness, because I had become too scared to see. But now . . . I need to see. Even if I really don’t want to. And when I write, things are quiet. Peaceful. But if I don’t write, if I dare skip an evening confessional with my iBook, I dream. Of horrible things sliding down the hall, toward my bedroom, shuffling, slithering, sliding . . .

Ethan ripped her top off, grabbed her tits hard and slapped them. “These fat tits are made for abuse.” Jax yanked her skirt up and shoved her to her knees on the dirty concrete floor. “Open that fucking mouth.” Two hard cocks slapped against her face. Lia opened wide like a starving slut. Ethan shoved his thick cock down her throat first, balls-deep in one thrust, making her gag violently. Spit exploded from her lips as he fucked her face mercilessly, her glasses fogging and sliding down her nose. “Choke on it, you pathetic virgin-turned-whore. This is what you were born for.”