It's a sexual horror story, and it's rather different from most of the books I've published.
I hope you enoy this extract:
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She jumped, her knees pointed downwards, and she landed on him hard, solid. How did she do that? Werner went down on his back. His head banged against the clock table with a loud thud. She was on top of him, her hands clasped around his neck and her legs around his stomach to latch behind his back. She squeezed, putting her head on his shoulder to avoid his franticly whaling swings. He gave a long involuntary sigh as the air was forced out his windpipe. Her strength was shocking, like a wild animal.
Not knowing anything better, he reached for her hair and pulled. There was no sound. She did not scream. It was creepy, but she did not scream. He pulled hard, and still she almost seemed to laugh although now she yielded, and the pressure around his neck ceased. His arm pulled her head back to bring her face into his field of vision, while the other desperately tried to get him up off the floor. As long as she was on top of him, she was in control. She countered his movements with her legs. Those powerful thighs were not done yet, and Werner felt a shooting pain consume him around his stomach and around his ribs.
It was just the two of them now. Only a few seconds after the whole excitement started it was a fight for survival. The pulling of hair; the squeezing of ribs; first one of them and then the other; one and then the other. One would give. Eventually. In excruciating pain as his head was pulled back and his gaze shot skyward, his eyes focused on the bullet hole in the wall and then on nothing at all as the pain was too intense. He let go. He had to.
Both his arms now went for her legs; hitting, scratching, pulling, anything that would get them to loosen their grip. Still they squeezed. They squeezed harder, and harder, and stars began to form in his eyes.
“You fucking little man.”
And then she flex ed her muscle, and an agonizing scream filled the room. She smiled, looking at him and understanding his pain; reveling in it. His hands and arms twitched and wavered like he was in the jaws of a vicegrip. She jolted him, and squeezed again. His whole body shook. He howled, “Stop!” in a yell that almost sounded like a laugh. If it were not for the blueness of his face she would have laughed along with him. She rolled on her back and carried him on top of her, squeezing once again with all her strength.
“Arrh!” His head fell on her breast, pulled up, and then fell again. With the pressure on his ribs he was unable to get any air into his lungs. He was suffocating, asphyxiating, and she was enjoying herself. The power in her legs latched on with bone-crunching determination.
Minutes rolled by. From the bedroom window, all anyone could have seen was two men, one in a fetal position and the other being latched onto by gorgeous legs around his middle section. He was squirming like a worm, desperately seeking oxygen, and the space to breathe it.
As if out of nowhere, an intriguing force filled the room. It centered on his right hand, suddenly controlled and capable of deciding its own actions despite the vice that gripped and squeezed and forced Werner’s body into unnatural contortions. The hand closed into a fist and swung accurately and powerfully.
The air came back in a sudden flood. He gasped for it, moaning with relief. His whole body found new space as she let go. With his head still resting on her chest, he spotted the gun underneath the bed. He went for it, grabbed it, then sat up on top of her, and pointed it at her face...




