Copyright © 2007, Cheri Valmont
Published by Whiskey Creek Press LLC

Once again Cheri Valmont has written an incredibly steamy story. The love that Aimee and Jarr find isn't forced, and despite the fact that Aimee loses her mate at the beginning of the story, it doesn't feel wrong. You'll be cheering for Aimee and Jarr by the end of the tale. These two stories complement each other perfectly and will provide a wonderful evening of entertainment. If you've got a lover, keep 'em close as you may be, umm, inspired, after reading this sizzling anthology. Stop by Whiskey Creek Press Torrid and get your copy of TORRID TEASERS VOLUME 27 today.

Ms. Valmont's talent truly shines through in these two sexually thrilling stories. Tied together through two of the main characters, Equal Opportunity Seduction and The Commander's Mates tell of two alternate style relationships. Brad and Hank truly care for each other and have put off searching for a mate because they don't want to lose the relationship they have with each other. Only when they stop to discuss just what they want and ask for Aimee's help do they discover there is the perfect woman out there waiting for them. As for Aimee, although she was content with her sweet mate, it is only when she is faced with tragedy and a strong man does she realize what make her feel truly fulfilled. The Velorn lifestyle is different from what she is used to but she quickly adapts and makes JerrRon realize the kind of woman who can meet all of his needs. Enjoy these two scorching hot stories from Ms. Valmont.

Torrid Teaser Volume 27: Equal Opportunity Seduction and The Commander’s Mate is an all around get-your-freak-on, steamrolling-sex-fest that takes place in a wicked and wanton Kazphrian galaxy far, far away... Although there’s no Death Star involved, there’s plenty of rebellious thrills and plentiful spills to make you hope into your own private cruiser and brave the limitless universe of Cheri Valmont’s racy and gifted imagination.

Reviewed by Patrice F. from Joyfully Reviewed

Bradeon Gosh-Ere grabbed the remote from the crimire table as he lay on his side watching the Kazphyrian Citizen Report. He lowered the volume of the commercial that blasted higher than the regular programming. It felt good to be off work during the darkness for a change. Working in a busy Kaz Casualty on the dreaded sleep-cycle shift kept him busy.

He was relieved he hadn’t answered his personal transmission unit when it buzzed the moment he’d stepped out of the shower. He’d pulled on the loose-fitting shorts, the only clothes he was wearing now, before reaching for the unit. At the last minute, he decided to let the answering device pick up.

When he heard his sister Aimee’s inquiring voice, he breathed a sigh of relief that he’d avoided her probing questions about his single status. If he had answered that trans call, she would have grilled him about his plans and anybody new he was seeing. When was he going to choose a mate? Brad wished Aimee would mind her own business. He was perfectly happy with his life.

Brad shared his apartment with Hankren Tereamin, who was a Kazphyrian Trade and Being Transport Pilot and rarely home, so for all purposes, he had the place to himself. Brad was sure his sister didn’t want to hear about the bevy of females who passed through here. Or since she was so nosy, and doing what she thought was in his best interest, Aimee might have wanted to know about it. Maybe then, she would quit worrying about his unmated state. Not that Brad didn’t think about finding a mate occasionally.

The banging sounds coming from the hall had Brad pointing the remote toward the Telepromtor once again, turning it off, so he could listen to the commotion coming from outside his door. He sat up just enough to look over the back of the couch toward the door.

He heard the sounds of shuffling around, almost as though someone was anxious to make it through the door. Hank? Brad listened intently when he heard some whispers and moans. The door swished open suddenly, and two bodies came rushing in, almost stumbling in their haste, tearing at each other’s clothes.

Jardem! He hated to interrupt them by making his presence known. Their frantic movements hinted that nothing would stop them anyway.

So Brad kept quiet, but continued watching. He hadn’t seen Hank in several moons—actually since Hank’s last layover in Kantrer, the Kazphyrian city they lived in. The two of them were like spaceships that passed in the darkness. Hank looked like he’d gotten some sun, probably from one of the posh planets he transported some rich territory governor’s family to, and of course, he was still as toned—muscles etched as if by a master artist—as he always was. The female with him was blonde and fit; the type of body that typified a space-stewardess in Brad’s mind. Brad watched her practically rip off her clothes as she and Hank continued kissing, kneading, and fondling each other with barely suppressed violence.

As he watched the explosive passion in the kitchen unit, Brad could feel his dick stir. He repositioned his shaft, since he was hard enough now that the tip was pushing open the senche material of the waistband on his shorts.

Keeping his eyes trained on the action, he soaked in Hank’s muscular and darkly tanned body, along with the slightly tanned skin and supple body of his guest. When they finally tore off their uniforms, Hank picked up the female and shoved her onto the kitchen-unit table.

There was more grunting and moaning as they kissed as if they were fighting. “Hold on, babe, gimme a sec,” came Hank’s rough instruction. Brad knew what Hank was doing even if he hadn’t been watching the whole scene. Hank might screw the countryside, but he always wore a sterility sheath. No unwanted senetted females for Hank.

“Mmmm, oh...Hank,” the woman moaned and then, seconds later, let out a sharp gasp as Hank plowed into her cunt.

Watching Hank pound into the girl was getting to Brad. Hank’s bare ass muscles clenching, his long, lean legs braced apart, leaning over as he jerked and thrust into her. He hadn’t realized how much he missed Hank until he saw his friend again. The shaggy, mussed black hair, worn in a similar style to Brad’s his own light brown, was almost shoulder-length. Desire was riding Hank hard. Brad could see it in the sexy expression on his face, with his full lips, sinfully long sooty lashes, and eyes the color of caraca. The couple continued their actions for another minute. “Come on, babe,” Hank’s dark, sultry voice told her, before grabbing her bodily off the table, to come barreling in Brad’s direction.

“Welcome to Velorn, eh...sorry, we don’t know your name,” the tall, blond female, next to the spacious bed Aimee Syncire lay upon, told her.

Jardem! What had happened to her? Her head felt like someone had planted a rocled steel spike into it. As it was, Aimee could only squint at the lady because the brightness of the rising sun almost blinded her.

Aimee tried to respond, but could only accomplish a strangled moan.
“Oh, sorry, I know you’ve been through a horrible ordeal. Kyrna, bring our guest another dose of your javwa potion.”

Squinting toward the other side of the bed, another female, this one taller than the other, picked up a vial from a low table next to the bed, and sitting next to Aimee, brought the sweet smelling concoction to Aimee’s lips.

To her surprise, the female leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “Take it, Mistress. It will help you feel better.”

Aimee swallowed the proffered liquid, and within moments was drifting off again. “Aimee,” she whispered.

When Aimee opened her eyes again, darkness was creeping throughout the room. Looking around, she took in her surroundings for the first time.

She was not in Kantrer anymore; this was no cold, sterile high-rise building.
Everything present had obviously been being-made, from the tapestries draping the stone walls, to the furniture made from a material she’d rarely seen, authentic wood.

To her left through open double doors on a stone-tiled patio, were plants, all the green she could ever wish to see. She may have doubted the first female’s words, but the lush plant life and vegetation told Aimee the truth of her statement.

How had she come to be in this forbidden land? It was the only country on the planet of Kazphyr that allowed select visitors, and only after they received permission from the country’s governor or his legion council.

Aimee grabbed her pounding head as her last memory crashed into it. Jardem, nooooooo! Samrin! My mate! The screaming and terror of the others streaked through her mind. All dead! Falling, falling, she remembered thinking that would be her last moments alive. She writhed in agony, grabbed a pillow, burying her head beneath the cool material, but she could not block out the horrendous memory of the wild beast crashing into their midst, killing everyone.

Tears of grief scorched her cheeks as she thought of her mate and friends. They had been on vacation, staying in an excursion lodge over the border from Velorn. Someone must have found her and brought her here. Her sweet Sam. He had been a caring mate, one who let her have whatever her heart desired.

After she’d cried herself to exhaustion, Aimee lay like a limp cloth, staring up at the ceiling of the massive room. Would she be in trouble for coming into Velorn without permission? Rumors had it that if you snuck into the country, you would be imprisoned.

Surely they could make an exception, couldn’t they? Upon hearing a door open, Aimee’s burning gaze flew to the other side of the room. The first female who’d spoken to her was coming toward the bed, stopping to light the chandels on her way.

“How nice to see you awake again. Feeling better?” the female asked as she reached Aimee’s bed.

Aimee nodded mutely, watching the female with guarded eyes. “How did I get here?” Aimee attempted, the sounds coming out in a gravelly croak.

“Here, drink this,” she insisted, holding the container she retrieved from the bedside table for Aimee to drink.

Without protesting, Aimee did as the female bid. And after feeling the soothing liquid warm her throat, was grateful she had.

“By the way, my name is Sareen and this is my brother’s household. My mate, Drandol, and I are visiting.”

Silently, Aimee took in the female’s clothing. A vest, similar to the droten vest worn by Kantrerian females, graced the upper part of her body, with a small exception; hers was made of handmade fabric, which was light and fluttered freely as she moved, giving peeking glimpses of her breasts. Her ankle-length skirt made from a fabric resembling the Kantrerian kathtans also fluttered freely around her legs, leaving her midriff bare, making her appear extremely feminine.

The female’s words finally filtered into her still muddled mind. “Your brother?”

Sareen nodded. “Yes, my brother, JarrRon Ry Vere. He is Velorn’s Legion Commander, second only to Velorn’s Governor, TarnRig Ossur. My mate is his second-in-command.”

Aimee’s heart fluttered in her chest as she realized she was in the household of a military commander. It could only mean one thing.

“Count yourself lucky someone found you. Hashmin said you were almost dead. Where are you from?”

“I’m from Kantrer. My mate, Sam, and I, and our friends were staying at an excursion lodge in Sanforthe. We were on a picnic overlooking Velorn, when a large creature jumped into our midst and began kil—” Aimee’s choked voice trailed off.

“Oh stars, I’m sorry,” Sareen exclaimed and sat next to Aimee, grabbing her hand, as if trying to comfort her. “I don’t understand. Hashmin said he found you in Velorn. I’ll have to talk to my brother about this.”

Sareen frowned. “I’m afraid so. We have strict rules governing the admittance of visitors. It is the only way we can keep outside influences from corrupting our life here. I know other countries think of us as barbarians, but our people are determined to keep our old ways and our land as it is.”