Eric Ross: Blog

Sex isn’t supposed to happen in places like this.

That’s the idea behind Hazard Zones, my series exploring desire where it doesn’t belong—public spaces, off-limits locations, charged environments where pleasure and danger collide. These stories take place in the cracks of propriety, in the places where we’re supposed to keep it together. And then someone doesn’t.

In All You Can Eat, Mia has had it. A week of biting her tongue in meetings, swallowing her frustration at her ex’s smug smile, keeping herself neat, polite, and unmessy. So when a stranger presses close in the buffet line and sparks something low and hungry inside her, she doesn’t flinch.

The setting? Unremarkable on the surface: a crowded, overstimulating buffet line full of steam trays and impatient murmurs. But beneath that clatter, Mia’s poised for something primal. As flirtation builds into reckless touch, she lets herself do what she hasn’t all week—take. Not permission. Not compromise. Just what she wants.

It’s sex as reclamation. As indulgence. As risk, right in the middle of the line.

Buffets were made for appetite. This story is for those who’ve been holding back all week—and are ready to break the rules.

- Eric

Wolf’s thighs are sore. His ego is dented. He smells like frosting and cream.
But he’s not done yet.

Because the final Pigg sister isn’t a baker or a milkmaid.
She’s Bettina Pigg—Headmistress of the Finishing Academy for Proper Young Ladies, disciplinarian of legend, and a woman whose crop has its own syllabus.

Her brick house doesn’t sway. It judges.
And Wolf? He’s about to be gagged, bound, and schooled.

There are no second chances in Bettina’s classroom.
There is, however, a St. Andrew’s Cross.
And a paddle labeled Correctional Studies.

What to expect in Chapter 3:
• Grammar-based punishment
• Gagged obedience
• Crop, cuffs, and cum
• Extra credit earned on an ottoman
• And the world’s dirtiest parent-teacher conference (well... not exactly)

By the time she’s done, Wolf won’t just be panting—he’ll be reciting the alphabet backward while getting spanked.

Read Chapter 3: The Brick House Mistress

And remember: tardiness will be punished.

-Eric

Last we saw him, Wolfgang Lupine had thoroughly tested the structural limits of Penelope Pigg’s straw house—and her self-control. But a well-fed wolf is never satisfied for long.

And now he’s wandered to the stick house of Clarabelle Pigg: Penelope’s older sister, milkmaid of unmatched virtue, spine like a ruler, and thighs like iron churns.

Clarabelle has rules. Clean petticoats. Perfect posture. A tight corset and a tighter grip on her impulses.

But Wolf? Wolf doesn’t play by her rules. He shows up on her porch shirtless, shameless, and suggestively interested in her… cream.

What follows is a sticky symphony of spilled milk, braided rope, and one very full pail. And when Clarabelle climbs on top, it’s not about love—it’s about leverage.

Chapter 2: Clarabelle and the Stick Situation.

-Eric

You know the fairy tale.

Three little pigs. One big bad wolf. A few flimsy houses and a whole lot of huffing and puffing.

But what if I told you the story you grew up with left out the best parts?

In the sleepy village of Fairywood, the Pigg Sisters—Penelope, Clarabelle, and Bettina—aren’t just innocent homemakers. Penelope bakes with passion (and a piping bag used for more than frosting), Clarabelle milks with expert hands, and Bettina runs the Finishing Academy for Proper Young Ladies… with cuffs and a St. Andrew’s Cross.

Wolfgang Lupine isn’t just blowing down houses—he’s getting tied up, licked clean, paddled for grammar mistakes, and turned inside out by three very determined women.

This isn’t a children’s fable. It’s a filthy, funny, fairy tale gone rogue.

And it all starts in a swaying straw house with a wicked baker, a naughty apron, and a scandalously phallic baguette.

Read Chapter 1: The Big Bad Wolf’s Naughty Night

-Eric

When people think of erotic fiction, they often picture silk sheets, candlelight, and softly-lit bedrooms. But for me, that’s never been the whole story. Eroticism isn’t just about fantasy—it’s about tension, need, friction, and often, mess. Real life doesn’t happen in clean lines, and neither does desire.

So while I was publishing The Clockmaker's Rewind, I set myself a challenge: write stories where sex blooms in places we don’t usually consider erotic.

The result is a series of gritty, unfiltered, deeply physical encounters in unlikely places. The first-A Riot of Lust-unfolds between two dumpsters during a protest gone wrong, where the trash stinks, the concrete burns, and the chemistry is undeniable.

My latest, Dirt and Desire, takes place inside a broken-down chicken coop on a struggling farm, where straw sticks to sweat, the air reeks of ammonia, and yet—the heat between two rough, stubborn bodies burns hot enough to brand.

Why a coop? Because I wanted to see if I could make it real. I wanted the reader to feel the straw underfoot, the rooster screaming, the sweat running down your back, and still be pulled into a moment that’s intimate and hot and alive with urgency.

These aren’t stories about luxury. They’re about need. About bodies that collide because they have to. About people who find heat and connection in the dirtiest corners of their lives—because that’s where it actually happens sometimes.

If you’ve ever felt something stir in a place you thought was too raw, too loud, too filthy to hold tenderness, then these stories are for you.

Dirt and Desire is now live. Read it with the windows open and a thunderstorm coming in.

Eric