Consenting Adults

Content Advisory: Erotic

“Hey, blondie, show me your boobs!” yelled a young man hanging over the balcony and swinging a handful of beaded necklaces.

Paige pulled her cardigan across her chest.

“You’ll never get any beads if you don’t take off that stupid sweater,” Kelly said, downing the last of her margarita and tossing the plastic cup on the ground.

Paige glared at her friend. “I don’t need to show my breasts to the world just to get some cheap-ass purple beads.”

“This might be the only time in our lives we get to spend Mardi Gras in New Orleans. You’re only twenty-five once. So, lighten up, babe. Let’s get another drink.”

Her friend pulled her into a daiquiri bar. Frozen drink machines swirling alcoholic fare in every color of the rainbow lined the wall behind the counter.

“What can I get you ladies?” the perky girl at the counter asked.

“Two large Hurricanes, please.” Kelly handed the bartender a twenty and they walked out.

Paige used both hands to grip the Styrofoam cup filled with the slushy, red liquid. Thirsty, she took a long pull on the straw and enjoyed the fruity flavor.

The heat rose from her belly to her neck and spread up into her cheeks. A half hour later both girls’ cups were empty and Paige started thinking about why they took this trip in the first place.

With three failed relationships under her belt, her best friend convinced her that she needed to cut loose and have some fun. Live a little. Let your hair down.

In a symbolic gesture, Paige did just that. She pulled the elastic band out of her ponytail and let her hair fall past her shoulders.

“There you go,” Kelly commented, smiling at her. “Now lose the fucking sweater.”

Feeling a little more confident, Paige tugged at the sleeves of her cardigan and dropped it in her bag.

Kelly lifted her shirt for the balcony dwellers screaming for boobs and was rewarded richly with an onslaught of beads.

“Show ‘em yours,” she laughed, gathering up the plastic necklaces and slipping them over her head.

“I’m not that drunk,” Paige chuckled, smoothing her tank top over her breasts.

Revelers lined the sidewalks and spilled into the street. Bourbon Street. Paige stopped to watch a mime create the illusion of running into a wall and trying to climb over it.

“What? No beads?” the rich, deep voice said.

Paige looked to her left to find a tall, and very attractive, man smiling at her.

She hitched her thumb towards her chest. “Are you talking to me?”

“Yes. I’m wondering why a girl like you doesn’t have even one necklace around her neck.” He moved forward and held out a tacky gold and purple strand.

“I’m not flashing you,” she said with a grin.

“Wasn’t gonna ask you to. These are just because you’re pretty. No strings attached, so to speak.”

She reached out and took the beads, draping them over her head.

“Thanks.”

He offered his hand. “I’m Jeff. What’s your name?”

She shook his hand. “Paige.”

“Nice to meet you, Paige.”

“Likewise.”

“Would you and your friend like to join our party upstairs?” He pointed to the balcony one floor up where a group of people were dancing and drinking.

She looked for Kelly who was taking pictures of the mime with her cell phone. Jeff could be her chance to make this a weekend to remember. She touched Kelly’s arm and whispered in her ear. “We just got an invitation to a balcony party. What do you think?”

Looking over Paige’s shoulder, she said, “By the hot guy in the white t-shirt?”

“Yes.”

“Hell yeah, let’s go.”

They followed Jeff up the stairs and into a large room literally filled wall to wall with people. Some danced to the pulsing beat of an unfamiliar R&B tune while others loitered and talked loud trying to outdo the music. Cigarette smoke and the scent of tequila permeated the air.

Men immediately flocked to Kelly and she ate up the attention, flashing her brilliant smile and flipping her light brown hair.

Jeff took Paige by the hand and led her toward the balcony.

She stopped and stood on tiptoes to speak into his ear. “Do you know these people? I don’t want to leave her there by herself.”

“Everybody’s cool. This party is by invitation only. All guests were handpicked by yours truly.” He winked at her. “Can I get you a drink?”

Already tipsy from the giant Hurricane, she declined and let him lead her out to the balcony. He angled himself to the corner, standing behind her.

“You don’t look like a local,” he said.

“I’m not. I’m visiting from California. You?”

“Born and bred in New Orleans,” he answered, leaning closer.

The heat of his breath on her neck prickled her skin and she shivered.

“Are you cold?”

She looked over her shoulder at him. His brown eyes seared into her. “No.”

“Was that a good shiver then?” His hand squeezed her hip.

She nodded and he pulled her body back against his.

He grazed the side of her breast with his other hand and she sucked in her breath, looking around at the other people on the balcony. They were yelling at the partygoers below and tossing beads, drinking and dancing; completely oblivious to the tension quickly building inside her.

This is what you came here for.

This kind of excitement.

Go with it.

Let him take you there.

As if reading her mind, he cupped her breast and lightly circled the tip with his thumb. Her nipple hardened, sending ripples of pleasure straight to her pussy.

“Do you like that?” he whispered in her ear.

“Yes.”

“And this?” His other hand trailed up the back of her leg and under her skirt. His fingers teased the inside of her thigh.

“Yes,” she repeated on a whisper.

“Take these off.” He tugged at the elastic of her panties.

Glancing at the other people near them, she slipped the silky garment down her legs and kicked it off the side of the balcony.

He chuckled against her neck. “I was going to save those.”

“I’ll send you a pair.”

His erection pressed against her lower back as his hand slipped up her thigh again. Exploring her body, he ran his fingers over her lips, and around her slit.

“I love a smooth pussy.” He caressed her clit with his thumb. “Open your legs a little more, baby.”

All rational thought left her. She stepped her feet apart, opening herself as he asked. She didn’t care that there were fifteen other people a few feet away. Her knees weakened and every ounce of energy in her body gathered in her center, begging for release.

He slipped a finger inside her and she moaned.

“I’m going to make you come, right here.” His thumb pressed harder against her throbbing clit while his finger massaged the sensitive spot in her cunt.

“Oh, God,” she murmured, leaning her head back against his chest. The first spasm struck her like lightning and she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

“Mmm, that’s right. Come for me, Paige,” he demanded quietly, granting her no respite.

And she came…hard. Her body splintered and, if he hadn’t held on to her, she might have toppled over the railing.

Once she caught her breath, Jeff pulled his hand away and straightened her skirt. His lips brushed her neck. “Now that you’re good and wet, I’m going to take you inside and fuck you.”

No one had ever talked to her like that and she liked it. Her pussy ached with the need to have his cock.

Taking her hand, he guided her through the crowd to a room at the end of a long hallway. Once inside, he locked the door and wasted no time removing both their clothing. He eased her back on the quilt- covered bed and climbed on top of her. His mouth crushed against hers and she breathed in the scent of whiskey on his breath.

He layered kisses from her mouth to her neck and down to her breast. “Jesus, you’re beautiful.” He caught her nipple between his teeth and gently bit down while his hand kneaded her other breast.

She wrapped her fingers around his thick, hard cock and pulled him toward her. “I want you inside me…now,” she pleaded.

He brought his mouth back to hers and kissed her hard, his tongue skimming her teeth. Pushing two fingers into her, he spread her silky fluid around her opening.

“Tell me what you like,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“I-I don’t know,” she stammered.

“Sure you do,” he whispered, rubbing the head of his shaft against her pussy and over her clit. “Do you want me to hold you down? Hmm? Fuck you fast and hard? Or do you like it soft and sweet?”

Unaccustomed to telling anyone what she wanted, her need for him spurred her to speak up. “Fast and hard.”

“Good.” Pulling her hand away, he positioned himself at her opening and pinned her wrists above her head.

She couldn’t take her eyes off his face. From the hard angle of his jaw up to his shaved head, he was uncompromisingly sexy and so very different from anyone she’d been with.

Looming over her, his dark eyes narrowed. With one sure stroke, he buried his cock inside her.

She gasped, her breath catching in her throat. Her pussy stretched to accommodate his thickness and the friction set her on fire.

He pulled out and plunged into her again, establishing a steady rhythm until his body slapped against hers with each thrust.

He released her wrists and his hands roamed her body, teasing her nipples, rolling them between his thumb and finger while playing with her clit.

The orgasm hit her fast and she screamed. Her body melted like lava and erupted. The walls of her cunt clenched his cock, drawing him deeper.

“This pussy is so wet, so tight. I’m going to come.” He lifted her legs over his shoulders.

She held onto his biceps as he pumped into her furiously.

Concentration etched his face while he watched himself fuck her. Then he locked his eyes on her face just before letting out a guttural growl. Slamming into her one last time, he filled her with his warmth.

Breathing hard, he collapsed on top of her. His fingers tangled in her hair while he kissed her neck.

The afterglow began to wane.

What did I just do?

Way to go, Paige.

Now you’re a slut.

Jeff rolled off her. “Damn. That was fantastic.”

When she didn’t say anything, he looked at her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She sat up and clutched the quilt to her chest. “I’m not this kind of girl,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t know what got into me. I need to go.”

He touched her arm. “Hey. There’s nothing wrong with what we just did. We’re consenting adults.”

“I don’t have one night stands. I mean…I never have, not until now.” She put her head in her hands.

“I’m not judging you, Paige. And, depending on how long you’re in town, it doesn’t have to be a one night stand.” He winked at her and kissed her cheek. “Let me take you out to dinner and make an honest woman out of you.”

She couldn’t help herself and laughed out loud. “I think I’m supposed to make you buy me dinner first, but…oh, well. I guess dessert just can’t wait sometimes.”

Look for Melissa’s next short story on March 28, 2011!

~~*~~

~ Melissa Ecker ~

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Copyright © 2011 Melissa Ecker

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

Saturday lagniappe -- Except from Moon Bitten by Alice Gaines

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1546

This is from my new novella from Changeling Press, Moon Bitten

When Jared Scott wants to hunt a werewolf, he ends up prey, not predator…

Amanda chuckled and moved away toward one of the elliptical machines. After climbing on and adjusting the settings, she started moving. As Jared watched, her legs went into a bicycle sort of motion. Circular, as she bobbed up and down, one foot rising as she pushed down with the other.

What a sight she made. As she moved rhythmically, her muscles bunched and then stretched evenly. Her firm butt and thighs drew his gaze. Up, down. Contract, extend. How easy to imagine his cock between her legs, snug inside her as she slid up and down.

Probably a trick of his heated imagination, but a feminine musk seemed to permeate the air around her, reaching far enough to tickle at his nostrils. Self-deception on his part, or normal human reaction, as she’d put it, on hers?

He rose and approached her. She noticed him coming near and looked away, never slowing in her movement. The scent grew stronger the closer he got. Odd. He’d had more than a little experience with highly aroused women, as he always made sure his partners enjoyed themselves as much as he did. None had ever given off a perfume that went to his gut and down to his balls like this one did.

She was one powerful female who could lift as much as a man and apparently had as quick a trigger as he did, too.

He walked around to stand in front of the machine and look up at her. Her skin was definitely flushed, and her eyes had half closed. She looked for all the world as if she was pleasuring herself by pushing up and down. As if she was pressing her legs together to create pressure on her hot button.

He cleared his throat. “If we’re going to be perfectly frank…”

She opened her eyes fully and smiled at him. “Yes, Jared?”

“That reaction of mine… might you be experiencing the same thing?”

“I don’t have an erection.”

“True, but you might be getting…” Good Lord, what a conversation. He’d normally never say anything like this to a woman until they’d been intimate at least once.

Amanda didn’t seem put off but kept on bobbing up and down.

“… hot?”

“That’s as good a word as any. I might be getting hot.”

“Can I help?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Help?”

“Scratch what itches.” He cleared his throat. “As it were.”

“Do you think you can find the itch?” she said in a sultry contralto.

“Unless you’re built differently than other women, I guess I can.”

“Then give it a try.” He stepped closer to the machine and reached around it to slide his hand up the inside of her thigh. No wonder she gave off such a tantalizing scent. Her sex had already become wet enough to dampen his fingers. When he found her most sensitive spot, she quivered and stopped moving for a second.

“Am I on target?” he asked.

“Oh… um…”

He rubbed her gently, rolling the nub through the fabric of her leggings. “There?”

“Yes.” The word came out on a strangled cry. Then she resumed her movements, pumping with her legs. Upward and then down again, pressing her pussy into his hand on every downward thrust.

What an amazing sight she made, all sleek muscle and feminine curves, straining against his hand as her eyes closed in bliss and color crept over her cheeks and throat. Her chest took on the same glow, and her nipples hardened beneath the sports bra. He’d see that for himself -- because she was going to come, and soon. He hadn’t studied so many women approaching climax to miss the signs with this one. The rapid, shallow breathing that turned to gasps. The angling of the pelvis to get just the right friction. The wetness of her sex, spreading even to her thighs. Yes, he’d hear her cry of release in another minute, if it took even that long.

And there. She worked frantically for a moment, as if she couldn’t get enough. Staying with her, he kept rubbing her clit, even on her upswings. As her moisture spilled into his hand, she tensed, and a loud cry tore out of her chest. For several heartbeats, she held still while he finished her. Inside, her pussy would be convulsing, and his cock stiffened as if it could feel her gripping at his length.

When she’d finished, she bent over the machine’s controls, moaning.

Finally, he removed his hand from between her legs and brought it to his nose for a deep whiff of her perfume. “Lady, you are something else.”

She opened her eyes and fixed him with a blue gaze that took his breath away. Pure lust. Hunger like he’d never seen before. As if he’d confronted a wild animal that hadn’t eaten in weeks. An animal that could devour him. And right about now, that seemed about the most wonderful thing that could happen to him.

“I guess you’re not done with me,” he said.

She ran a fingertip down his forehead, along the length of his nose and finally placed it against his lips. “I wouldn’t want to wear you out.”

“I’m not tired,” he said. “I haven’t even started. There is one problem, though.”

She bit her lip in a way that made him ache to do the same. So, he did. Not biting exactly, but he caught the back of her head in his hand kissed her as if he’d make a meal of her instead of the other way around. She answered, and soon their mouths were battling for supremacy. Kiss after scalding kiss.

“What… oh, God… problem?” she breathed against his mouth.

He pulled away, shaking his head to clear it. “Gloria can’t keep the rest of them away forever.”

She took a few shuddering breaths. “You think you’ll need a long time?”

“Possibly.” Although how long that might be wasn’t exactly clear. His poor cock was throbbing and couldn’t take much more delay. “I don’t want to be rushed.”

“I wouldn’t worry. Gloria will take care of things. She’s probably standing outside right now.”

“Good old Gloria.” He extended his hand, and when she took it he helped her off the machine. She came to him willingly, twining her arms around him and offering her mouth for another kiss. This time their tongues joined in as, lower, their pelvises met, hers pressing against his erection.

Before she pushed him past the edge and had him coming in his shorts, he found the back clasp of her top and opened it. Now when he pushed away he could ease it off her arms and get a view of her breasts. Small and firm with rosy nipples already stiff. He took one into his mouth and used his thumb to tease the other.

Groaning, she stroked his face, and when he switched to the other breast, she wavered a bit. Unsteady on her feet, no doubt. Wait until he got his rod inside her.

First, the rest of the clothes would have to go, so he released her breast and knelt on the floor to untie her shoes and remove them and her socks. She placed her hand on his shoulder for balance and shimmied to help him guide her leggings downward to her ankles. When he got them past her feet and tossed them aside, the sweet, musky smell of her filled his nostrils, and for good reason. Her pussy with its black curls stood only inches from his nose.

Never one to miss an opportunity like that, he parted her legs and placed his face between them. One swipe of his tongue found her clit, and he toyed with it until she whimpered. This time when it seemed her knees would give out, he supported her, wrapping his arms around her legs as he feasted on her cream.

She tasted even better than she smelled -- hot, clean woman aroused past the point of any resistance. He could make her come this way, and sometime in the near future, he would. For the next orgasm, he’d feel her spasms around his cock from the head all the way down his shaft. So when her cries came louder and faster, he released her and rose to hold her against him.

The gym didn’t offer anything like a bed, but a massage table nearby could be the right height. He guided her there and bent her over the end. Now her fabulous butt came into full view, complete with the folds between her legs just waiting to slide around his cock as he pressed into her.

“Jared,” she whispered. “Fuck me.”

Copyright Alice Gaines

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1546

http://www.alicegaines.blogspot.com/

authoralicegaines@yahoo.com

The Voluptuous Correspondence of Lady X - Installment Three

The Voluptuous Correspondence of Lady X - Installment Three

by Alice Gaines

My dearest Richard,

How odd to sit at a desk and pick up pen and paper to write a letter to a man who at this moment lies asleep in the room just next to mine. Still, I feel I must record the tumble of emotions that has filled me since your arrival this afternoon. First, the terrible yearning…to be in your presence and not be able to find my way into your arms and tip my face up for a kiss. Of course, I can do no such thing without risking our being discovered. As much as my sister loves me, she’d feel obliged to tell my husband all. He’d forbid me to go anywhere near you, and all would be lost.

Of course, the yearning meets its equal at the utter joy of having you here. At least, I can see your face and hear your voice. And, I can catch your lusty glances at me when no one is looking. Each one sends a current of excitement from my heart downward to the parts of me that most crave you. You truly want me. I haven’t imagined all the wonderful images in your letters. With every contact of your gaze with mine, I remember how you wrote of stroking your rod. The image of it growing livid in your hand steals my breath. I’m sure my cheeks must have colored a dozen or more times at dinner. If anyone had commented, I would have had to invent a malady to explain my constant flushing. If you noticed, I’m sure you would have understood the meaning of the state of my skin.

Most of all, I’m sure you’ll understand my body has craved you as much as my mind. From the moment I settled my gaze on you again, my senses have reeled with the memory of the kiss we shared at our last meeting and with the promise of what we’ll enjoy tomorrow afternoon at our appointed hour in the gardener’s cottage. Oh, tomorrow! How can I make my poor puss wait? How will she ever bear it?

In truth, and here I blush with embarrassment to tell you, I couldn’t wait. The ache between my thighs wouldn’t let me sleep, and I absolutely must be at my best for our assignation. So, only moments ago, I took off every stitch of my clothing and slipped into my bed. The feel of the sheets against my naked skin was already a new sensual experience. I marveled at the smoothness of the cotton and the pressure against my nipples. Promise me that someday we’ll spend a night together snuggled nude under the covers.

So, while I lay there, craving you so much that my sex had already grown moist, I let my hand travel over my belly, down and down until it covered my sex. I’ve never touched myself there before, and I could not have guessed at the power of my reaction. My hips nearly floated off the bed, and only the weight of the covers kept me in place. I discovered the hard little nub that is my pearl. X has touched it before, but society has so many more rules for women than it does for men. Now, and truthfully only because of the freedom of expression our correspondence has given me, I could explore my own body. I find that when I'm fully aroused, this organ peeks out from between the lips of my sex. No wonder I become so sensitive when reading your letters. No wonder shifting in my seat sends my arousal higher. I'm pressing this part of me, so exquisitely sensitive, against a hard surface with every movement.

But, back to my tale. I could now manipulate my pearl, rubbing and rolling it between my fingers. I found that gentle strokes created a tension that I could maintain for long moments. As I did, I pictured how things will happen between us tomorrow. I know I'll be shy at first, but you'll undress me gently, reassuring me as you go that I'm beautiful and that you want me as much as you want your next breath. Your kisses on the skin you expose will create a fire inside me, merely embers at first but eventually building to flames hot enough to burn away any doubt, any inhibition.

And then, oh Richard, then, I'll have to tear what clothes you still wear from your body so that I can finally enjoy the beauty of your sex. Weigh it in my palms, pet it, watch it swell and stand proudly, ready to find its rightful place inside my chamber. As I imagined that glorious moment, the gentle stroking against my clitoris no longer satisfied. Though I would have delayed the inevitable to prolong the enjoyment, my sex demanded satisfaction.

I increased the pressure, now tugging lightly on the rigid nub until the sounds of my breathing came harsh to my ears. I soared, climbing higher. Even in those blissful seconds, I still needed your cock inside me to make the joy complete. How much better to feel your thrusting and hear your pleasure sounds as the climax approached.

I succumbed finally. At the last moment, I pictured how the semen would leave your cock as you spent. I pictured you in the throes of your own passion as the orgasm overtook me. I cried out into the empty bedroom as my sex grasped at nothing. I need you to fill me, my darling.

Now then, I'll close this letter and creep out into the hallway to slip it under your door so that you'll find it in the morning. I've arranged with the gardener to have his cottage available to us late in the afternoon when the others are resting before dressing for dinner. That's the time when we're least likely to be missed. Until then, let the anticipation build.

All my love and passion is yours,
X

*

My precious X,

What a scamp you are to leave such delicious torment inside the door of my room where I would find it hours before I can finally have some release. You must remember that the tension’s been building inside me ever since you wrote to tell me that the time for our first coupling had been arranged. If I hadn't seen your lovely face and recognized you for the angel you are, I'd have to contemplate the possibility that you were instead some devil created to taunt me and tempt me beyond endurance.

How a day could have so many hours in it defies understanding when normal days rush by in a blur. Once I'd found the gardener's cottage, I had to endure the rest of the morning and then luncheon and then more hours and then tea. Finally, our time arrived.

My darling, I propose that we both write out our memories of that perfect encounter so that we'll have the narratives to comfort us when the inevitable time to part arrives. I'll begin below. Because we'll be here together for some days, I'll take my time and record our first encounter in installments. I'm sure by the time I leave we will have found other opportunities for lustful play. But, our first will remain the most precious, I think, and the one most in need of memorializing.

We met at the appointed time. As we agreed, I left the house several minutes before you so that no one would see us going out together. Once in the cottage, I paced the floor in an agony of anticipation. Had I left too early? Had you changed your mind? Had someone detained you, and if they had, would they keep you long enough to make our meeting impossible?

And then, there you were, eagerly rushing into my arms. Priapus hardened at our first kiss as your body pressed against mine. You'll have to wait, I fear, to watch him become erect because every time I see you, touch you, or even think about you, he thickens and hardens.

As soon as I had you, finally, blissfully, erotically all to myself, I freed you from your clothing. Your body...where will I find words adequate to describe your beauty? There are none. First, your shoulders. Soft skin, like velvet beneath my lips. Your breasts, so perfectly formed. I could have wept with wonder over the nipples as they hardened into tight peaks when I sucked them into my mouth.

I went lower, dropping to my knees. I know you guessed my destination because you tensed. But, you trusted me and allowed me to continue. As I eased your legs apart, you swayed. But, I held you, circling your hips with my arms as I covered your sex with my mouth. Your pearl does, indeed, protrude from between the lips of your pussy when you become aroused. I had no trouble finding it, kissing it, and loving it with my tongue.

My darling, this is all I dare to write for now as my valet will be in shortly to help me dress for dinner. While we sit at table and make conversation about the weather, the countryside, and any other number of topics that matter not a whit, know that I'm just across from you with an insistent erection that will only find satisfaction the next time it can feel the heat and wetness of your pussy fold around it.

As ever,
Your besotted Richard.
Copyright Alice Gaines
Alice's website
E-mail Alice

Gold Rush Dreams and Jaded Ladies

Content Advisory: Adult situations and prostitution.

Lottie went to the diggings.

With Lottie we must be just.

If she didn’t shovel tailings,

Where’d she get her dust?

On August 6, 1898 the rumored arrival of a ship loaded with over two tons of gold and sixty-eight newly wealthy miners spread like fire through the Seattle area. Within hours sensible men had quit their jobs, dedicated men had left their families, and fortune hunters had spent their last dime on supplies, all with the intention of journeying into the harsh beauty of the Yukon to grab their piece of the pot.



Chilkoot Pass



But men were not the only adventurous souls to set their sights on the golden dream. Women of every social station shed their mundane routines and joined the swarm of men on the treacherous trip up north and the deadly thirty-three mile trek over the Chilkoot Pass and into Dawson City.

Restricted by Victorian morality, the Klondike Gold Rush was just the excuse these daring and sometimes desperate women needed to leave a life of security or poverty, and embrace an unknown and exciting future. Any hardships they would face were well worth the trouble when the possibility of wealth and independence was the payoff.

But as so often happens, the glimmering promise of gold dimmed once the women realized there were no respectable jobs to be found. Though it was legal to file a claim under a woman’s name, it was still considered improper. Mining was backbreaking work and unless paired with a man, the chore often proved too difficult.

If a woman was lucky, she might find a job as a laundress for $5 a day plus room and board, or a housekeeper for $12 a week plus room an board. But with the skyrocketing cost of supplies and rent, it became impossible for these hardy females to buy a simple meal.

What’s a girl to do? Go home? Many had spent their last dollar on their arduous journey and arrived in Dawson City broke and hungry. Suicide? Sadly, this was too often the path chosen by the desperate. With the gender rate reaching ten-thousand men to eight-hundred women, the choice became obvious. Like the devil holding the answer to their survival, the brothels, dancehalls, and saloons became a haven for the girls and women who were so far from home.

With companionship in short supply and gold dust overflowing, many of these working girls embraced their life and learned how to work the system. Dance hall or commission girls earned approximately $40 a week plus, 25% commission on any drinks sold, 50% on dances, and $7.50 on a pint of champagne. One commission girl reported that on her best night she earned $750 simply by talking to a lonely miner.

“The poor ginks just gotta spend it. They’re scared they’ll die before they get it out of the ground.”

                                                                                                                                          Diamond Tooth Gertie Lovejoy

Prostitutes earned $3 to every dollar earned by the dancehall girls. The clever strumpet used her own scale to weigh the gold dust she received in trade for her companionship. The standard four ounces of gold, or $64, for fifteen minutes often measured out more to the tune of eight ounce by the time she finished weighing the miner’s payment.

“A Dawson City girl did not need good looks. She needed stamina, a cold, calculating eye, and utter ruthlessness.”

Cy Martin

Not everybody like the bawdy women and their practices, but most accepted them as a necessary evil. Several of the showgirls in Dawson garnered quite a name for themselves and lived the life of their dreams.



Klondike Kate



Klondike Kate, or Kathleen Rockwell as friends and family in Spokane, Washington knew her, grew up as a rebellious teenager, preferring an independent spirit over social rules and learning.

It’s rumored when Kate was denied entrance into Canada on her way to Alaska, she donned boys clothing and hopped onboard a boat heading to the Yukon. Once in Dawson City, Kate found her niche’ and became a local celebrity by performing her famed Flame Dance. With elegant and graceful moves, Kate managed to keep two-hundred yards of chiffon airborne for the duration of her dance. In her first year in the Klondike, Kate earned thirty-thousand dollars and secured a place for herself among the citizens of Dawson City.

Diamond Tooth Gertie Lovejoy headlined at the Palace Grand Theater during her stint in Dawson. Though she ended up marrying a respectable lawyer who had been her client, polite society never accepted Gertie as one of them. Perhaps the diamond jammed between her front teeth had something to do with the social snub.

Not far behind the sinner travels the saint. Church-going women soon arrived on the scene, rolled up their sleeves, and tried to help out or cast out the soiled doves. But the roots of prostitution and the need of the miners had burrowed too deep to eradicate the practice completely. The Reformists were somewhat successful in relocating the red-light district to the edge of town and building a tall green fence around the area. However, their efforts could never fully purge the city of sin.

“Of all the predatory, gold digging, disease-eaten, crooked female devils this side of Hell, the worst were in the Klondike in the early days.”

                                                                                                        E.C. Trewlawney-Ansell

Six prostitutes in Dawson City

As the discovery of gold in Fairbanks drew more miners, the prostitutes followed, as did the Reformists. Thomas Marquam, a brilliant criminal attorney quickly made a name for himself by defending the prostitutes, gamblers, and bar owners in the area. He also became the editor of the Fairbanks Times and was later elected as the mayor.

After the death of his wife, Marquam sought solace in the red-light district and namely in the arms of Ray Alderman. His affair with the prostitute was well known throughout Fairbanks but didn’t cause him problems until Fairbanks became the focus of a visit from the president of the United States, Warren G. Harding.

A delegation of irate matrons confronted Marquam and demanded he end the tawdry relationship with that woman. They argued his association with her would make the citizens of Fairbanks a laughing stock. Taking their dispute to heart, Marquam asked Ray Alderman to be his wife and she accepted. Much to the meddling harpies’ consternation, Ms. Alderman not only became the first lady of Fairbanks, but also the first lady in the reception party for President Warren G. Hardy. One must wonder if Thomas Marquam thought, “Take that you old battleaxes.”

Though landing a husband was like shooting fish in a barrel, many of the women decided they liked the independent life prostitution afforded them. Gussie Lamore, a nineteen year old prostitute, turned down a miner by the name of Bill Gates who offered to pay her her weight in gold if she married him.

She replied, “Independence is a good deal too.”

Miss Violet Raymond was the undisputed belle of the camp. Once the reining queen of burlesque in Juneau, the owner of The Gold Hill Hotel paid an enormous amount for her to move to Dawson City and perform.

“Her admirers numbered by the score,” reported gold king, Antone Stander, Violet’s future husband. To woo her away from the limelight, Stander bought every diamond in the camp and presented them to Miss Violet in a necklace that hung nearly to her knees. He also gifted her with $20,000 in gold dust, a lard bucket full of odd-shaped gold nuggets, and offered her $1000 a month allowance if she married him.

“I make good money—but not that good,” replied Violet.

They were married a short time later.

Klondike Kate is the only good-time girl to receive any recognition for her part in the Yukon Gold Rush. In 1931, wearing the $1500 Parisian dress she wore during her glory days in Dawson City, Kate was honored by over a thousand aging pioneers.

Many of the Gold Rush sirens and wealthy prospectors found joy in each others arms for short span of time, but few were able to keep the flames of passion burning once they left the wild atmosphere of the mining camps. Greed and suspicion replaced all-consuming passion and the very gold that brought the lovers together, soon tore them apart. Divorce, swindles, gambling, and even murder litter the pages of history for these unfortunate gold rush marriages.

Praying the north still held the key to happiness, many penniless Gold Rush veterans traveled back to Alaska in hopes of regaining their fortune. Few ever achieved the measure of success they’d previously experienced, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.

Like the thousands of men who journeyed into the unknown to find their fortunes, these spirited females of the Klondike fought and slaved for their part of the dream. Gold Rush history would not be nearly so colorful or interesting without these jaded ladies.

~Boone Brux~

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Copyright © 2011 Boone Brux

Nip ‘n’ Tuck

Content advisory: oral sex

Gabby Brown heard the distant ding of the bell above the shop door and checked her watch. Noon. At last. She’d been nervous all morning, stuck her fingers with pins until the pads tingled. She’d ushered out the last customer fifteen minutes ago, then hurried to the restroom to run her fingers through her curly hair and gloss her lips. She wore her “uniform”—a cardigan over a plain, button-down blouse, a dark, knee-length skirt and comfortable shoes. The clamps she’d attached to her nipples were concealed beneath her padded bra. The slim, short vibrator was already inside her; the remote tucked into a pocket of her sweater.

She glanced at her reflection.

I can do this, she told herself. It wasn’t as though they were complete strangers. Perhaps she didn’t know what he looked like, but he’d learned her secrets, her passions, while sharing his own. He’d slowly stoked a fire inside her, promising her a discreet thrill. The first of many.

For a woman who had somehow let her youth slip by, the chance to live out a few of her favorite fantasies was too enticing to ignore. He’d promised an elicit pleasure. A test run, of sorts. To save embarrassment or hurt feelings, they’d also agreed to hold off discussing future engagements until they could meet again that evening, online. And because she’d admitted she was shy about revealing her body this first time, she would remain fully clothed.

Leaving the bathroom, she pulled back the curtain separating the store from her fitting room. Her glance landed on the long lean body faced away, looking at the ugly plaid golf trousers. When his hand reached for the hanger, she smiled. Their pre-arranged signal.

Forcing her smile away, she entered the room and strode quietly up behind him.

When she stood beside his shoulder, she enjoyed the fact she had to tilt back her head to meet his gaze. He was bigger than she’d thought he’d be. “Would you like to try them on?”

The face that turned her way was more handsome than he’d led her to believe. A strong, angular chin, a blunt nose. Dark thick eyebrows framed a pair of curious brown eyes.

A frown dug a line between those dark eyebrows, then his gaze flicked to hers again. “The pants are ugly as hell,” he murmured.

“I’ll help you with them, if you like. Try them on for size,” she said, suddenly breathless, flirting with her eyes and lips. She bit her bottom lip, then released it with a little laugh.

His answering smile melted her. It was crooked, and dug a dimple into one cheek.

Eager now, she grabbed the hanger, clamping her hand around his fingers, and tugged him along. “Come with me.”

And he did, much to her relief. There was no sign he was disappointed with her appearance. No reluctance in the drag of his feet. Just a quirk of his eyebrows and a quick glance around the shop.

“Don’t worry. We’ll know if anyone comes in. I’ll be quick.”

He cleared his throat, but ducked through the curtain to follow her inside her little room.

She knew what he saw. A dingy little airless room. A sewing machine on a dented table. A rack crammed full of clothing she’d already mended, shortened, let out…. She was a seamstress—not a sexy job, not until he’d convinced her otherwise.

“This is where you work?” he asked, his voice sounding slightly bemused.

She lifted a shoulder. She’d warned him it wasn’t much. “I make a living.”

“Doing... alterations?”

“Exactly. But we don’t have a lot of time. Marlon will be back from lunch in half an hour.” She lifted her chin toward the pants still clutched in his hands. “Try them on. We’ll discuss the fitting.”

“Right here?”

“If you’re shy, you can use the restroom, but there’s no need. Not with me.”

He gave a slight snort, shook his head, but set the pants on her work table. He took off his sports coat, loosened his tie, and then toed off his well-shined black shoes. When his hands paused at his belt buckle, and his gaze rested on her for a long moment, she decided to make this a little easier for him.

She strode toward him, shooed away his hands, and holding his gaze, she unbuttoned his waistband and slid the zipper down.

A muscle straddling his jaw flexed. “You’re very pretty,” he whispered.

“Thanks for saying that. I hardly ever go to the bother of makeup, but I wanted to look special today,” she admitted.

“Today’s special,” he said, his voice uninflected.

“Yes." Grabbing his waistband, she dragged his pants off his hips. Her gaze dropped to the erection tenting his boxers. “Very special,” she said softly.

His trousers fell around his ankles, and she knelt to hold them while he stepped out. She liked his legs, liked the dark hair cloaking his olive skin, the muscle tensing in his thighs as she stood, her hands grazing him lightly as she came up.

She reached for the bright green golf pants and dangled them off a finger.

His eyebrows rose.

“Like we agreed. Put them on.”

“But….”

She shook her head. “Let me work… first.”

He blew out a slow breath, and then pulled the pants on, one leg at a time, hopping a bit when he was unbalanced.

Her gaze ate him up, watched the bounce of his thickening cock. Red splotches bloomed on his cheeks, and she heard his soft curse. She suppressed a grin. He was being a good sport about this. She’d been the one to design the scenario. Something she’d always fantasized about doing to a stranger, but had never had the courage to try. Not until “TallDarkBanker” teased her in a private chat room into revealing her innermost desires.

The ugly plaid slid up his thighs. He closed the waist, then set his hands on his hips and glared down his legs in disgust. “Really? Who buys these?”

She giggled, then reached into her pocket to hand him the remote.

His eyes blinked, but a thumb flicked the on button. The sound of the vibrator, although muffled, was unmistakable.

As was her sudden lurch. She rested a hand on her belly. “Try for a gentler setting,” she said, her breaths gusting until he tapped the button twice more.

His gaze slid down her body.

Her knees were clamped tight, and she eased her stance as the vibrations settled into a softer hum.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up her tape measure, slid her pincushion over her wrist and knelt at his feet. Keeping her head down, she cleared her throat. “To what side do you dress, sir?”

“To what side…?”

Gabby lifted a brow then stared steadily at his crotch.

“Ah… to the left.”

She pinched the fabric between her fingers, tugging it taut to reveal the shape of his thick cock as it lay against his thigh. She plucked a pin from her pincushion and folded the fabric, creating a pouch that emphasized his cock. She stuck a pin into the fold to hold it.

His thigh twitched. “Careful with those.”

“I’m very, very good,” she said. Then gliding a finger along the seam just behind his balls, she dragged her fingertip up the divide between his firm buttocks, ignoring his hissing breath and the clench of his firm buttocks, and leaned closer. She pulled the fabric tighter, the seam sinking between his cheeks.

“Anyone actually wear them this way?” he asked, his voice rising.

A smile tugged her lips. “I’m just getting your measure.”

“Better make sure you leave more room then,” he growled softly.

A grin tugged at her mouth. “You’re right, sir. I should see how much fabric I should leave… for comfort.” She let go of the fabric, removed the pin at his thigh and efficiently unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Then standing close to his chest, pressing against him to increase the pressure on her clamped nipples, she slid her palms inside the back of his pants and beneath the waist of his boxers, and smoothed them both down his buttocks. When she’d pulled all the material down his thighs, she glanced up to gauge his reaction.

His skin was stretched across his sharp-boned cheeks. His gaze was just as hard-edged and focused on her mouth.

Just as they’d agreed, she leaned toward his cock, letting her eyelids drift down halfway, and breathed in his scent as she rubbed her cheek against his satiny shaft.

“Fuck me,” he muttered softly.

“Now, that’s not part of the plan today. But this is nice, isn’t it?”

“Nice?”

She liked the breathless edge of his voice. Liked the subtle forward thrust of his hips. An unmistakable hint that he was growing restless.

As was she. Moisture oozed from inside her. She tugged the back of her skirt to keep it from getting soaked and eased down to sit on her heels.

Gabby sank her nose in the crisp, curling hairs at his groin. She dragged her tongue from the root of his cock up to the soft bulb at the end, taking her time to learn the places that made him tighten and gasp. Slicking over the cap, she flicked the narrow slit, then dipped the tip of her tongue inside.

“Jesus… fuck.” His hand landed on her head, patting her hair as though he hadn’t quite committed.

Like a cat, she tipped her head against his palm, nudging him, encouraging him to rake her hair with his fingers. The vibrations rattling inside her intensified and she lifted sleepy eyes to see him watching her expression. She smiled.

When he pulled her hair, at last, she told him wordlessly how pleased she was. She opened her mouth and took him inside. She rose slightly higher to angle her head downward because his erection, which was pulling upward and hardening further, crowded into her mouth as he stroked with more depth and intensity.

Her “customer” muttered under his breath and pulled her hair, his hips pumping with full force now into her mouth, cramming against the back of her throat.

She tightened her lips around him and began to suck hard, pulling, growling, her hands sliding up and down his reddened stalk. He’d told her he liked a little twist, so she gave him a double-fisted one, a firm, clockwise tug that had him rising on his toes and powering harder into her mouth.

Without a boyfriend for far too long, Gabby had missed so many things. But when “Tall” had asked her what she wanted most, it had been this act. Something about a man’s body, so different from her own—the musky smell, the silk and steel textures—were what she’d missed most.

All the while she happily licked and sucked, the internal revving hum built, tension curling deep inside her belly.

In the distance, she heard the tinkle of the doorbell. Coming off him, she leaned toward the curtain, and pulled it back just a couple of inches. A man was walking through the store, glancing toward the suits and slacks lined along the far wall. She dropped the curtain, and tilted back her head. “Think you can be quiet?” she whispered.

“Can you?” he asked, his voice clipped, tight. A hand cupped his balls and massaged them.

She sprang to her feet, grasped his shaft and pulled him farther into her little room, backing him up to the table. Then she knelt again, swallowed him whole, and bobbed quickly forward and back, doing her best to do so quietly, but the sexy, slurping noises filled the tiny airless space.

His breaths seemed overloud too—short, ragged gasps that quickened the deeper and faster she bobbed. But she’d planned this. Looked forward for too long to let a little thing like a random customer, another stranger, intrude upon her fantasy.

Inside her mouth, her tongue swept up and down his steely length, her lips firmed to suck harder. Her hands pumped up and down his slick shaft, grinding around him until his fingers dug into her scalp, his body shuddered and he gave a quiet, chopped gasp and jerked against her.

Cum filled the back of her throat and she murmured, liking the taste of him, liking the thick, gluey liquid that coated her tongue. The vibrator rocked inside her, pulsing to her own contractions, and then a slow wave of heat swept over her, prickling her skin, catching her breath. She came quietly and slowed her motions, reluctant to end their play.

But a footstep sliding on grit outside the curtain caught her attention.

Gabby came off him one last time, a long tendril of moisture connecting them until his thumb wiped it from her mouth.

He handed her the remote, which she switched off. Their gazes held for a long moment, and then she dipped her head, hiding a very satisfied smile.

“I don’t like the pants,” he whispered.

“They’re ugly as hell,” she agreed.

“But I need a tux for a friend’s wedding.”

She understood the code even though she was surprised that he’d decided to ignore their preset rule. They settled on another “date” as he redressed in the trousers he’d arrived in and she stood watching, combing her hair with her fingers.

He kissed her, then gave her a wink and let himself out. Gabby collapsed on a stool, her legs weak. Her mouth and jaw sore—and so pleased with herself, she didn’t move from her spot for a very, very long time.

Dear “NipnTuck,” I snuck into your shop today, wanting to watch you before I announced my presence. Imagine my surprise when another man arrived and headed straight to the green golf pants. I wondered for the moment if you’d decided to leap ahead to the next scenario we discussed, sex in front of strangers, but you spoke to him as though you thought it was me. I almost announced my presence, but you were so adorable, so confident, I decided to see how far the gentlemen let you go.

To my delight, he followed you inside your fitting room. I inched open the curtain to watch—my favorite fetish as you know. You didn’t disappoint, dear Nip. You were lovely, disheveled, and your expression when you came left me hard all afternoon.

If you don’t mind, and if you think you can keep him in the dark, I’d love to watch him fuck you when he comes back on Tuesday for his next fitting.

* * *

Copyright © 2011 Delilah Devlin

Delilah Devlin
Ravished by a Viking — "Perfect Read." Fresh Fiction
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* * *

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

Lord of Shadows Part Four

Lord of Shadows is an ongoing serial story.

Content advisory: oral sex, m/f sex

Recap: In part three, Tierney and Sarah met in the gardens behind an abandoned house to engage in sex.

Lord of Shadows

~ Four ~

Nickie Asher

Tierney slipped through the shadows, ravenously hungry and out of patience, searching for a suitable victim. He ghosted around the rear corner of Marsden’s Hotel and stopped dead.

A young woman stood directly in his path. Dressed in a scarlet gown with cascades of raven hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back, she was a vision of loveliness, and a potential meal.

The scent of jasmine enveloped her. The sweet, enticing fragrance brought a memory of his mother’s lush gardens with a clarity that hurt. It must have reflected on his face.

“Are you all right?” she asked and took a step toward him.

His ears buzzed and he shook his head slightly to clear the annoying sound.

“Is something wrong?” She reached and caught his arm.

“Wh—“ He stumbled a little. He hadn’t even known he’d taken a step toward her.

“Come, let me help you,” she said and tugged gently. “There’s a bench just inside the garden where you can rest.” She steered him toward a small, delicate looking gate, through it and toward a bench where he sank down. He rubbed his forehead. Something wasn’t right but he couldn’t process his thoughts well enough to decipher what was wrong.

“You look unwell. Do you live nearby? I can help you home.”

“No—no, I don’t live. . . anywhere around here. Been out walking.” He rubbed his temple. His head hurt and wasn’t that odd? He hadn’t had a headache since before he was turned.

“What’s your name, hon?” Her words sounded thin and very distant.

“Tierney,” he stammered.

“Tierney what?”

He looked at her stupidly. “I—I can’t remember?”

A shadow flitted across her features. Or had it? He wasn’t sure of anything other than something was very, very wrong.

“I’m Isabo,” she said.

“Maybe you better come with me. I have a room here.” She nodded slightly at the hotel. You need to sit down and have a drink or something,” she said with a sly grin. “You’re very handsome. I wouldn’t mind spending a little time with you while you. . .recuperate.

No! What would Sarah think? But Sarah wasn’t there and something was wrong with him. The buzzing in his ears increased as if to prove it.

She held out her hand. “Come, let me help you.”

Without even knowing how it happened, her warm hand enveloped his in a surprisingly strong hold. “Come on,” she coaxed.

He stood on wobbly legs. “What’s wrong with me?” he hissed. He was a long way from home and it was late. He needed to feed and get the hell out of there. Maybe that was all it was. Maybe a meal would make him feel better. After all that’s what he’d come here for.

And he had a willing victim wanting to take him to her room. What could be better than that?

“You’ll be fine,” she said. “Just come and let me help you. I know a little about healing.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “My grandmother was a skilled healer. She taught me some things.” She tugged at him. “Come.”

He allowed her to lead him beside her.

His legs felt funny, unstable and weak. Twice he stumbled before she led him into the hotel through a back door. Vaguely he noticed a woman behind a counter staring at his companion with open disapproval. It was understandable. No unmarried lady would bring a man to her room.

He felt the woman’s stare drill into his back as his benefactress led him carefully up a flight of steps.

“Careful,” she said. “The stairs are steep.” She sounded very far away.

The maddening buzz in his ears increased as the steps shimmered under his feet. He stumbled. Somehow she caught him before he fell. With one hand gripping the banister and her other arm around his waist, she kept both of them from tumbling down the stairs. She trembled under the strain of holding him upright.

He grabbed onto the railing and took his weight off her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You’ll be fine. You just need some of my herbs to clear your head.”

He shook his head. He couldn’t ingest anything but blood and keep it down. It was bad enough that he was about to pass out on her, throwing up would be the final touch.

“I know,” she crooned. “You’re afraid you’ll be sick. You won’t. It’ll stay down. Trust me.”

Apprehension wormed its way through him. “What do you mean?”

She laughed softly. “Men are such babies about illness. I’ve treated enough to know you’re afraid of being ill in front of a woman you don’t know. It’s all right if you get sick. I’ve seen it before. But you are worrying for nothing. My herbs are gentle.”

He relaxed a little. For a moment he’d thought she was on to him.

At the top of the stairs she led him down the hallway to the last room on the right. She unlocked the door and ushered him inside. The room was sparse and plain. The only splash of color was a gold and red coverlet on the bed.

She led him to the bed then pulled the coverlet and blankets down.

“Sit,” she commanded.

He did, suddenly feeling like a child.

She grabbed the valise and rummaged through it. She withdrew a small bottle and uncapped it. “Drink this down.” She offered it to him.

He looked at it then at her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Nonsense. It will make you feel better.”

“No. Really. I’ll be sick if I drink that.”

“Okay then. But I wish you’d give me a chance.”

“I’m already feeling a little better.” It was true. He’d started feeling a tad better the moment he’d sat down. Perhaps he’d just needed to get off his feet.

Vampires don’t get sick. A little voice in his head whispered. Something is very, very wrong with this.

“Get those boots off,” she said. “You need to relax.”

He removed them and then she began working on his clothing. She had his jacket off in seconds then she started on his shirt.

Sarah. . .

He shouldn’t let her disrobe him but he was powerless to stop her. It was as if his willpower had vanished and compliance had stepped into its place.

What’s wrong with me?

Her nimble fingers worked the buttons of his shirt loose and she shoved it aside. Her warm hands landed on his chest then slowly ran down to his stomach.

Her skin was soft as silk and he leaned into her touch, craving more contact.

A slow smirk spread over her face. She reached for his pants, working the buttons loose. Then she stepped between his spread legs and lowered onto her knees.

Shocked, dismayed, and very aroused, he stared at her. Sick or not, his cock hadn’t failed to take notice of her obvious intentions. He was rock hard already.

She might be a healer as she claimed, but healing wasn’t the only thing on her mind.

Her hands fluttered back to his chest where they stroked over his skin, leaving warm trails. She touched his hard nipples, stroking lightly over the little peaks. Then she bent and pressed a kiss to his belly, just above his navel.

A slight moan escaped him.

Sarah.

He wanted to stop her. Wanted to push her away. But something kept him immobile.

She licked upward, slowly dragging her soft tongue over his skin.

Her jasmine fragrance, thick and intoxicating at her close proximity wrapped him in a heady blanket of scent. He breathed it in and an immediate easing of his churning stomach made him do it again.

His head spun with her scent and what she was doing to him.

“Relax and let me take care of you,” She whispered and planted another kiss on his stomach. “I’ll make it all better. I’ll make you feel good.”

He arched his back, pushing into her kisses. Her mouth was like warm silk on his skin.

Sarah.

“Shh, don’t worry about it, lover. It’s good. No one will mind. This is just between us.”

Her words had taken on a strange hypnotic quality. He was supposed to have that effect. No one was supposed to do it to him. Never the less, she had him wrapped in some kind of unnatural bonds. He should have been afraid but he wasn’t. What kind of woman could dominate a vampire?

His engorged cock ached with need.

“It’s okay,” she soothed. “I know what you want. I know what you need.”

He moaned.

“Your girl need never know.”

How the hell did she know he had a girl?

“Just think of it as me helping you? You want to feel better don’t you?”

He nodded much like a little boy.

“Well then, I can help.”

“What’s wrong with me? What have you done?”

Her hands caressed down his chest to his stomach then slipped to his sides where they held him. “I’ve done nothing. I was simply there when you became ill. It isn’t anything to be concerned about.”

“But I don’t get sick.”

“Everything gets sick. Even great predators. As you see.”

His heart beat too fast. “You know what I am?”

“Not exactly, but I know you aren’t a common human. You are somehow special.”

He relaxed a bit. Then Sarah’s face popped into his mind.

“No. I can’t do this. Sarah. . .”

“Sarah won’t know. You need this.”

His insides twisted at the same moment pain slashed behind his eyes.

It must have showed because she leaned in and said, “Aw see, I knew you were suffering. Now let me help.” She placed her hands at his temples and heat spread out from the points of contact. A little sigh escaped him.

“See, already you feel a little better. Do you not?”

“Yes, a little. Thank you.”

She rubbed gently, taking away the pain and pressure in his head like magic. He closed his eyes. Her hands slipped lower and her fingers plunged into his hair. Eyes still closed, he felt her shift closer, felt her warmth, then her mouth pressed to his in a light kiss.

He kissed back.

She moved into him, leaning against his bare chest and stomach, pressing into his crotch. Her kiss became demanding as she licked along his lower lip. He opened and her tongue delved into his mouth.

His fangs ached with the need to extend. He fought done the urge as his tongue tangled with hers. Hunger thrummed through him and the instinct to feed almost unwound his resolve.

Warm hands slipped inside his shirt and wrapped around him. She stroked his back in gentle sweeps.

He pulled her close and reached behind her. Finding a row of tiny round buttons, his fingers blazed through them. After freeing the last button, he grasped the gown and brought it down over her arms. To his surprise, he discovered bare flesh under the red silk.

Her pert breasts sprang from the binding dress.

“Lovely,” he whispered and bent toward her. His mouth fastened over one taut nipple. He licked over the hard bud, teasing the warm flesh with quick strokes.

A throaty moan encouraged him to continue. He pulled her closer as his tongue laved the peak, swirling around the nipple then stroking over the top.

Hands closed on his hair and pulled. He nipped then licked over the little nick. Her gasp of pleasure warmed his ear as her breath blow over his skin.

She released his hair and went for his trousers.

He wanted her. Wrong or not. Strange or not. The scent of her arousal punctuated her desire and enflamed his. He wanted in her and he was going to have her.

Her nimble fingers darted into his pants and captured his length. She freed him and then stroked along his shaft with gentle but insistent motion. His moan of pleasure brought a firmer, faster stroke as she worked his cock.

A droplet formed at the head. She stopped and glanced up at him, meeting his gaze. Her azure eyes sparkled with an inner brightness. A smile spread over her face then she bent over him, her hair falling to obscure what she was doing.

Warm wetness touched the tip of his prick. Her tongue stroked over him.

A long moan tore out of him.

She enveloped him, taking him deep in her mouth. He grasped her head, his fingers tangling in the mass of silky locks. She slid up his length then took him in again.

“Oh, God, don’t stop.” His balls felt heavy and as if she’d read his mind, she grasped him through his trousers, cradling his sack. Her thumb stroked over the fabric, causing a delightful sensation on his skin.

She slid up his shaft, stroked his nuts, then slid back down to his base in a skillful rhythm until he bucked up, shoving him even deeper in her tight hold.

“Oh, God, I’m gonna lose control if you keep doing that.”

She gave one last pump on him then eased back, releasing him. She licked her lips in a slow sweep. “I want you, Tierney. I want to take you inside me.”

With a growl he grabbed her and dragged her up against him. He took her mouth in a hard kiss, tasting her sweet honey combined with his salty flavor. Moaning against her mouth, he deepened the kiss, their tongues twisting together.

Her hands were on his trousers again. He raised his ass and she pushed them down. Taking over, he shoved them to the floor.

She stood and finished peeling off her dress. Now totally nude beneath the gown, she ran her hands through her hair, stretching and showing off her body.

Tierney slipped off his shirt then grabbed her and pulled her down on him. They rolled on the bed until he had her pinned beneath him. Her arms went around him, pulling him tighter.

She drew up her legs, fitting him tightly between her firm thighs. Then she kissed him, gently taking his lips. When the kiss ended, she stroked his hair back from his face. “Tierney?”

“Em?”

“ Where do you live?”

“The French Quarter,” he blurted and immediately regretted it. He couldn’t afford to let anyone know where he lived. Trusting Sarah had taken a phenomenal leap of faith. Besides, what if Isabo took it on herself to come to his home while Sarah was there?

She pressed up against him, trapping his cock between their bodies, and rubbed his length with her lower belly.

He groaned. This was going to be one night of hard sex. Nothing more. His heart belonged to Sarah.

“Oh, I have friends in the French Quarter. What do you live near? Maybe we could do this again some time.”

He countered. “How about you tell me where you live and I can come see you?” He had no intentions of ever doing that but he sure as hell wasn’t telling her exactly where he lived. She already knew too much.

Her lips bowed in a slight pout. “You don’t want me to know. I see how it is with you.” Though she reached between them and grasped his dick.

“It isn’t what you think. Besides, I have a woman. And I love her.”

“It’s okay, lover. We have tonight. Let’s make the most of it.” She guided his swollen head to her slick entrance.

Was there a false quality to her voice? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know her so he couldn’t tell for sure but he had the feeling she was annoyed. Considering he’d rejected any shot of future trysts, that was enough to anger any woman, but especially one on her back with a cock seconds from driving home.

“Take me,” she demanded.

He thrust into her, filling her, burying himself in hot pussy.

She moaned and sank her nails into his back. “Fuck me hard,” she hissed. “Now.”

He slammed into her, fast and hard. Her nails scored his back, cutting burning trails from his shoulders to his thrusting ass.

“Harder,” she said and pushed up to meet him, grinding herself on his cock.

He complied, pistoning his hips, driving into her with enough force to slam the headboard against the wall with each thrust. Sweat coated him as he kept up a pace that would have been too much for most women.

She moaned and worked with him. An attractive flush tinted her skin and a film of sweat made her slick. As his cock sawed in and out of her she threw her head back and let out a howl of passion. Her hips slammed up against him and her pussy contracted around him, milking him.

He worked harder to reach his own peak, pumping into her wet heat as she squeezed and released. He felt his climax building and with one final hard slam he spurted into her in long jets.

For a moment he remained on top of her then he rolled off and immediately got up. Dawn wasn’t that far away and he needed to get home. Besides, he didn’t want to stick around for any more questions that he might not want to answer.

He gathered up his clothing and quickly dressed.

She gave him a knowing glance and a smirk flitted across her face. “I’ll see you around, lover.” Then she turned over and pulled the covers over her, clearly dismissing him.

~***~

If you missed any of our previous posts and would like to catch up, you can purchase Everything Erotic Volume I, Volume II, Volume III, Volume IV, an Volume V anthologies as ebooks for only $2.99 each! Want it in print? Everything Erotic Volumes I-III is now available in paperback for $12.95.

Copyright © 2011 Nickie Asher

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.