Rob felt semen dripping down the crack of his ass and rolled off Dave. He looked at his lover, whose cock was covered with a white glove of cum. He was watching Robert expectantly. He dutifully lowered his head and caught Dave’s cock in his mouth, sucking and licking every drop of semen. He understood his place now.
He pulled away, satisfied. His lips were sticky with cum. “What happens now?”
Dave smirked. “You must be initiated into the pack.” He pulled on his jeans as Rob tried to wipe the semen off his thighs.
“What does that involve?” he asked nervously.
Dave only smiled mysteriously as he pulled on his t-shirt, ducking out of the tent to leave Rob naked and alone.
END :)
If you liked this story, you might also like the Fucking the Enemy Series.
The Fucking the Enemy Series contains all four gay erotica books compiled into one sizzling story. This 16,710 word compilation contains graphic sex, dubious consent, threesomes, blowjobs, anal sex, and whips!
Excerpt:
Eric halted in front of the door that led to his Lord’s chambers and faltered. His heart began to jump. Suppose he’s found out. It was a worry that frequented his mind. Lord Gareth was, after all, the head of the state. Years ago, he had crushed the opposing Benial armies and assassinated the cruel, tyrannical king and claimed the land of Kanth for his own. Eric himself had fought with him. He had once believed in Gareth’s virtue, but he had become corrupt with power, as rulers often do.
So he joined a rebel faction in the hopes of dismantling Lord Gareth’s rule. Still, he had grown up with Gareth, looked up to him. The heaviness in his heart grew with every deception he planned, with every murder committed. Though he knew he was doing the right thing, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt.
Once more, he raised his hand to the door and pushed it open.
“Did you summon me, my lord?”
Gareth looked up briefly from his desk.
“Yes, Eric.” He stood up and shuffled the papers on his desk.
“Tell the guards they are relieved of their duty for tonight,” he instructed. He opened a drawer and placed the stack of papers neatly inside. He then added, “And shut the door.”
Eric did as he was told. He waited, quietly surveying the room. He rarely came into Gareth’s study, since the Lord disliked being interrupted during crucial Party work. A large walnut desk stood by an even larger fireplace, guarded with iron-wrought gates. A bearskin rug was placed before the fireplace. The entire room was covered in russet colored marble, which spanned across the huge floor. Near the walnut desk was a miniature library consisting of five tall bookshelves and three vases filled with various books and scrolls, and in one of the vases, an ebony cane.
Gareth turned to Eric. He had taken a scroll from one of the vases and unrolled it onto the top of the walnut desk.
“Does this look familiar?”
His heart raced. Were they the faction plans? Did he finally obtain the headquarters’ blueprints?
Eric stepped closer to the desk and peered down.
It was an ornately decorated scroll with figures strewn all over the page. The figures were naked and copulating in various positions with captions such as “Flowers of the Mango Tree.” The scroll was highly detailed and done in India ink, framed with gold leaf.
He blushed at the images. “My Lord, how does this apply—” he started, and then stopped.
Suddenly Eric felt something cold brush against his crotch. Gareth had snaked his hand around his hips and now cradled the contours of his member with slow, tantalizing movements. Eric stiffened, too frightened to protest.
Gareth leaned in close to his ear and whispered with a voice barely above a sultry murmur, “I know who you are. You’ve betrayed me.” With a perfect tongue, Gareth licked his ear. “Now,” he breathed, “you shall claim your consequence.”
Gareth pressed his body against Eric and fingered his crotch with slow, deft movements. Using the tips of his fingers, he traced the sensuous shape with leisurely, circular movements. Gareth smiled, feeling the warmth increasing beneath his fingers. Eric shuddered as he felt Gareth explore him. He stood rigid, his mouth slightly open in shock. Gareth carefully tucked a lock of Eric’s hair behind his ear. He nestled his head on Eric’s shoulder and began trailing the tip of his tongue against Eric’s neck.
Other titles by Adriana Rossi include:
Claire’s Big Fuck-Up
Claire is bored of fucking the organic chemistry professor for grades. Something exciting (and scary) comes along when a disturbed, top of the class student catches them in the act. When he extorts Claire into servicing him, she finds more than she bargained for! Warning: contains hot oral sex (both ways), fingering, lesbian action, M/f, f/f/M.
Please, Professor
When Clara panics during a test gone horribly wrong, she decides to seduce the physics Professor and her situation goes from bad to worse. He sees right through her charade and threatens to fail her, but Clara will stop at nothing to get what she wants. Beware: contains spanking, anal sex, and blowjobs!
About the Author
Adriana is an erotica and romance writer located in the Bay Area. She enjoys film, pop music, and karaoke. For more information, please visit her Twitter.
* * * * *
Blood and Black Leather
By
Cassandra Court
Copyright © 2012 by Cassandra Court
* * * * *
The night air was cool against Jen's skin. A light breeze brought an assortment of sounds to her. The distant roar of traffic, a few late birds chirping from the trees in the park. A quiet conversation from a nearby balcony, the words muffled and lost across the short distance. She smiled to herself, adjusting the large purse slung over her shoulder. It was a good night to hunt.
There wasn't much call for vampire hunters these days. The ancient profession was sadly outdated. It wasn't that there weren't any vampires left - you could still find them if you looked hard enough, sometimes in surprising numbers. But they weren't the same threat they'd been in past centuries. The old ones were still around because they'd been wise enough to shape up, and the young ones identified more strongly with the human race than their predecessors ever had. Of course you always had the occasional rogue, and that usually meant a nice bounty for the hunter lucky enough to be hired, but that was rare. The proud tradition that had been passed down through generations of Jen's family had become little more than a hobby that very occasionally paid off.
That was all right, though. It wasn't exactly her day job. Besides, there was only one vampire she was interested in hunting.
She'd finally tracked him down. She'd checked and double-checked her observations, and she was sure of it: he was staying here, in this apartment complex. She'd been casually casing the place over the past few weeks, keeping an eye on the comings and goings - seeing who came and went from where. It'd taken a long time, but she'd managed to narrow his location down to one of a handful of buildings. She'd made sure to do it during the day so he wouldn't see her, and to wear strong perfume and freshly laundered clothing so he couldn't catch her scent.
She'd forgone the perfume tonight, though. On the night of her final approach, she liked to be more sporting.
The apartment complex had a jumbled, meandering layout, the buildings connected by long, winding sidewalks. Jen ambled down towards the building she'd thought most likely, her heels making a light clicking noise on the pavement. The breeze kicked up again, lightly tousling her hair. She would have to make sure to keep walking against the wind, rather than with it. She doubted he'd run, but it would be such a disappointment if he scented her before she caught him. Jen preferred to win their game on her own terms.
One of the tenants in the building across from her target had planted roses along their side wall, and Jen stopped to admire them. One of the tricks to this business was to appear nonchalant and nonthreatening, without sacrificing the advantage. Je
n certainly didn't look very much like a hunter tonight - wearing her casual overdress and high-heeled boots, she could have been any tenant coming home, or any ordinary visitor. Nobody seeing her here would think she was up to anything suspicious - she'd drawn no particular attention on the way here, and there was nothing unusual about someone stopping to smell the roses. But from this vantage point, she had a clear view of the entrances to the other building. Her quarry would be arriving home soon; it'd taken considerable effort to ferret out his work schedule, for which she applauded him, but she'd at last figured it out. If she'd guessed the wrong building, that was all right. She'd just come back the next night, and the next, checking them one by one until he appeared.
He was a fine mark, always a challenge - but she always caught him in the end.
There were footsteps approaching. A man's business shoes, possibly, from the sound of them. Jen quietly and calmly sidestepped so that she was hidden behind the rose bushes, and watched carefully through the leaves.
Ah. There he was. Right on time.
This was the moment on which everything hinged. Her pride as a hunter hung on this last stretch - to be noticed before she had him perfectly snared would mean ignominy and defeat. She tested the wind - still and calm, but the occasional breeze blew towards her. Smiling, she reached into her purse, her hand closing on polished wood. She watched him silently as he rounded the corner, and walked up to the door she'd been watching.
Oh, but he looked lovely tonight. A modest turtleneck accentuated his broad shoulders and pale skin, his dark hair impeccably styled. His long, graceful fingers reached into his pockets, withdrawing his keys. She licked her lips unconsciously, taking care to blunt the sound of her heels on the sidewalk as she slowly, carefully approached him.
Pulling the stake from her purse produced a faint, unavoidable noise, and he turned. A moment too late: no sooner had he noticed her presence than she had moved, the tip of the stake now pressed to his chest.
He threw his hands up in surrender, eyes wide and focused on her face. Beneath his collar, his Adam's apple bobbed nervously.
"Found you," she said, smiling.
"Yeah," he said, the faint smile on his face belying his anxious tone. "You win."
"I always do, don't I?" she purred, drawing closer to drape an arm over his shoulders, though she didn't lower the stake. She knew he liked that feeling of danger.
"It wouldn't be much fun if you didn't," he admitted softly.
She chuckled, and tilted her head up to kiss his jaw. "Well, then, Alexander, have you been a good boy?"
He swallowed again. "O-of course I have."
"Really?" She drawled the word out, running her finger down along his neck, tugging the high collar down. Underneath the fabric, his flesh was bare. "Oh, dear. Alex, Alex, Alex - what have I told you about lying to me?"
"Jen-- Mistress--"
"How many times, Alex?" she scolded, her voice cold and stern. "How many times have I told you, when I come home to you, I expect my pet to be wearing his collar?"
"I had business tonight, Mistress. Please, I was going to put it back on as soon as I got in - please forgive me..."
"Hmmm," she said, stepping back and taking the stake away. "Open the door."
He nodded nervously and turned back to the door, quickly unlocking it and pushing it open. She pushed past him brusquely, stepping into the unlit apartment.
"Turn the light on."
He did. The apartment was spare and utilitarian in its furnishings, as she'd expected. She'd been surprised by it, once - he was nearly three times her age, and she had expected more... more stuff, she'd supposed. With time, however, she'd come to learn that the sparseness of his possessions was something of a pragmatic necessity. A vampire concealing his identity in the world of mortals had to be able to pack quickly and travel light. And Alex in particular traveled around the country so often for his business ventures that the less he had to pack, the better. His living room consisted of little more than a futon, a floor lamp, a coffee table, and a few framed pictures on the walls to give a little personality to the room.
She dropped her purse onto the coffee table and set down the stake next to it, then turned to face him. He had closed and locked the door while she appraised the room, and was watching her anxiously. One fang stuck out as he bit his lower lip nervously, hands clasped in front of him.
"I'm not happy with you, Alexander."
He bowed his head quickly. "I'm sorry, Mistress."
"But I might forgive you, if you can make it up to me tonight."
He looked up at her, hope and apprehension mingling in his eyes. She smiled, sitting on the futon and crossing her legs. The sudden widening of his eyes and embarrassed glance away told her he'd gotten a glimpse of what she was - and wasn't - wearing under her overdress, and her smile grew wider. It was going to be a good night, she felt.
"Take off your clothes," she commanded. He didn't so much as hesitate before peeling off his turtleneck, tossing it to the side before fumbling with his belt buckle. Jen raised an eyebrow.
"What do you say, Alexander?"
He froze with his hands on his waistband, and coughed embarrassedly.
"Y... yes, Mistress."
"That's better." She'd almost said 'good boy', but she had to keep in character. Normally she would have let his lapse in protocol slide, in the face of his obvious eagerness, but tonight she was going to have to play the disciplinarian. He was being 'punished', after all. "Continue."
Alexander nodded, and pushed his pants and underwear down in one motion. Jen couldn't help being astonished at how quickly he'd gotten hard - it had been mere minutes, and his cock was already flushed and standing at attention. She licked her lips again, admiring its thickness and its slight upward curve. No matter how many times she saw him naked, in all his statuesque glory, she didn't think she would ever get tired of the sight.
"You've eaten recently," she observed. He must have, to have the blood supply necessary for such a gorgeous erection. At least within the past week or so. "Not a human, I trust."
"No, Mistress," he said softly. "I went hunting up in the mountains on Saturday. It was a deer."
"Good," she said. "You may have neglected to wear your collar, but at least you haven't gone completely feral in the time we've been apart."
It was a false equivalence and they both knew it - he'd never liked hunting humans, and her prohibition only gave him additional incentive not to do it - but he had the decency to look shamefaced, shyly turning his eyes downward. He was getting into character, too.
The silence stretched on for a few moments, and she soon realized he was not going to defend himself. Either he was waiting for permission to speak, or he was honestly remorseful about the collar. The idea of that charmed her. She'd only picked on that as an excuse to be harsh with him, but he appeared to be taking it very seriously indeed.
You can't bear having to go out unmarked, can you, Alex?
She pursed her lips, tapping one finger against the side of her chin.
"Well then," she said, at last breaking the silence, "where is your collar? Tell me."
"It's in the bedroom," he said softly. "On the nightstand. Shall I retrieve it, Mistress?"
"No. I want to put it on you myself. To remind you of who owns you, Alexander."
A sudden, soft intake of breath was her only answer. Although his eyes were still trained downwards, she hid a warm smile behind her hand. So cute. He really was taking this seriously. She gentled her voice a little as she next spoke.
"Come here." She patted the space next to her on the futon. He looked up at her, uncertain and hopeful.
"Yes, Mistress," he said quietly, before obediently crossing the room to sit beside her. His erection bobbed almost comically as he walked.
When he sat down beside her, she tipped up his chin with his hands and kissed him gently on the lips. He made a small, wanting noise in his throat and leaned into it, his hands flexing as he resisted the desir
e to touch her without permission. His restraint was admirable - it did not break even as she pushed her tongue into his yielding mouth, coaxing a response from his own tongue, hungrily devouring him even as she took care to avoid the sharp tips of his fangs.
Breaking away from the kiss, she licked once more at his lips before suddenly sitting up and placing her hands on her hips.
"Unfold the futon. I am going to get your collar, and I expect you to have the futon spread out, and to be kneeling in the center of it with your hands behind your back, when I arrive," she said, putting the steel back into her voice.
He swallowed and nodded. "Yes, Mistress."
Satisfied, she turned her back on him and went to find the bedroom. The futon's frame creaked behind her as Alex hurriedly pulled it out.
It was a small apartment, designed for single occupancy, and so it wasn't hard to find the bedroom. The collar was on the nightstand, just as Alex had promised. Jen didn't reach for it right away, however.
Anticipation was an important part of this game. She could go back out there now, collar him, and hurry things along; from the silence in the living room she could hear that he was already done with the futon. But it would be so much more delicious, for the both of them, if she made him wait. She would allow him time to process, to absorb what had happened, and to speculate on what would happen next. How angry was she? What punishment would she think appropriate for his transgression? Just what had she brought with her - the whip? The crop? The paddle? What hell would she inflict on him to take him to heaven? Those questions would be boiling over in his mind, growing more urgent the longer he was forced to wait for her on his knees.
Jen let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She was more affected by this than she thought she'd be. She could feel the flush in her cheeks, and the aching heat and pressure between her legs. Going pantyless had been a good idea, this morning. She'd only planned it to titillate Alex, but she was so damp already - it saved her that extra bit of laundry, at least.
Paranormal Fantasies: A Promotional Collection of 14 Erotic Supernatural Stories Page 6
