Breathless
Writing as
Roxana Blaze
A Ménage
Paranormal Historical Erotica
Now available at
Ellora's Cave
What comes around goes
around. Karma. Just desserts.
Half-man/half-spirit,
Nighthawk, has heard them all from his ruthless spirit guide, Kaine. Forced into
the bodies of people similar to those he's wronged in past lives, Nighthawk now
occupies the body and soul of Elijah, a freed slave in 1870. But what profound
lesson could he possibly learn from indulging in a naughty ménage at a bordello
with a gorgeous woman and her rugged partner? No karma here, for damn sure. The
hot couple leaves Nighthawk panting with lust like never before...or perhaps
it’s the familiar signs of betrayal making him feel so Breathless…
Now available at Ellora's Cave!
Reader Advisory: This book contains
hot scenes of m/m/f sex as well as m/f that will leave you...well, BREATHLESS.
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Excerpt:
[Setup: Nighthawk has been thrust into the body of
escaped wanted prisoner, Elijah Miller. He's purchased two whores—one man and
one woman—to ease the tension of being on the run. The woman has just arrived
while the man has been delayed. But the dangerous thing Nighthawk doesn't
realize is that people are not always who or what they appear to be...]
She stepped into the bedroom he’d
rented above the small-town Colorado saloon, her spool-heeled shoes clopping on
wood. The hem of her red velvet, low-cut gown barely covered the fine curve of
calf. With a wink, she leaned against the door, closing it behind her,
deliberately drowning out the downstairs chatter. "Yes, but you
can call me Kassy if you like." She drawled it in a sweet-as-pie, smoky voice.
"Mmm, I think I prefer Kassidy. It’s
unique." His gaze scanned her voluptuous figure and generous bosom. Ironically,
rather than lying on her back with her legs in the air, the name made him
envision her riding expertly upon a wild stallion. He could just see those
breasts bouncing out of her bodice, and the firm thighs he sensed were beneath
the dress, clamping tightly while her woman’s cleft abraded over the horse’s
spine. His penis went stone-hard at the fantasy of it. "Oddly, it fits you
well."
She shrugged. "It is, of course, your
choice as a paying customer to call me whatever you like."
Damn, the girl was good. He could see
how the self-assurance edging her femininity could make any man want her more,
much like a cat being far more interested in the scurrying, confident prey than
the surrendering, timid mouse.
Almost as an afterthought, Kassidy sent
him a smoldering look, making it very easy for him to think of all the naughty
words he could use to describe her—slut, whore, tramp, harlot, wanton wench. But
somehow none of them satisfied his assessment of her. There was something more
there, something contrary to any other prostitute he’d encountered in any of his
lives. It was a quality that made him breathless, almost smitten, despite the
fact her profession forbade emotion from either the customer or the lady of the
evening.
"You called me infamous…" She added a
tinkling laugh that seemed to grab him by the balls and stroke relentlessly.
"Yes, I’m well remembered. My pussy is as potent as a quick swallow of fine
liquor, and even spicier on the…tongue."
She pushed away from the pine door, the
tops of her enormous, faintly bronzed tits spilling over the bodice of her snug
gown.
Hmm, unusual skin tone for a white lady
of the night in this time period, he mused. His cock twitched in protest, as if
to say, "Think about the slick, pink, tight cunt, not the outer shell, you
idiot." He chuckled to himself. His gaze rose obediently to peruse the face. He
couldn’t have looked away from her stunning features and predator’s stare if he
tried. Her blood-red lips curved knowingly, tipping up higher with each inch she
moved closer to her target.
To Nighthawk.
He imagined those lips’ plump roundness
closing around his manhood, the wet tongue slurping from his aching balls, up
his long shaft to the sensitive corona and rounded head already dripping with
pre-cum. Every muscle in his body went taut like the line of an anchor tossed
overboard, plunging to the bottom of the sea.
Sunk. He was sunk by her stunning
beauty. Ah, and he wanted to
sink
himself into her damp, tumultuous
sea just like that anchor. Thank Kaine for the wad of cash he’d placed in
Elijah’s pocket just before Nighthawk had entered his body in this point in
history. The money was there, he knew, to purchase some cunt from the madam
behind the busy bar downstairs, one of Kaine’s many plans that Nighthawk would
gradually understand as the lesson progressed.
He’d understood all right. The fact he
had plenty of money to not only purchase a woman, but a man as well, hadn’t
escaped him. Oh yeah, Nighthawk and Elijah both happened to love a threesome,
especially the sort including two men and a woman. So Nighthawk couldn’t have
inhabited a more fitting body than Elijah’s.
"Potent? I
bet
you’re as intoxicating as hell."
A purring sound eased from her throat
in response to his cryptic words. When she sashayed three steps closer, her
skirt swished in a seductive song only women’s garments could sing. The scent of
wild rose wafted up to tease his nostrils and whet his raging male appetite. He
sniffed in a bit deeper.
Was that leather he detected just below
the feminine surface?
No, it couldn’t be. In spite of the
fact her name had had him easily picturing her thundering across the West upon
the bare back of a wild mustang, the only stallions this woman rode were of the
human form.
Cock.
He met Kassidy in the center of the
space where hundreds had come before him to fuck hot and talented strumpets such
as this, to pound the shit out of tight quim without the ball and chain of
marriage.
He studied her eyes. They were the
color her name implied—that of brandy—and just as liquid and fine. The
kohl-outlined stunners glittered with mischief and sexual fire amid the tanned
tone of her face. It felt as if she’d punched him in the gut with intoxication,
as if he’d guzzled an entire bottle of her heady spirits.
"Madam Carolena informed me you’ve paid
for quite a romp. Requested a man to join us…who will be here shortly, by the
way." Her cool hand cupped his whiskered jaw. A warm summer’s breeze blew in
through the open window and stirred the long cascade of snow-white ringlets
spilling from her chignon and resting across one sun-kissed shoulder. "But I’m
curious… How did a man of your stature—a recently freed slave, I hear—come into
such a large amount of cash?"
Kaine gave it to me
,
bless his pompous
angel’s
soul.
He lifted his shoulders with
indifference and yanked her into his arms. "Does it really matter as long as you
get your money?"
His throbbing erection became nestled by the
velvet-covered triangle of her warm mons. There was no need to wait. Nighthawk
wanted to sample what he’d purchased. He stooped, found the hem of her gown, and
drew it up, skimming his hand along the stockinged thighs until he reached her
crux.
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