All summer long we’re featuring great e-books at great prices as part of our “Pocket Star-E Nights” program! With the help of some amazing blog partners (our “Shooting Stars“), we’re sharing some deliciously decadent excerpts of these terrific novels. If you like what you’re reading, you can purchase the book via the buy links just below this post.
The following excerpt is from Lisa Cach’s e-serial, 1001 Erotic Nights. You might have caught our excerpt from Part 1 of the story, Slave Girl. Read on to enjoy an even steamier section from Part 2, Barbarian’s Concubine, in which our heroine begins her sexual education in earnest. And the best part? If you love what you’ve read, you can buy it for just $1.99 by clicking the buttons at the bottom of this post. Enjoy!
A nervous panic swept over me, and I faltered.
His grip on my elbow tightened. “Shh,” he soothed, without looking at me. As if I were any wench he’d bartered for in a tavern.
My heart beat faster. When would I learn to listen to Terix? He was so much better at reading people—including me—than I was. Terix had said that Jax was not to be trusted . . . And yet here I was, alone with him, and having given my enthusiastic offer of services worthy of only the lower sort of prostitute.
A quality prostitute would have managed better than to render services in a stable.
“Don’t pretend it’s your first time with this,” Jax said, taking me from the burning summer sun into the instant twilight of the stable. My eyes, blinded by the brief walk in glaring brightness, could see nothing but shadows. I smelled dust and hay, leather and horse, urine and dung. It was cooler in the stable, but the air was still and suffocating.
“Not my first time with a man, no,” I said. “But I . . .”
He pulled me into an empty stall and with both hands on my shoulders, shoved me downward. I collapsed onto my knees, the sharp ends of the straw stabbing at my skin. I still wore the rough tunic in which I’d escaped from Sygarius’s villa, my lower legs bare, my feet shod in filthy sandals. “You what?” he said. “You’ve never sucked a cock? You’ve never sold yourself?” He unfastened his belt and tossed it aside.
My face was level with his groin. My eyes could not move from his hands, lifting his tunic to reveal worn wool breeches, fastened with a cord. His callused hands went to work on the knot. “I’m not . . . skilled. At, er . . . the sucking.” I dared a look up at him. The light hit him from the side, leaving half his face in shadow. From my low position, he looked twice as tall, twice as dangerous, as he had in the tavern. There seemed no human emotion on his face.
The knot came free, and he shoved down the front of his breeches. His mentula sprang forth, erect, hard. It was thick at the base and tapered to a smaller head, poking forth from the foreskin that his arousal had forced back. His cock curved upward, and I had a sudden wonder at what it would feel like inside me, curved like that and with that thigh-spreading thickness at its root. My cunny clenched, wanting to find out.
But I couldn’t let Jax see my tattoos, so my hungry cunny would have to hide under my tunic and bide its time. Maybe when we reached the shores of Britannia, I could indulge it.
Jax dug his fingers into the hair on either side of my skull, and tilted my face up. “The moment I saw you, I wanted this. I’ve never seen anyone like you.” His eyes scanned my face, as if trying to decipher for himself what it was that drew him. “You’re not beautiful like a normal woman . . . but there’s something. Something that makes a man want to sink himself inside your mouth. Your cunt. Your ass. Everywhere he can. I want to come inside you until you overflow with it.”
Crude as they were, his words worked on me, charging my body even as my mind drew back, cringing from the image of him sliding into my ass, spending his seed there, then withdrawing to watch the milky whiteness seep from the puckered opening between my cheeks.
“Open your mouth,” he said.
He forced my face to his cock, the velvet head pressed against my lips. I breathed deep of his scent, a combination of sweat and male funk. The head pressed harder, parting my lips and hitting up against my teeth.
I looked up at him again, and saw the whites of his eyes glittering in the half-light. My gaze locked with his, and I opened my mouth.
“There’s a good girl,” he said, and slid inside, stretching my jaw wide, pressing until I felt him on the roof of my mouth. Instinctively I covered my teeth with my lips, and sucked—as much to keep from drooling as to give him pleasure.
“There you go,” he said, with more kindness than I’d heard from him. “Now put your hand here.” He guided my hand to the base of his mentula, and had me wrap thumb and forefinger around it. “Squeeze and slide. There you go . . .”
I matched hand to lips, and bobbed my head over him, taking him as deep as I could, and then out again to the very end of what my lips could hold. It made my jaws ache, to be open so wide, but I liked the feel of him against my tongue. I liked the shape of that small head, and its crumpled collar. I dug the tip of my tongue against it, exploring, playing, tasting the drop of salt, and Jax groaned, his hands in my hair tightening. He gripped my hair in two fistfuls and pulled my mouth over him, forcing me to the rhythm he chose, his cock thrusting deep.