Friday, October 12, 2018

Shifting Around

They shift day or night--big cats, little cats, dogs, wolves, even hawks... All creatures that walk on two legs too!
* * * * *

Immortal Redeemers


Amazon      Changeling Press

FREE READ: VORACIOUS   Encounters - look under: date 11/27/13

Keeping the secrets of the Immortal Redeemers tests the strength of their love and commitment.

Unforgivable: Nola Lester needs to get back to her roots, but tending a wounded hunter whose controlling and charismatic personality triggers strange desires threatens Nola's plans. Rand Mitchell is searching for clues to explain the mystery of who he is. Instead, Rand finds himself ensnared by a sharp-tongued spitfire more than willing to provide a diversion. Neither of them knows what a deadly creature she holds in the palm of her hand.

Unredeemable: Chance leaves pain and death in his wake until he finds Brooke, an Immortal Redeemer. Chance won't rest until he captures Brooke and steals her heart. But when Brooke discovers he's released his mantle to another and sought peace in death, she vows it will be a cold day in hell before he touches her again.

Unhinged: Kelsea Arden's battle to keep animals safe has become a passion. One of a handful of humans privy to the secrets of Immortal Redeemers, she finally hoped to make a difference, but the untimely arrival of Shade Santone, a powerful immortal seeking the Covenant, is about to test Kel's loyalty. The Redeemer gives Kelsea a new purpose -- capturing and keeping the raptor forever.

Excerpt - UNHINGED
“Dad, Champ keeps jumping around. I think he has to go.”
The father turned to his son. “I told you, kick the shit out of him if he doesn’t mind you.”
The woman he waited for picked that moment to walk through the door, just in time to hear the dog yelp when the man punched it in the head. Shade slowly slid his chair back, but not before she weaved through the tables and stood toe-to-toe with the man.
“Jake, if you hit that dog one more time, I’m taking him from you.” Anger colored her cheeks, made her more beautiful than Shade remembered. She shook snow from long brown hair and pierced the huge man with a deadly brown stare. “I’m not telling you again.”
Shade bided his time. Sniffing the air, he detected the unmistaken sweet aroma that moments ago made him smile. He briefly wondered why the woman visited the Redeemers each morning, or was it possible she stayed there? Highly unlikely so many Immortals in such a small territory would require helpers. Shade, sometimes known as the Shadow by a handful who lived to tell the tales of him appearing out of nowhere and taking down small armies, had been the human’s personal shadow for three days and he’d followed her to the café each morning. Today, he’d come early and awaited her arrival. The man, his kid, and the unfortunate dog, just made meeting her a lot easier.
A pin dropping would have made a loud noise as every eye peered in their direction.
“What the fuck you gonna do, bitch? That’s my dog.”
Aww, hell.
The behemoth of a man drew his oversized foot back, prepared to strike the animal -- but never got the chance.
Shade didn’t have to leave his seat to reach the man’s raised foot with his hand. He snatched the big bastard’s leg from under him and he crashed to the floor face first. The youngster gawked in disbelief at his old man eating dirt.
“That’s no way to talk to a lady.” Shade stood and helped the man up before he totally gathered his senses and became even more confrontational. “You and sonny boy should run along.” Grabbing a fistful of material, he yanked the man close. The tips of their noses brushed, and leaning toward the man’s ear, he whispered, “I’m not as nice as she is and if I ever see you harm that dog again, I’ll rip your fucking nuts off and shove them down your throat.” He dusted dirt from the man’s shirt. “Understand?”
“I’ll get you for this.”
“Sure you will.” He glared at the man and allowed his eyes to change enough to spook anyone with common sense. Having a little bit of sense, the bastard took a step back. “I’ll be around.” Shade detested men like him and wondered if he abused the boy. “Maybe I’ll look you up later, how’s that?” Turning quickly, the bastard headed for the door, and his son fell in line behind him tugging the dog. “Easy on the leash, young man, shorten the strap and let him walk beside you.” The kid followed his advice, but it wouldn’t be long before he learned his daddy’s way. Brute force.
Twisting back to the table, he heard applause. The man had probably bullied everyone here at some point. Shade shrugged. “I wonder sometimes why dogs are called animals instead of us.” The woman remained in the same spot gazing at him. When she smiled, the café lit up as if the sun shone. “Only empty seat in the place, join me.”
“I’d love to.” She removed her fleece-lined coat and hung it over the back of the chair. “I’ll be right back.”
Shade moved his chair to face the counter. Sitting down, he noted a few people started to don their outerwear and leave, no doubt to gossip about the morning’s excitement. A table emptied beside him, allowing room to stretch his long legs as he watched the woman weave toward the register. The top of her head hit him chest-high. Standing five feet five at the most, she was curvaceous as hell with an ass made for fucking. He decided to spare an extra night before heading back west.
She returned with two steaming cups, and handed him an espresso.
“How’d you know?”
“I asked the young lady at the register.”
Shade dug into his memory for the last time someone did anything so simple for him. He gave up. Yeah, one extra night wouldn’t make a difference in his timetable. “Thanks.”
“Thank you.” She took a sip from her cup and glanced around the café. “You shocked everyone confronting Big Jake.”
“Doesn’t happen often I take it?”
“Jake’s a mean bastard and he meant what he said.”
“So did I.” Shade stared at the woman across from him. “You’re not shocked.”
Her head tilted and she peered at him for a few seconds before a smile curled her lips. “Nothing an Immortal Redeemer does shocks me anymore.”
“Well, goddamn, I’m shocked.” He didn’t bother to mask his gold eyes when he picked up his cup and drank the black liquid. “You smell me?” His dick twitched. She knows what I am! Shade planned to use her to help locate and retrieve the Covenant, but now that might not be as easy as he thought since she knew what he was.
“Uh-huh.” She took another swallow of coffee. “You probably smell them on me.”
“Uh-huh.” He missed casual conversation with the usual women he chose to fuck. Damn if it didn’t make him hard.
“You’re here for a reason?”
He put his cup down, reached over and took her hand. “I think I found a reason to stay a little longer.” A perfect nose sat between high cheekbones and over lips painted red, lips he wanted to lean into and taste. She was breathtaking. Her laughter tinkled through the air, made him feel happy for no reason at all. “You’re not afraid?”
“Should I be?”
Shit raced through his mind. How far away were the male immortals he scented, how much time did he have? Hundreds of years fucking made sex something Shade did lately only to release pressure or break the monotony of his day-to-day life. He only selected those who discerned his scent. There were women all around the world, lots of them, but lately he picked them up in his club, screwed in his office without much conversation, and sent them on their way. Usually with a handful of money. Nightshade had not felt this alive in years, and it might take more than a night or two to get the woman across from him into his bed and out of his mind.
“I’m Kelsea Arden, the local vet.”
“Nightshade Santone.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the palm. “At your service.” Christ, he felt like standing, and bowing.
In another time, he would have.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Two alpha shifters together in one book!

Can’t Touch This

Rich alpha wolf shifter Castle Briggs can have any woman he wants by crooking his finger. Until he meets a human named Harlow Hardison. She’s had it with rich, overconfident jerks trying to own her. She wants a no-strings-attached good time with a man unafraid of her darker urges. Castle’s happy to dominate her but he wants more than a kinky fling.

He’s going to have to do a lot more than crook his finger to get past Harlow’s fears and make her his.
* * * * * 
Enhanced edition includes bonus short story

Fia’s Wolf


Hatch Grisom didn’t want to be an alpha, but finding himself thrust into that role, he relishes power that comes along with it. Taking reins from Fia Knight’s father wasn’t hard but getting Fia in hand was another thing altogether.

Fia waited for Hatch to prove himself but after watching him almost die, she had second thoughts about life with him.

For more LOOK INSIDE at Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/yaucujy5

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

Friday, October 5, 2018

Thirsty?

A VAMPIRE'S THIRST
Box Set

Walk with one sexy vampire…

Through four short stories - Now in a Box Set! - Changeling Press; Amazon; B&N; Kobo

Nolan is created in Heaven - THIRSTY
He rains havoc on earth when he finds - A THIRST TO DIE FOR
Journeys back to Hell to battle his - BANE OF EXISTENCE
He goes home with A VAMPIRE'S THIRST to one angel who will never let him go!

Once Nolan gave all souls moderation in everything. He was good at his job, and he called heaven home -- until he fucked the wrong seraphim! Now he's a vampire slayer serving the devil, keeping an eye on Omen's, and babysitting Lucifer's son. Not a job he expected to hold for damn near eight hundred years.

Excerpt:
Temperance, moderation… ideas Nolan used to control in the universe. Neither of those things meant shit to him anymore.
Standing between the devil and death stripped away every remnant of balance imbued in Nolan upon his creation. Shit, if he hadn’t been buried between the thighs of some fucking seraphim whose name escaped him even now, he’d have provided the temperance needed to still the hand of Saint Peter’s murderers, and he’d be languishing his days above, instead of here on earth, in the devil’s playground.
Would God’s world have changed in any way if the Saint had lived? It had been the year twelve hundred and fifty two when the bastard died for fuck’s sake!
Nolan had stopped caring. He just wanted to go home.
His mind leaped to the last time he’d visited with Satan, the last time he’d looked upon the portrait of the archangel who had banished him and placed him at the right hand of the devil.
Gabriel wasn’t pissed off Saint Peter had died. He was mad as hell Nolan’s cock had been buried somewhere other than his ass.
Thunder rippled overhead, shaking the walls until pictures crashed to the floor. Glasses shattered to smithereens, sending deadly shards into the air surrounding Nolan.
“Now there’s a fucking omen.” Peris appeared in front of Nolan and clapped his hands, bringing everything to a grinding halt. “What in the devil’s name were you thinking about for this shit to happen?”
Club Omen’s was frequented by otherworldly creatures. Werewolves, gargoyles, ghosts, and demons, they all cavorted in the bar nightly. Only damn brave humans sat much longer than it took to finish their beer or cocktail and get the hell out. Dark energy ran rampant in the club, leaving normal people with a nice dose of fear.
“Why didn’t you let him finish?” Peris owned Omen’s, and his daddy was Satan. Nolan had had enough of Peris, wolves, gargoyles, every goddamn bit of it. He snatched a cold beer out of thin air, turned the bottle up and emptied it. “Trust me, he can’t hurt anyone but me here, and unless he calls me home, there’s not a whole lot more he can do but leave a few scratches.”
“Hell’s sake, which angel up there has it out for you that badly? Sure isn’t from my side of the family.”
Nolan cocked his head sideways. “What family do you have up there, jackass?”
“Don’t get pissy with me.” Peris swept his arms around the room, sending shit back to its proper place. “Damn glad no customers were here to see this angelic display of godliness.” He grunted. “Might give them the wrong idea of who’s bad and who’s good.”
Air whistled through Nolan’s lips. “Don’t you have someplace to be? Maybe wagging your dick in Moni’s pussy or something?” He glared at Peris. “I enjoy my own company just fine.”
“Oh, right, your own company, my ass. You’re f’ing around with someone up there, and damn if I want them tearing my shit apart. If Daddy… “
That was as far as Peris got. Nolan flashed up, snatched him by the neck, lifted him a foot off the floor and squeezed just enough to make his eyes bulge. “Fuck Satan.”
The floor shifted sideways, and Nolan dropped Peris, who skidded across the floor on his ass, slamming into the bar. Using his powers, Nolan lifted himself into the air. Still didn’t save him. Satan’s spiked, forked-tail slashed through a flaming gash in the floor, wrapped around Nolan’s waist, and drug him straight to hell.
Fuck me.
Lucifer glared at him, eyes red and full of fire. “I think maybe you’ve lost your goddamn mind.”
Nolan smiled at the devil from his sprawled position on the floor. “You could be right.”



Growl and roar-it’s okay to let the beast out. - jhalisteele 

Monday, October 1, 2018

It's Here!

SUBSIDE

Amazon Paperback: https://tinyurl.com/ya4x55ro

A soul hangs in the balance!

The only one of his kind, Deacon recalls thousands of years existing yet he has no memory of why. He can’t profess to living in seclusion because he greedily pursues pleasure in arms of so many men, he never lacks companionship. All those arms, lips, and asses, none feed his true desire. Deacon yearns for someone to make in his own image by introducing them to a hunger so vile, they will detest him forever.

Father Merck Hallowell stands at a crossroad of conscience and faith. His convictions, no longer satisfying, leave him searching for reasons to persevere. Befriending a handsome but strange parishioner opens a doorway Merck longs to enter and explore. Discovering Deacon’s secret, he realizes not only his life hangs in balance—so does his soul!

ReligErotica

EXCERPT - THIRD CHAPTER:
Sensing Merck’s turmoil, understanding it, Deacon didn’t press for their meeting. Two days had passed and each of them Deacon waited in the same pew more than aware he was not coming. Not because he plundered his mind. Deacon hadn’t. He sensed it in his bones.
Ahh, the affect this holy man had on him.
Had it been anyone else, Deacon would have hunted them down, extinguished his desire immediately.
Today, as sun began to set, he felt Merck enter the sacristy and heard water run briefly. Standing, Deacon walked to the confessional and slipped behind the curtain. Shortly, the door beside him opened and closed quietly. He began with, “Father, I have…”
Abruptly cutting Deacon off, he asked, “Must we talk religion tonight?” A sigh signaled Merck’s weariness. “Seven hundred and thirty years?”
“Give or take quite a few hundred. That’s when I last confessed. Right around the time I became aware Catholicism resonated with me for whatever reason.” Silence wore on. “Father?”
“Call me Merck.”
“Does that ease your conscience?”
“No.” Deacon heard clothing rustle. “Why Deacon?”
“It’s… I may have been one of the first. Anno Domini, what year precisely I don’t recall, although, Stephen had been stoned to death and martyred. I opened my eyes in a meadow strewn with red lilies, and…and I…was.”
“I see.”
“What do you see, Merck?” Again, the swish of material. “Are you removing your robe?”
“My cassock.”
“I’m okay with that.”
Merck grunted. “And if you were not?”
“I’d ask you to put it back on. Merck?”
“Yes.”
“Were you concerned for me in the alley?”
“As I would be for anyone.” He paused. “I don’t use this confessional much anymore. Most parishioners are satisfied with face to face.”
“Are you saying you’d prefer we do this somewhere else or that you wish our sessions to be face to face?”
“Somewhere else but I like not seeing you.”
“Why?”
“You must know considering you ransacked my mind.”
“I’ve not taken that liberty since you asked me not to.”
“But you could?”
“At any time, yes.”
“I see.”
Deacon stretched his legs out which left expensively shod feet visible beneath the curtain. “I promised to listen to you.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“Tell me when you began feeling disdain for your religion.”
“You tore that from my mental path.” Fingers laced through the ornate screen separating them. “I don’t know God anymore.” Deacon observed knuckles whiten as they tightened around wood. “I’m not sure I ever did.”
“Yet you went through with the Rite of Ordination?”
“I wanted to make a difference.”
“Have you?”
“Not nearly half what I set out to accomplish.”
“Perhaps there is another way.” Deacon recognized confusion once again. Stronger this time and, Jesus, he didn’t want to care. Needing to stem his feelings, he asked, “Why don’t you want to see my face?”
Merck’s fingers unwrapped from the screen. Feet scrapped as he stood, and Deacon heard the door open and close. Not sticking to his vow, he entered Merck’s mind; he shoved past visions of parishioners, words on paper for Sunday’s Mass. He moved to thoughts marauding along his mental path of leaving Deacon alone in the confessional.
More than anything in the world—Merck wanted to walk away and not look back.
When Merck snatched the curtain aside, so riveted on the priest’s unrest and the fact that he might care, Deacon was caught totally off guard. Let this go, damn it. “Why can’t you look at me?” A cacophony of doubt blared in Deacon’s soul. Let. Him. Go!
“Because I want you. I can’t keep you from my mind… Not your reading it but, Lord, all I think about is you.” Merck’s head bowed dejectedly.
Deacon spread his legs, tugged him into the room and used fingers to nudge his chin up. “Look at me.”
Anguish darkened brown eyes to almost black. “Why me? Why?”
“Because.” He reached behind Merck’s neck, pulled his head down, and whispered, “I need you.” And you’re close enough to the edge to have answers or at least search for them.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Lips touched, tentative, sweeter than the first time. Tongues skimmed and glided in each other’s mouth acknowledging they belonged exactly where they were—together. Where did his start and Deacon’s stop? When he felt fingers touch his thigh, feather up, up until coolness seeped into Merck’s groin, he moaned. The echo in the small room should have been enough to stop him but he doubted anything or anyone could perform that feat.
What he thought impossible occurred within seconds at the sound of a nun’s voice. “Father Hallowell?”
“No, no.” He pulled away. “Deacon!”
“Shh. Breathe, Merck, she won’t see me.”
“I’m here. I thought I heard something drop to the floor during the last confession.”
“I didn’t know you used this confessional anymore.”
“Occasionally. It affords privacy some relish. How can I help you?” He turned his head toward her as he continued to pat the cushion pretending to search. Fear of being caught lessened his erection but it was the lie Merck detested more.
“The hospital called. The man you’d been asking about is awake.”
“Thank goodness.” Merck felt something cold pressed into his palm. Straightening, he looked at what Deacon gave him. A silver tie pin shaped like a rose. A rather large intense blue gem filled about an inch in the center. “I found it.” Tiny thorns poked at his hand.
The nun exclaimed, “It looks awfully expensive.”
“I’ll contact whom I believe it belongs to. Meanwhile, I’ll be at St. Pats.”
“Hope all is well, Father.”
“Thank you, sister.”
Merck twisted back to the seat. Gone. He retrieved his cassock and left. Reaching the entryway, he hesitated. “Damn you,” he grated through clenched teeth. “I know you’re here.”
He popped into view. “Perceptive.”
“You’ve got to stop…”
Fingers touched Merck’s lips, held them closed. “You’ve goddamned me once and damned me twice. It may eventually take root if you continue uttering such foulness.”
“You have got to be kidding me considering your filthy mouth?” The door pushed open and Deacon faded to nothingness again.
“Father Hallowell.” She peered around. “I thought I heard you speaking with someone.”
“My self, Mrs. Clark. I’m on my way to St. Pats. Should you require anything, Sister Elaine is inside.”
“Oh, I’ll be fine, Father. I’m lighting a candle for my sister who’s ill. In fact, she’s at St. Pats. If you could stop in I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll make sure to see her.”
“Wonderful.”
Once on the sidewalk, Deacon burst into view. “You are quite the clothes horse.” He wore another high-priced suit with shoes that certainly didn’t look made for walking. Merck smiled envisioning a model not half as good looking wearing the suit down a catwalk. Smile evaporated when he realized money spent on Deacon’s ensemble could probably feed those in his small, rundown shelter for a month. Merck quickened steps toward the hospital hoping his brisk strides were hard to keep up with.
“What will you possibly say to the man who will surely return to being a blight on the neighborhood?”
“Have you always been cynical?”
“In the beginning, I don’t think so. However, those were simpler times. Now, among modern men and women, yes.”
“I can’t imagine what it would be like to live as long as you have.”
“And to think it’s never ending.”
“What?”
“It’s called being immortal, Father.”
“Merck.”
“Merck.” Deacon glanced sideways. “I believe you enjoy hearing your name roll off my tongue as much as I adore saying it.”
God, forgive me, I do. Overwhelmed, Merck slowed his steps. “How does it feel to bite a person?”
“You never bit anyone in the schoolyard?”
“You know what I mean.” What suddenly infuriated him? The cost of a fancy outfit or Deacon’s glibness regarding… Everything? “When your teeth sink into someone’s vein and you suck their life away.” From where Merck stood, Deacon had more than enough money if the tie pin was an indicator. His clothes. Fingernails manicured and hair styled. He halted and pulled the pin from his breast pocket.
“That’s mighty graphic, Merck.” Deacon’s head leaned. “Trivial things you are thinking I own or have access to I can fabricate with a blink of my eyes. I do prefer buying my clothing. It’s good for someone’s economy.” Mouth curved sardonically. “The pin, it’s real and it’s a rare, expensive blue diamond mounted in platinum.”
“Do you take their memories?” Merck had stopped his feet but couldn’t curb his words. “Do you care that you hurt or kill them?”
Eyes flared red. “What do you really want to know?”
“Why it’s easy for you. I want to know why you don’t seem to care about anything or anyone but yourself.”
“Why is my caring important to you? If I did, would it save my soul?”
Fisting the tie pin, Merck used such force placing it in Deacon’s hand, a tiny thorn drew blood. “That piece of jewelry could be a down payment on the building I’ve been after the archdiocese to purchase. I’d have additional room to shelter and feed people.”
“Keep it then. Have you considered buying the building yourself?” Licking his palm, he dealt with the pinprick and Merck winced until Deacon said, “It doesn’t hurt.
You want to donate to the church; help God’s children?” Maniacal laughter jarred Merck and when he fathomed it was his, he shuddered. Unfortunately, that didn’t curtail his derision of Deacon. “Easy come, easy go when living life or taking lives. Right?”
“Is that what you believe?” Deacon grabbed his arm and pulled him into an abandoned doorway. “You think I live some romanticized version of Count Dracula where I happily skip through life biting people and living off stolen riches?” He shoved Merck against the door. “Yes, I have billions and I earned every penny in one way or another.” He smashed lips against Merck’s, kissed him hard and long while his palm sought out and rubbed over his shaft. Finished, he tightened his grip on Merck’s swelling penis. “Your anger stems from this, Father. You’ve got a hard on and you don’t know what the fuck to do about it.”
“You… You bastard.” He struggled from Deacon’s grasp.
“That wasn’t so hard to say now, was it?” Placing the pin back in Merck’s breast pocket, he patted it. “You’ll earn this.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not a liar. You’ll keep your word.”
“I refuse to continue this charade in church.”
“Pick any venue. I don’t care.”
“If I don’t?”
“The man you’re going to visit?” Deacon stepped from the hidden doorway and glared at Merck. “He’ll be dead before you reach the motherfucking lobby.” He spun and walked away.
“Deacon!”

Life is complicated, it’s loud, death arrives silently. – J. Hali Steele (from Twice the Burn)

Sunday, September 30, 2018

Do It Now!

LAST DAY! CLUB EVOLVE is .99ȼ. Hurry, sale ENDS at midnight.


Meet Lance Condroit from SEX AFTER MASS --

Bending rules lead to such hard things!

Lance Condroit made up his mind to do what he vowed never to do again. He overheard a conversation between two men outside the rectory about club Evolve and tonight he would see it for himself. Lance reached the upscale men’s club, removed his hard, white collar, and placed it in his jacket pocket. Entering the door, he was quick to blend into the crowd in search of a little piece of Heaven right here on earth.


ReligErotica

EXCERPT:
Fire coursed down his throat and into his stomach where it swirled in the empty pit leaving him breathless. Lance Condroit had drunk nothing stronger than communion wine since he left seminary and his intention was to savor his brandy, enjoy a flash of confidence he hoped his drink would bring. Lance had not expected the dragon blast of heat choking him as he twisted away so as not to splatter the bar and the men on either side of him. Liquid left in his mouth splashed the stranger who had jostled him from behind and caused Lance to gulp the strong liquor in the first place.
The same stranger he’d stolen looks at across the crowded room.
“Jesus Christ, I’m sorry man.”
Struggling to stem sermonizing words about using the Lord’s name in vain only choked him more. “My fault,” he finally sputtered.
“It’s just a tee shirt.” He reached around to grab napkins from the bar top and Lance stifled a groan at how delicious his cologne smelled as it assailed his nostrils. The man dabbed his shirt before he pushed a handful at Lance. “I’m staying at a hotel down the block.” Lines crinkled corners of blue eyes level with Lance’s which meant he was at least five feet ten inches tall. “I can’t be arrested for drunk driving if an officer nabs me jaywalking.”
The mention of clothing drew Lance’s attention downward. A black tee did nothing to conceal muscle lacing his torso and as he glanced further, Lance took in strong thighs covered by denim. “I apologize.”
“Pierce James.” He extended his hand.
Lance grasped it, “Lance.”
“Ah, you’re from around here.”
“How’d you know?”
“First name only is usually a good sign someone is from the area.” He shrugged. “It makes it harder to locate you should anyone attempt to.” He smiled and took tattered napkins from Lance’s hand and placed them on the bar. “I’m in town on business.” Signaling the bartender, he asked, “What are you drinking?”
“Brandy, but I’m okay.” Lance hoped he concealed tremors of desire running through his body. “So, you do this often?” Probably shouldn’t have another. He yearned to reach out and touch Pierce’s chest, feel his body. Such a long time—too long.
“As often as I like. You sure about the drink? You might want it later.”
On second thought, Lance wanted another. Most of the first one was on Pierce’s shirt and the floor. Perhaps it would settle nerves frayed with excitement. Pierce spoke with the bartender and Lance took the opportunity to continue his perusal. Mid forties, good looking as well as athletic, and from the firm, callused handshake, Lance could tell he worked with his hands. Closer inspection revealed he didn’t wear a common tee shirt, and the name on his jeans indicated Pierce’s outfit wasn’t run-of-the-mill. Gray streaked otherwise dark hair worn neck length and Lance would have bet his meager salary Pierce visited a stylist earlier which made work-roughened hands an anomaly. Lance stole a peek at his crotch and sighed inwardly. Swollen, beckoning—please, please, let this happen.
Hard to believe a mere hour ago, Father Lance Condroit had said five o’clock Mass.
“So?”
Lance blinked and shook his head. “Excuse me?”
Pierce’s soft laughter eased down Lance’s spine and relaxed him a little. “If I hadn’t been checking you out from behind, you may still have your first drink.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. I saw you watching me.” He ran his knuckles over Lance’s chin. “There’s a lot happening in those brown eyes.”
“I…umm...”
“First time at Evolve?”
“Yes.” The men’s club situated in Los Angeles was far enough away not to run into a parishioner, though he did learn about Evolve from two gay members he prayed did not show up tonight. Lance’s small congregation did not discriminate against anyone for any reason and he meant to see it stayed that way.
“Nothing to be nervous about. I know the owner and you can be sure Evolve and those who visit are discreet.”
Nerves and indecision had kept Lance from observing his surroundings upon arrival. Pierce’s quiet, calm manner continued to relax him. Glancing about, he noticed couples sitting at open tables laughing and talking, while in more secluded booths along the wall nearest the corner of the bar he rested against, men kissed or just held hands.
“You okay?”
“I haven’t been with a man in five years.”

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

Saturday, September 29, 2018

Not Hardly Soft

2 DAYS left - CLUB EVOLVE is .99ȼ. Hurry, sale ENDS 9/30/18.


Meet Anthony Calhoun. If you like a little rough play and some spanking with your cocktails, you'll like NOT HARDLY SOFT --

Touched softly, unbreakable will shatter!

Anthony Calhoun designed and tailored men’s clothing but in no way is his prim and proper white ass a pushover. Ant transplanted to Los Angeles from Philadelphia and damn if he didn’t bring some South Philly with him! He wants a lover not a partner so unless the gorgeous black, and very debonair, Gunner Bonds can handle business, he better step off.

EXCERPT:
“Don’t get pissy with me because you didn’t have nerve to say something to Gun.”
Gun. The name rolled around in Anthony's head, made concentrating on Jim’s garment difficult. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t forget how well I know you.”
Placing the last pin, he smacked Jim on the butt. “Done, go take them off.” He waited for him to disappear into a dressing stall before he remarked to Lodge, “I thought about him.” All night long that first night, and then some. At least six feet tall with cognac colored eyes and beautiful brown skin that had glistened under lights behind the bar. The way his ass tightened, thighs quivered with each step when he moved to serve someone else, it was as if a bronzed God had been erected in Club Evolve. Anthony retrieved spare material from the floor and tossed it on his work table where a matching jacket lay ready to be completed. Both pieces fit Jim perfectly and only required finishing touches. “So what?”
“It’s okay to do something for yourself, Ant. Might loosen your tight ass up.”
“If you’re lobbying for the job, you missed your chance.”
“I’m just saying.”
“I’m too finicky.” He owned a spacious house on two and a half acres in Topanga Canyon he had worked hard to acquire. Anthony loved being surrounded by beautiful things and he’d amassed quite an array of antiques and art work which he made sure remained in tip top condition. More importantly, every item stayed in its place. His view of mountains, a large swimming pool, and meticulously kept landscaping was all he needed to complete his very disciplined life style. “I like being able to pick and choose who I want when I want them.” No need to mention how badly he craved the handsome black man.
“You don’t have to marry the bastard, Ant, let him screw your brains out.” Lodge’s grin widened, “Or vice versa.”
He stared out the window of his shop and watched cars speed by heading to various destinations to connect with family, friends, or lovers. “He’s barely approaching the backside of twenty.” When had forty-two become old?
“Hard to keep today’s greedy young men in their place.”
“I do it.” Turning to look at Lodge, Anthony declared, “By keeping them out of mine.” He never took them home.
“Why don’t you have dinner with us at Evolve tomorrow night. We’re dining with friends and I’d like you to meet Zedidiah Mandrake who owns Evolve.”
“I’d like that.”
Hustling Lodge and Jim out, Anthony left a few notes for his staff since he expected to be late tomorrow morning. He needed to release a lot of pent up stress. Anthony could think of a few ways to do that with one other participant who had taken up residence in the forefront of his mind.
Gunner Bonds.
He likes to play rough.
* * * * *
Gunner watched as the man, wearing another of the finest suits he’d ever seen, left Zed’s table and meandered toward the bar.
Last time he visited Evolve, he spoke no more than four words. First two—Screaming Orgasm. Who the hell drank Vodka, chocolate and coffee flavored liquor mixed with amaretto and Irish cream liquor! Jesusfuckingchrist, did Gunner want to give him something to scream about but it in no way correlated to a drink. He’d watched the lean, stunningly gorgeous, white man, whose height matched his, twirl dark curls back and forth around a slender finger nursing the godawful sweet concoction for damn near an hour while he remained standing. All Gunner could imagine was how his sensuous lips would feel wrapped around his thick, black dick. Emotionless brown eyes peered around Evolve seemingly uninterested though Gunner did catch him eyeing his crotch once or twice.
His last two words—thank you. Then he vanished as quickly as he had arrived.
Gunner had not expected to see him again and damn it, his shift was ending.
Reaching for necessary ingredients, he quickly mixed the same drink he requested on his last visit. Another bartender sidled up and said, “I’ll get it if you want to run.”
“I got it.”
“You sure?”
“All yours after this one.”
“Okay.”
When the man reached a stool in front of Gunner, he slid the drink toward him. “Screaming Orgasm, right?” Again, he remained standing.
“You remembered what I like.” He sipped his mixture and when he slowly licked his lips, Gunner’s body barreled into overdrive. “Gunner, my name is Anthony, I’d like you to call me Ant.” Head tilted questioningly, “Do you do everything this perfectly?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Splendid.” Saluting Gunner with his glass, he proceeded to swallow what remained.
Anthony, Ant, knew Gunner’s name which meant he asked around about him. “You know my name?” He peered over Ant’s shoulder to catch Jim heading in their direction. Fucking Christ, he held a key card. Was it possible…
“Gun, Zed requested I bring this over.” He proffered the key.
So, they had talked about him over dinner. He leaned to see Zed nod in his direction. How important was Anthony? Gunner seized the card and audibly sighed when he noted not only was it gold, it carried room number eleven. BDSM. After Jim left, he stared at Ant. “Did you have anything to do with this?”
“I had everything to do with it.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
“If I say no?”
“I reply have a nice evening and leave you wondering what you may have missed.”
“Maybe it’s you who would lose out.”
“I won’t.” Lips curved mockingly. “Perhaps you will discover a different side of yourself in my care.”
Your care?” Did he actually believe he’d be in control? “Goddamn if you aren’t fucking sure of yourself.” Ant winced. Was it Gunner’s use of foul language? Please don’t let him be that prim and proper.
“I’m sure of one thing.” Ant leaned and whispered, “Tonight, I want you.” Warm breath tickled Gunner’s ear, sent a shiver of pure delight straight to his crotch. “I’d bet one of my best suits your penis is swelling.”
Penis! Gun stepped back to give him an eyeful. “Keep the suit. I own an array of costly outfits.”
“I’d attire you much better.”
“Doubtful. Anyway, I prefer buying my own apparel.” As impeccable as his suit was, wouldn’t surprise Gunner if the wise ass did tailor-make his clothes. He hoped to set the prudish bastard back on his heels a little. “But I will fill your tight ass with every inch of my black dick.”
“We shall see.”
He pivoted toward his group leaving Gunner to stare after him. “What the fuck?”
Stopping dead in his tracks, Ant spun and narrowed lifeless eyes. “We’ll do something about that nasty mouth of yours when I join you. Restraint is exceedingly important to success.”
“Restraint?” Anthony kept walking. Oh, having this motherfucker would be the highlight of his year. Gunner had never been enraptured with a man who appeared, for lack of a better word, fey! Decorous and seemingly unbreakable, Gunner swore to himself he’d have Anthony cursing like a sailor by daylight and begging for more. He pondered allowing the prick to believe he controlled their encounter and, accordingly, Gunner would get exactly what he wanted. He whispered to himself, “You’ll bend for me.”

Growl and roar—it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele