Friday, February 22, 2019

Little something about Scott...

The last Brief Knight!
PAID TO PLAY (Brief Knights 3)
Pre-order now for 3/22/19
Young escort, an older man who’s been burned, neither sees their contract through to the end.

#escort, #fetish, #gay, #gayromance, #lgbtq, #lingerie, #maydecember, #rentboy


Scott Ketchum: “I’ve slept with a few clients. I might sleep with him if I like him, but he won’t keep me enthralled for long. None ever do.”

Reed Chandler: “For the right price, my escort will put out. It’s my money and I get what I pay for.”

A piece:
Taking a call from Banyon who prattled on and on before speaking about dinner planned for a group Sunday coming, Scott asked, spur of the moment, if he’d be available to go with him to the Beverly Chateau to meet a new client. Ban jumped at the opportunity. Since meeting and hooking up with Stanton, he seldom did that anymore. Odd, as was the call because Hunt usually relayed Ban’s Sunday dinner particulars to Scott.
Ban was already at the bar and damn if Hunt didn’t flank him. What the heck was going on? “Didn’t expect you to say yes.” He squinted at Ban. “And Hunter. Wow. I feel freaky safe.”
“I’d have hoped you’d dress more demurely.”
“Demure? This is reserved enough for a meet and discuss, Banyon.” Scott had chosen a pair of tight cherry red leather pants paired with a red, blue, and yellow paisley printed shirt. Sans socks, his shoes were silver studded black and white loafers with red suede tops and faux laces. He grinned “I am wearing new lingerie underneath. It’s cornflower blue. Want to see?”
“Sweet peter. I don’t want to see your titties or your cock.”
“Betcha he’s wearing that peter bar. He has to or it’ll close up.” Hunter snickered. “Hurts like hell to push it in after too long.”
“What is a peter bar?” Ban faced Hunt. “And how would you know it hurts; when was your last piercing?”
“It’s called a prince albert and there are many different types of genital piercings.” Scott sighed. “Do you want to see it?”
“I’m not drilling holes in my body.” Hunt grinned. “But, yeah, can I see?”
“Haven’t we showered together?”
“Oh shut up!” Ban spun toward Scott. “This is serious.”
Now Scott was concerned. “Ban, what’s going on?”
“Your client is Reed Chandler.”
“And he is…?”
“He’s from Philly.” Hunter grunted, “New owner of Brief Knights.”
“Fuck’s sake. I’m being set up.”
“Doubtful, but you made an impression handling a knife on Wilshire in broad daylight.”
“I wasn’t letting some trash take diamonds from my nipples.”
“What in Lord’s name where you doing outside without a shirt in the first place? Told you I’d send someone over.”
“This happened before I called you, Ban, and damn, it was hotter than hell.”
“Umm, Scott…”
“I can’t afford to lose this job. Just got a new car, and you should see my sleigh bed.”
“Scott...” Hunter cleared his throat.
“Shit, shit. I’ll have to move to Reseda or City of Industry. Yuck. This is not going to fucking happen.”
Scott!”
“Think he’s going to fire me, bastard needs to rethink that.” What did Ban find so interesting over his shoulder? “Christ, that bitch is going to fire me, isn’t he?”
Hunter, cheeks redder than hellfire, looked ready to explode. “Uhh, I…umm…”
“Bitch is willing to listen to your side of things.”
Scott wheeled and looked up, way up. The lumberjack! “Jesusfuckingchrist.” He’s freaking huge and, Lord, he’s hot! “Uhh, how are you?”
“Bitch is good. I prefer you call me Reed. Mr. Chandler would work.” Arms folded across a barrel chest. “You got a mouth on you.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean anything. It’s not personal.”
“Good because that might hurt my feelings.” Reed peered at Ban and Hunter. “You two can leave. I’m not going to kill someone I hear is my best money maker.”

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

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

When a snake craves a vampire!

MERCIFUL BLEED--Serpentine Vampires 1

Pre-order AMAZON

Blood and venom—one sustains life, one kills!

Paladin Bodine, called a Bleeder, is serpentine. He’s paid to extinguish unmanageable
vampires and even end the lifecycle of those old and tired of existing. He cheats, lies and skulks, whatever it takes for his serpents to deliver. Paladin is damn good at what he does until he meets a vampire who turns his slithering world upside down.

Braid Calderon means to stop the individual hired to end his sire’s life at any cost. He follows the murderous man whose strangeness entices and delights Braid from a distance and he fails to consider his body’s reaction when he meets the killer face to face.

Both cold and distant, one hot coming together changes their lives forever!

A short paranormal MM romance with coarse language, explicit sex, and an HEA. Another character gets to tell his short, hot story soon and both can be read as standalones.
Excerpt:
Paladin couldn’t figure why Braid cared. Why do I? He hated this shit. He’d long suspected Hail fostered younger vamp’s inability to remember meeting a serpentine. Sitting before him was proof. Paladin wanted Braid to remember, to recognize him every fucking time yet, he hesitated imparting information that might help.
Hail hadn’t missed Braid. Paladin speculated this one was special or he wouldn’t be here. How did you find me today? Accosting the being was possible a dozen times when he shadowed Paladin but, like ordinary snakes, he shunned conflict unless paid.
Then it became a job.
Eons ago, Paladin’s kin became…manlike. They evolved into wearing skin instead of scales. They ate, slept, and fucked like humans. The scent across from him, the fresh wintry taste of this particular vampire continued to wreak havoc with his normally shrewd consciousness. Serpentines lacked real emotion. They smiled or looked attentive when necessary and became adept at pretending. Paladin’s true feelings could be put on a pinhead and there’d be space left.
One remainder along with venom, fangs, and extremely heightened senses—spring and fall mating season. In between equinoxes, intercourse carried little importance. Paladin preferred men when he gave in to animalistic urges but it was difficult as sex included tremendous grappling with inner monsters who disdained physical contact. Damn if he didn’t desire giving in right now. The pretty immortal would be worth the subsequent battle. Why did Braid get to him? It’s springtime. Or curiosity. He hunted and slayed them but Paladin never screwed a vampire.
Over two centuries old, he discovered no pheromone secreted which lingered in his nostrils as Braid’s scent did.
“Hail’s important to you.” Paladin’s father was a sperm donor to keep their lineage alive. Serpentine parents each played one part—sire and brood. Then they were gone. At least Paladin inherited a company. He sought understanding the man across from him. “Is he your lover?”
“It isn’t like that between us.” Pale blue eyes shone brightly beneath jet-black curls reaching his collar. High cheek bones, porcelain skin that would be cool and, Christ, he had perpetually red stained lips that were lusciously full. An inch or two shorter than Paladin’s six-foot three frame, Braid didn’t pack muscle. He tugged incessantly at a royal purple paisley print silk tie. “He made and cares for me.”
“You still feed from him?” Older vampires continued imbibing from protégés, made sure they received sustenance by supplying humans when necessary. Suspending delivery of personal nourishment was the norm as a young vamp could prove extremely problematic if they grew too powerful ingesting ancient blood. Odd.
“Yes.”
Explained remnants of Hail’s distinct fragrance. Paladin scrutinized Braid. “You must be exceptional.”
He sighed. “I can’t fathom why he wants to die.”
“We don’t get to decide when people we attach ourselves to choose to leave this world.” Damn if he wasn’t attempting to sooth a vampire.
“Impossible for you to understand.”
“Not really. Undead are solitary creatures also.
Eyes narrowed. “Snakes don’t have feelings.”
“True.” His comment raised no ire in Paladin. “We do crave warmth.” I want this one. “There’s enough humanness in me to ask for your company.” What am I doing? “To talk more.” Liar. Get Braid in his bed, wrestle snakes until both men achieve sexual satisfaction, and then move on. Provide a reason he can’t refuse. “We’ll talk about Hail.”
“I won’t let you…”
“I can hardly carry out his request if you’re with me.” He pulled the vampire’s hand across the table confused as hell why he desired Braid. His reptiles never budged. “Feeding from the strongest vampire alive, you can dematerialize. Should you wish to leave, I won’t stop you.” Paladin rubbed his thumb in circles on the back of Braid’s hand. He murmured, “Your aroma is intoxicating.” Yeah, I’ve lost my mind. Braid’s eyes darkened with something Paladin knew nothing about. Passion. “We can be there in an hour.”
“Where?”
“My place. Mojave Desert.”
“I can’t.” He jerked his hand away. “The heat.”
“Mid-April, it won’t be hot.” Paladin watched him nibble a nail. “Well? Do I delay your master?”
“You can’t be old enough… You don’t have power to change Hail’s plans.”
“Fine.” Paladin stood. “I’ll keep our appointment.”
“No.” Braid jumped up. “I can take us there.”
“I got it covered.” Ahh, yes, it’s springtime. “And I’m guessing I’m older than you.”

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

Friday, February 15, 2019

Meet another Brief Knight!

WHEN HE PLAYS-(Brief Knights 2)
Amazon    Kobo    BN
Young escort, an #artist, sex in the pantry-paint everywhere! #lgbtq, #gay, #maydecember, #gayromance, #lingerie, #fetish

COVER STORY


“I painted with love until she died. I never expected to meet him.”
 
Weston Tucker overhears a young man lament finding adequate living space or having to return to his father’s home. Perfectly manicured fingers pulled out a credit card few can name on sight alone. Young, far too handsome, Wes thinks to knock the spoiled brat, whose family name he recognizes, down a peg or two. With paint stained fingers, he proffers his card offering a room in return for having the inside of his home painted.

“He’s crotchety, mean, disdainful. He smells damn good, he’s delicate, gentle, and oh so very nasty!”

Hunter Gold’s job as an escort for Brief Knights has to end or his father threatens to cut him off. At the same time, his roommate leaves Hunt in a fix for housing. A few more escort assignments are booked but he takes on a job painting for a recluse to have a place to live and a small salary until he can straighten things out. Hunt never dreamed of becoming enamored of the enigmatic loner he worked for.

A young escort, a painter with a secret, and sex in the pantry. Paint gets everywhere!

A standalone MM/May-December Romance, with an HEA, and no cliffhanger. Includes lingerie fetish, angry sex, and explicit sexual language with cursing!

EXCERPT:


     Tired of waiting for Scott to return from the banquet room, Hunt went searching in case his client showed up. Odd how empty the bar stood. Normally had to comb for seats on a Saturday night. He reached the door and stopped dead in his tracks. “What the hell?”
Scott appeared behind him. “Keep walking because he’s already seen you. Stop now and you’ll never know.”
Twisting his head, Hunt glared. “What is this?”
“Ban says I’m supposed to tell you; wait, let me remember so I get it right. He said say, ‘Payback is a bitch, motherfucker’.”
Hunt jerked toward the room and stared at Weston. Christ, he’s fucking beautiful! Stanton was nowhere to be seen but Ban stood not far behind Wes, lips curled. He had nerve to blow a kiss before turning away.
Months and months ago, he’d given Banyon, totally against his wishes, an opportunity to see Stanton once more. It worked. Those two were inseparable, would always be.
Was this his chance? Thankful he wore a suit and looked his best, he strode toward Weston who gazed at Hunt but never moved. Bastard wasn’t going to make this easy.
When he reached Wes, he took Hunt’s hand and tugged him from the room. Not saying a word, they passed through the bar, into the Beverly Chateau’s lobby, and to the elevators. Still, Wes said nothing. Doors opened and a couple exited. Weston half pulled, half pushed him into the empty elevator. Doors barely slid shut before he shoved Hunt against a cold, metal wall. “A fucking escort?”
“Weston, there was no way to tell you.”
“You could have opened with ‘by the way men pay me to be with them’.”
“It’s not like that.” Heat suffused Hunt’s face. “I owe you nothing. I was hired to paint your fucking house.” Letting this go, entered his mind. Run away. No, I won’t!
“Which you never finished.” Reaching the third floor, he drew Hunt in his wake. “I rented a room to escape the crowd. Seems it won’t be wasted.” Wes slid a key card in and practically kicked the door open. “I’ll pay you.” It closed and he spun on Hunt. “What exactly did they get for their money?”
“You bitch.”
“I fucking wanted you.” He slammed Hunt against the door. “What. Did. They. Get?”
“Wanted?” Hunter yearned for more. If they couldn’t have it, may as well know now. “No one got what you did.” He touched Wes’ lips, stroked his thumb across them. “No one ever will.”
“I fucking hate you.” He hadn’t released his hold on Hunt, didn’t ask him to leave.
Angry sex. “Hate me while you show me how much you want me, hate me slowly, and gently. Hate me with your mouth, hands, and God knows, I want you to hate me with your cock.” He leaned and kissed Wes. “If you can’t do that, let me go.”
“Tell me what was different?” His voice softened. “What, Hunter?”
“You got a piece of my heart.” He bent toward Wes, whispered in his ear, “What are you wearing beneath the suspenders and handsome dress shirt, WT?”
“Goddamn you.”
♂♂♂♂
Hunt hadn’t been in Wes’ house long but when he left, it grew too quiet. Loneliness haunted hallways. Sometimes he stood in the doorway of the room Hunt had occupied which was now twice the size. He tried to picture him in bed, foot propped on pillows. Wes attempted to capture his scent.
Absent. Everything gone.
Planning for this showing, getting art work finished, selecting what he wanted to present and sell to the public, it’s all that kept him going. Often, Hunt whispered through his mind. Which pieces had he seen when he snuck into the studio? Did he like any one in particular?
Wes drove himself crazy.
And now here he was, in front of Wes asking to be taken gently, quietly.
“I like when you call me WT.”
“I like your hair out.”
“I thought of you.” He slipped suspenders down his arms and began to unbutton his shirt. He removed it revealing a corset with a zipper up the front. Fucking glad he’d worn black with lots of lace. Thong felt sexy as hell cutting the crease of his ass.
Wes’ heart stuttered when Hunt sucked in air and murmured, “More beautiful than I envisioned.” He peeled his jacket off, loosened and removed his tie before unzipping Wes’ top enough to latch onto a nipple. He licked, sucked, and ended by teasing the taut peak with teeth.
“Fuck, that feels amazing.”
“Do you realize what you do to me, WT, the power you hold over every fucking part of me?”
“If it’s half what I feel, I don’t know how you’re still standing.” Wes was swept off his feet, literally. “I’m suppose to do you slowly, quietly.”
“And you will.” Hunt tossed him into the center of the bed and crawled between his legs. Unbuttoning Wes’ pants, he snatched them down. “Fuck me. A black thong.” Bunching the corset out of his way, he pinched nipples as he kissed Wes’ stomach from one side to the other, delved into his belly button. “My dick hurts to be inside you.” Christ, Hunt tortured Wes when he pulled his panties down enough to lick the crown of his prick. Drawing the head through lips, he pulled it down his throat. Head bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Mm, yeah. I could lap this all night.”
“I don’t have all night.” Wriggling from beneath Hunt, Wes pushed him onto his stomach. He stretched on top of him and ground into his ass. “How does your cock feel now?”
“Jesus, it’s hard, wet.”
Continuing to rub up and down on Hunt’s clothed body, Wes moaned as he nipped one ear then the other. He ran hands down Hunt’s side, reached beneath him with one and massaged his shaft. “You are hard.”
“And I’m going to come in my pants.”
“Liar, you just want to get them off.”
“Yes, please.”
“Right. Wouldn’t do for you to show up downstairs with cum-stained pants.”
Wes rolled him over, fumbled with shirt buttons and pushed it off. Hunt murmured, “Damn, I missed you.” He already had pants undone and shimmied to remove them after kicking shoes off. He stroked Wes’ arms, his chest and belly.
“You missed crotchety, disdainful old me?”
“Ban talks too much and I’d never say old.”
“Banyon made me realize something.”
“Yeah?”
“I liked having you around.”
“For painting?” 
“You know better.” Mounting Hunt, Wes slipped up and down his body. “It’s more.” Sitting up, he let Hunt’s fat prick rub against his through material growing damp with precum. “It’s this.” He bent forward and stole Hunt’s mouth. Tongues tangled, probed, tasted. Satisfied, he moved his mouth down, down until he captured a taut nipple. Biting it, he rocked and rolled against Hunter’s crotch and when moans buffeted air against his hair, he sighed. “I want more.” He reached between his legs and moved the strip of material to the side. “I missed this.” Spitting in his hand, mixing it with semen coating Hunt’s knob, he rose up and eased down until Hunt’s shaft was buried inside his ass. “Fuck yes!” Leaning Wes murmured, “No one gets my ass like this but you.”

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

Thursday, February 7, 2019

There's always something...

Half way thru PAID TO PLAY, new $h!t slapped me! BLOODIED VENOM, a short—almost done. Hello Hail Patrascu, a descendant of Dracula, a Serpentine Vampire full of piss and venom! Wrote a short earlier, MERCIFUL BLEED, that will come first and soon. Cover story may change but not much. 

Take his blood—lose your life!

Hail Patrascu, an ancestor of Transylvania’s Draculesti family line, wields unique powers as the world’s oldest living vampire. Searching for death, he stumbles onto something phenomenal. Drinking venom infused blood, he not only possesses vampiric powers, he’s been imbued with those of an even older creature—a serpentine. A snake, heretofore unable to change form, is animated with Hail’s vampire blood and now the monster seeks a life of its own!

McCall Stephens, after one drink too many, witnesses something that sobers him up immediately. A beast so fiendish, it took the life of a man right before Call’s eyes and now it stalks him. Every day the pale being follows; he haunts Call nightly with erotic dreams. Each encounter tugs him closer to a dark abyss with impossible promises. Giving in, Call may lose everything—including his life!

Or will their wildest dreams come true?

A standalone short paranormal MM romance with coarse language, explicit sex, and an HEA. There is no cliffhanger.
Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

Tuesday, February 5, 2019

Tuesday Talk

Three men from Brief Knights discuss their stories.

The group being interviewed today not only became friends, they are each other’s confidants. The men affectionately refer to themselves as femscorts. Young, slender, effeminate, outspoken, extremely fond of women’s lingerie, and enamored of older men. All three work for Brief Knights, an agency contracted by wealthy men seeking companionship for trips, special events, and sometimes to stave off loneliness. They’ve been gathered by author, J. Hali Steele, to talk about various adventures experienced during time employed at Brief Knights.
Banyon Jameson walked into the spacious room and glanced around. Appeared to be an office and only two other people had arrived. His best friend, Hunter Gold, and a good friend of both him and Hunt, Scott Ketchum. The author who called them together was nowhere in sight.
“I don’t have all day.” Always vocal, Scott questioned, “Where is this lady?”
“Guess she’ll be here soon. Not like you have anything important to do.” Hunt poked through stacks of clipped pages. “She writes a lot.”
“About what?” Ban joined in perusing packets. “Good Lord! This is about me.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Hunt snatched it. “Played for Pay.” He glimpsed a few pages then peered at Ban. “Jesus! It’s your life story.”
“It can’t be my life story. I’m alive and, sweet peter, I hope I have some living left to do.”
“I know you hate vulgarity but why don’t you just say suck my dick?” Hunter glared, “Had no problem cursing when you sent that message with Scott calling me names.”
Banyon grinned. “You didn’t like being told ‘pay back is a bitch’?”
“I didn’t like you calling me a motherfucker.”
“Exactly what you were when you engineered that meeting between Stanton and myself.” He didn’t expect his best friend to betray him. “It was wrong.”
“Was it? Seems like I was responsible for you finding the love of your life.”
“Doesn’t matter, Hunter. You should have told me he was going to be at the party so I could…”
“Could what? Refuse to attend? Where would you be now if I’d told you?”
Stanton Kavanaugh had become Ban’s partner. “Fudge nuts, you’re right.” Leafing through another pile, he exclaimed, “Hah, hah!”
“Find something interesting?” Hunter reached for the fastened pack Ban held. “When He Plays. Son of a bitch, this woman is prolific.” He slammed it to the desk. “I don’t care what she writes about me but Weston Tucker is hands off.”
“The hell he is.” Scott had a sheaf of papers in hand. “Everyone should know about the dude’s crotchety, disdainful, mean ass.”
“Fuck you. And don’t call him dude.”
“He does hate that.” Scott plopped into a big comfy chair and threw legs over one arm. “Does he dribble paint on you in his secret studio?” He grinned. Bet Wes drapes that tight little body of his over your big ass and gives it to you the way we all know you like it.
“God's sake, shut up!
Oh, like the world won't know now? It's written in black and white.
Kiss my ass. So what if I like being on the receiving end. You’re jealous she penned nothing about you.” Hunt groaned, “We may never. Look at all the manuscripts on those shelves!”
“Don’t like having your dirty laundry aired before the world, Hunter? Pay back and all that.” Banyon snapped his fingers as he considered Scott who had grown quiet. “What are you reading?”
“It’s called Paid To Play.” He quickly flipped pages. “About me and Reed Chandler.”
“Is something the matter?” Hunt walked to where Scott sat. “Christ, if you’re going to wear one of those studded, goth kilts, keep your legs closed. No one wants to see your pierced junk.”
“Junk? Shit, a prize hangs between these thighs and it is covered in the finest silk panties. Bought them yesterday at a shop on Rodeo Drive. You should see the lovely corsets they stocked in every color.” Scott never took his eyes from pages he rapidly turned. “I’m not sure I like this J. Hali Steele.”
“What’s up?” Ban joined Hunt beside Scott’s chair.
“I don’t mind she’s not letting me have sex yet but, damn her!” He threw the pile to the floor, clip fell away, and papers skittered in every direction.
Ban grabbed sheets and began rearranging them in numerical order when he saw the paragraph Scott must have read. He studied his friend who stared out a small window. “Sweet peter, I’m sorry, Scott.”
Hunt snatched the single page and read the following conversation from Paid To Play out loud—
“Reed, you’ve convinced yourself you want something that you truly don’t. I know you better than anyone and he’s not your type.”
“Nothing about me is your business anymore, Shel. You walked away.”
Shel stroked a finger down Reed’s face. “I’m back, baby.”
“Damn, Scott, this means you may not get an HEA.”
“Reed contracted my services for a month.” Scott jumped from the seat. “There are three weeks left.”
Ban sighed. “Seems Reed and Shel had a long relationship.”
Scott strode to the door and stared over his shoulder. “J. Hali Steele hasn’t written THE END yet.”

PLAYED FOR PAY (Brief Knights 1) is available now:

WHEN HE PLAYS (Brief Knights 2) can be preordered:
Pre-order NOW! Coming February 15th
#lgbtq, #gay, #maydecember, #gayromance, #lingerie #fetish

PAID TO PLAY (Brief Knights 3) coming March 2019:
#lgbtq, #gay, #maydecember, #gayromance, #lingerie #fetish

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