On select Saturdays I host guest authors from fellow publisher Siren-Bookstrand. Today's guest is Karen Mercury, author of Siren Title WORKING THE LODE.
~~Warning: Excerpt contains graphic adult material.~~
WORKING THE LODE
Going to California. It’s three thousand miles nearer to hell.
Mountain man Cormack Bowmaker meets up with Zelnora Sparks on the eve of California’s great rush—the discovery of gold. Zelnora is fleeing from her mentor, the mighty businessman Brannagh. They are being shadowed by the most scandalous Spanish bandit in the frontier. Joaquin Valenzuela wants to rob them of their gold, but soon discovers a desire for much more. Californians call for the pickled head of Valenzuela in a jar, but his passion for the two Americans overpowers his zeal for mayhem.
They band together in their quest for riches, love, and the good life. Bowmaker is a sharpshooter, his aim true. Valenzuela will slit the throat of anyone who wanders by. Zelnora knows where to find the gold. And Brannagh will do everything it takes to stop them.
They are about to discover the frontier—within themselves.
Zelnora reached behind her and scrabbled his buckskin shirt up to his shoulders, letting the silvery moonlight radiate from his pale skin. As much as he wanted the bandit to admire his athletic flank and the fat trunk of his penis, when he teased Zelnora’s engorged clitoris with his fingertips, she urged him to mount her. He slid into her hot succulent pussy, embedding himself to the hilt as he realized he also wanted Valenzuela to admire Zelnora—how nimbly she arched her back like a cat on a fencepost, standing on the tips of her toes to admit his large tool.
Tossing his shirt to the dried grass at their feet, Cormack jounced her on his cock then set to long lunges of his hips as he rocked her. All the while he fingered the erection of her swollen clitoris—he’d learned the sucking clenches of her climax around his prick were enough to bring him off.
“Slow,” he gasped, yanking her off the tree and clasping her shoulders to his bare chest.
She laughed, a low, salacious bubbling that came from deep in her chest. “I’m expected to slow down…when I’m speared on your magnificent penis?”
Cormack did not see the humor in the moment. “And you’re being watched by a base, murderous ruffian?” He had slowed his thrusts till he was barely moving, his cock twitching inside of her.
Zelnora smiled like a snake, the corners of her mouth turning up. “I don’t mind. I’m sure he’s admiring your colossal testicles pounding against my ass.”
Cormack’s face became hot with shame, but his cock jumped even more eagerly at the thought Valenzuela had his sights on his glutted balls. “Colossal? I’m not built that big.”
“Larger than that Spanish debauchee.”
“What makes you think that?” he whispered against her neck.
“When you came out of my tent, after he asked you to doctor his daughter.”
“Yes.” The mere memory had him gliding into her again. That ardent, sensual kiss between the two men had been more than a genteel show of gratitude. Cormack knew there were some odd countries where men kissed to show platonic love. In the mountains he’d seen men, presumably Europeans, do it. To get his mind off Valenzuela’s supple mouth, he had been telling himself the desperado was from one of those countries. But the way he licked and sucked Cormack’s tongue went beyond a simple thanks. Cormack wished he had not shoved the Spaniard away so swiftly. It had just been a natural reaction, and it was unseemly to show affection to another when Zelnora was not present—as though he were stealing something he owed to her.
“His serape was fallen to one shoulder, and his erection stuck out like a lodge pole. Not as big as yours.”
Cormack almost protested, but this time he did hear the enormous Californio spurs jangling as Valenzuela approached him from behind. He felt the heat emanating from Valenzuela’s shirtfront as he pressed gently against Cormack’s hunched back.
“Not as big, my dear?” he chided in an uncharacteristic manner. He happily bantered, not the dead-serious assassin about to count a coup on them like so many buffalo. His fingertips played a glissando down Cormack’s back muscles, causing gooseflesh to stand out on his arms and stiffening his nipples. “Perhaps you’re right, my gorgeous gold-finder. This pelirrojo one is hung like a prize bull.” He walked his fingers round under Cormack’s arm to pinch his taut nipples into painfully thrilled points.
Fact, Cormack felt the ridge of Valenzuela’s cock pressed against his bare ass. Ho, boy, was he going to attempt to fuck him, squashing him like an arrow between two hump ribs? Cormack could never allow himself to be demeaned in such a way, in front of Zelnora.
This child’s no traveler, Cormack thought. I am a trapper, a mountain man. I’ve seen a petrified forest, as sure as my rifle’s got hindsights.Here’s damp powder and no fire to dry it.
Reaching one limber arm up to caress the back of Cormack’s neck, Zelnora purred. “Toro pelirrojo, you’re right about that, Joaquin. At first I was afraid I couldn’t take him, his penis was so magnificent and—”
“—colossal,” Cormack reminded her, as Valenzuela dropped to his knees behind him, and Cormack felt the heat of his face brushing his backside. Just the snort of Valenzuela’s breath against his tight full balls was enough to send a rush of semen halfway up his cock, and he plunged into his sweetheart again. She grunted with gusto, arching her back even more energetically, and when Valenzuela tenderly bit the globe of his ass and sprinkled several more nibbles, Cormack had to still himself, gasping for air against Zelnora’s shoulder.
“Wait, wait…” Zelnora now exhorted.
Funny she should be the one to still him.
So Cormack eased his prick out of the woman about halfway and stood poised, his leg muscles trembling with anticipation.
He felt as much as heard Joaquin utter this satisfied sound of appreciation. And then he was lapping, the tip of his tongue flickering like a butterfly against the hairs of Cormack’s erupting balls.
Such a tender, dainty little mouth! Cormack heard ox-like grunts coming from somewhere in the redwood bower. Zelnora certainly could cut loose a spree! What a rambunctious, rollicking woman! She—ho, boy, it was he who sounded like rutting cattle, he who shivered the ground beneath his feet with his orgasmic trembling!
The Spaniard accelerated his lapping, opening his hot mouth to nip and slurp at Cormack’s balls. Cormack arched his back to allow better access, and the greedy smacking sounded loudly in the enclosed redwood glen. The reverberation of Joaquin’s groans shivered through his balls and up the underside of his distended prick.
He shot center into Zelnora’s scalding, tight pussy.
Not until much later did he realize that his butt was pressed into the face of a wicked Spanish bandit, and when he eventually withdrew from Zel’s flaming pussy, from behind Joaquin lathed his prick clean of jism, smacking his lips pruriently. He squiggled his nimble fingers up and down the length of Cormack’s prick, milking the last drops, fervently supping his seed. Cormack wrapped his fingers around Joaquin’s skull, cradling him to his crotch as he shuddered into the blistering, talented mouth.
Visit Karen Mercury on the web at: www.karenmercury.com