J.C. Natál has been writing since she was old enough to hold a pen. She wrote my first full length novel at 14 and there was a devout Pentecostal phase which produced some of the worst poetry (according to her) the world has ever seen. There have been short and novel length stories with a lot of dribble but a few gems emerged over time.
J.C. continued to work at honing her craft with various original projects then discovered the world of written erotica and the universe as she knew it changed. Even more so when she discovered that other people were turned on by the same things she was. And that, in turn brought her to Dark Roast Press.
With several interests, J.C. considers herself a sci-fi geek, loves to read, and falls in love with one or two television shows at a time. She has a huge crush on Jeffrey Dean Morgan, loves music in all genres (except maybe hip hop/rap...which she tolerates) and of course, COFFEE.
Learn more about J.C at her Live Journal.
Alarin is a skid living in the dark and dangerous underside of Washington-America, where the sun can no longer be seen through the buildings and streets of the upper levels. He’s a pickpocket and a thief, and sometimes a whore when he’s hungry enough, until the night he picks the wrong pocket and falls victim to a vicious beating.
A mysterious benefactor whisks Alarin away from the mean streets and offers him a life of luxury, ninety floors in the sky…but who exactly is Maleus Bryant and why does he want Alarin when he could have his choice of companion? What is it he knows that Alarin doesn’t?
Adding to Alarin’s discomfort is the image in his mind of a killer with blood on his face, a Rysykk, rising out of the black of night and the legends of old to fill Alarin with fear. Could Maleus be a Rysykk, hiding in plain sight?
Even if he is, can Alarin turn his back on shelter and food and a life he’d never dreamed of, or will he stay, knowingly a Rysykk’s private whore?
By the time he was deemed well enough to get out of the bed, Alarin wanted nothing more than to get out of the pampered prison he’d found himself in. He’d eaten more food in the weeks he’d been awake than he had in his whole seventeen years. He would thank his host for the rescue and generosity, and find out what was required in return. Then get out as soon as he was able, beat it back to his own level. Back to the dark and grunge of bottomside.
“How long have I been here, Rose?” Alarin asked as he dropped sweating and breathless onto the bed after only a short walk, leaning heavily on the cane she’d brought.
She cocked her head to the side and looked at him. “Do you have somewhere better to be?”
He laughed and lifted his splinted leg up onto the bed while she poured him some water and set his little cup of pills beside the bed. “Yeah; ‘cause my flop hole and trash bed’s so much better ... and I gots stuff what needs doing.” He snorted and tossed the pills back, slamming down the water. He figured he should get as much of the good stuff as he could while he was there. Soon enough he’d be back down in the gutter.
“It will be a month tomorrow,” Rose said finally.
Alarin shook his head. “Long time.”
“Mr. Bryant will be home from his trip in a few days. By then we should have your strength up. He’ll want to see you. He’s been pleased with your progress.”
That made Alarin more nervous than he wanted to admit. He had nothing to offer this man. He couldn’t imagine what a man like Maleus Bryant could possibly want with a gutter-born bottom feeder like him. Well, he could imagine, but none of the things that came to him were pleasant.
A week later Alarin was given clothing – simple, but new, and better than anything he’d ever worn. He was led out of his room, into a bright, white hallway and over to an elevator that took them up ten floors. A whole level. As the doors opened, the servant escorting him gestured into the room. "Mr. Bryant is waiting for you, sir."
Alarin actually snorted at that. He'd never been called a "sir" before. He limped his way into the room, which was a stark contrast to everything he'd seen before. The walls were lined in rich wood paneling, dark and well polished. The back wall was filled, floor to ceiling, with books. The carpeting was nearly ankle thick as he stepped hesitantly onto it. A few steps further into the room, and he eyed the lush furniture-- black leather. It was more than a few moments before his eyes adjusted enough to see the eyes regarding him with cool amusement from the depths of one of the chairs.
"Forgive the lack of light. I'm afraid my eyes are sensitive." The voice was slightly accented, gentle, compelling.
"No problem. I come from the dark levels." Alarin responded reflexively, and he sensed, rather than saw, the smile.
"I recall. I trust you are feeling better?”
"Yeah ... you know ... thank you. I can’t pay you for this."
The shadows seemed to shift as Maleus moved forward in his chair. "There is nothing to repay. It was my pleasure."
In a modern world where rampant disease and prostitution has been dealt with through institutionalizing the sex business, and where American nobility, Lords and Ladies, hold significant power, Lord Elias Doherty is a man who has always had everything he ever wanted. Spoiled and arrogant, Elias thinks only of his upcoming twenty-fifth birthday and his only desired gift, a Servant of his very own.
When he spots Jared Karan, he knows exactly what he wants, but Jared is owned by another, a powerful British Lord with a reputation as a ruthless and unforgiving man, in business and in personal matters.
Elias gets what he wants through his father’s political and business maneuvering, and Jared is his. But Lord Stuart isn’t content with his defeat, and he uses his own power and influence to give Elias a gift, one that on the surface seems legitimate, but hides a very dark secret.
With a powerful enemy and a political climate that is more than a little volatile, falling in love with Jared could lead them both to destruction.
Elias realized he was holding his breath and let it out slowly. It was a beautiful thing to watch, the fingers disappearing into him and moving about slowly, opening him up. According to the paperwork, he’d never had anything near the size of an actual cock inside him. Fingers, dildos for training, but all small, all designed to leave him essentially a virgin for his Lord.
It made him sweat to think about it, that no one else had touched him the way he was about to. Jared finished and stood up, turning to Elias. “How do you want me, my Lord?” His eyes were downcast, his voice breathy.
Elias crossed to him, letting his fingers dance over the bare skin, over nipples and abdominal muscles, over hips, around to the rounded mounds of his ass. He slipped a finger inside him and closed his eyes, savoring the heat. “Undress me,” Elias said.
Jared hesitated only briefly, then his hands rose up between them, unbuttoning Elias’ shirt. His hands skimmed over Elias’ skin, up, under the shirt, over his shoulders, slipping the fabric from him as he circled around Elias.
Lips, soft and damp, moved over his back as the shirt fell into Jared’s hands. Kisses and tender touches made Elias close his eyes and relax. He never saw where the shirt landed, but he felt Jared’s hands, over his lower back, around his waist…his fingers at the button of his jeans.
It was so quiet in the room Elias could hear the denim slide through Jared’s hands as he opened the fly and guided the pants down. As they reached his ankles, Jared circled back around so that he was in front of Elias, on his knees, staring at the erect cock he’d released.
Jared steadied Elias with a hand on his hip and wordlessly encouraged him to step free of the clothing. Elias’ cock bobbed in front of him and after he’d pushed the jeans away, he looked up at Elias, eyes wide.
“May I, my Lord?”
It took Elias a moment to realize what it was he was asking. “Yeah…yeah…do it.”
Jared’s mouth opened and then his lips closed around the end of Elias’ cock, just the tip. He sucked in, his tongue sliding just under the head, then tracing it. He pulled back, kissing the end, before his tongue lapped over it, then under it, down the length and back. Elias hissed and barely managed to keep from thrusting in hard and fast when Jared swallowed him whole.