Supernatural Sex and the City

By Skye Eagleday

Supernatural Sex and the City

Seattle is a magnet for the Supernatural community, pulling in rare shapeshifters from the lush forests, an ancient vampire or two, and the golden eyed werewolves.

In this collection of tales, meet Billy--a self described “annoying twink” and “Power Bottom.” Billy seems to have some gifts of his own that send his new supernatural lover into depths of passion neither one of them had known before.

The beautiful Native American vampire Ash once drank deeply from his enemies at Little Big Horn. Now he hunts at night in the gay bars of the Emerald City. Before the dawn he and his new human lover will face a danger far greater than Custer's army.

Armed with an on-line degree from the University of Phoenix, the potential alpha Dallas has come to the Pacific Northwest to put some distance between himself, his Pack, and his former lover. He's still recovering from the rough sex. He's drawn to another expert in joyskinning—the werewolf Jax. Jax will take Dallas to Run at full moon in his favorite forest, where a life-changing moment will alter their lives forever.

(A steamy erotic romance collection of adult tales that involve supernatural shape-shifter sex,vampire passion, oral, deep throating, anal, taken rough, three ways, and more! Over 26,000 words.)
Excerpt:

Ash
I had seen him here on more than one occasion. Even for someone who has been around as long as I have, he would be hard not to notice. Maybe it was also because there was something about him that reminded me of a soldier I had known before I had been Embraced. He looked like the cavalry officer I had killed at Little Big Horn. Yeah, I was that old. I was also on the winning side. Custer was an asshole.

1875 was when I discovered why in our language the slang for White man is “hairy ass.” He had been a soldier as well. Maybe I had a thing for men in uniform. It didn’t take me long to get the uniform off of him. “You’re more beautiful than any woman,” he told me, tracing his finger around my left nipple. In my family, all the men were beautiful, but not all of them were strong. All the women were strong, but not all of them were beautiful.

In those days I only wore the name Ashutosh. In English, it roughly translated as “fulfillment of desire.” My parents had wished for a boy after they had had three girls. For a century and a half I’ve tried to live up to my name.

His ass was not only hairy, but wonderfully round. I smelled of sweetgrass and he smelled of sweat and horses. He was curious about us. Over and over again, White men assumed we were somehow different, or that our women’s vaginas were set sideways instead of vertically. I suppose after a lifetime of growing up around hairy people, our smooth bodies must have been exotic to them. They always wanted to touch me. They always wanted to play with my hair. He was the same way. His own hair was coarse and curly.
His name was Daniel. I remember that even now. I remembered how he had cried out when I fucked him.
Less than a year later I had been embraced by my sire. A few months after that, I was busy killing Custer’s men. I made many cry out for reasons that had nothing to do with sex. There were three of us who drank deeply of the blood we spilled by the Greasy Grass River.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Skye Eagleday
• Release date: Mar 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301467686

Skye Eagleday

I am a Native American. I am also a Storyteller. Some stories are best told during the day. Some stories are best told during the night. I tell many different types of Stories. One of the favorite characters for many Native American Storytellers is Coyote. Coyote stories are also the ones most often censored by non-Natives.Did you know, for example, where I'm from it is said Coyote had two penises? You can visit my blog: www.SkyeEagleday.blogspot.com

Book preview

Supernatural Sex and the City

Skye Eagleday

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Skye Eagleday

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Chapter One

(Ash’s Tale)

Ash

I had seen him here on more than one occasion. Even for someone who has been around as long as I have, he would be hard not to notice. Maybe it was also because there was something about him that reminded me of a soldier I had known before I had been Embraced. He looked like the cavalry officer I had killed at Little Big Horn. Yeah, I was that old. I was also on the winning side. Custer was an asshole.

1875 was when I discovered why in our language the slang for White man is hairy ass. He had been a soldier as well. Maybe I had a thing for men in uniform. It didn’t take me long to get the uniform off of him. You’re more beautiful than any woman, he told me, tracing his finger around my left nipple. In my family, all the men were beautiful, but not all of them were strong. All the women were strong, but not all of them were beautiful.

In those days I only wore the name Ashutosh. In English, it roughly translated as fulfillment of desire. My parents had wished for a boy after they had had three girls. For a century and a half I’ve tried to live up to my name.

His ass was not only hairy, but wonderfully round. I smelled of sweetgrass and he smelled of sweat and horses. He was curious about us. Over and over again, White men assumed we were somehow different, or that our women’s vaginas were set sideways instead of vertically. I suppose after a lifetime of growing up around hairy people, our smooth bodies must have been exotic to them. They always wanted to touch me. They always wanted to play with my hair. He was the same way. His own hair was coarse and curly.

His name was Daniel. I remember that even now. I remembered how he had cried out when I fucked him.

Less than a year later I had been Embraced by my sire. A few months after that, I was busy killing Custer’s men. I made many cry out for reasons that had nothing to do with sex. There were three of us who drank deeply of the blood we spilled by the Greasy Grass River.

I watched him from across the dance floor, laughing at something the short one next to him had said. He had an easy way of interacting with others, and that made him all the more attractive. I sometimes wondered what would have happened if I could have met Custer’s soldier under different circumstances. I’d like to taste this man in front of me. People who laugh a lot taste differently than those who don’t.

I set my half-finished drink on the counter and cut between the crowd bopping around to the latest house music, edging closer. I enjoyed the hunt. I didn’t need to feed tonight, so I was just practicing. Maybe I wouldn’t even take him home tonight. Yeah, right.

Kyle

The Native guy was checking me out. He wasn’t subtle about it, either. I looked away from the short guy who was trying (and failing) to pick me up. I liked someone who knows what he wants and goes after it. I especially enjoy it when what he goes after is me. I had never been with a Native before—although I certainly have seen many of them since I moved to Seattle. He was the only one I’ve ever seen in a gay bar. I wondered if they had Native bars the way we had gay ones? If he were here, it would be clear which team he played for. I hope he was a pitcher because I was a great catcher.

His hair was almost to his waist. The red tank top emphasized his wide shoulders and narrow waist. He looked like he belonged on a runway. Stunning didn’t begin to describe him. I was too vain to wear my glasses out, so when I had seen him before, I had just noticed the hair. Now that he was close enough to see the details, I wanted to see a lot more. His eyes were almond shaped.

I looked up again and he was gone. Damn. No, there he was, maneuvering through the dancers and headed in my direction. Maybe it was my lucky night. Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket on my way to his bed. The short guy was gone. I guess he finally realized he’d be better off investing his time in someone else. Good call.

Ash

The problem with living several lifetimes is how you end up feeling there are only ten or so human models. I stalked this century’s version of the officer at Little Big Horn. In another few generations, I‘d probably pick up the latest edition of him on the moon. I took a moment to wonder what would happen to a werewolf on a moon colony. Would he stay furry all the time, or would he turn when the Earth rose?

I wasn’t overly fond of werewolves. They smelled like a wet dog, no matter how much cologne they wore. The bouncer/ID checker out in front was a were. He hadn’t known what I was until we tricked last week. They rarely did.

My officer lookalike turned in my direction and smiled. I smiled back. This was easy. I introduced myself, and he told me his name was Kyle. Up close he had a light sprinkling of freckles. That was different than Mr. 1876. I tried to imagine what Kyle would look like in epaulettes. Why don’t people wear epaulettes anymore?

He asked me if I wanted a drink. I didn’t but there are rituals to observe, so I let him lead me to one of the bars. We picked up our cocktails and stepped into the small outside patio where a couple of men were smoking. It wasn’t tobacco, but weed was now legal in Seattle. We sat down and did the usual dance of small talk. He was a graduate student. Every few years I picked up another degree. One thing you learn as a vamp was the importance of always learning. If you didn’t you got left behind, frozen in a past that had died long ago. That’s how some vamps went bat-shit crazy. I might miss epaulettes, but I could tell you who the hot designers were this Fall, and what color they were pushing.

Kyle

He had one of those voices that seemed to gently caress you. He seemed to have an inner peace that rippled out and relaxed me. He should be a radio announcer. It wasn’t fair someone who looked this good could sound like this as well.

Are you from Seattle? I asked.

I’m originally from a reservation in Montana, he said, swirling the ice around in his drink. I came here to go to school and decided to stay. In Seattle you don’t have to shovel rain. I don’t miss the winters in Montana.

"How long have you been