Travis Luedke and The Nightlife Series

Blood Slave Cover

Travis Luedke is visiting today to share details of his The Nightlife Series Omnibus. This includes books 1 – 4: The Nightlife  New York, The Nightlife Las Vegas, The Nightlife Paris and Blood Slave. We have the usual blurb and buying links, but this time you can read the whole of chapter 2 of Blood Slave right here :).

Back Cover Copy:

The Nightlife Series is violent, sexy, and occasionally violently sexy.

Vampires, strippers, escorts, night clubs, pimps & dirty cops – the Nightlife Series is never boring.

Can decadence, corruption and prostitution go hand in hand with self-control? Over-indulgence, crime and vampires lurk in darkness when night falls on the city.

The Nightlife Series explores the sexy, dangerous misadventures of vampires and an interesting assortment of wickedly corrupt men and women of the night. Gangs, pimps, prostitutes, cartel, mafia, drug dealers, addicts, alcoholics, all those wonderfully colorful people you find rubbing elbows in the back alleys, night clubs, and strip joints.

These creatures inhabit a world of constant blood, sex, and arousal. The act of feeding is highly erotic, victims often experience multiple orgasms. A vampire’s bite is the most powerful drug imaginable, ecstasy, euphoria, and an ever-present potential for addiction. Lethally violent predators, they can cut through flesh like a hot knife through butter. They slip through the nightlife quietly, unobtrusively, until cornered. Then it gets ugly, people die.

“The ensemble of wickedly sexy and disobedient characters are an interesting assortment that you will love and love to hate – even the villains have endearing moments.”

“Full of raw emotional turmoil and intense action; I was captured from the start and did not want to put it down….I felt so much passion for the characters while reading this book.”

“If paranormal romance packed with action and chaos tickles your fancy, then you really must read THE NIGHTLIFE SERIES.”

These wicked, pulse-pounding novels drag readers breathless through one cataclysmic event after another….bite into your copy today!

Buying Links:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Barnes and Noble

Smashwords

Travis’s Bio:

Travis Luedke PhotoTravis Luedke is a husband, father, and author of Urban Fantasy Thriller, Paranormal Romance, Contemporary Fantasy, Young Adult Fiction, and Sci-fi. He is currently catching a 3rd degree sunburn in San Antonio, Texas, and loving every minute of it.

As the author of the Nightlife Series novels, Travis lives very vicariously through his writings. He invites you to enjoy his macabre flights of fancy, but be warned: The Nightlife Series is violent, sexy, and occasionally violently sexy.

You can follow Travis on his blog, website, Twitter, Facebook and Goodreads.

Chapter 2 of Blood Slave!

Her breath tasted minty fresh when she kissed me. Nice, clean, better than most of my dates. Glad she didn’t smoke. Smokers taste like an old wet ashtray, disgusting. She displayed her aggressive side immediately, slipping my robe off my shoulders to watch it pool at my feet. She wanted it all right now. To lick me, fuck me, eat me, suck me and bite me. And she wanted me to go down on her.

Her thoughts raced past, a heady rush of lust and desire. Kissing me wildly, she pushed me back against the wall. An image surfaced in her mind, the good ole ‘sixty-nine’, a lesbian’s favorite.
Instead of giving me the opportunity to offer what she wanted, she proceeded to strip off the last scrap of clothing I wore, my panties. I helped her free my skin of this final restriction.
“Why don’t we go into the bedroom and get more comfortable?” I offered.
She backed off and let me take the lead. Holding her hand, I brought her to the edge of the bed and proceeded to take care of business.
“I get paid first. The escort service told you my rate of three hundred per hour, one hour minimum?” I hated asking. People like to play the ‘I didn’t know that’ game. They like to see if they can talk me down by pretense of ignorance.
Not this one. She didn’t say a word. Her answer came when she produced a wad of cash from a small black clutch bag. I stood before her naked, counting the money that totaled out to five hundred. I read her anticipation. It oozed from her very pores. She wanted me so badly. It drove her nuts to wait while I put the money away.
“Would you like some help?” I offered.
She smiled gleaming white. “Sure.”
I helped her step out of her skirt and we worked together unbuttoning her cream-colored blouse. I carefully laid her clothes atop the dresser. Expensive designer labels. I smoothed it out covetously, wishing I could afford something that nice.
“I love your color, so warm, a nice golden tan.” Her breath filtered down on the back of my neck.   She slipped her hand around from behind. She felt me up while her other hand slid down between my legs, oh-so tender with her touch.
“You’re warm, and wet. You like women too, how nice. And here I thought it was all about the money.” A little sharp in her attitude, but her hands knew their way around.
The scratchy lace of her bra tickled against my back as I leaned back into her embrace. I slid my hand back to feel her smooth inner thigh. She had expensive underwear, the kind that hides nothing. Teasing the edges of her white lace panties, her silky wet pussy ached for my touch. I traced the contours of her hot mound through the paper-thin lace. I squeezed lightly, and her wetness leaked onto my fingers. Then she slid her two fingers right up in me, hooking back, reaching up where I liked it. God, the woman knew right where to bang me. Her slippery wet tongue filled my ear and I shivered.
That was … different.
Before I knew it we faced each other, her tongue in my mouth, fingers exploring everywhere at once. Her bra and panties came off in a flurry, both our hands going for it.
I felt her up, lightly pinching her dark nipples. She growled low in her throat. Her tits were smaller than mine. Little dark nipples stood out erect on her pale white skin. I looked damn near black next to her absence of color. Her skin felt so slick and flawless, like one of those girls in an ‘Oil of Olay’ commercial.
We finally made our way to the bed, Lia in the lead, pushing me onto my back as she climbed over me into the ‘sixty-nine’.
“Mmmm smells so good.” She buried her nose inside me.
Seated over my face, I tasted her with feather soft licks. Ultra-clean and so very wet. A hint of saltiness. Warm and juicy, tasty, the cleanest pussy I’d ever tasted. I smiled knowing she had no STD’s to worry about.
Her tongue snaked over me, sliding in and around with amazing dexterity. She knew exactly what to do with that awesome tongue. They say lesbians do it better, they have the inside knowledge to do it right. In general I have found this true, but she put them all to shame.
Lia’s tongue worked an indescribable magic, sliding, darting, delving in and out, fast then slow. And always she had my nub in her lips and teeth. She had this serious hoover action going on my clit. I could hardly stay still, she had me humping and bucking my hips. I barely had any concentration for my face buried between her legs.
Her freakishly long tongue had me moaning and groaning, my hand fisted in her hair. She tongue fucked me, and I fucked back. I caught a charley horse in my leg at one point from humping her face so damn hard. I’ve seen dick smaller than her tongue, and used far less effectively.
She banged me so hard with her elephant trunk tongue that I forgot to focus on what she wanted from me. She had paid for my services, but all I’d done was come in her face. She served me. I remembered my obligation to my client and plucked from her mind what she wanted. Catching one of her thoughts out of the maelstrom of sensation, I gave it to her without warning. I shoved my middle finger in her ass and thumb in her pussy, the two finger stinger.
She liked that. A lot. She actually growled right into my wonderfully sensitive folds as I buried my hand deep inside her. And then she just went off. She ground her hips down hard into my face and hand, rubbing in a circular motion. I flexed my fingers inside her and gave her the other thing she wanted so badly. I swallowed her clit whole, sucking it up, my tongue tickling the very edges.
She pounded and licked me raw with her anteater tongue, all the while humping my face and hand. I rubbed and flexed my fingers back and forth, sucking hard. I knew she wanted it rough so I ramped up the intensity.
It became difficult to concentrate on my part of the bargain as she attacked me with her anaconda tongue. Then she returned the favor, slipping her finger in my ass, working it around, in and out. She had me grunting and grinding up into her face with my pelvis, same as her. I was so deep into her, lips, tongue, teeth, fingers, going at it with mindless determination. I earned every penny of that five hundred.
At the point when I came, my cries muffled by a mouthful of Lia, she did exactly what she’d wanted to do from the moment we met. She bit me on the inside of my leg, a couple inches away from where she’d been eating me out.
She growled, “Hold still!” and buried several fingers inside me, holding me down by my pussy as her sharp little teeth dug in. I know damn well she broke skin, but I didn’t care.
I came harder than ever before.
The most intense orgasm of my life.
I swear I saw stars. It felt like every nerve ending in my body went off like a firecracker, exploding with this indescribable euphoria. She had me trapped, pinned down. I went ballistic, humping, screaming and clawing at her ass. I’m sure I probably bit into her as well, but she liked it all. She kept on grinding into my face as she turned my world inside out with this awesome orgasm.
It seemed to go on and on, but in reality it probably only lasted a minute or so. She finally released her bite and removed her lobster claw fingers. I felt like I’d been reamed out and wrung out, limp, exhausted. But damn it was so good. Like some kind of religious experience. The southern Baptist accented voice went off in my twisted imagination, “I have seen the light! Lord it shineth down upon me! The Lord sent a freaky Asian lesbian to show me the way.”
I really should go full on lesbo. Who needs cock when you can come like this with a woman? I contemplated giving her back her money. I should be paying her for the experience. We lay there side by side, breathing hard and heavy. She asked the classic question.
“Was it as good for you as it was for me?”
“Better.” I answered vehemently, still trying to catch my breath.
Lia had plans for something more. She got up and rifled through her tiny postage stamp purse and whipped out a little chrome steel bullet with a screw cap. She had a vial full of blow and an agenda. She advanced on me and unscrewed the cap, which doubled as a tiny spoon.
“Care for a bump?” She offered me an itty-bitty spoonful to snort. I nodded and sat up. One up the left and another up the right. She had good quality coke, about the same as the stuff Faustino brought in. Pretty sure she bought it from us, directly or indirectly. Faustino’s product flowed all through the streets of NYC, from the lowliest back alleys to the upper most penthouse suites of Manhattan.
She took a whiff herself, one up each nostril, as I read her mind to see what new forms of debauchery she had planned. I saw it in her thoughts as she wetted her fingertip, dipped it in the bullet vial, and reached down between my legs.
My oversensitive slippery wet sex reacted instantly to the rush of the coke. And she curled that finger up right where it counted, hitting my spot. I came all over her fingers … yet again.
“Oh shit. Oh shit.” I grabbed her arm, and she just kept right on at it, tagging me where I liked it most.
She took good care of me, plunging her fingers in and out. I jerked in a spasm as she tweaked my clit with her thumb. The woman played me like a violin. She made me gasp and squeal with the bombardment of sensations. I really should’ve been paying her for this. After having her fun with me for a few minutes, grinning from ear to ear as I rode her hand, she finally let up.
“Now it’s my turn.” She smiled.
“Good … I need a break.” I smiled back.
She waited, not-so-patiently. A wicked grin of anticipation on her face as I dipped a fingertip painted with cocaine up into her slippery folds. I curled my finger up into her, hitting that spot with a ‘come-here’ motion while massaging her clit with my palm. Hips undulating, Lia humped my hand as I worked her.
She really seemed to get off on the rough stuff. She wanted me to dig in hard. She grasped my hand with hers and ground my fingers into her juicy goodness. She came hard leaning her forehead on my shoulder.
“Oh that’s good. You’re … you’re one of the best dates I’ve had in a long time.”
She growled and shuddered on my hand. And then she did it again. She grabbed me and sunk sharp, little teeth into my neck.
“Shit! That hurts!” I panicked.
She’d broken the skin again. But I was overwhelmed by the most phenomenally intense feeling. Better than coke, better than sex, better than anything I’d ever experienced. She returned me once again to the angelic choirs and roaring trumpets of heaven with a back-arching, screaming orgasm.
My hand clenched, still buried inside her. I was so absorbed in the moment I didn’t realize I had shoved my whole hand in her to the wrist. By the time she let go her chomp on my convulsing body, she made this freaky snarling noise. She ground down on my hand hard, really hard, humping my whole fist.
She seemed to really get off on the violence of it. I read how much pain I gave her, but she still liked it. She just kept on grinding harder. She had a thing for it, a real sadomasochist. I went along with it, because she liked it. I aim to please. After a minute or so she finished her grudge-fuck on my fist. It’s a good thing too, my arm had gotten tired. Fist-fucking is serious work.
I pulled my hand out with a wet “plop” sound and a grunt from Lia. She had wet my whole forearm. She’s one of those women who squirt, like the ones in porn films. The smell of our sex permeated the room. As I walked to the bathroom to wash up, I passed by the mirror and stopped in shock. A thin line of blood ran down my neck.
“You bit me! Look at that!” I pointed at myself in the mirror. “That is so gross!”
I freaked and ran to the bathroom. I could feel the warm blood running down my shoulder onto my breast. “Shit!” I rummaged through the medicine cabinet for the hydrogen peroxide.
I found it and the triple antibiotic with shaking hands. Who knows where her mouth had been today, she was eating me out a few minutes ago.
Before I could begin to wipe up the blood she was on me. “Wait. Let me take care of it. It’s my mess, I’ll clean it up.”
Then her slimy wet eel tongue snaked out and licked from my breast all the way up to my neck.   The girl had skills with that tongue. She could take that tongue on the road and make some serious money in a carnival freak show.
Then it hit me and turned my stomach over in flip flops. She actually licked up my blood. And I read it there in her mind plain as can be. She loved it. I tasted like a syrup-covered ice cream cone to her. She’d happily lick me all night long if I let her, as long as I kept on bleeding.
“Eww! Gross! Oh god, that’s so nasty!”
I almost lost it right there. I actually gagged for a second, barely swallowed it down. I kinda have this obsessive-compulsive thing about cleanliness, and blood is definitely unclean in my book. Blood borne pathogens. Diseases of the blood. Hospitals treat it like a damn biohazard.
Lia snickered at my gross-out reaction, like it was all some joke. But she couldn’t hide the fact she wanted more. The freak actually thought she was a vampire.
Then she got really weird. She stared intensely without blinking. I sensed her trying to somehow take control of me with her creepy stare. The chick was really weird, a little too weird for my tastes. The sex was fabulous, but I couldn’t deal with the blood thing. Just straight up sick. I may be an escort from a third world country, but I do have standards.
She kept staring at me, had been staring at me for some time. Then she spoke in a weird commanding monotone, “Tell me your name.”
The sad truth is I didn’t really want her to be a stranger. As odd as it sounds, I wanted her to come back, and not for the generous tip. I wanted more of those screaming orgasms. I’m not normally a screamer, but she had a way of bringing it out of me.
So, against my better judgment, ignoring the creepy aspects of everything that had gone down so far, I gave her what she wanted. “My name is Hope.”
I have never told anyone in America my real name. Esperanza Salvación just sounds so south-of-the-border. ‘Hope’ has a nice ring to it, one syllable. I delude myself into believing that if I can drop my Colombian accent, employ flawless English and use the name Hope, I can somehow rise above my humble beginnings.
Lia started in on me with that eerie command voice. “Hope, you will not remember our meeting or this conversation. You’re feeling tired. You feel like sleeping. You need to rest.”
This shit was getting old fast. “I get it. You don’t need to repeat yourself. I’m not stupid. I’ve been doing this a long time. I know the score. I’ll never tell anyone you were here. We’ve never met before, yada, yada, yada. I know the routine.”
That’s the one thing Rubin used to get on me about – my temper. I have a tendency to let it get away from me. I’ve thought of taking anger management classes. I probably should.
Back in Colombia I gave poor Rubin hell. It started with the nudity thing, but I flipped it around on him. After the first three weeks, he ordered me to wear clothes. I refused. I stayed butt-naked for another three weeks, twenty-four seven. I answered Rubin’s door to receive the pizza delivery nude. I chatted up the cable repairman while nude – a rainstorm had messed up our lines. I met the Testigos de Jehovah – Jehovah’s Witnesses – at the front door, completely nude, they couldn’t leave fast enough. I even met his mother for the first time in my birthday suit.
Rubin learned a healthy respect for my temper after that episode. His mother trying to rip his ear off probably had something to do with it. A naked fourteen year-old girl with an attitude can wield a terrible power.
Lia didn’t care for my attitude, either. She came at me again with that same monotone crap.   “You will not remember our meeting. We have never met before. You will not remember that I bit you and tasted your blood.”
“Whatever. It was gross. But don’t worry about it. I’m not gonna say anything to anybody. It didn’t happen. This is our little secret. I respect your privacy. Actually … I was hoping you might want to see me again …”
I’d given this speech to dozens of cops, business men, politicians, even a priest. Everyone who’s someone of importance out in the community needs reassurance their freaky romp with an escort will remain confidential. I’m not into blackmail or extortion or anything stupid like that. It’s nasty business that never ends well. I have seen it done by the cartel to others less fortunate. Plus, being illegal, it wouldn’t be hard to get me deported.
She did not look pleased. I tried to put her at ease. “You already gave me a two hundred dollar tip, so I’m cool. And I really would like to see you again …”
She started looking at me funny, her head turned sideways, like I was the freak. I dug into her mind to see what the hell. She’d become extremely irritated over something.
“You’re a special kind of girl, aren’t you?”
She was trying to defocus her vision to see something else, off to the side of my head. Some kind of hazy color spectrum.
“Yes you are …” Her voice trailed off. She flipped like that into a raging-bull hatred. She pegged me with this totally wicked I-want-to kill-you-and-dance-on-your-corpse look. “You Bitch! You’re digging around in my head, you bitch!”
I caught it a split second before she hit me, and I reacted. I flinched away, stepped back out of her reach, except she hadn’t moved.
“Gotcha, didn’t I? I knew it.” Her lip curled into a snarl.
“What? What’s your problem?”
Then I finally understood. She had been trying to hypnotize me into ignorance. When she realized it wasn’t working, she began to suspect I had some kind of psychic sensitivity, a telepath, or clairvoyant. I had just proven her right by reacting to her thoughts rather than her actions.
Staring at me with her head cocked sideways, she recognized something about this weird color she thought she could see, something yellow-gold in my aura. That decided it for her.
“You already know way too much about me don’t you.” She had this half-smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I think it’s time you should go.”
I presented a dilemma. If I couldn’t be hypnotized into forgetting, and I had read her mind, what to do with me? The thought came to her instantly. A toothy grin slid across her face. She would probably have to kill me to contain the situation.

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About Liv

Writer of #BDSM #erotica - M/f D/s. Lover of corsets, shoes, chocolate and my beautiful cat :). On Pinterest @LivHoneywell and Twitter at http://www.twitter.com/LivHoneywell

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  • Travis Luedke

    Thanks Liv! The post looks great.

    Very much appreciated. :)

    • http://www.liv-honeywell.com/ Liv Honeywell

      You’re welcome – any time :)

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