While this story contains elements of sex, it is first and foremost a work of fiction with a plot that does not *revolve* around sexual activity. Not all chapters will contain sex. If you are looking for a quick fix then you have come to the wrong place. If you want an ongoing fantasy series that you can dive into plot-wise as well as erotically then welcome!
Chapter I
Of all the sins in the world, Stephan Roeaux favored lust the most. The runner up to lust was gluttony, though the two were never mutually exclusive. By point in fact, he rather enjoyed both of them simultaneously and in great abundance. Each woman he took to his bed was different than the last. Their skin tones ranged from sweet cream to toffee, their bodies from starlet dancers to full figured housewives and everything flavor in between.
Stephan himself was no dockworker. He did not boast the chiseled features of a skyslag from continuously hoisting and twisting the sails of airships, but he was no plump bench-warming politician, either. Someplace in the middle was where Stephan settled into being. It was where he was comfortably attractive to the women of all shapes and sizes. Not too old, not too young, well groomed and comfortable in his own skin. The way he carried himself, his charisma and sure-headedness was what won the ladies over in the end more often than his looks. The width of his bankroll did not serve to deter the ladies of the pleasure houses, however. And when he rode into town with his entourage he would always go out of his way to treat his men to the finest time they could ever hope to have.
It was a rare woman who would not submit to his charms, yet he still frequented the pleasure houses more often than he took the time to woo a woman in a local tavern quite simply because it proved to be less time consuming while on business and when he paid for a woman they were obliged to do what he wished of them.
These things were well known to the woman who bedded him that night. She was an exotic and unexpected surprise for him; not a woman that he had ever noticed in the brothel before now. But when he had entered the small, warm bedchamber on the second floor he did not turn the nude lady away. Instead, he slipped out of his jacket, shirt, trousers and boots—all of which were still damp from the summer rains earlier that afternoon—and into the warm bath she had been preparing for him.
Candles dotted the space, the yellow wax melting and dripping down the front of the mantles atop the layers of previously spent lights. Heavy brocade curtains of deep red hung across the windows. Equally tinted satin bed sheets and a thin summer quilt beckoned patronage. He could only imagine how soft the pillows would be, that is if his head did not rest against the breast of his female companion once her task was complete.
"My tastes are simple tonight," Stephan told the doxy. He rolled his head around to crack his neck as he acclimated himself to the warmth of the water. "So just refresh and relax me before I leave in the morning."
The elven woman lowered her gaze in obedience but never said a word, only crouched behind him outside the tub and ran her long, soap covered fingers over his chest and neck, washing away the grime of two days' journey into the capital from his flesh. He breathed easier then, and loosened a bit more against the lip of the tub in the center of the room.
When he was satisfied, he exited the tub and waited until she patted him dry before joining her on the canopy bed. She was not too thin, at least not as thin as most elves typically were. Stephan avoided elven women on principal only because they were so light and frail that he feared he would break them in bed. This one, however, held her weight evenly with wide hips, a smaller chest and skin the color of desert sand.
The elf straddled him on the edge of the bed, all of her weight distributed evenly on either side of him, her body merely brushing his. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Sharp fingernails worked themselves in delicate, pointed strokes down the nape of his neck and spine while moist lips tended to his collarbone until she felt him grow between her legs.
"Kneel and service me," he told her. His voice was barely above a whisper, but commanded with an aching vigor.
