eXcessively pleasurable fiction
from the sweet to the forbidden
eXcessica
gay male
paranormal
Length: Novel
Heat Level: eXcess 3
Price: $4.99
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Warnings: This title contains graphic language m/m sex.
Emile LaCour, scourge of the finest young male flesh of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries in the plantation area of the Louisiana delta region, has been freed from his tomb to sustain himself once more by loving the young men of New Orleans to death. He does so by draining them of their blood and vitality which then rejuvenates LaCour.
Lamont Breaux, who is responsible for freeing LaCour in an effort to uncover the vast fortune LaCour’s family hid before LaCour was entombed, oversteps his greed and falls victim to LaCour’s wrath. Needing a new financial manager and now wanting a companion as well, LaCour seduces Gage Angle, a blond giant member of a motorcycle gang.
LaCour’s experiment to find the balance between making love to Gage and loving him to death goes awry when the curse of LaCour’s never-ending life and the extreme requirements to sustain that lifestyle are transferred to Angle. Angle, however, is not the self-possessed moral decadent LaCour is, and his struggle with what LaCour is and what he himself has become leads to a fiery conclusion.
Review by Frost’s Fancy, Rainbow Reviews:
Emile Lacour is a tantalizingly subtle novel of the paranormal and a neat interweaving of historical and contemporary settings. Settle back in your favorite armchair and curl up for an enjoyable read of characters, plotting, and vivid imagery… Prepare to be tantalized and scintillated by Emile’s upfront eroticism…he is like a force of nature. Caution: kicker ending!
EXCERPT:
When Philippe reentered the tomb, at first he thought it was empty—that Jacques had left the stone vault. But then he saw what made his blood run cold. Objects—no, human appendages—were hanging over the edges of the tomb they had just opened. And the appendages weren’t the mummified remains of some old Creole. There were two arms hanging out near the head of the coffin and two legs out near the bottom. But they were white as marble, with rivulets of blood still streaming down from multiple slashings. Philippe forced himself to shuffle over to the coffin and look inside. A deep moan escaped his lips. It was Jacques. But not the robust Jacques Philippe had left here just a few moments ago; a withered and stark-white Jacques. A Jacques whose handsome and once-virile body had been slashed and pierced, although there were just a few traces of blood to witness to the ravishment of his buddy’s body.
Philippe let out a scream and turned to run out of the vault. But that’s when he realized he was no longer alone in the tomb. Standing between him and the door now was a man. Not just a man—a magnificently built man appearing to be in his thirties. He was dark of complexion, with fine, strong facile features, and had a body-builder’s physique, which, incongruously, was naked. In fact, he had exactly the same body build that Philippe’s friend Jacques had had with Philippe last saw him alive. But, whereas Jacques had been a smooth-skinned blond, this new visitor to the tomb had dark hair—and not just hair on his head, but he had a pattern of curly dark hair on his arms and legs and on his chest, trailing down his cut torso and into his pubes. And there, between his legs, was the most gigantic cock and heavy balls that Philippe had ever seen on a human. They rivaled what he’d seen on the stallion on his father’s farm. The man’s cock must have been well over a foot long.
Philippe stood, mesmerized, at this apparition, his attention focused on that huge cock. And before he could snap out of his surprise and awe, the dark visitor had pounced on him and was tearing away his clothing with sharp nails extending from long, slender fingers, and his teeth had gone to and sunk in the carotid artery in Philippe’s neck.
* * *
When Lamont Breaux cautiously slid through the entrance of the vault, the silver lance poised in front of him, he saw what he had more than half-way expected to see.
The lid to Emile LaCour’s stone coffin had been rolled back in place, and the finely muscled body of Philippe was laid on his back on top of the stone. The young man was pale and naked. His arms were dangling over the edge of the lid on each side, and his legs were spread wide and his ankles were being held in the grip of the magnificent creature whose monster cock was stroking inside Philippe’s ass hard. Trickles of blood were dribbling from a variety of piercings and slashings on Phillippe’s body, and the attacking stranger was dipping down to tongue the wounds here and there to capture all of the blood.
Breaux watched in fascination as nearly a foot and a half of cock pulled out of the young man’s overstretched asshole and then thrust back in, only to be withdrawn again and thrust back in. This part of the legend was true then, Breaux contemplated. Emile LaCour had been fully capable of fucking young men to death. For surely this was the legendary Emile LaCour, brought back to life, rejuvenated by the blood and vitality of winsome youths. Just as Breaux had calculated.
Philippe was lying docilely on the hard stone, far beyond putting up any sort of a struggle. His head was lolled to where he was facing Breaux. There was a little smile on his face, as if he was enjoying this ultimate fuck, but Breaux could see that the light in his eyes was dimming, that the time of the full transference of his life forces to the reborn LaCour was near at hand. LaCour’s head came down to Philippe’s chest, and his teeth dug into the aureole surrounding one of the young man’s nipples. Philippe gave a weak lurch at the bite and sucking here, and his eyes briefly flashed and then started to dim again.
LaCour rose up off the young man and pulled his cock all the way out to where Breaux could see the huge mushroom head on the tool and then, pushing the young man’s legs out wide and throwing his head back and giving a scream of triumph that echoed around the stone chamber, LaCour thrust his cock in to the hilt, and Breaux could almost hear the whoosh of the fountaining of centuries-held semen inside the center of the young man. A flow of cum gushed out of Philippe’s ass around the root of LaCour’s embedded cock, and the light went out of the young man’s eyes and all of the tension went out of his limbs.
With a slurping sound, LaCour pulled his cock out of the dead youths’ ass and turned in a pouncing stance toward Breaux. Breaux, trying to remain calm in what he had long assumed would be the most dangerous moment of the unfolding of his plans, positioned the silver lance in front of him, prepared to take the weight of any sudden attack, and fought to summon up a steady voice.
“Welcome, Emile LaCour. You are free because I have freed you. You have fed sufficiently now because I have provided you these fine young bodies to rejuvenate yours. You have been away from the world for more than a hundred years. I wish to be your friend and business partner, and you need me.”
LaCour snorted and visibly relaxed, contemplating what Breaux had said, turning it over in his intelligent, but long unchallenged brain. His intelligence won.
“There is much you need to learn before you can walk the world again and hunt on your own,” Breaux now said in a soothing voice. “I wish to be your support and guide. I only ask that you share the wealth of the Fontnets that I know you have hidden away. There is much more than enough gold there, I’m sure, for the both of us. Here, cover yourself with this cloak and come up to the house now with me and let us begin.”
Breaux knew then that he had won. Emile LaCour was relaxed. He was flexing his muscles, fully appreciating his return to the land of the living. He gave Breaux a big, blissful smile, and Breaux relaxed the stance of the silver lance—but only symbolically—as the newly strong arms of LaCour pushed the lid of his erstwhile coffin open again long enough for him to dump the spent body of Philippe in on top of that of Jacques. And then he rolled the lid back closed, he accepted and wrapped the proffered black cloak around his newly virile body, and the two new partners, still wary of each other, moved up to the plantation house to begin their new life together…
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