In the Hot Seat: Staff of the Wizard King by Laura Lux

wizard_king_websiteHere at Courtesan Press, we love erotica and romance. We also loves elves and high fantasy. You know what’s awesome? All four in one book…and our friend Laura Lux just delivered a steaming hot romance with monsters, sword-fights, and red-hot male-on male-action. Check out the first book in the Tales of the Elf Thief series!


He woke in the arms of his lover, Yarrow, the shape-shifting fairy from the hillside. It had been weeks since they were able to spend time together, Yarrow ’s nomadic people having moved again. Draven gave Yarrow one last kiss before rising from the animal skins and pine branches. He took a drink of water from the bowl in the corner of the tent and began dressing.

“You’re up early,” Yarrow whispered, lifting himself onto his elbows. “The light hasn’t even breached the mountains yet.”

Draven looked up, noticing the disappointment in Yarrow ’s eyes. “I need to train if I’m going to start my quest when the moon grows full. That’s in just a few days. You can come watch me if you want.”

“Swordplay and magic don’t really thrill me. I like a more hands-on activity.”

“Oh, I know,” Draven said with a sly smile.

“Tell me again about this staff.”

“I thought you only liked to hear about my staff.” Draven winked at him.
Yarrow rolled his eyes.

“All right, all right,” Draven laughed as he sat on the drum he and Yarrow used many times to sing songs about their relationship, about their lives, and about their Gods, as different as those Gods were, and began his tale again. He knew how much Yarrow loved hearing him tell his stories.

“The fabled staff is no fable, my love. It is made of pure gold and encrusted with priceless gemstones. It is more valuable then any treasure this side of the Coral Mountains. With its value you could buy a kingdom. And legend tells that it grants wishes. Whether it is true or not remains to be seen, as no one has ever been able to liberate it. Forget the other quests I have braved. Emerald and sapphire baubles, rings of power, gauntlets of platinum, ruby crowns, gold nuggets, silver ore…they mean nothing compared to the staff. No adventurer has even come close to obtaining it.”

“And how did you learn of its existence?”

“It was a night of chance and luck.” Draven lifted his right arm in grand gesture, reveling in his tales, captivating the admiration of Yarrow from the very beginning, having met him after his very first quest. “I was at a tavern in the human town of Dar. Ironically, a bard was singing a boon I had never heard before–all about a fabled staff. A drunk in the corner mumbled that he knew it existed, that his map told the way. He was ignored by everyone…except me.

“As he stumbled out that night, I followed him, blending into the shadows and using my stealth skills to find his sleeping quarters in a hollowed out tree and there, relieved him of his possessions. In a smelly, filth-ridden sack I found it–the map to the staff, a description in some sort of mixture human and Elven writing, a warning and spell. It clearly showed the way, a perilous way indeed but where there’s a will…”

Yarrow rose to his feet, covering his nakedness from the cold and walked to his lover. Their lips met. Yarrow sighed. “Perhaps too perilous?”


“This is not just any quest, Draven. The staff rests among the dead. That is not to be taken lightly.”

“And what harm can the dead do to me?”

“My naïve love. You wouldn’t say that if you had done battle with a Wraith Lord as I had. I nearly escaped with my life.”

“I fear nothing dead, it is living we must fear. Think of it, Yarrow. All of our dreams, anything we want. No longer living like paupers. No longer moving every time your people are attacked or persecuted as monsters. We can have a kingdom of our own. With an army and servants. Think of it.”

Yarrow paused a long moment, his gaze searching the tent, and then tracing every line in his elf’s adorable face. “Well then let me go with you. I can help keep you safe. My strength in battle is invaluable. As when I took the form of a Golem to chase off the brigands who jumped us last month.”

“You are a formidable fairy with amazing shifting powers but alas no, I must do this alone. It is a question of honor. Besides, I need someone to watch over our possessions and keep the home fires burning. I always look forward to returning to you when my quests are done. You are more rewarding than any gold or jewel I have won.”
They embraced.

“Now I’m off to train.” Draven took up his sword but Yarrow stayed his hand.

“You’re training can wait a bit longer,” Yarrow said. “I still have business with you.” He kissed Draven slowly, running his tongue over the elf’s lips, his hands roaming all over the war-torn leather armor. He moved to Draven’s neck and glided his kisses down to his chest, his hands unstrapping the leather mail.

Buy now:

Staff of the Wizard King:

The Church of Ashdale:

Family Blood:

All I Want for Christmas for free!

all_i_want_websiteHappy holidays, my lovelies!  We have a special gift for you. A Dollhouse Society holiday short for free! No strings attached. Just click on the cover below. Enjoy!

All I Want for Christmas: A Dollhouse Society Holiday Short by Jay Ellison

Secretive. Seductive.

Discover the secret behind the mysterious Dollhouse Society, an exclusive collection of powerful men and women and the modern-day courtesans and courtiers who service them…

Sometimes two people are simply meant to be together. At least, that’s what Devon believes, which is why he intends to ask Malcolm to marry him on Christmas Day. But Devon also knows that fate can be fickle at time, and Malcolm has his own secrets.


He slid his hand over Malcolm’s arm and guided him to one of the private dressing rooms. He checked first to make certain it was empty, then ushered Malcolm inside the cramped, crowded little room full of dressing tables and racks of couture. The room smelled musty and sweet like too much perfume and body oil.

Malcolm didn’t care. The moment they were inside, he slid his big hand around the back of Devon’s head and dragged him forward so their mouths could cling in a soul-searing kiss. Neither of them spoke, and neither of them needed to.

Everything inside Malcolm surged at the taste of Devon’s mouth, that sweet clove taste. His desire. His love. And under that, a subdued ferocity he could only identify as jealousy. He was jealous of every man Devon had ever kissed, every man who had ever fucked him, either in the name of love or money. He wanted to erase those encounters, the years and the pain. He wanted to be Devon’s first. Devon’s only.

Like their first time, he could just barely control himself. He pushed Devon back against a dressing table, held him down, and fumbled with both their trousers. There were strange buckles and ties on Devon’s jeans, and Malcolm ripped mercilessly at the fabric.

“Easy, gov. Those are couture,” Devon complained. “They cost a thousand dollars.”

“I don’t care,” Malcolm growled. He reached through a placket in Devon’s thousand-dollar couture jeans and took Devon’s fat, eager cock in his hands. Devon swore violently and threw his head back against the dressing table mirror when Malcolm closed his powerful fingers around the girth of him and began to stroke, to tug, to work him. He moaned when Malcolm traced the shell of his ear with his tongue before gently but fiercely biting the lobe.

“Jesus, you are so fucking beautiful,” Malcolm told him breathlessly. “You’re all I want. You can’t be real.”