Camaraderie – An Excerpt

Midnight Pearl Brotherhood: Camaraderie

(Ep. 2, Midnight Pearl Brotherhood) (#fantasy, #MM, #submission)

MidnightPearl_Camaraderie_Ep2_smThe ancient myths of the Brotherhood of the Midnight Pearl tell of an island formed from the depths of the ocean, in the midst of a sea of mystical, sapphire beauty. It is an island paradise built on love and devotion to a common belief, a society made up entirely of handsome and desirable men. And Alonzo Smith is on a journey to discover his place among them.

In this story, Alonzo has passed his initiation, but now he and the other initiates await their guide who will take them across the Titan Mountains and into the city. These men discover more about themselves, and each other, than they ever expected. In particular, Alonzo finds that there are depths to his sexy comrade, David, that he never anticipated…

EXCERPT

“I think we should go. How long are we expected to wait?” Helmer asked on the fourth night as they sat around the fire, having just feasted on a supper of steamed clams and crabs, none of the young men having been able to spear a fish today. Smart little creatures to have eluded them so. But not so lucky were those buried beneath the shores or scampering across wet sand. Parker, the Silent, as he’d been dubbed early on, was already cleaning up the discarded, broken shells with an eye toward burying the remains farther along the beach. Each of them had been trained well in maintaining cleanliness surrounding the area where they lived.

“Not a good idea,” Krispin, the Immaculata, said as he worked to clean his teeth with the end of a twig he’d cut from a tree at the edge of the jungle. Krispin certainly had a creative knack about maintaining his personal hygiene. No matter how primitive the circumstances, he found a way to always keep his appearance at its best. Alonzo had taken a lesson or two from the Immaculata. Krispin spit into the fire before continuing. Though his appearance was immaculate, there was something to be said for his manners. Alonzo was relieved he didn’t pee into the fire—he’d been known to pull that stunt a time or two.

“If you haven’t learned anything else from staying in these bloody huts,” Alonzo said, “I would have thought you’d learned that patience is one virtue those in authority admire most.”

“Hardly think he’s learned that bit,” David, dubbed the Steadfast, said. “I think he rather likes the punishments his squire meted out to him. That’s what you really want, isn’t it, Helmer? Get us all in trouble just because you prefer the spankings and the whippings.”

Helmer, who had acquired the moniker “Prick,” just grinned back at David. The nickname was meant more to needle Helmer than anything else. Helmer had shown himself to be a most impatient fellow right from the start, giving rise at most inappropriate moments. The group had shared more than one of his “reprimands” during training. In more than one instance the word had been mumbled by men rubbing their sore asses all thanks to him. And that obviously hadn’t changed one iota. A cheeky fellow, too. Not in the least as respectful as he should be. “Maybe. Never have been very good with patience. Not my strong suit.”

“Perhaps,” Alonzo suggested, “you’ll enjoy serving the Painmaster.” He shuddered inwardly at the thought of serving such a harsh man of authority. But here on the island there were all types, to suit every taste.

“Mmm,” Helmer said. “My squire spoke with me at length about apprenticing with that particular man of authority. I will say it does sound rather intriguing. I wouldn’t ever have to worry about getting enough…if you get my point. I’d think he’d be delighted having a man like me apprentice to him. Someone who rather enjoys being bad, more than being perfectly amenable…like our lad Alonzo here.”

Not the most wondrous nickname, but rather that than some other. Amenable Alonzo. And it had been the damned Prick who had thought it up.

“I’m not perfect, Helmer. In fact, I’d say I rather enjoyed the odd whipping from Squire. He has a very good hand. But I’d rather not have a steady diet of it, such as you’d enjoy, I’m sure.” He settled back between David’s thighs and felt the stiff presence of his friend’s cock poking insistently between his shoulders. He rubbed against that alert presence. David softly groaned. “I wonder who we’ll all end up serving once we make it to the city? I have a feeling it may not be who we think it is. But I must say, I am looking forward to the challenges that await us there.”

“First we have to get over the mountain,” Parker said, as he came back and dropped down cross-legged onto the sand. “My Squire said it’s not going to be any picnic crossing the Titans.”

“Yes, mine said the same,” David injected. Alonzo closed his eyes and David kneaded his scalp, combing his fingers through Alonzo’s long, dark hair. “He said we should get plenty of rest because we’re going to need every bit of stamina we can muster.”

“Well, this waiting around is killing me,” Helmer complained.

Parker leaned toward the pile of driftwood and picked up a sturdy stick. He directed the end toward Helmer. “Would you like some help? Just so you can sleep better, of course.”

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Public Lives, Private Pleasures – an Excerpt

Public Lives, Private Pleasures

…a complexly layered tale, rich in detail, with characters who will grab your heart…

#erotic #contemporary #MM/M #gayromance

publiclivesprivatepleasures_medDescended from an old, very influential Virginia family with conservative views, Adrien has no desire to carry on the family’s political tradition. Still, he’s forced to hide his gay identity to protect the budding political career of his younger twin brother, Marsh, who wants to take up where their father, Senator Douglas Langtry, left off. There’s no room for mistakes, no matter how much Adrien hates living that lie.

It’s not until Adrien meets sexy Latin choreographer, Frankie Raphael, that his apathy evaporates, and he begins to questions his choices. Beautiful, passionate Frankie offers Adrien a glimpse into a world he’d only ever dared experience through the safety of the lens of his camera. Desire for Frankie makes his personal sacrifices seem suddenly unacceptable.

Dare Adrien jeopardize his brother’s political aspirations for a chance at his own happiness or will forces beyond his control slam the door shut on a life he’s only ever dreamed of? If he chooses to come out, their public lives be forever altered by the shocking revelation of their private pleasures.

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DN7RPPF

EXCERPT

It was as he was washing his hands that he happened to glance up in the mirror and then stilled as a pair of blazing green eyes captured his attention. He wiped his hands on a brown paper towel, tossed it, and then turned. For the moment the bathroom was empty except for Frankie and the man with the gorgeous green eyes. And the black silver-tipped cane.

“We’ve met before,” Frankie said. Yes, he was familiar, but if it hadn’t been for the cane, Frankie might not have recognized him. Long black hair that was now slightly disheveled and hanging loose about his shoulders almost hiding his face. Black mascara and liner that emphasized his eyes, pale complexion. Tonight he wasn’t wearing a conservative suit, but a pair of black jeans and black T-shirt that showcased his trim physique. The jeans outlined the thick bulge of an erection. The shirt was tight enough for Frankie to glimpse the outlined temptation of pierced nipples. God, he was even more tempting than the other night. He had to have this man. “Tad,” he said.

Tad’s eyes widened. Frankie could now see the green was ringed with gold, and he stepped toward the man. “You remembered,” Tad said.

Frankie smiled. He reached out a hand to trace a nipple through the fabric of the T-shirt. He gripped it with two fingers, twisted lightly, heard Tad suck in a breath. His pretty pupils dilated, almost obliterating the gold. “Yeah, I remembered.” He tugged, and Tad staggered forward. “God, I love your eyes. I’m surprised to see you here. I wouldn’t have thought it was your sort of hangout.”

He kneaded the nipple rhythmically, watching Tad’s expression, saw his gaze grow heavy with lust. But still he made no move.

“I-I come here now and then.”

“Do you? I don’t recall seeing you here before.” He released the tit and slid his hand suggestively down the front of the shirt to rest at Tad’s narrow hip. His fingers splayed at Tad’s waist, slid around to cup Tad’s sweet, tight ass, pulled forward until they were groin to groin.

“Oh, God,” Tad said and released another shuddering breath. Music pulsed in the background, making Frankie’s body throb.

“Do you want me?” Frankie asked. “Because I want to fuck you. Come home with me.” He led, his hand gripping Tad’s more firmly, leading into a slow grind. The cane clattered to the floor, and Frankie took Adrien’s weight easily. Feet slid across the floor, away from the cane, circling slowly, undulating to the music. Frankie felt Tad weakening, the rise in his body heat, the smell of arousal permeating the air in the bathroom, blending with his own scents. “I-I can’t.”

“Do you want to, Tad?” Frankie pressed him closer, both his hands now cupping Tad’s ass. “Do you want to do it right here? Right now?”

“W-what about your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend? Oh, you mean Kurt?”

The one you were—”

Frankie peered closer at Tad. “Were you watching us, Tad? Is that it? Do you get off watching people?”

Frankie saw the red flush creep up Tad’s neck and flood his face. “You were watching us. Which would you prefer—the handjob or the blowjob? Or maybe both.”

Suddenly Tad jerked back. He stumbled and righted himself, drew in deep breaths, and then turned to face Frankie once again.

“You don’t know the first fucking thing about what I want.” There was so much pain attached to the words that Frankie almost winced. Pain dripping with desire.

Frankie leaned back against the sink, studying Tad. He narrowed his gaze. “Who are you, Tad? That’s not your real name, is it? What are you hiding, I wonder?” He tugged the black leather billfold out from his back pocket and pulled out a card. He replaced the wallet and then moved to Tad. First he bent down and snapped up the cane and handed it to Tad. Tad leaned heavily on the cane.  Then with one hand Frankie pulled at Tad’s waistband. With his other hand he slipped the black and silver business card down the front, fitted it snugly between the moist, hot flesh of his abdomen and the rock-hard penis. Frankie took his time about fitting the card into place. He stroked a finger slowly along the veined erection, over the ridge of Tad’s glans. He smeared the liquid of preejaculate across the head before removing his hand. God, but he wanted this man so damned bad. He was a tenacious hunter, and he had the scent.

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Home For Christmas – Excerpt

Home For Christmas

homeforchristmascoverDestrie Two Rivers and Benedict Webster–an orphaned half-Indian and a wealthy rancher’s son. Men who were boyhood best friends, turned secret lovers when they were eighteen. And then one nightmarish night they were discovered and Destrie almost died as a result.

Now, eight years later, just before Christmas, Destrie, an Army sniper, returns to Wyoming on leave to attend the funeral of his foster father. Both men have changed and the distance between them seems wider than the Continental Divide with no way to breach the chasm. But just as the creek where they first made love runs powerful and constant, Destrie and Benedict’s passion for each other still burns undeniably deep

and everlasting.

Re-igniting their unquenchable desire could prove fatal. Until the heavy guilt and shocking secrets of the past are revealed, neither of these two men can truly come home for Christmas.

EXCERPT:

“How’s Laine holding up?” Benedict asked.

“It’s not easy for her, but I think she’ll be okay. They were married for fifty years, and she always said Ray was her best friend. You’ll look in on her?”

“Of course.” Benedict’s voice sounded rough. The white peaks in the water surged; Ray’s ashes had disappeared.

Destrie looked down and noted Benedict’s hands as his fingers curled around the brim of his hat. Destrie could feel his tension, saw it as he flexed his fingers, rubbing over the rim.

A working man’s hands, rough and calloused. Reddened by the winter, his hands were littered with tiny cuts. Destrie dropped the urn and spun to Benedict. He cupped Benedict’s roughened jaw, leaned forward, and kissed him.

Benedict’s hands clutched at Destrie’s leather jacket, dragging him forward. Destrie tasted the bitterness of farewell, and he couldn’t let go. He couldn’t be the one to walk away—not this time.

Tongues clashed, mouths hungered as they held on to each other, knowing this could very well be the last time they would ever see each other.

Benedict yanked free and stumbled back. Just as he’d done in the alley, he bent over to pick up his hat. And soon it would only be the memory that remained.

Suddenly, Destrie reached out and grabbed a shank of Benedict’s pale blond hair. He yanked up. Benedict yelled as he was brought up swift and hard by Destrie’s grip. Destrie saw his gaze widen. Throwing his body against Benedict’s, he shoved him back against the immovable, wide, ancient tree.

He held his lover there, hand wound tightly into his thick hair. Benedict stared into his eyes. Destrie saw the range of emotions as they crashed through him, the color of Benedict’s eyes changing so rapidly. Sky blue deepening to storm gray. Pinpoints of black that dilated as he began to yield to the savageness that overtook Destrie. Finally understanding. He knew what Destrie wanted without his saying a word.

Destrie yanked back, practically pinning Benedict against the rough bark, shoving his coat down over his shoulders. Benedict’s thick coat dropped to the ground. His hands reached for his belt, and he quickly unbuckled and unzipped his jeans, then shoved them and his underwear down over his hips. Legs spread, balancing himself in the slippery snow; the lowered clothing hung just below his ass.

Destrie released his hair and spun him around. He kicked Benedict’s legs as wide as they would go. Reaching down, he grabbed a handful of snow and held it in his warm palm until droplets trickled between his fingers.

He couldn’t wait. He and Benedict were almost the same height. He used the snow to lubricate Benedict’s hole. He heard Benedict gasp when the icy water was pressed into the passage of his hot anus. He shoved back when Destrie’s fingers speared inward, then quickly out. More snow and Benedict’s ass colored from pale ivory to ruddy rose.

Suddenly Benedict whirled around. He shoved Destrie back full force. Destrie stumbled and landed in the snow. He didn’t feel it; his full attention was the man towering over him, a look of steely determination on his face.

“Did you think I was going to make it easy for you?” Benedict said.

He dragged Destrie up by the lapels of his jacket. Spinning around, he slammed him back against the tree and possessed his mouth, thrusting his tongue deeply between Destrie’s lips.

Destrie was so taken aback by the dominant act, at first he didn’t respond. Benedict’s hands were at his waist, ripping the tails of his shirt from inside his pants, reaching for the opening, unzipping them, and then he shoved them down. His mouth ravaged across Destrie’s lips, over his lean, darkened jaw, back to his mouth, down to his throat. He sucked his way downward to the opened collar.

Anger and frustration warred with passion and lust right there next to the creek bank. The cold, frigid winter was no match for the hungry, blazing furnace of their need.
Benedict lifted his head and looked into Destrie’s black eyes. “Now, you have me.”
Destrie didn’t wait to even catch a breath. With little effort, he shoved Benedict back against the tree. He was hard, so fucking hard. He positioned the head of his cock at Benedict’s opening.

“You’ll feel this, lover. You’ll feel it, and you’ll never forget it.” He surged forward, burying his thick prick inside Benedict’s rectum. Benedict grunted as Destrie’s cock tunneled deep inside him.

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Currently a #kindleunlimited selection.

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07JD61V3R

 

Steamy Little Excerpt from Eye Candy and Achy Hearts

In this excerpt from Eye Candy and Achy Hearts,  Jeffrey gets his first glimpse of EyeCandy2933. And a big “yum” for him.

 

Since Valentine’s Day to be exact—three days ago—the anticipation about meeting EyeCandy2933 was more stressful than knowing that my boss had just slimmed down his staff and informed us at a staff meeting that those of us left behind would have to pull our weight plus some. Translated, that meant stuffing forty-eight hours of work into twenty-four. This job was going to be the death of me. I hated it.

As my midnight hour drew closer, I kept thinking I should cancel. I glanced at the pile of paperwork on my desk that needed to be translated and transformed into tax advantages for our clients. I knew I wasn’t going to cancel. I definitely needed the fantasy.

John Smith and Douglas Jones. That’s the name the room was registered in. It was the type of hotel where the desk attendant didn’t ask questions. Not too sleazy, let’s just call them discreet. As long as the money wasn’t counterfeit, they could have cared less whose name was on the register.

On the night in question, my hand trembled as I slipped the key card into the door slot on the sixth floor of the Remington Hotel on West Main Street. Fuck! Red light. Try it again. Bzzzt! The story of my life. One more time. Three’s the charm, right? Green light meant go. Bells ringing. Ding-dong, ding-dong. Open Sesame. Stupid kid’s tale, as I entered my own Aladdin’s cave filled with what I hoped would be my personal jewel of exotic delight.

Opening the door to the hotel room, I couldn’t believe my luck. Brave soul was he. Far too trusting, I think. But he was young, not so jaded as I. At least he looked quite young. Maybe when I got closer I’d find the age lines that didn’t show up at a distance in a darkened room. He sat there, his back to me—his sexy, naked back, a slight curve to his deliciously long spine. Adonis or Cupid, I couldn’t decide. He was everything I’d fantasized he would be.

Resting next to him on the king-sized bed was a heart-shaped box. Looked like white satin, with a big red bow. But it wasn’t the candy box that caught my attention, it was the cute eye candy in the lacy white satin bikini undies—panties that matched the pattern of white satin on the candy box.

His online photo didn’t do him justice. No way, no how. I was salivating as I gazed at him. EyeCandy2933 certainly knew how to set up a sexy scene. I had to give him that. To the side, on the table, sat a bottle of cabernet, nicely chilling.

They were a set—he and the candy box. Small red bows decorated each side of his hips. Sitting there, on the bed like that, he held my rapt attention and my week of painful casualties slipped away. Casualties. Frustrated fantasies that never came to fruition.

Still, they hurt.

Of particular note was when Harvey Smith, the investment counselor who worked several floors above me, who’d given me some great advice, and for whom I’d had my romantic eye on for some time, announced at Willborn Pub, that he was getting married. And it wasn’t to me. I hadn’t even known he was involved with someone. I’d always thought someday maybe I’d get up the nerve to ask him out. Now it was too late. I always seemed to wait just a beat too long. But not this time I hoped.

The hotel door swung shut behind me with a solid latching sound of a small bank vault, shutting out the outside world. I forgot about Harvey.

Happy distraction. Happy Belated Valentine’s Day to me.

EyeCandy2933’s head was tipped to the side in demure fashion. Neatly trimmed thick wavy ink-black hair. Long, long black eyelashes swept downward in flirtatious shyness. A Persian harem boy, sweetly poised. At least a good fifteen years younger than me. Twenty maybe? No more than twenty-five, I’d say. At least that’s what he appeared from my less-than-astute assumptions on age. Minutia. Age, as long as he was legal, didn’t matter. And legal he was. He had golden tanned skin that spoke of long days spent in the sun. No tan marks that I could discern. He made me think of warm, Mediterranean, sapphire-blue, sparkling waters. Maybe he was Greek. Perhaps Italian. Maybe even Persian. His profile had been sketchy about his background. It didn’t really matter. He was perfect.

Then he craned his neck around to look at me and I caught my breath. Eyes of the Mediterranean, vivid and bright. Slowly he smiled, his teeth so white against his golden skin. Really nice smile.

“AchyHeart1945?” he asked, in a voice not too high, not too low. A tone that hinted at promises from between full lips that likely were fashioned to follow through on the invitation.

Though I couldn’t help blushing at the name—it was the first one that came to mind when I’d signed up for the dating site. I was frustrated with myself. Interesting that there were 1,944 other achy hearts before me. Once signed up I couldn’t take it back.

I cleared my throat.

“Yeah. I guess.”

He chuckled softly. “First time you’ve done something like this?” he gently asked.

I rubbed my sweaty palm against my trousers. “Yeah.” It was the only word that seemed to fully form inside my head.

I watched him unfold from the bed. Compact, hard in all the right places. The outline of his cock appeared stallion-proportioned beneath the flimsy lacy panties. God, but I loved those panties and what they hinted at. A swath of dark curly hair covered his well-constructed chest. More hair curled over the edges of the panties. Manly, I’d say. I liked that he wasn’t shaved. Pretty. Gorgeous. A mix of so many perfect things. Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, white lace-wrapped packages, and dark eyes that spoke volumes.These are a few of my favorite things. Okay, maybe those aren’t quite the right lyrics. But mom’s favorite movie, The Sound of Music, kept that tune spiraling inside my head. We’d just come off a marathon of holiday viewing, so no wonder it kept replaying in my mind. But the lyrics, those I’d made my own. Too bad. I’m not a kid anymore and with age I’ve learned to adapt. So should a classic song, right?

He padded toward me. “You’re just as I imagined. Have you another name? You can call me Noelle. Online is one thing, but here, in person, it should be something more intimate, don’t you think?”

“Noelle?” That surprised me. It made me think of Christmas. It made me think of snowy nights wrapped up before the fireplace with someone special. But I didn’t have someone special. I’d had fleeting somethings. I’d had fantasies. But not much more. Nothing ever seemed to turn into forevers, only here-and-nows. Gone tomorrows. Just as this would, too. I had no doubt. Noelle was way out of my league. I’m surprised he agreed to the night of hot sex we planned. But at least this time it would be at my choosing, not someone else’s. It was me who had suggested the just-sex angle. It could be fun, I’d said.

Noelle shrugged. “If you don’t like the name, you can call me whatever you like.”

I couldn’t read him. He was perfect, but I sensed something beneath the surface. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He glanced down—down at my cock. Hard beneath my trousers.

“N-Noelle is fine. I like it,” I said. I loved it. But I couldn’t tell him that. I did wonder if the name was real or made-up. “Y-you can call me…” I took a deep breath, “Jeffrey.” There, I’d done it. I’d given him my real name. Well, my middle name actually. It was still better than AchyHeart1945.

His lashes fluttered upward as he looked up at me. “Can I touch you, Jeffrey?” he asked in a steamy, flirtatious, sort of coyish manner. I sensed he’d done this before.

Oh, God, if my cock could get any harder—impossible. “Yes. Please.”

From his lips against mine, open-mouthed, tongue searching, to the feel of his strong, warm hands inside my pants, gripping my cock, time spun out of control.

“Mmm, hard already,” Noelle said. “I like that. Let’s get you undressed. I’m thinking you need to put that somewhere tight and warm. Do you want to fuck me, Jeffrey?”

Releasing February 7th, preorder now on Amazon

 

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