Hero: Alastair, the 13th Earl Waldeford. (Set in present day). Due to a very dark past, closed his ancestral home and hopes the doors are never opened again.
Hero: Byron Granger. Desperate to recover ancient journals that could hold powerful information. He has to convince Alastair to open the house, and open his scary past…
“I believe this is a straight!” Byron declared as he tossed out the 8, 9, 10, Jack and Queen and Alastair sighed as he fell back in his seat on the other side of the small card table.
“I was afraid I’d have to say this…” He groaned and Byron squealed with excitement and clapped. He wasn’t sure who decided Strip Poker was a wise way to pass the time but he’d yet to get Alastair out of his pants and he was tired of sitting across from him in nothing but his boxers every time they played. He was grateful they decided to play in front of the fire, though. He’d probably die of shock if they played at the bigger table again. “Americans have this expression and I’ve never had an occasion worthy of it,” Alastair added and Byron hummed as he set his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands and stared expectantly.
“Is it something we say when we’re dropping our pants and admitting defeat?” He asked sweetly and Alastair chuckled.
“I often say it when I’m taking off my pants,” he murmured then threw out a pair of 10’s. Then three Aces and Byron swore under his breath as his head dropped and he cradled it in his hands. “Suck it,” Alastair drawled and Byron scowled at him. “Did I use that correctly?” Alastair asked. Byron rolled his eyes as he pushed away from the table and he stood.
“That’s so funny,” he laughed sarcastically then wiggled his eyebrows at Alastair as he hooked his thumbs beneath the waist of his sweatpants. “But can you do it correctly?” He teased then winked before he turned his back to him and slowly pushed them down until they were just beneath his ass. He might have lost but he wasn’t going to let Alastair win. “A lot of guys don’t,” he said then looked over his shoulder and slid him a cocky grin. Alastair’s eyes were locked on his ass as he nodded slowly.
“I do,” he breathed and Byron winced then shook his head. He turned away from him then pushed his hands through his hair and let out a dreamy purr as they glided down his chest.
“It’s got to be more than just sucking, right?” He mused as his head fell back and he let out an exaggerated, breathless gasp as he pretended to stroke his hard-on through his pants. He wasn’t ready to be in that much pain. Byron bit his lip and glanced back coyly and Alastair was leaning in his seat and his neck craned as he tried to see what he was doing.
“More?” He huffed as his chest heaved and Byron’s tongue dragged across his lips before he nodded.
“Licking is so vital,” he said as he lowered the front of his sweatpants and boxers, letting his cock fall out. He bounced on his toes a little, making it bounce and swing and he heard Alastair shifting in his chair. Byron pursed his lips and sucked in a loud breath as he tilted his head and pretended to examine his erection. “Riiiiiight here. That’s my favorite spot,” he murmured and he heard a strained, stifled groan. Byron bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “But I’m sure you know exactly what to do,” he said breezily as he snapped the waist of his boxers back in place then hopped and kicked until his sweatpants puddled at his feet then stepped out of them. When he turned Alastair was pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering a string of inaudible grumbled curses. Serves you right, Byron decided. “Good game,” he said as he cocked his thumb at the card table. “I think we could both use more wine,” he added as he passed and Alastair’s arm shot out and his hand locked around Byron’s wrist.
“Is that what you want?” He asked as he pulled. Alastair’s arm tightened around Byron as he fell onto his lap. Byron fell into their kiss. Their lips fused as Alastair’s tongue swirled and thrust hungrily, destroying the last of Byron’s good sense and self-control. His arm hooked around Alastair’s neck as he swung his leg over his hips and bucked against him.
“I want to know what tree this chair was made from because I don’t think it’s strong enough for what’s about to happen,” he said as he ground hard, crushing their cocks against each other as he writhed.
“Fuck… Byron,” Alastair panted against his collarbone. His hands tightened around Byron’s ass as his tongue slid up his neck and the heat was startling. It rolled off Alastair, washing over Byron and making sweat push from his pores as his skin burned and his blood boiled. Alastair’s fingertips dug into the cleft of Byron’s ass as he pulled him hard against him and rocked his hips. He picked up a smooth rhythm as he sucked on Byron’s tongue and a desperate, hungry ache flared in his passage. And the relief was nearly euphoric. It was finally happening, there was no way Alastair could be that cruel. The large, heavy throb of Alastair’s erection was too real and too perfect and too demanding to be denied. Alastair needed to bury his cock as deep in Byron’s ass as much as Byron needed to swallow every inch of it. He didn’t even care that he’d need a throat transplant and a new ass once it was over. He was ready.
“Yes. Fuck Byron,” he urged as he pushed his hands between them and into the front of Alastair’s pajama pants. He was long enough to fit in both of his hands and almost as thick as his wrists and Alastair shuddered as his head fell back. “Fuck Byron really, really hard after you’ve punched the shit out of his tonsils with your cock,” he begged and Alastair gasped as he reached for Byron’s face.
“Fuck Byron,” he whispered as if he was giving himself permission. His fingers twisted in his hair and his lips were hard and possessive as their tongues dueled. Byron was absolutely fine with getting a lot rougher.
“Right now,” he added impatiently as he stroked and Alastair nodded as he lapped at his lips.
“Now,” he whispered and Byron’s nose wrinkled as he looked toward his backpack. It was just on the table but he’d have to separate himself from Alastair. He opened his mouth to tell Alastair not to move or even blink but he was looking at the top of the stairs when Byron turned to him.
“What?” He asked as he traced Alastair’s ear with his tongue then sucked on his earlobe.
“Stop!” Alastair cried as his hands locked around Byron’s shoulders. The air caught in Byron’s throat and his eyes almost fell out of their sockets.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he said as he searched Alastair’s face for any sign of humor. Alastair shut his eyes and shook his head.
“I’m sorry. I let this go too far,” he admitted and there was so much regret and pain in his eyes and his voice as he stared back at Byron longingly. It made absolutely no sense. Byron glared as hard as he could as he slowly loosened his grip around Alastair’s shaft then set his hands on the arms of the chair and stood.
“I think we’re done playing,” Byron declared as he turned and snatched his sweatpants off the floor before he stormed around the table. He stopped and stepped into his pants then threw himself at his bed. Alastair quietly turned down the lights and put the grate in front of the fire before he crawled onto his bed. Byron rolled onto his side, turning his back to Alastair. The silence stretched and Byron started to get drowsy until Alastair laughed.
“Punch the shit out of your tonsils?” He asked and Byron’s lips pulled into a petulant frown.
“The heart wants what it wants,” he grumbled and Alastair sighed.
“Leave me alone.”
This is an m/m erotic novella (170ish pages) set in a scary, dark, gothic estate. It’s a fun and very sexy read. Kindle