October Excerpt Monday

Once a month, a bunch of authors get together and post excerpts from published books, contracted work or works in progress, and link to each other. You don’t have to be published to participate–just an writer with an excerpt you’d like to share. For more info on how to participate, head over to the Excerpt Monday site! or click on the banner above.

For Halloween - A Ghost Story

Only One Regret

“Only One Regret” by Ali Katz is a compelling read. The characters are well drawn and the plot is nicely developed. ...A supernatural mystery, hot sex, and interesting characters combine to make this an enjoyable read.
~~Matthew, Rainbow Reviews

"Ali Katz has done a wonderful job with Only One Regret. Just when you think you have moved on with your life, the past that you have not let go comes back to haunt you. Ali had my heart pumping and aching as I read Only One Regret..."
~~Dianna, Manic Readers

Rock musician, Daniel Sanborn, has given his lover, Ramón, too many reasons to practice forgiveness. Their relationship is still recovering from the last crisis when a ghost from Daniel's past walks in to audition for the band.

Melanie is the widow of Josh Taylor, Daniel's first love. She's come unhinged since the funeral, talking to her dead husband when she thinks she's alone. Daniel shrugs it off to grief until her ghost makes its appearance.

Apparently, Daniel and Josh have unfinished business, and not the kind Daniel feels comfortable sharing with Ramón. Will Daniel's twelve-year-old secrets be the last straw in their rocky relationship?

Excerpt

...“I’m taking my book and hiding in the berth, if no one else wants it.” Daniel always liked a little solitude before appearances. A habit he’d begun when he played concert piano. They all knew, and left him alone as he made his way to the front of the plane.

He passed Melanie, asleep on one of the couches in the lounge. She was covered in gooseflesh and shivering more than the temperature in the pressurized cabin accounted for. He considered waking her and letting her have the berth, but the bruised look around her eyes made him hesitate to disturb her. She looked exhausted.

They had a concert in twelve hours. He let her rest, but grabbed a couple of blankets from the overhead and covered her before making his way forward to the plane’s only bed. The last thing they needed was a sick fiddler on her opening night.

The berth was colder than usual, too. Shutting himself in the tiny room, he kicked off his shoes and removed his belt, then reached for a blanket.

Icy fingers ran the length of his spine.

His reaction was instantaneous. He jerked from the touch, dove for the door. A hand grabbed him by the collar, hauled him off his feet. His face met the bulkhead.

“No!” The shout lodged in his throat.

A hard body leaned into him with easy intimacy. A very solid erection burrowed into the crack of his ass through the denim.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.” The curses squeezed past the steel grip of fear binding his throat. His panicked gaze bounced wildly within its limited range, searching for anything to make the solid body pressing against him real. Finally, he had to close his eyes against the unseen, shrinking from whatever came next.

Wintry lips slid over his jaw—gentle lips, just the breath of a kiss. An arm slid between Daniel and the wall, across his abdomen to clutch his hip.

The move was all too familiar. He thrust out his arms, shoving against the bulkhead, trying to escape before the ghost completed the embrace, but it easily restrained his flailing limbs, holding him fast with an unyielding hug across the chest.

Daniel felt himself lifted away from the bulkhead. He hung suspended, feet barely touching the floor, subdued by an invisible master while gentle, cold kisses caressed his face, neck and shoulder. As though answering a hypnotist’s command, his body remembered and submitted.

Tears streamed down his cheeks. A tremor of fear and lust swept through him and settled in his groin. His balls tightened. His already rigid cock stirred. The kisses paused at the joining of neck and shoulder and words formed against the skin, tickling, silent, undecipherable.

Josh used to hold him like this, slow fucking him, until their need grew unbearable. Then any surface would do, the bed, the wall, the back of a chair, but Daniel’s piano was a favorite. Draped across its gleaming lid, Daniel had joyfully taken every vicious stroke Josh wanted to give.

The hand on his hip slid to his cock, caressing him through the denim. He groaned, but could not move a muscle to either stop or encourage the intimate contact. Nothing moved but his voice, producing low moans and whimpers. Fingers ran the length of him, beating a rough arpeggio in one direction, sliding the scale in the other, then closed around him with sure familiarity.

His hips jerked. Remembered images and sensations ebbed and flowed in time with the movement of those ghostly fingers—Josh, kneeling on Daniel’s legs, pressing his arms to the floor, restraining him while his mouth traveled, sucking, nibbling, on his neck, on his chest, on his cock. The bites to his nipples, to his thighs that sent fire rushing through him. The toys, their sting, the everlasting burn deep in his gut. Their legs interlocked, straining—

He cried out. The climax exploded from him...

Only One Regret - is available here

Don't forget to check out my Amber Heat titles: Glory and Gato Negro , and my other M/M Amber Allure release, The Highwayman .

ali

http://www.a-katz.com/

http://www.myspace.com/practicalkatz

http://amberquill.com/AmberHeat/bio_Katz.html

“Links to other Excerpt Monday writers
Note: I have not personally screened these excerpts. Please heed the ratings and be aware that the links may contain material that is not typical of my site.

Passion in Spades Monthly Drawing for September

Comment in my guest book and win:

A dozen candy roses

Plus:

*A cd version of The Highwayman along with excerpts and chapter books from some of your favorite erotic romance authors.

*Goody bag of promotional prizes

For details, follow the link to my guest book from http://www.a-katz.com/

September's contributing authors are:
Chelle Cordero
Elaine Corvidae
Christiane France
Cassandra Gold
Michelle Houston
Ali Katz
Elle Parker
Nina Pierce
Recipe for Romance Vol 1
Tory Richards
J.M. Snyder
Kari Thomas

Meet Lorhainne Eckhart

I have a guest today, something new for me. I invited Lorhainne because her recent release from Wild Rose Press, The Captain's Lady, surprised me. The Captain's Lady is a passionate tale of love during the Iraqi war, a sweet romance, not my usual cup of tea, yet the story and characters held me captive. I'll let her tell you more about her work later.

Lorhainne lives in the countryside of Vancouver Island, one of the most beautiful places I've ever visited. To my mind, an artist could find no better place for inspiration. So, I asked her how it worked for her, and she was kind enough to answer.

Welcome Lorhainne and thank you for being here today.

***

How does the beautiful place I live inspire me? I live in the countryside on Vancouver Island.

One thing about the country it is peaceful. When I moved out here. I was stunned the first time I heard the sound of a bird as it cut it’s wings through the air. You don’t hear that sound in the city. There is no background noise of vehicles, machinery, the hum of activity of neighbours around you. The constant buzz of activity in the air, that you attune yourself to when you live in the city, does not exist here.

Here it’s the sounds of nature. Pine, fir, hemlock and cedar trees surround me. Hummingbirds, deer butterflies dragonflies. I have even come across a black bear a few times. The peace, the beauty and harmony that comes with living this close to nature allows me that freedom to express myself. The words flow easily as I listen the breeze rustle through the branches of the trees, the birds sing their songs. See the bold bright colours from my gardens, and the fall colours that surround me in autumn.

That is truly inspiring to me.

Now you also asked about my Second Novel, The Forgotten Child. This touched on a subject that is near and dear to me. I am the mother and advocate of an autistic child. Autism has hit epidemic proportions, where 1 in 150 children will be diagnosed with this devastating neurological disorder.

The Forgotten Child, is set on a ranch on Vancouver Island. Emily Nelson, a courageous mother of two, ends a loveless bitter marriage and strikes out on her own with her children. She answers an ad as a cook and live in caregiver to a three year old boy on a local ranch. Ranch owner Brad Friesen hires and moves Emily and her two children in. But she soon discovers something is wrong with his boy. Developmentally, she recognizes the familiar signs of autism. Persistent, she struggles to give Brad hope, to help him come to terms with this neurological disorder and to take the necessary steps to advocate for his child.

It is unavoidable the attraction and the connection that sparks between them. Just as they take that next step towards intimacy, Brad's estranged wife Crystal returns after abandoning them two years earlier. In amongst the turmoil and chaos there is one disturbing detail Brad cannot shake. How is it that she knows so much of his personal business, the inner workings of the ranch and Emily's involvement with his son?

Crystal must have had a plan, as she somehow gains the upper hand, driving a wedge in the emotional bond forged between Brad, Emily and the children. The primary focus for care and therapy of three year old Trevor is diverted. The lengths that Crystal will go to just to keep what is hers, include the threat of taking Brad's child away. Her greed and lies are nothing short of cold and calculating. When Crystal is outmaneuvered by Brad and his lawyer, she strikes back to declare the child is not his. Both Emily and Brad fight with passion and fire, enduring heartache and pain unwilling to surrender.

***

Thank you, again. Now, about Lorhainne's recent release.

Blurb: The Captain’s Lady

Captain Eric Hamilton is a powerful force in the U.S. Navy, having earned himself a reputation of being a hard-nosed chauvinist. He’s commander of the USS Larsen, a destroyer, currently deployed in the Persian Gulf during Operation Iraqi Freedom.

Abby Carlton has just escaped from the man who held her captive for a year. Abducted while travelling in Paris, she was given to an Arab man as a gift, until one night she makes her desperate escape.

While on patrol one morning Captain Eric Hamilton discovers a dinghy floating aimlessly. Abby is found, battered and in an advanced state of pregnancy, lying in the bottom of the dinghy. From the moment she lay on the deck of his ship her innocence finds a way to penetrate his hardened heart. But time is running out. Eric is falsely accused of sexual assault and the CIA wants Abby and the baby for bait to flush out her captor.

Excerpt: The Captain’s Lady

“We have no reports of a ship in distress in the area, Captain.”

“What about fishing boats?”

“No, sir, no reports.”

Looking once more at his first officer, Eric issued curt orders, the harshness grating in his voice. “Send a rescue team to check it out.”

Handing the binoculars off to one of the crew members, he strode with determination off the bridge, heading directly to the ship’s launch. His well-trained crew scurried about. Joe appeared at his side and they watched from the rail as the small rigid hull sped off in the direction of the dinghy. His pulse rose and the dampness on his back soaked through his short-sleeved shirt.

“So what do you think?” Joe leaned on the rail, uncertainty clear in the crinkle of his brows.

“Don’t know, dammit.” Eric focused on the scene unfolding in the distance. Again he commandeered the binoculars from Joe and scrutinized the three-man team approaching, then securing the boat to the dinghy.

His senses were keen; over the years, he’d learned to trust them. The uneasiness that crept its way into his gut, the hairs now standing up on the back of his neck and the racing of his heart; this unshakable feeling was telling him that things were about to change—drastically.

Puzzled, he felt the mounting frustration build inside, along with something else he could not quite put his finger on. Shaking his head, he realized it was not a feeling of dread.

The crackle of the radio interrupted his speculation.

A voice from the rescue team came over the line. “There’s someone in here, a woman, and she’s in bad shape.”

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

The week of Memorial Day, I took my first 'working' vacation. With a deadline looming and 15000 unedited words of the 25000 I needed to finish Damon's Price (Erotic Historical, scheduled for release Mar. 9, 2010 from Samhain Publishing), I had to do something to get motivated. So, desperate, I searched the web for a secluded spot within driving distance and found Strawberry, a teeny town in the mountains northeast of Phoenix, and rented a cabin in the woods.


On Tuesday morning, I threw some clothes into a duffel bag, packed up my trusty laptop and took off on a four hour trip that took me from here:

Past here:

To here:

The changing landscape as you travel never fails to fill me with awe for nature's design. I am a writer, but when it comes to the wonders of nature, I more often than not, find myself speechless. Someday I hope to brave the challenge of putting pictures like these into words. But until that day, it's up to my minolta.

My cabin.

And, check it out... it snowed.

The purpose of this blog is to introduce my guest blogger for tomorrow.

Lorhainne Eckhart is author of The Captain's Lady, a passionate tale of love during the Iraqi war, just released by Wild Rose Press.

Lorhainne lives in the countryside of Vancouver Island, one of the most beautiful places I've ever visited. To my mind, an artist could find no better place for inspiration. So, I asked her how it worked for her. Stop by tomorrow to read her answer.

Excerpt Monday

Welcome to August's Excerpt Monday! This month we have excerpts from 44 (count them - links to all of them are listed below). But first, an exclusive excerpt from my first AmberHeat Title:

Glory

Connor Finn is having the best season of his six-year career with Corps de Ballet when a former teacher invites him to evaluate a young ballerina she thinks he'll find interesting.

Glorianna Scalisi is like no dancer Connor has ever worked with. She is too dark, has too many curves, and she flies across the floor with a power he's never seen in a woman.

Very soon, they discover a magic in the way they move together, and as they dance in pursuit of their dreams, love blossoms between them.

But a different magic rules Glory's life. A peculiar physical ailment and her mindless obedience to the family that holds her allegiance threatens their plans. Connor wants her free to live a life that includes him, but when he discovers the nature of the bond is an amulet, which has enslaved her family for a thousand years, he must first come to believe the mystery of her origin before he can find a way to set her free.

Excerpt

The studio was silent but for the tap, tap of her toe shoes against the floor, the soft sounds of their breathing and Connor’s voice giving instruction.

“Sur les pointes. Now, give me attitude.” He marveled as she snapped into position without a quiver.

With one hand lightly touching her center of gravity, he examined her lines, then traced her spine with one finger until the curve deepened. “Beautiful. Can you hold that?”

“Sì,” she said on a breathe.

Testing her a little, he took his time inspecting her form. Whoever decided breasts and butt ruined a perfect outline? What could be more perfect than the pleasure this body elicited? Not a single muscle relaxed, or even ticked, in all the time his gaze roamed over her.

He lowered his arm slowly to her waist and walked her full circle. “Fall…a poisson.”

Now her body jerked. With perceptible effort, she avoided breaking form before she dropped into his arms. He waited to comment until he’d talked her into the correct position and raised her to her feet.

“You hesitated. Glory, for the hundredth time, trust me. I’m not going to drop you.”

“I am too heavy,” she said, her gaze fixed on the floor.

“Sophie Kessler is ten pounds heavier. I’ve never dropped her.” Already, after only their first hour together, he’d determined to put this hurdle behind them as quickly as possible and make this partnership work. If he succeeded in gaining her trust, if the damn nosebleeds didn’t get in the way, if…they would be brilliant. “How badly do you want this?”

She locked her golden eyes to his and nodded.

The hunger was there. “Well, then.” With one hand against her ribs, the other on her thigh, he lifted her over his head. “Again, a poisson.”

This time, she didn’t hesitate, didn’t try to compensate. In the mirror, the perfect line her curves created remained undisturbed as he extended and lowered her torso into a dive. He reversed the tilt and dropped her into his arms. She weighed nothing. With his arms wrapped around her thighs, he buried his face in her belly and smiled.

Peppermint…she smells like Christmas.

She was desire personified in his arms, her body sliding slowly over his, caressing him as he lowered her en pointe. Her left leg curled around his hip and she leaned back into his arm. With her arm stretched above her head, the mounds of her breasts and the peaks of their nipples yearned toward the sky. He couldn’t stop himself, in spite of the growing discomfort as the belt he wore tightened around his rising arousal. Hell, he didn’t want to stop. They were already so close to what he’d imagined, a celebration of the body.

The arch of her back deepened as he let his hand slide up her thigh, hip, ribs to cradle one full, round breast with his outstretched thumb. That’s as far as he let himself go; his eyes completed the stroke. The shadows of her dark areolas bled through the taut fabric. For a moment, the sight of her took his breath away.

“Perfect.” His mouth watered for a taste. Mentally laughing at his reaction, feeling more joy than self-derision, he led her to complete the move.

“Brava, Glory.” God, they were going to be so good together—if he could do her justice.

Excitement shone in her eyes. “You are stronger than you look, Connor.” She laughed and the sound intoxicated him.

Hands to chest, he mimed a broken heart. Thinking about it, though, he wondered if perhaps he wasn’t also stronger than he thought. Rather than dwell on the oddity, he chalked up the ease with which he’d held her above his head to his being more interested in the way her soft flesh pillowed his hand. They finished the session in a light mood and, for his sake, with minimal touching.

As Glory left the floor, the sway in her hips told Connor she knew the effect she had on him. He watched her disappear into the dressing room before turning to gather his things.

“Mr. Finn,” a voice called from behind him. The man who’d shared Glory’s box at the theater stood in the doorway. Connor crossed the dance floor to greet him. Boyfriend, he thought, tall, black, extremely good-looking, wearing Armani, but a certain resemblance to Glory around the eyes and cheekbones made him hope for brother. How long had he been watching?

The man offered his hand; Connor took it. “Damiano Scalisi, Glorianna’s father.”

Connor caught his mouth gaping and closed it with an audible snap of his teeth.

“Yes,” Damiano said, with a laugh and neon smile. “Obviously, I’m older than I look.”

“It’s a pleasure, sir.” Really, how long had he been watching? “You’re daughter is very accomplished.”

“And beautiful, don’t you think?” He wore a good-natured smirk.

Long enough. Inside, Connor squirmed. “I’d hoped you hadn’t noticed me admiring her.” Ogling’s more accurate, or, for God’s sake, mauling. The man’s unfaltering expression did a lot to ease his mind.

“Honesty,” Damiano said. “Refreshing. You’ll have no interference from me. Glorianna is her own woman and quite capable of defending herself, if it comes to that. I wanted only to congratulate you on your success this season. I’ve never seen a better cast dancer. With your strange coloring, you might have been born to the role.”

Relieved, Connor laughed. “My mother always said I was half sidhe.”

“Who would know better? The way you move across the stage, I think it’s quite probably true.” He gave no hint of amusement. The way he scrutinized him, Connor thought the man more than half believed the fantastical statement.

He glanced over Connor’s shoulder and his face softened. Connor turned and saw Glory coming out of the dressing room. She hesitated a moment until her father extended his hand for her to join them.

“My daughter’s been away a long time,” Damiano said in a low voice as she approached. “Sometimes I find it hard to reconcile the child who left with the woman who returned. This passage—the incident you witnessed—has been difficult for her, but I promise you, the situation is temporary. Don’t be frightened away. You’ll be good for her.”

That was a strange thing for a man he’d just met to say. This passage, he’d said. Connor would’ve liked to question him further, but Glory was there, taking her father’s hand and reaching up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Reviews

“Glory is an apt name for the heroine and a fine description of the tale itself. The story has the precision and melodic grace of a fine ballet duet mixed with an element of danger and exotic magic that will keep you turning pages far into the night.”
--Rebecca Kyle, Amazon Top Reviewer

"...A sweet, whimsical tale with an underlying contemporary darkness. The story slowly unwinds measure by measure until all you can do is 'ooh' and 'ah' at each revelation. Connor is an assertive, talented man and a perfect balance for Glory’s vulnerability and passion. Both characters share a strength and courage that shines through Ms. Katz’s writing...The sex scenes are combustible while leaving you with the feeling that Glory and Connor are truly connected mentally and emotionally to one another..."
--Patrice F., Joyfully Reviewed

"4 1/2 Stars!...Passion, love, danger and deceit all roll together to make Glory a great short read. It is heartwarming to see an author take on the stereotype that only the thinnest can succeed in the dance world. Ms. Katz also gives a realistic glance into the depression that can take hold of a person who is told that the shape of their body will forever keep them from realizing their dream. Brava to this inspiring new voice in fiction."
--Valerie, Manic Readers Reviews .

Glory was a 2007 Amber Heat Wave Winner. You can download a copy here.

Here's the list of August's other Excerpt Monday Participants. Read and enjoy!

Your hosts:
Mel/Alexia Reed, Urban Fantasy (R)

and

Bria Quinlan, Rom Com (PG)


Joining us this week:


AJ O'Donovan, Poetry (PG13)

Stephanie Draven, Paranormal Romance (PG 13)

Heather S.Ingemar, Dark Fantasy/Poetry (PG13)

Babette James, Fantasy Romance (PG 13)

Cynthia Justlin, Romantic Suspense (PG 13)

Kaige, Historical Romance (PG 13)

Julia Knight, Fantasy Romance (PG13)

Ansha Kotyk, Middle Grade Adventure (PG13)

Adelle Laudan, Contemporary Romance (PG 13)

Jeannie Lin, Historical Romance (PG 13)

RF Long, YA Paranormal (PG13)

Caitlynn Lowe, Epic Fantasy (PG13)

Shawntelle Madison, Paranormal Romance (PG 13)

Crista McHugh, Contemporary Erotic Romance (PG 13)

Bria Quinlan, Rom Com (PG)

Leigh Royals, Historical Romance (PG 13)

Megan S., Paranormal (PG13)

Dara Sorensen, Historical Paranormal (PG 13)

Bethanne Strasser, Historical Romance (PG13)


Melissa Aires, Futuristic Romance (R)

Melissa Blue, Contemporary Romance (R)

Jax Cassidy, Contemporary (R)

Christina DeLorenzo, Furturistic Sci-Fi (R)

Maya Doyle, Parnormal Romance (R)

Ginny Glass, Paranormal (R)

Amber Green, Romantic Suspense (R)

Cate Hart, Paranormal YA (R)

Kinsey W. Holley, Erotic Romance (R)

Ali Katz, Erotic Paranormal Romance (R)

Aislinn Kerry, Fantasy (R)

Inez Kelly, Fantasy Romance (R)

Cherrie Lynn, Contemporary Erotic Romance (R)

Mel/Alexia Reed, Urban Fantasy (R)

Rebecca Savage, Romantic Suspense (R)

Fae Sutherland, Contemporary Erotic Romance (R)


Stephanie Adkins, Paranormal Erotic Romance (NC 17)

Evie Byrne, Erotic Historical Romance (NC17)

Ella Drake, Erotic Contemporary (NC17)

Dawn Montgomery, Erotic Paranormal Romance (NC17)

Lauren Murphy, Erotic Romance (NC 17)

Kim Knox, Erotic Paranormal Romance (NC17)

Emily Ryan-Davis, Historical Western Romance (NC17)

Kirsten Saell, Erotic Fantasy Romance (NC 17)

Jeanne St. James, Contemporary Romance (NC 17)

Excerpt Monday

For my first Excerpt Monday, I've decided to post a new passage from The Highwayman. Check below to find links to five other participants' excerpts. Your reward will be an introduction to some of the hottest erotic romance out there.

The Highwayman

Hungary, 1750

Janos Vesh is a man on the edge. He's spent all of his adult life fighting his past. Now he roams the highways of the southern Carpathian Mountains chasing what little vengeance fate has to offer for the wrongs done to him and to his family. But satisfaction eludes him, and his only comfort comes in the arms of his lover, Stefan.

The soldier's constant love is no longer enough to rein in the highwayman's growing recklessness. Stefan doesn't know what drives Janos along the path to self-destruction. He knows only that trying to save the man he loves from himself is fast becoming a losing battle. He's not ready to give up, but ideas are running short.

A robbery gone bad, a descent into darkness, and Janos's fragile hold on sanity begins to crumble. Stefan has one last hope.

Excerpt

Stefan returned the following evening to find Janos seated on the edge of the cot, trying to pull on a boot with one swollen hand while mumbling Latin expletives under his breath.

“How many languages do you curse in?”

“Four. Would you like to learn ‘suck my cock’ in French?”

He did a quick assessment, noting the way he clutched at his ribs while struggling. Still, his posture was straight, not the humped over profile Stefan expected. Perhaps the ribs weren’t broken, after all. He allowed himself a moment’s relief, until Janos glanced his way. His face was a puffy, discolored mass with one eye swollen closed. “You’re a sight. Did they leave all your teeth?”

Janos made a sound that might have been a laugh or a sob. He doubled over, moaning. “Salop. Finally you learn to joke when I hurt all over.”

“Give me that boot. You can’t think you’re going anywhere.”

To his surprise, Janos handed it over. “I only stabled Hera for one night.” He lifted a foot, waiting.

Stefan slapped the foot aside and snatched the other boot from the floor, ignoring the grumbling. He set the pair by the hearth, out of reach. “I took care of Hera. She’s boarded for three days and you’re not leaving this room a minute sooner.”

“How do you plan to keep me here?” He seemed to have an easier time running his mouth.

“I took leave. Get used to my face. You’ll be seeing a lot of it.” Stefan dropped onto the bed beside him. “Janos, talk to me. Why are you doing this?”

Suddenly, Janos looked tired. With a glimmer of defiance in that single open eye, he stretched out on the mattress with a groan, setting his back to him.

Stefan fought the urge to say something cruel and leave. He was not a patient man. Was he supposed to get on his knees and beg to be heard? Not for a moment did he believe Janos’s arrogance to be anything less than self-preservation. Something hounded him, something terrible and impenetrable. He didn’t need to know those secrets, but he did need to know he could help. He was weary of feeling useless.

So, he focused on the many tender moments—too many to give up without a fight. He lifted a lock of silken strands, and pictured his lover’s hair, black as night, flowing loose over his naked back.

“A dark cloud hangs over you, love. I’m helpless to know how to keep it away.”

Janos shifted; his shoulders heaved. When he finally spoke, his voice was hollow, vacant.

“Nothing keeps it away anymore. It rides my back like a demon. Forgive me, Stefan. If you’re seeking reassurance, I have none to offer. You needn’t fear I’ll plead your indulgence while I go mad.”

He knows and promises nothing. Stefan saw none but a coward’s way out. But not today. He was not willing to lie and promise what he couldn’t do, but today Janos needed him. And tomorrow? Who knew what solutions tomorrow might bring? He lay down and drew his love into his arms, wrapping him in silent comfort. For now, he offered what he had, and admitted, at least to himself, the leaving would be the hardest thing he’d ever done.

***

Stop. Evaluate. Farkas taught him after the third time Janos awoke to his caresses screaming, fists flying. A years and a broken nose later, Janos learned.

He held his breath until the warm wetness of Stefan’s mouth nuzzling his shoulder and the iron cock gliding over his ass through their clothes became familiar. Stefan already panted with approaching orgasm. The gentle strokes along his crack, which had registered as a dream, grew more heated, less careful, urgent.

“Enjoying yourself?” The dream left his body yearning in spite of all its aches.

Warm lips curled against his shoulder. Stefan chuckled, and a huff of feathery breath tickled over Janos’s skin. The arms enclosing him tightened into an affectionate hug.

He groaned.

Stefan stiffened. His grip loosened. “Did I hurt you, beloved? I’m sorry.”

His heart melted. How long since Stefan’s endearments held such affection? “No. You didn’t hurt me,” he lied. “There are too many clothes between us.”

Stefan made quick work of his own buttons and slid his hands beneath Janos’s shirt, patiently caressing his back, chest, toying with his nipples through the wrapping.

Janos was having a little more trouble. With fingers stiffened by the blows he’d thrown, he was still working on the first button while Stefan’s cock poked insistently at his crack. He moaned in frustration.

“Do you need help?” Stefan had his cock freed and his breeches pushed down over his hips before Janos had the chance to thank him for the offer. His hand fastened around Janos’s cock, pumping a few times.

Janos shifted just so. With Stefan’s next thrust, his cock pressed right where they both wanted it.

“We have nothing to make this easy, love.”

Another heartfelt endearment and Janos’s pain eased a little more. “I don’t care. I want you… need you inside me.”

“Come for me.” Stefan’s hand on his cock became the center of the world; his steel hardness beat in counterpoint against his hole.

Everything became dreamlike and unreal. The pain in his body and his mind disappeared. He pressed back, hard enough for Stefan to pierce him. The head entered, stretching, burning. Stefan paused, waiting for him to grow accustomed to the invasion, before pressing further, then rocked, nudging, nudging the sweet spot, gently pushing him toward the brink.

“Come.”

Every stroke extracted a helpless little cry. Janos quaked. The orgasm struck all at once, taking control.

Stefan held on, riding the waves of pleasure with him, whispering, “God, oh God.” His hand and cock disappeared, but returned quickly. Slick with cum, he sank his entire length into Janos’s body.

The cries to heaven grew from whispers to growls. After a few strokes, the thrusts grew vicious, erratic. Janos felt Stefan’s pulsing member swell, filling his passage. Pushing, hips jerking rhythmically, his lover pulled him in, ground his ass and sobbed wetly against his neck. “Oh, God, please.”

The Highwayman is available from Amber Allure. Read another, R-rated excerpt, and purchase it here.

And here are the links to five more excerpts from other authors participating in Excerpt Monday:

Vivienne Westlake, Erotic Historical (R)

Elise Logan, Fantasy Romance (R)

Evie Byrne, Medieval Paranormal Romance (NC 17)

Stephanie Adkins, Erotic Romance (NC 17)

Leigh Royals, Historical Romance (PG 13)

Sirocco

si·roc·co [suh-rok-oh] –noun, plural -cos.
1. a hot, dry, dustladen wind blowing from northern Africa and affecting parts of southern Europe. 2. a warm, sultry south or southeast wind accompanied by rain, occurring in the same regions. 3. any hot, oppressive wind, esp. one in the warm sector of a cyclone.

ssssssssssshhhhhhhhhh-roc-ooooooooooo

Onomatopoeia. Such soft, soothing sounds.

We've had a windy spring in Tucson this year. The word 'sirocco' keeps coming to mind. Those sounds, so soft, so deceptively soothing, have insinuated themselves into my psyche like an itch I can't reach.

A lot of things make me feel like I want to jump out of my skin. Traffic is one I'm sure all drivers in Tucson will be glad to hear. Constant chatter with a radio or TV playing in the background is another.

Mmmmm. Am I seeing a pattern here?

But, unlike these other noises, you can't roll up the window or close a door on a sirocco. The wind is all invasive. It seeps through the smallest cracks, pierces any barrier you place in it's way, sucks the sun from the sky and the moisture from everything it touches and makes you long for hundred degree summer afternoons with their cool southern breezes.

Everyone's got something. What sets your teeth on edge?

“The older you get the stronger the wind gets - and it's always in your
face.”
~~ Pablo Picasso

“For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the
sun? And what is it to cease breathing but to free the breath from its restless
tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?”
~~Kahlil Gibran

“The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind, The answer is blowin' in the
wind”
~~Bob Dylan