Welcome to BRB, everyone! It's Friday and another FFAF. Today I've posted the first chapter of my newest novel which will be published this month. Due to very heart breaking and unforeseen circumstances, I wasn't able to publish it in June as I had planned. To give you a little background Older The Better is an interracial, gay, erotic romance with a contemporary setting. The central character Charles Lynnwood is a young native man in love with an older white man, someone who is definitely—by society's standards—the forbidden fruit and for more reasons than his age. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the first chapter, have a great weekend and, remember, always read something!
Older The Better
'The hardest part of loving someone is knowing when to set them free.'
Indiscriminate sex with strangers is the only pleasure Charles has left in life. No matter how much he wants a relationship, the memories of a painful break-up during his youth won’t allow him to commit—until a friend persuades him to confront the past—to confront the man who dumped him.
Taking his friend’s advice, Charles returns home, in the hopes of rekindling the romance with the man he lost. But, his father’s religious views and the backwater community he grew up in aren’t so understanding when it comes to same-sex relationships and, to his disillusionment, neither is the man he’s returned for.
Exhaling a milky white breath, Charles pinched the end of his roach then brushed the cherry on the hard rubber sole of his boot. The frayed end of the joint emitted one last swirl of smoke before he dropped it in a baggie, rolled it up, and tucked it inside the breast pocket of his jean jacket for safekeeping. Since the police loved to raid the nightclubs along the central strip of the city, he always hovered outside at the rear of the premises to toke up.
The exterior metal door swung wide, and a pair of intoxicated men stumbled out, necking. He notched his shoulder back, missing the men, and entered the loud, pulsating atmosphere of the club, where music vibrated the concrete walls and through to the core of his chest. Nightclubs geared specifically for the gay community were a rarity, which made the place—packed from wall to wall with men—popular.
He had difficulty navigating the sea of bodies, finding it equally as unpleasant to breathe, as the air reeked of sweat. Men bumped him. Brushed up against him. Sandwiched him between their gyrating hips, even tried to hump him in time to the music. But, he noted one positive aspect—the place didn't lack for variety; he had his pick of the lot. From bears, to the more effeminate, and those who hid in their proverbial closets, while the odd man acted quite ostentatious, flaunting his sexuality everywhere.
Charles had never been much of a drinker and opted for an ice tea. Shoving a tall glass of amber liquid across the well-worn counter, the bartender joked as usual that he was the only customer who ever walked out sober at closing. Perched on a stool, he surveyed the testosterone-pumped landscape, as a hawk would search for his evening meal of a field mouse darting through low grass. In his case, he was on the hunt, manhunt to be precise, and he didn't care what kind of man, as long as the guy was willing to participate in a little extracurricular activities.
Smoothing the condensation from the glass, he sucked on the straw, attuned to his surroundings. No one aroused his interested until a man, scarcely of legal age, with blue eyes and a mop of chocolate hair, plunked his ass on the bar stool next to him.
Charles caught an overpowering whiff of Axe. "Another one who fell for the commercials," he remarked.
"What did you say?" The young man acknowledged the comment with a bottle of pale ale riding at the edge of his lips.
"Your cologne is making my eyes water." He took another sip, staring dead ahead. "It's great that you want to smell good, but bathing in it isn't necessary."
His complexion deepened to the color of a full-bodied red wine. "I guess I overdid it."
"Whatever." Charles rested an elbow on the counter and looked at him. "You're attractive."
"I don't want to know." Without second-guessing his choice, he latched on to the guy's jacket and kissed him ardently for several moments.
"Fuck," he gasped, holding him back with a forearm and almost fell off the stool. "You're forward."
"When I find something I like, I take it."
Somewhere beyond the commotion, and well past the dance floor in the outlying reaches of darkness, the young man got down on his knees. Charles unzipped his fly and his prick sprung free. While the guy fished for it from side to side with an eager, open mouth, he whacked it playfully against his flushed cheeks then smudged the damp head down his chin. "Do you like to suck cock?"
"Sure, 'cuz I like guys."
"Put this on for me."
He unwrapped and rolled the condom to the base of Charles’s cock then put it in his mouth. Jutting his crotch close and getting a grip at the back of the guy's skull, he forced the young man's mouth to ride his stiff length back and forth. Charles’s lips parted, his head fell back, and his eyelids fluttered. Standing at the threshold of ecstasy, his grip tightened, cinching the man's hair and stretching his scalp, coercing him to suck faster. Then, the rush came. Pulling his cock out of the moisture quickly, he removed the condom, and his eyes glazed over. He couldn't think of anything more heavenly than an innocent face spattered with cum. Satisfaction curved his mouth into a broad smile.
"You're good," he said, smearing the seminal fluid over the young man's enlarged upper lip with a thumb. "Real good. I think we need to go back to my place so I can finish you off."
"Yeah." He tucked his wet cock back inside his jeans and zipped the fly.
"But I can't walk out of here with spunk all over my face."
"There are restrooms in the back. Wash your face. I'll wait outside."
Hiding himself, he stared shamefully then backed away. Dodging the lecherous grasp of an inebriated Dom, he tripped past a threesome making out near the bar and vanished in the dark corridor that led to the men's washroom.
Outside, the confusion and music were deadened, and a chill, significantly colder than earlier, had settled in the air. The sky had turned black as the ebony keys on a piano, and the stars scarcely visibly from the reflection of the city lights. Cars passed, and at the far end of the road a light flashed, marking a pedestrian crossing underneath. Keys in hand, Charles paused to button his jacket. Was he doing the right thing, taking the kid—Ben or whatever his name was—home? He'd acted brusquely, pushing him off the way he had.
The club doors opened and he changed direction to look. The fringe of bangs across the guy's forehead was wet and his lips and cheeks appeared rosy from scrubbing with soap.
"About what happened...inside." He indicated to what they'd done with a remorseful frown. "I'm sorry. I was a bit rough."
Averting his gaze, the young man shrugged one shoulder. "It's okay."
"Before I take you home, I need to know. How old are you?"
"How old?" Charles studied the guy more closely than he had inside the club; he had a baby face if he'd ever seen one.
"Almost...twenty-one." He looked away once more; the timid glance screamed heat score.
"You're barely out of diapers and you're willing to come home with me—a complete stranger?"
"You're good looking." He shivered, jamming both hands in his armpits.
"So was Ted Bundy."
"You are naive." Charles unlocked the driver side of a red sports car. "Look, kid, I'm going to tell you the rules and if you agree, we go back to my place. If you don't...I'll drive you home."
"I like to get laid regularly. So I'm not interested in anything other than sex. If you don't care, we're good. If you want more, you'll need to find another man."
"What about a name?"
Gripping the car roof, he leaned on it, pleading with his eyes. "But that's just crazy—"
"No. Names. Got it?"
Every guy he'd ever met wanted to swap names. And what was in a name? Names were tiresome. Names meant the man you were about to fuck had a personality, thoughts, emotions, and every other characteristic that made him human—the fine line that separated man from beast. A name put a face to the ass you were about to claim, and Charles didn't give a shit about the human aspect, he just needed the sex.
"I got it. But what about your age? Something?"
Charles sighed, and tapped the roof impatiently with a key. "I'm thirty-three, Native, and gay. Are you interested?"
Pursing his lips as if about to cry, the young man eventually gave a reluctant nod. His actions were answer enough.
"Trust me, you won't regret it." He grinned and slid down into the low curve of cold leather, got comfortable, and unlocked the passenger side for him.
~ Blak Rayne