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Sunday, May 31, 2015

Carson's Story - Blak Rayne #promotion #gay #romance #excerpt

Welcome to BRB, everyone! I finally did it, Carson's Story is available for purchase via Smashwords, and within a couple weeks it will also be available at all the other major distribution outlets. Tomorrow I will update all my social media outlets as well as Blak Rayne Books.com and Xin Xii, and then it's back to work on my next two projects: a short story titled Turkish Delight (for Yellow Silk Dreams) and another novel Taming of Victor Krause. Both of which, thankfully, are nearing completion. Later on this week, I will post a couple book reviews. Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy this short but steamy excerpt!

Carson’s Story

‘One man’s love is another man’s strength.’

A twenty-year veteran of the police force, Carson Mackenzie has worked hard to carve his niche in a demanding environment where stress is the operative word. Thanks to his occupation, he’s never relied on anyone, not even his husband Stephen until he’s involved in a severe car accident while on duty one night. His recovery isn’t smooth; reoccurring nightmares of the crash play havoc with his mental health and he starts to experience a new kind of stress—something he’s never dealt with, anxiety.
Adding to his problems, Dudley Kramer corners him in a restaurant, a shady art dealer who almost ruined his marriage and career once before. Arrogant and self-serving, Dudley wants sex and he’ll do whatever it takes. Too ashamed to ask for help, he tries to handle the situation alone but quickly discovers the art dealer won’t take no for an answer.

The next morning I was up bright and early. And as per usual, I had to fight off the nightmarish images of a restless sleep and the beginnings of a headache. I slouched against the kitchen island, drinking tea; the first rays of sunlight soaking through the veil of early morning mist in the backyard. Like some powerful sorceress, the sun chased away the last remnants of the night.
At least that’s what I had begun to do, enjoy the view. I have a fetish for men in suits, expensive suits, and men who give the impression of being wealthy and can play the part—a guy who can dominate a boardroom. That’s what had attracted me to Stephen in the first place, his clean cut, Fifth Avenue appearance.
Stephen, in his best suit, kissed my lips hard and took the porcelain cup from me and placed it on the island with a clunk, scraping the granite. Stretching my track pants past my buttocks and then my knees, he sank to kneel before me like I was a god, his warm breath on my belly prickling the short blond hairs.
He knows every erogenous zone on my body, and his thumbs did the dirty work, circling and massaging the lean cut of my abdominal muscles while he nipped the deep, inner crease of my thigh next to my balls. I flinched and growled, lifting my leg slightly. He’d hit the spot, the one spot that drove me insane. He grazed it again with his teeth and a jolt of sexual electricity shuddered through me, and my cock was weeping. But my temples also started to pound with the rise in blood pressure. I’d wanted to tell him to stop, but he seemed so eager to please me, I didn’t have the heart. What could I do? We hadn’t fooled around in ages.
He didn’t fondle much. Instead, it was straight down to business. He held the base of my enlarged shaft in a fist, then lapped the pre-cum glistening on the slit and downed it, sucking hard.
The pressure gradually intensified, and my fingers grazed his bobbing head, sinking into his scalp, tangling in his soft dark hair. Groaning, I stared at the magnificent image, as I brought his head forward and back to meet with each pelvic thrust. He squeezed my buttocks, drawing me into him, fingers breaching the crack of my ass. Another low groan rose in my throat when he stimulated my hole. Fucking his mouth was a beautiful thing and it drove me wild. The headache was there, a faint pulsation in my temples, threatening to wreak havoc, but I ignored it, drowning myself in the heat of the moment.
Smacking a hand on the counter, I gripped the cool stone leaning sideways with my leg somewhat elevated and balls tight. An overwhelming and throbbing wave took over, and I became powerless to stop the euphoria. I gasped loudly, quenching his thirst, and in seconds nearly passed-out. He swallowed and rose a bit, kissing me everywhere. I was spent and I hadn’t done a thing. I just wilted over the counter like a dying flower in the hot summer sun. He nuzzled my damp cock and belly with tenderness.
“I’m sorry I’ve got to leave,” he mumbled, kissing my chest again and gave me a loving hug.
“It’s fine, baby.” Somehow, I found the strength and dragged my track pants up, one side, then the other.
He disappeared in the central bathroom to return minutes later, suit realigned and smelling of toothpaste and soap. We kissed and he winked at me, adjusting the knot at his Adam’s apple. And I just stood there, burning in the after-glow from head to toe. He was the only man who made me feel that way, precious, as if I was the most important person on earth.
“I’ll be back later. Is there anything special you’d like for dinner?”
I’d wanted to beg him to stay home, but he had a job to do, and after three days babysitting me, he was due for a break. “No. Don’t be all night.”
“I shouldn’t be.”
We kissed once more and I followed him outside onto the footpath, feeling a pang in my chest.
“’Bye,” he said with a smile and wave.

Blak Rayne


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