Blak Rayne is one of my closest author buddies. She and I work on IRM together, we've talked about things though email even though she's miles away and oh did I mention she's a fab writer? Well okay, there I go again!
She's one of my heroes! Blak Rayne!
*** Today Blak with give the first two commenters a copy of her newest book! Leave your email!
The Ideal Side of Love
‘Average, but extraordinary, and
only twice in a lifetime.’
Stephen Prichard is a resilient
and self-made man that has it all, a successful business, great husband, and a
summer condo on the waterfront, until life throws a curve ball. After twelve
years together, his husband Myron dies of cancer, leaving Stephen to confront a
future of uncertainties alone.
Then, fate lends a hand when not one, but two chance
encounters with the same stranger put his feelings to the test. First and second
impressions are lasting. Stephen longs for companionship, and the stranger is
attractive, however, he’s also enigmatic and cold, and the memories of Myron
are still painfully fresh.
Can a man Stephen barely knows renew his faith in
love? But, more importantly, is he willing to let go of the past?
Excerpt:
We
scarcely made it inside my house before Carson came at me, stripping off his
shirt in the process. My rule, no intercourse on the first night, actually not
for the first year—and guess what—yep, I was lousy at enforcing my own damned
rules. But the situation with him was unusual, certainly different than
anything I had experienced, even within my marriage. From what I’d gathered so
far, he was a persistent man, and determined to get his way. I’d sensed that
when he made a decision it would be absolute. We met. We felt a mutual
attraction. So, he’d made up his mind. We were going to spend the weekend
together, and I had to assume, if the sex equaled the attraction, we’d be an
item.
My lower
back rode the edge of the kitchen counter and I struggled to remove my jacket
because he refused to stop kissing me. And, I tell you, the man had a set of
lips that could suck the paint off drywall. He grabbed my face and used his
tongue again. I moaned, completely dazed and dropped my keys. It had been so
long since I’d had sex, the only thing on my fevered brain was his mouth and
hands all over me, and his cock inside me. The keys were knocked about between
our feet. My heart beat hard, my flesh burned under his touch and all my senses
were on high alert. Just the scented heat of him, everything about the man
drove me wild.
“No
disrespect, Stephan,” he gasped, “but we don’t need an audience. I want every
inch of you to myself.” He laid Myron’s picture flat then walked me toward the
great room by my ribs. We kissed again and he undid my slacks, digging his
fingers in under the waistline. “First I’m going to suck you off,” he said,
nibbling on my lips. “And then I’m going to make love to you.”
“Don’t I
get a say--eh?” my voice spilled with nervous excitement when his tongue
flicked my nipples and he strong fingers raked down my spine.
He
kissed my stomach, inching down to lick my already rigid cock. Strumming my
balls, he started to suck, his head moved back and forth from my groin.
Devouring then releasing my shaft. The warm pressure felt unbelievable, coaxing
more from me.
No
warning. Nothing. My sac tightened to a ridge of wrinkles, my spine arched, and
I gawked at the fireplace in the great room, holding his head. All of a sudden,
the energy drained from my cock like a geyser. I groaned loud as he swallowed
every ounce of my cum.
His hot,
sweaty body brushed mine as he rose to face me.
“Where’s
your bedroom?” He unsnapped his jeans and sloughed them to the carpet.
“At…at
the end of the hall.”
Lifting
one foot followed by the other, he stepped away from the worn material,
allowing an unobstructed view of his entire body. I glanced down, if for a
second, and my breath knotted in my throat.
He was
just as I imagined, boxy with muscles to spare. He had smooth, dark-blond hair
from collarbones to groin, a hooded cock that wasn’t overly long, but extra
wide and extra thick. His balls were big and heavy and his partial erection
pressed at my hip. Carson was a powerful man and well defined—certainly bigger
than me, and an unusual choice, but attractive, and his piercing stare
penetrated my soul.
Holding
either side of my rib cage, he walked me backward through the hallway, easing
close every few feet to kiss me. At the master bedroom door, he groped blindly
in the region of the knob, it clicked and the door swung wide and away from us.
Inside
the room, white sheers hung in front of the French doors, just off my private
patio—partly concealing the glass panes. Remnants of moonlight distorted by the
sweeping motion of tree branches, fluctuated from warm to cold across the
carpet and doors.
“It’s
pretty dark in here.” I went to flip on the light.
He held
my wrist in a steadfast grip. “I like the dark.”
His hips
pivoted, and his cock brushed mine—thick and sticky with heat and the heady
scent of arousal. Then, he rubbed his groin in a circular motion against my
dick and his grew, rising to a throbbing arc. My calves bumped the mattress
edge with nowhere else to go. We’d reached my bed, my dick was hard, and the
anticipation of human contact sent my senses into a heightened overdrive. As my
gaze met his with unease, I tensed, and trembled slightly from the legs up.
“It’s
been so long,” I said in a hoarse whisper.
“I’ll
take it slow,” he promised in my ear.
We
embraced, falling onto the blankets. We kissed and fondled for a long time,
getting to know and appreciate each other’s body.
“You’re
really sexy.” Massaging my sac gently, he kissed my chin.
“If you
say so.”
“I do.
Give me a sec.” He rolled over and climbed off the bed.
Resting
on my elbows, I kind of sat up to see where he’d go.
“Don’t
move.” He paused in the doorway and smiled. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
Thirty
seconds later, he reappeared with his duffel bag. Dropping it on the floor, he
crouched and unzipped a side pouch. Some type of plastic packaging crinkled
then the bed bounced and he knelt between my legs.
“Condoms
and lube,” I laughed. “All you had to do was say.”
“What
kind of asshole would ask you out on a date and not bring the protection
himself?” He tore open a black and neon pink condom wrapper with his teeth—the
sound of rubber snapped. “It’s called respect.” Seated on his ankles, he
stroked his cock with methodical precision. Soon as it rose to that swollen
tower, he pushed the condom down to the base, and twisted open a tube of
lubricant. “I was wrong, you’re more than sexy,” he whispered, expressing pure
affection. “You’re beautiful.”
Purchase
Link:
Blak
Rayne
