Renner Morgan

STORY EXCERPT

“I’ve brought some bandages.” The man who had offered out his lap for Quintus was back with a basket full of items.

McBride nodded and then looked down at Quintus. “This might be easier without your pants on.”

For a moment, Quintus thought McBride was going to bend over and help him remove his pants, but he turned and went into the bathroom. After a moment, he was back with a crimson towel.

“To protect the bed.” McBride slid that under his leg and then assisted him in sliding his trousers down.

Quintus felt oddly vulnerable to be wearing his ripped shirt and clinging underwear in front of two men he really didn’t know. The only saving grace was that his underwear wasn’t all tattered like everything else he was wearing. When he looked up, he discovered that both McBride and the slammer were looking at him, but there was a marked difference in how they were looking at him. McBride was staring intently at the wound, his gaze seeming to assess it, while the slammer—damn that he didn’t know his name—was considering the wound, but he was also darting surreptitious glances along Quintus’s entire body.

Feeling oddly vindicated that the slammer’s interest in him went beyond merely tending to his injuries, Quintus acknowledged a perverse kind of reciprocated interest. The slammer was tall and very strong. His black hair was short and shiny, his brown eyes wide and somehow innocent. Something about him interested Quintus, but he wasn’t certain exactly what. He was handsome, there was that, but there was something beyond the outer display. Something inside, a hidden element, that was calling to him in far stronger terms. Their little verbal tussle in the back of the cart came back to Quintus. The slammer had bristled at Quintus’s comments about the situation with his brother and Jonas. What Quintus hadn’t explained was that he wasn’t shocked about a landed gentryman selecting a slammer as a mate. Not at all. Even before the world changed so drastically, Quintus imagined there were plenty of gentrymen who had inappropriate relations with their slammers. What had surprised Quintus was that McBride had not only condoned the relationship but helped the wayward lovers be together by offering them the protection of his name and his home.

“Go ahead, Renner.” McBride nodded to Quintus’s leg.

Renner. Quintus echoed the name in his mind. It was a good name. Powerful and fitting to the strength the man possessed. It matched his dark good looks yet also seemed to work with that vulnerable sweetness in the man’s gaze. Quintus realized he was staring at him, so he dropped his attention to his leg. After a very brief look at the bloody mess, he looked away. Even as a child he’d been squeamish about his own wounds but utterly fascinated by everyone else’s. Clearly, he had some disrupted circuit in his brain. A blood-saturated crime scene didn’t bother him in the least, but he grew nauseous when he nicked himself shaving.

Renner knelt down and carefully inspected Quintus’s wound. He touched lightly around the area while Quintus kept his attention on the ceiling.

“You deal with blood every day.” McBride leaned into Quintus’s line of sight.

“Not my own.”

“Ah.” McBride moved back, and after a moment Quintus realized he was kneeling down by Renner because he could feel McBride’s breath against the hairs of his leg. “Is it broken?”

“I don’t think so.”

“That’s a relief.”

“This might hurt,” Renner said right before pressed a wet cloth against the wound.

Quintus grit his teeth not to cry out. He wasn’t entirely successful.

“Can we give him anything for the pain?” McBride was standing again, clearly intent on getting whatever Renner needed.

“Ask the butler if we have something.” Renner rose up so he could look at Quintus. “Are you a drinking man?”

Taken aback by the question, Quintus shrugged. “No more than any other, I suppose.”

“I was thinking a shot or two might relax you.”

“Oh. Right.” Quintus nodded. “Whisky if you have it.”

“On my way.” McBride was off, clearly pleased to have something to do.

Renner returned to his kneeling position by the bed. He held the cloth over the wound, which made Quintus brave enough to look down. After seeing Renner’s tanned hand against the white cloth, Quintus looked up into his eyes.

There was a moment of perfect awareness where it seemed to him they were destined to come together in some way. Quintus lowered his gaze to Renner’s neck. Since his shirt was opened around the collar, his bronzed neck was almost fully exposed. A vein pulsed below his skin. Sweat had captured some of the black dust, making him seem harder than he was, but it didn’t dissuade Quintus. He wanted to bite him and taste the salt of his sweat mixed with the bits of dirt and then the rich hot gush of his blood. Even though he knew this slammer was McBride’s and McBride’s mark was on Renner’s neck, there wasn’t anything marring his skin on the side Quintus was looking at. In his mind, he could pretend Renner was untouched and begging for his first bite.

In a dual wave, Quintus’s teeth extended and so did his cock. There was no question in his mind that Renner noticed because he blushed lightly.

“Do you want to feed?”

 

ADULT EXCERPT

 

Leaving off his scar, Quintus slipped his finger below Renner’s chin, urging him to lift his face until they were looking into each other’s eyes. He held him there for a timeless moment that he was loathe to break. He wanted to just stop time so he could memorize every smooth and rough line of Renner’s expressive face. His brown eyes were wide, innocent, and yet almost desperately hungry. His mouth trembled with a confusing mix of lust and fear. But it was the way his breath caught, and then he’d make an almost-imperceptible whimper deep in his chest. That was what pushed at Quintus to command him. Just as slammers were conditioned to submit, Quintus had to acknowledge that he was driven to take control.

Unable to resist, Quintus lifted him up until he was pressed against him and their lips were so close and yet so far. Holding him there, Quintus closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, smelling and tasting Renner before he ultimately lowered his mouth and covered Renner’s.

As soon as the contact came, Quintus was assured that his attraction was reciprocated. Renner surrendered against him, leaning up, moving closer so that he was pressing against Quintus’s bare chest. Smoothing his hand down his neck, forgoing the scar, Quintus got to work unbuttoning Renner’s shirt.

Renner pressed his hand against Quintus’s as if he would stop him, but his resolve faltered and he groaned. In the end, he helped to strip the garment away. As soon as it was gone, they were chest to chest. The shock of his hot flesh stunned Quintus. He couldn’t recall anything ever feeling as good as this man. He wanted to taste him again, but more importantly, he wanted to know him.

“Tell me what you dream of.”

“What?” Renner met his gaze, puzzled but obviously willing to please.

“What’s your fondest dream?”

“I want you.”

The comment hung in the air between them, true and stunning.

“I want you, too.” Quintus urged him close for another kiss, but Renner lowered his head.

“We shouldn’t.”

“Why?” Quintus placed his fingertip upon the scar again, but he only held it there. He didn’t think it was fair to cloud Renner’s judgment with lust.

“Because you’re promised to another.”

“I never promised McBride anything.”

“No?” Hope flared in Renner’s eyes.

“No. I thought he asked me here because we work together. Nothing more.”

“You don’t want him?” Renner seemed utterly shocked by the very idea of anyone not wanting his powerful master.

“He’s handsome, strong, and I’m sure he would be a good provider.” Quintus’s words only slumped Renner’s shoulders. “But I find that I want you.”

Up came Renner’s head, his eyes so full of yearning it was positively striking.

“But it’s illegal.”

“Not anymore.” Quintus stroked lightly over the scar then lowered his hand to Renner’s shoulder. His muscles strained under his touch, and Quintus realized it wasn’t just his teasing of the scar that aroused Renner. Simply placing his hand on his shoulder was erotic torment. “Everything has changed.”

Renner frowned and looked away.

“Should your brother and the gentryman he’s with be locked up?”

“No.” Renner’s frown deepened.

“Then why is it any different for you and me?”

Rather than answer, Renner rose up and pressed his lips against Quintus’s. A surge of need made Quintus grasp Renner’s buttocks and pull him tight. He felt incredibly strong. Using his massive body for balance, Quintus moved closer to the edge of the bed, grinding their bodies together. All that stood between his cock and Renner’s chest was the thin fabric of his underwear.

Clearly hungry for more, Renner rose up so that more of their bodies were pressed together. Groaning and grasping, they were like wild animals writhing against one another, seeking release. Quintus shoved his hand between their bodies and fumbled with Renner’s trousers, pushing them off once he got the fastener open. Renner matched him when he struggled to push Quintus’s underwear down.

When he wasn’t able to get them out of the way, he broke the kiss and pulled back. Quintus lifted up to assist him in pulling the garment down, but Renner yanked the fabric out of the way then wrapped his lips around Quintus’s cock.

A cry of surprise broke free against his best efforts to suppress it. Quintus had wondered what it would feel like to have another man take his prick in his mouth, but all the imaginings in the world didn’t come close to the slick heat of Renner’s mouth. The shock of pleasure was so great, Quintus feared he would release without fully experiencing the moment. As if he sensed his urge to climax, Renner backed off. He didn’t stop working his mouth on Quintus’s cock. He just eased back on the intensity.

When Renner reached up and stroked his hands over Quintus’s nipples, he settled back on the bed, lost in the feelings that Renner evoked. He was beautiful in his passion, eager and hungry to give Quintus pleasure. It was as if he’d been holding back his entire life and was suddenly set free.

With great care, Renner rose up, letting off Quintus’s cock while he pulled his underwear down and off. As he tugged them past the injury on Quintus’s leg, he gently kissed over the top of the bandage. It was an island of compassion in their sea of raw passion. Even though Renner was clearly hungry for sex, he hadn’t lost sight of his need to tend to Quintus’s injury.

 

Caleb Morgan

STORY EXCERPT

Rather than answer, Caleb scooped McBride up and over his shoulder. Lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear him, Caleb whispered, “Now be good, or I’ll have to punish you.” He patted McBride’s ass—again, he did this stealthily so no one could see—then took him into the parlor. Caleb placed him on the long couch, ensuring there was a pillow under his head. “Stay here.”

“Or?”

“I’ll sit on you.”

McBride couldn’t help it, he grinned. Since Caleb matched him at six eight and three hundred pounds, if he settled in, he could keep McBride wherever he wanted him. If he sat the right way, McBride wouldn’t be all that opposed.

“Will you sit on me without clothes?” A sudden image of Caleb riding him, his angular face harshly determined to find his pleasure as he worked McBride’s cock in and out of his muscular ass, got McBride hard despite the pain.

A smirk twisted one edge of Caleb’s mouth. That secretive grin had fueled more of McBride’s fantasies than everything else about the man combined. Caleb had a way of looking like a bad boy all grown up into a dangerously wicked man.

“If you’re very, very good, I might.”

As suddenly as the intense flirting started, it disappeared when another wave of pain caused McBride to almost pass out. When he opened his eyes, Caleb was on his knees beside him.

“What can I do?”

“Nothing. It will go away on its own. It did last time.” McBride’s heart ached not knowing if Caleb had forgiven him or not. “I need to know, Caleb. Do you forgive me? Do you even still want me?”

Caleb’s mouth opened, and McBride was so keen on hearing what he had to say that the pain was forced to the background. Would he forgive him so they could move forward together, or had Caleb been so devastated by the lies he simply couldn’t let go?

“We’ve brought everything in.” Gannon hung close by the archway rather than entering the parlor. It was clear from his body language he didn’t want to interrupt Caleb and McBride. “I also had everyone get different clothes so we’re not constricted in fancy duds.”

“Good idea.” Caleb turned to all the men crowded in the archway between the dining room and the parlor.

“You should go get changed.” As much as McBride loved seeing him dressed up, he wanted him to be able to move freely if there was a fight.

“I will.” Caleb turned back to him. “I want you to stay here. I’m going to get everyone armed and then bring the rest of the weapons in. If nothing else, we can batten this place down and keep them repelled for longer than they’re going to want to lay siege.”

When the men darted questioning glances his way, McBride nodded. Below the big house, which had metal shutters that could slam down protecting all the doors and windows, there were vast tunnels of stores. All kinds of food and consumable goods—everything they needed for years—was protected by the enormous house above. The only way into or out of the tunnels was tucked safely within the house. McBride never understood what the house had been built to withstand, or perhaps it was just customary, but he was eternally grateful for it now.

After a pointed look and a reminder to stay put, Caleb rose to his feet, whipped off his shirt, and tossed it on the floor. If McBride had the energy, he would have gotten up and placed a lingering kiss on Caleb before he went off, but all he could do was lie on the couch and watch with hungry fascination as Caleb’s muscles bunched and flexed on his way out of the parlor. Dressed to the hilt, wearing only a pair of shorts, or totally naked, Caleb managed to always rivet McBride’s attention.

As he lay on the couch feeling utterly useless, his men and their mates brought in weapons from the massive shed. They also brought in any and all gear they didn’t want used against them. From the sounds of the activity, they had moved the dining room table out of the way to accommodate the influx of items.

When he heard them struggling to fill the room in an orderly fashion, McBride fought to get up and failed miserably. The pain was so crippling he couldn’t even call out suggestions on how best to organize the items. In the end, he realized it didn’t matter. The important thing was getting everything in, getting everyone armed, and later they could make it pretty.

As he lay there listening and unable to move, feeling as worthless as a washed-up grinder, McBride wondered why the slammers had returned. With his excruciating headache he couldn’t recall exactly how many days had passed since the angry men had been here last, but he remembered exactly what they wanted. Gentrymen. When the blood madness erupted, turning some gentrymen into insatiable savages, the slammers revolted, killing their old masters even if they weren’t afflicted with the disease. From what McBride had been told, the slammers then raided the thrall houses, drinking and fucking them without heed. In their glut of freedom, they’d ended up killing the very men they desired.

 

ADULT EXCERPT

 

Each pass Caleb made caused his hips to surge farther forward. When he got far too close to release, Caleb lowered his hands and tugged at his balls. McBride did the same. To tease Caleb, McBride parted his legs, giving Caleb a taunting view of dark space between his buttocks.

“As if you’d let me fuck you.”

“Let you? Tease me right and I’d probably beg you.”

Caleb’s gaze became riveted to that spot as he worked his fist along his shaft. McBride knew he was close when his brows drew together and he bit at his bottom lip.

“If you don’t get that thing in and get over here, we’re going to have to wait another hour.” McBride’s softly uttered suggestion snapped Caleb out of his sensual spell.

He grabbed one of the gels, parted his buttocks, and slipped it inside his ass. McBride had a brief flash of his firm, pink hole before Caleb was turning around. Just like he had with the bottle of oil, he waggled the bottle of greasers. It was clear from his expression the last thing he expected was for McBride to nod. Caleb’s face lit up. Rather than toss him the bottle, he kept it in his hands and came over to the bed.

With him closer, he was able to see the gels were all different colors. He’d heard of exotic greasers, but he’d never seen them or used them. Caleb selected one, put the bottle on the floor, and then slipped the small gel inside McBride’s ass. After a moment, the capsule melted and began to cling and coat the inside of his rectum. The feeling was surprisingly erotic. He’d never thought he would use one on himself, but now he realized how much he’d missed out on.

“Does it feel good?”

“It’s warm and tingles.”

Caleb nodded. “Good.”

“What about yours?”

“Same.” He climbed onto the bed and straddled McBride’s hips. “You’ll really feel it when you’re inside me.”

Intrigued, McBride wanted to flip Caleb over and get to work opening him up, but Caleb had never been a passive lover, and clearly, he wasn’t going to start now. Rather than lie back for McBride, he took control and teased McBride’s prick between his buttocks. Each pass brought McBride closer to the target of his hole, but then Caleb would lift up just enough so that he missed the mark.

“You’re making me crazy.”

“Good.” Caleb’s grin was seductive as hell. “I’ve got you right where I want you.”

After teasing him to the point McBride was threatening to take Caleb out and toss him in the stocks, he finally allowed McBride’s cock to ease into his ass. Caleb closed his eyes, clearly focusing all his attention on the feel of McBride’s invading prick. McBride kept his eyes open, watching Caleb for any signs of distress. He was a big man, but his ass was unbelievably tight. McBride wanted to be inside him almost desperately, but he also didn’t want to hurt him.

McBride let out a low growl when he discovered the warm tingly power of the greaser sensitized his prick. “And you think I’ll be able to last?”

“It heightens awareness, but it’s also supposed to make climax more difficult.”

“Sounds like everything you’ve ever done to me.”

Caleb chuckled, which quivered his rectum around McBride’s prick.

“It’s like I want to come so badly but I know I can’t.” McBride reached for Caleb’s prick, but Caleb pushed his hand away.

“Oh, no. I’m going to wait.” Caleb kept his eyes closed. “I want to be inside you before I come again.”

“Is that so?”

“I could always stop.” Caleb started to lift up, but McBride tightened his grip on his hips.

“Don’t you dare.”

With amazing amounts of grace and raw physical power, Caleb slowly lowered himself over McBride until his cock was buried inside his snug rectum. Finally, Caleb’s eyes came open. The dangerous look in his gaze was replaced by something far more intriguing. For a moment, McBride didn’t know what to name that look, but then the answer came to him. It was the look of love. Caleb, the man who did everything in his power to present himself as an aloof, uncaring monster, was deeply and irrevocably in love with McBride. His expression was one of absolute trust and boundless affection. Just like the altar formed from thousands of candle tears, Caleb was now using McBride’s body to make a physical sacrifice upon.

Gently, McBride flexed so that he could rise up and kiss Caleb. He murmured how beautiful he was, how special, how great his gift, and that nothing in the world could ever tear them apart.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” McBride assured him. “They say that a bloodbond is the most powerful, but it doesn’t come close to the strength of our soul bond.”

Caleb rolled his hips, making McBride clutch at his thighs to hang on. Nothing had ever felt so good. He felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. Using his entire body, Caleb quite literally danced on McBride’s cock. Each time he got close to climax, Caleb found a way to stretch the moment out just a bit more. By the time he finally felt there was no turning back, McBride was drenched in sweat, his breath was harsh, and his fingertips had dug so forcefully into Caleb’s meaty hips he was certain he would leave bruises.