[Siren Allure ManLove: Erotic Alternative Interracial Romance, M/M, HFN]
The Navy frowns heavily on sexual misconduct, so when Lieutenant Commander Kahlil Farid is brought before the Naval court on these charges, he feels sure his career is over. On top of that, he comes into contact with his ex-husband, Captain Eammon O’Donnell, who is sure that revealing the secret of their divorce is the only way to save Kahlil’s career. The lieutenant commander is fervently against that idea.
As Kahlil is reminded of the happiness and the pain that he shared with Eammon and waits for the inevitable end of his career, his tenacious lawyer investigates the mysterious cause of the divorce and formulates a plan to prove Kahlil’s innocence.
Meanwhile, Eammon battles with his conscience and tries to decide whether to tell the truth, like he has wanted to since he lost his husband, or to respect said husband’s wishes and remain in torturous silence. All the while, all either of the Navy men wants is to have what they once had with each other.
A Siren Erotic Romance
“It doesn’t matter how many times you press that elevator button, brother. It’s not going to come any faster.” Eammon turned his head to glare at his brother. “Listen, this is taking a while. I’m going to go to the main office and ask the receptionist to call up and ask what is taking so long.”
Ciaran then walked away, and Eammon pressed the elevator button again. It was only about ten seconds before it opened and an officer with a dark, Middle-Eastern appearance came into view. “Kahlil!” Eammon exclaimed as he saw his ex-husband step out. He had for a time been hoping the database had been lying, but right now he could not think anything of the sort. It was just so good to see him.
The smaller man stopped short and turned to look at him. “Eammon!” he exclaimed in shock. They looked at each other for a second, not sure what to do, and then Kahlil awkwardly opened his arms and they embraced hesitantly. “So how are you?”
“I’ve been good…Wow, you look amazing.” And he did. His lean, muscular body was not done justice by the uniform he was wearing and his hair was styled differently from the last time Eammon saw him. Yet it was still jet black, and Eammon was willing to bet that were he to dare to run his fingers through it, it would just be as silky as he remembered. His skin was a few tones darker than olive and, despite his profession, was unmarred. Eammon all of a sudden remembered their honeymoon. He remembered stripping his lover as he had done many times before and marvelled at how perfect and soft the skin was. The only place of Kahlil’s body that was not soft was his hands. They were rough and calloused, and Eammon loved to feel them on his skin. He loved to lean over Kahlil and rub skin against skin to create friction and feel his husband’s hands roam down over his ass and up his thighs to rest between them.
The memories only lasted a few seconds before Eammon realised that they were just that, memories. The days of him holding Kahlil and feeling his skin and his heart beat against him were in the past, and despite what he prayed for every night before he took to his bed, he knew that they were probably never going to return.
Still, Kahlil was so beautiful that Eammon could barely take his eyes off him. Kahlil smiled awkwardly at the comment and looked away, and in the turn of his head Eammon spotted something around his neck. “You’re wearing it,” he said lowly.
Kahlil’s hand came up to his neck and grabbed the gold chain with the thick gold band attached to it. “You told me I should keep it, so I did.”
Eammon didn’t know how long he stood there and stared at Kahlil, but it had been so long since he had last seen him. “So how long has it been?” he asked. “Two, thr…”
“Three years in October,” Kahlil answered for him. “So what are you doing here?”
“Well, I was asked to report here for an undisclosed reason. Ciaran is just talking to the receptionist asking what is going on.”
Kahlil’s face lit up. “Wow, Ciaran’s here? I’d love to see him.”
Eammon looked over his should and said, sounding unconvinced, “Yeah, I’m sure he’d love to see you, too.”
Kahlil also looked unconvinced and the smile fell from his face, but it looked like he understood. “Look, Eammon, we’ve talked about this. We agreed that you wouldn’t say anything. It won’t do anyone good.”
“Well you can’t say things are good the way they are,” Eammon said through gritted teeth.
“Eammon, I’m doing this to protect you,” Kahlil said with his hands on his temples.
“I didn’t want your protection, Kahlil, I …” Eammon trailed off when he realised he was raising his voice and looked around to make sure no one had heard them. “Losing you hurt the most, but what also hurt was when it ended between us…everyone blamed you. I can’t imagine how that hurt you, but it hurt me. It still does.”
“Eammon,” Kahlil said, exhaling. “You’re a military man from a military family. If you told people the truth it would not just affect you and I. It would affect…everything.” The smaller man then took a breath and said, “Look, Eammon, no matter what you did, I was the one that decided that I couldn’t deal with it. I was the one that left. I’ll have no one suffer for my actions.”
Eammon opened his mouth to say something else, but then he heard a, “Hey, Kahlil,” in the unmistakable voice of his brother speaking in a drab tone, come from behind him.
Kahlil’s beautiful face lit up again, and his dark-brown eyes twinkled. “Ciaran,” he said, sounding so happy to see the dark-haired man. “How are you?” he asked as he opened his arms and moved forward slightly as if to hug Ciaran but then turned the movement into a gesture when he realised Ciaran wasn’t going to hug him back.
“Good,” he answered. “I’ve been well.”
The second the door closed they had their hands on each other. Eammon chuckled. “Your ass looks incredible in these mirrors.” Kahlil craned his neck to look behind him and saw that the elevator was lined with mirrors. “We should totally fuck in front of a mirror.”
Kahlil chuckled. “At some point maybe, but right now,” he said in a breathy voice, “let’s just get to our bed.”
They broke their kiss and made their way down the hallway, and by time they had got to their door Eammon already had the key card out and was yanking the door opened. The second that they heard the click that indicated that the door was closed, they were tearing each other’s clothes off and using their hands and mouths to explore every inch of each other’s skin. Eammon was beautiful, built like a brick wall. He was made of solid muscle, and Kahlil couldn’t remember anything more enticing than the smooth, lightly tanned flesh right in front of him. The Afghan latched his teeth onto one nipple and sucked, scraping teeth against the sensitive skin lightly. Eammon moaned and held onto his head, threading his fingers through his hair and breathing, “Harder, baby, harder.”
Kahlil obliged, grabbing Eammon’s ass and sinking his teeth deeper into the nipple before moving to the other one. Then when Kahlil’s hand travelled round to the Irishman’s cock, Eammon couldn’t take it anymore, and he picked Kahlil straight up off the ground with great ease and carried him to the queen-sized bed. Having Eammon’s massive bulk of muscle lying on top of him felt strangely comforting to Kahlil. The Afghan never liked having anything restricting his movement or senses, but he always liked to close his eyes and just feel Eammon’s incredible muscles tensing on top of him and their skin rubbing together.
The Irishman gripped Kahlil’s earlobe between his teeth and sucked on it rather gently to start with, and then the pull became rather forceful. The smaller man didn’t really talk very much during sex, not nearly as much as Eammon liked to, but he wasn’t shy about saying when he was turned on. “God, Eammon, that feels so good.”
“Yeah, baby,” replied Eammon, placing a small, chaste kiss on Kahlil’s mouth. “God, I love you so much. I could just lie here looking at you forever.”
The smaller man chuckled. “You can do more than that. Fuck me, Irishman.”
With that, Eammon dipped his tongue into the column of Kahlil’s throat and then let it trail down the Afghan’s chest and stomach until he reached his cock. Then Eammon’s mouth engulfed the length, and Kahlil reflexively grabbed Eammon’s head and forced it down. The Irishman nearly gagged but then managed to get into a rhythm and bobbed his head up and down while running his tongue over the shaft.
God above if Eammon didn’t know how to suck cock.
“God, Eammon, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come,” Kahlil gasped.
Then, true to form, Eammon removed his mouth and grinned up at his husband. “Not yet, baby. I want you to come with me inside of you.”
Kahlil growled at the Irishman, but in truth, he wanted that, too. There was no greater feeling than Eammon’s cock inside of him. Still, Eammon knew how to take his time. He turned Kahlil over onto his stomach and suggestively licked a long, steady line down Kahlil’s spine. It was in that moment that the Afghan realised what was in his husband’s mind. “Eamm…” Kahlil didn’t even get to finish the name before his words were stolen from him yet again when he felt his husband’s tongue dip low into his crack. They had done this before, not often, but the mood would strike them occasionally. The Afghan didn’t do this with many people before Eammon. Rimming wasn’t everyone’s taste, and even if someone did want to do it, well…Kahlil didn’t like to lose himself in front of many people. He felt that it was unsafe, but with Eammon he felt like he could let go of everything. This sexual act made him feel so vulnerable because he really liked it. He knew that the sensation was enough to get him off without hands on his cock.
He surrendered to all those feelings of vulnerability when he felt Eammon grab his hips and pull him up, arranging him on his knees. His superior strength usually drove Kahlil up the wall because being manhandled like that was arousing and infuriating, but right now the haze of lust was so strong he could barely summon more to his brain than his husband’s name.
Eammon spread his cheeks gently and kissed his tailbone then let his tongue travel slowly down to his anus. The noise Kahlil made when he felt Eammon’s tongue push past the ring of muscle would have shamed him if he had heard it, but there was such a ringing in his ears that he couldn’t tell which end was up. He let himself fall onto his elbows and rested his head on his forearms when he could no longer find the strength to keep himself upright. Eammon’s tongue worked him slow and hard, and the man himself was obviously taking his time getting the Afghan wet and loose.
“Fucking God,” said a voice, and it took Kahlil a couple of seconds to realise that it was him who spoke. “Please.”
Eammon withdrew him tongue and leaned over Kahlil, his chest to the Afghan’s back and the latter could feel his husband’s hot breath against his cheek. “God, baby, you are so fucking hot.” He then grabbed Kahlil’s hair with one hand and his ass with the other. “I could fuck you until hell takes me.”
“Then fuck me already you son of a bitch,” Kahlil cried, and even though the words were threatening, the crack in his voice made him sound like he was pleading.