Desperate Enemies

ManLoveRomance Press LLC

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 52,000
0 Ratings (0.0)

The battle for Eldon Court reaches its stunning conclusion!

When Rich North and Marc Anderson moved to the idyllic coastal town of Wonderland, they never envisioned they would soon be fighting for their futures. But when the twisted Danvers Converse threatened to take Eldon Court away from them-and their fellow "Desperate Husbands"-they realized they could only fight back by uncovering Wonderland's complex past.

After the devastating events at Marc's art gallery showing, new loyalties are revealed and new passions are explored, even as one of their own lies buried in his grave. But it is a shocking betrayal that ultimately sets the stage for the final showdown between good and evil, love and revenge. With the arrival of the stunning acting legend Rose Emerson, the men of Eldon Court finally begin to piece together a town's long-buried secrets.

Sexy, sensual, shocking, DESPERATE ENEMIES is the final chapter in a trilogy that holds nothing back.

Desperate Enemies
0 Ratings (0.0)

Desperate Enemies

ManLoveRomance Press LLC

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 52,000
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Part One - "Guns and Rose"

Written by Adam Carpenter

This sun-dappled place they named Wonderland, despite its playful, whimsical name, was not without its share of tragedies, and today was no different. On days like this even the shining sky knew to stay solemn, the wind quieted, and the waves beneath it under-stated and calm, as though, like the rest of the bucolic village, it too were in mourning.

Much had happened this summer in this normally peaceful burg situated on the Pacific Ocean, none more so than on the rocky bluff known as Eldon Court, where five Victorian houses stood proud against hues both verdant and azure, and where, inside those homes men who loved other men lived out their lives with passion, zeal, and at times, desperation. Whether threatened by the outside world or by drama of their own creation, these four makeshift families shared one very common bond: they knew the meaning of love. But it took the deep sorrow of losing one of their own to truly awaken their spirits and their hearts, to challenge all they knew, and ultimately, understand the powerful desire to overcome anything--or anyone--who tried to undermine their quest toward happiness.

And what of that supposedly fifth house, empty all these years, invaded now by an enemy who used his extreme good looks and his voracious sexual appetite to get all that he wanted. Didn't he too deserve happiness, to enjoy the fruits of his labors? To love as he saw fit, to gain acceptance? It hadn't always been easy.

Despite all this, Wonderland was a special place, with sunshine beaming down on its sandy shores daily, where wind and water met before the horizon's edge, creating an ideal land for sharing life. Yes, Wonderland was warm and it was welcoming, with neighbors sharing cups of sugar and alcohol-infused drinks on porches as much as they shared hopes and dreams. Yes, Wonderland was a village synonymous with the notion of home, of comfort and security and for its lucky residents to contemplate leaving, it was without question.

Unless life's opposite forced such a decision upon you.

Leaving Wonderland. Indeed, it was possible. One of them had already proven it, giving his life to ensure that others could thrive.

But another of them would leave of his own volition, his heart heavy with loss, and soon, Wonderland and very definitely Eldon Court, would be forever changed.


"Yes, fuck me baby, fuck me hard."

His legs were high in the air, and for some reason his eyes saw a ceiling fan spin it's cool breeze, even though he knew they hadn't gotten around to installing one yet. Red liquid dripped from it, its touch unexpectedly cold. Why, though, was he thinking about the chill, not when he was enjoying this fierce, heated exchange, the feel of his lover's cock piercing him, thrusting in and out, hard, hard, harder still, his grunts so loud they shook the walls.

He grabbed at his lover's back, nails digging into the muscular skin, slicked with sweat. He'd been pounding him for hours, it seemed, and still he hadn't come, neither of them had. The dialogue was the same, an endless loop.

"Harder, baby, fuck my ass."

"Yeah, you want your hairy lover's cock, right, deep inside you?"

"Never stop, never..."

He would grab at the thick blanket of hair that coated his lover's chest, the mat drenched from sweaty sex, fuller, darker, somehow hairier, and he could cry out now how badly he needed his furry, fabulous lover to fuck him, fast, furious, "yes, my fucker, fill me up, fulfill me," he would cry, and then, finally, orgasm would build inside him, inside them, and he would shoot, they both would.

An explosion would then rip through the room.

It wasn't a powerful shot of white, ropey come.

It would be thick, gooey, and red.

It was blood.

He would look into his lover's face, and it wasn't the one he expected to see. No, it was the other one, and he wanted him again, again, perhaps even more so than he did the man he, this one he wanted him more, this one he desired with an inner quake.


The scream shook him awake, and that's when Marc Anderson shot up in bed to find his body sweaty, the sheets drenched. This was not an overly unusual occurrence, not when you shared your bed with the sexy Rich North, whose thick cock was always the first to awaken, poking at Marc's butt, wanting him, pushing into him. What would follow would be acrobatic, energetic sex, urgent grunts that would greet the day, Marc relishing the touch of his lover's hairy body atop him while waiting for his own delicious orgasm. At the thought of glistening, hot sex with Rich, heat washed over Marc's lithe frame and his eyes darted about.

"Shit," he said to no one.

He'd had the dream again, which alone could account for the sweat-drenched sheets that were tangled amidst his naked self. But there were other reasons. Rich was not here, not in their king size bed and not anywhere in the house they shared at the edge of Eldon Court. Things had changed, life had.

Marc got out of bed, just as he had all this past week, with little enthusiasm and no desire to get anything accomplished. Life would never be the same, and not just for he and Rich. But he rose and went through his morning routine as best he could, starting with coffee. With a fresh, steaming cup in his hands, he made his way toward the outside porch, where down the street he noticed his neighbor, Parker, shirtless, his powerful chest on full display, thick with dark brown hair, clad only in cut-off shorts, the muscles of his thick, furred forearms bulging as he dug in the garden beside the house. That was odd, why do work on a house that wasn't even officially yours? Not wanting to catch his attention, not after his recurring dream, Marc went back upstairs, all the way to his artist's studio on the third floor.

Truth be known, this was his first visit to his studio since the gallery showing last week, and as he opened the door he was hit with a musty smell. Like it had been closed off for years, not just a mere week. He lifted the shades to allow the bright morning sunshine to spread its rays against the hardwood floor, then opened the windows wide to let in the briny smell of the ocean. Again, he caught sight of Parker, and this time he watched from behind the curtain. Since his arrival in Wonderland, Parker St. John had been flirting with Marc, toying with the obvious heat between them. But as hot as Parker was, with his chest coated by a thick dark pelt just begging to be stroked and a noticeable bulge in his pants, Marc knew he just wasn't the cheating kind. Unlike Rich, the player. But Rich had promised no more playing around, they were in this life together, alone. He had made that promise just hours before being shot.

Shot. Christ, what was becoming of Wonderland?

Gazing about his empty studio, a remorseful Marc Anderson could hardly believe what had happened was reality; couldn't it have been a dream--a nightmare, actually--like the one that soaked his sheets and woke him scared and alone in the middle of the night? For one second Marc looked out another window that faced Number Three, knowing that the person inside felt alone too. As much as Marc had reached out to him, his friend remained closed down. Just like the house itself, shades drawn for the better part of the week, the car remaining in its garage, as though life had been drained from inside its walls.

But in truth, hadn't they?

Marc shuddered.

It was supposed to have been a party celebrating this new direction in his life, his arrival in Wonderland, not just as Rich North's cute piece of eye candy but an individual unto himself, and instead the event had brought utter disaster. It had all started with the insidious threat to turn peaceful Eldon Court into the tourist-driven Wonderland Palaces at the hand of that bald bastard Danvers Converse. Converse's inner desire to seek revenge against a past sin had led neighbor to turn on neighbor, and things like trust and loyalty, they were as dead to them as...Marc tried to shut the image from his mind, but the blood he saw was crimson, the screams he heard loud, the fear he felt in the room palpable.

Marc's mind drifted back to that fateful night at the Healy Gallery. Darkness had begun to fall on Down Wonder, the local business district, and as he nervously paced the upstairs office in anticipation of his first-ever gallery showing, all Marc could think was..."


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