Ménage à Musketeer - A Novel of Sword and Debauchery

Riverdale Avenue

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 45,000
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All for One and One for All, and All at Once!!

Ménage A Musketeer is an erotic mash-up of Alexander Dumas' The Three Musketeers. It is a tale of sword and debauchery. Lusty Musketeers defend all, enjoy all, ravage and claim the women – and men – who scheme to control their destinies.

D'Artagnan would do anything to become a Musketeer, but falling in love with the grim and remote Athos wasn't what he’d planned. Nor was falling in love with Constance, another man's wife and an intimate of the Queen of France. For that matter, neither was falling in love with a mysterious and enchanting woman, known only as Milady.

Young, proud and hotheaded, D'Artagnan throws himself into sword battles and erotic adventures with men and women until war with England and treachery from within endangers his life. He needs to protect France's interests while searching for Constance, his true love, who has been kidnapped. But Athos haunts his dreams and he cannot let Milady escape them either or it might break the older Musketeer’s heart and lead England conquering France.

Ménage à Musketeer - A Novel of Sword and Debauchery
0 Ratings (0.0)

Ménage à Musketeer - A Novel of Sword and Debauchery

Riverdale Avenue

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 45,000
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Cover Art by Scott Carpenter
Excerpt

Athos pulled off his shirt with a grimace. “I come here to think sometimes.” He sat down on the bed, pushing his long hair over his other shoulder.

“How did you come by such a wound?” d'Artagnan asked, as he pulled out the balm from his belt pouch. It had a pleasing odor that stirred his cock. It reminded him of a few maids who had stroked the substance over his body and the fine time they had sliding over each other.

“The Cardinal's men and the Musketeers are forbidden to clash.” Athos grunted when d'Artagnan soothed the cream over the healing wound. “But that does not mean we do not.”

“Why?” d'Artagnan asked, soothing more cream over Athos' broad shoulders and scarred back. Athos body was like a canvas that d’Artagnan painted with the salve. The firm skin under his hands entranced him and he massaged the oil in a sleepy rhythm.

“The Cardinal also calls them Musketeers. But they are not one of us and they are jealous of the favor we have in court. We are forbidden to fight, but they provoke us and we do what we must.” He rolled his shoulder tentatively. “It does feel better. The pain is numbed. It no longer throbs.” Athos' eyes closed.

“I am glad.” D'Artagnan reluctantly put the medicinal salve away. He liked touching the older man. It felt like playing with fire. His body was clamoring for a pretty maid to dip inside.

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