Today I would like to talk about some of my couples and their love and give you a taste of them.
Dreamspinner almost three years ago - can you believe it? - and the second one, For Love of Max, is currently without a home (which I am working to remedy), and the third book, A Time For Max, is under construction even as we speak.
For those of you who haven't met them yet, Max writes an advice to the lovelorn column called To The Max. And oh, he's a werewolf. Richard is an award-winning photographer. They've been together for more than twenty years, and live in a small cottage above the Missouri River on a road they've nicknamed Lupercalia Lane. They are completely devoted to one another. I love that about them. While it's fun to explore new love, there's something endearing about love that has survived the test of time, as theirs has, despite the curves and the obstacles that are a part of everyday living. Strange friends and family - including Max's mother Juliet, who is more comfortable with his lycanthropy than his being gay - and a woman from Max's past that just can't seem to take no for an answer... well, welcome to the world of Max Montague!
I'd like to offer an excerpt from the first book, but warning, this is explicit! To set the scene, Max and Richard have taken the day off and gone down to the lot they own on the Big River for some R&R, which includes lovemaking, of course! Enjoy!
I kiss each of his lovely knees tenderly, maneuvering in between them in one lithe motion, on my own knees. And then I bend my head and nuzzle his beautiful cock, running my tongue over his balls. He shivers. “Is that all you want?”
“It’s a start,” I reply before taking those lovely creamy balls, so firm, so nicely packed, into my mouth and lave them most lovingly.“Yes, it’s a good start,” he concurs, his fingers lightly caressing my hair as I work on him.
This is what I have been waiting for. There is something about making love outdoors, and especially with the added element of possibly being caught at it, that serves to heighten the sensations that even now run rampant through me. Being with Richard makes me forget everything else. And everyone else. They all recede into that nebulous region of some other time, deal-with-it-later land. My mother, her bigoted
boyfriend, Amy, her coquettish nephew—not here, not now. Now there is only Richard and me. I move my attention now to his big lovely cock, and my tongue makes patterns on the shaft, swirls and loops and numbers and such. He tightens his grip on my hair, so I know that he is pleased. “If you get that wet enough, we won’t need lube,” he murmurs softly. My own erection grows even bigger at that, knowing exactly what he means, what he intends to do. I reach up and twist his nipples, not too gently, not too hard. He groans his appreciation. I make sure now that my tonguing is getting his cock nice and juicy, so it will slide smoothly inside of me—not that it doesn’t always do that, it does; my Richard is a master cocksman, after all. And I go no further with that thought, determined not to let anything spoil this day. I make sure to tongue his slit, ’cause I know he likes that. I know everything my baby likes. After more than twenty years together, I
should, after all.
“Yes, oh yes, Max,” he moans, “suck on me, my little wolf, suck harder,” he encourages, and I oblige, more than willing to do that for the man I love so much. I tickle all his favorite spots and even graze my teeth along his length, just the way he likes. But just as I feel that he is on the brink of his orgasm, he pushes my head off. “No, Max, stop, not like that, I have other plans.”
He pulls me up toward him and rolls me over on the blanket, his hardness pressing wetly against my stomach, where I have juiced it up. He leans down; his breath is warm in my ear, and his voice alone is
making me tingle. He brushes his fingers over my lips, exploring their contour, maneuvering around each and every curve, even though he knows them so very well. “Suck on these, baby. Do your thing to me,” he moans, and I take his fingers inside my mouth and moisten them for him. Suck on them like they are mini-cocks. When they are wet enough he pulls them out, kisses me sweetly, and then moves his hand between my legs.“Spread your legs, honey-child,” he murmurs, “daddy’s got somethin’
My second couple is Raoul Marchand and Alexx Jameson from my novel When Will I See You Again, which has been subbed to a publisher and I'm waiting to hear from them. Raoul is the forty-year-old hotter than hell werewolf who runs the popular nightclub Charisma in Crescent Bay. Alexx is a young wannabe reporter for the Chronicle who has gone to the nightclub to research a story, along with his friend Miller, the receptionist at the Chronicle. Trouble is Alexx isn't of age to get in. Nothing a fake ID can't fix, says Miller.
Famous last words...
One of the bouncers leaned against the wall; the other had probably gone back to safeguarding Charisma from the dregs of humanity. Arms folded across his chest, he studied them. He’d looked less than impressed when Miller claimed to know somebody important at the club. No doubt that was the very person he’d called, to verify his assertion.
“Who’d you say you knew again?” Alexx lowered his voice, trying not to be overheard. Miller leaned in to him, dropping his own.
“Raoul Marchand. His dad owns this place. He runs it.”
“So if you have friends in high places, why didn’t you just ask—?”
Miller put a finger to his lips, jerking his head toward the bored bouncer. “I didn’t say he’s a friend. I said I know him. Big difference.”
Alexx nodded. Maybe their situation wasn’t entirely hopeless then. Depending on this Marchand guy and what kind of mood he was in. It was full moon night, after all. Alexx had been in Crescent Bay long enough to know that the Marchands were the leading family of lycanthropes everyone talked about. They were the werewolves that drew the tourists here in droves, therefore he considered it more than likely this Raoul was one himself. He hoped the man wasn’t on edge right before the impending change. Might be a bit prickly. Of course, if he knew he was about to turn into a wolf, like it or not, he might be a little cross himself.
He opened his mouth to make a comment when the door burst open as if struck by a sudden squall. Alexx froze, his command of the English language suddenly becoming extinct at the sight of the man standing there.
The newcomer filled the doorway, not with mass but by sheer presence alone. He was tall, dark, and utterly intense. There was something about him, a wild, fierce beauty that enveloped the room and held Alexx in its grip. His heart stopped for the space of several beats, and he forgot to breathe, staring at the man that possessed the bearing and mien of a god.
Closing the door, the newcomer advanced into the room. Alexx noticed the bodyguard instantly leapt to attention, all signs of boredom dispelled.
“Okay, now that you’ve got me down here, will somebody please tell me what the fuck is going on?”
“Raoul,” the bodyguard began, but Miller interrupted smoothly. Alexx looked between them, unable to speak, his heart beating out of control.
“Miller Fenwick, Mr. Marchand. We’ve met at some of the Chronicle functions.” He held out his hand, but Raoul made no move to take it. After a few seconds, he withdrew it.
“I don’t remember,” he growled.
Alexx drew in his breath in dismay. This wasn’t going well. Even so, he could not stop staring at Raoul. His eyes met the other man’s. Raoul’s were very golden; he wasn’t aware such colors even existed in the spectrum of the human eye. But then again, he didn’t have any friends that were werewolves either. He wondered if this was a sign that perhaps this man was about to change, right here and now?
The thought was both exhilarating and frightening.
Alexx’s vision telescoped until he wasn’t aware of anything but this gorgeous man in front of him. Blood pounded in his ears and his mouth felt suddenly dry. Having lost all sense of the others in the room, he was surprised when he felt his chair yanked out from under him. Before he could fall, a hand grabbed the scruff of his neck, propelling him to his feet. He glanced at his companion; Miller was being subjected to the same surly treatment.
“You waste my time for this?” Raoul’s upper lip curled back in a snarl. Alexx found himself wildly attracted to him. “I have somewhere I need to be. Paolo, please show these gentlemen out.” Sarcastic much? He turned and reached for the door, but it opened before he touched it.
A shaggy blond with hazel eyes and a cheerful countenance stuck his head inside. “Hey Paolo—” He interrupted himself at the sight of the occupants of the room.
Alexx heard Miller’s sigh of relief, even as he too recognized the newcomer. He’d seen him around the Chronicle often enough, although he’d never really spoken to him. Foster Levine, son of the Chronicle’s owner—heir apparent and future newspaper magnate.
Alexx’s relief quickly changed to anxiety. What if Foster knew how old he really was? He couldn’t be sure one way or the other, but for the sake of argument, he had to assume he did. Would he out him to Raoul Marchand and his burly minion? Had they simply jumped from the frying pan to be scorched by the fire?
“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” Foster apologized. “I was just… There’s no problem here, is there?” He gave Raoul an inquiring glance.
“Foster, I’m glad you’re here.” Miller drew the blond’s attention. “We’re having a slight issue with getting in. Can you vouch for us, please? You remember Alexx, don’t you? He just got his first assignment, and we’re doing a little research tonight. And a little celebrating.”
Alexx wasn’t sure how comfortable he was at having his intentions known, but there was no help for it now. He tried to wiggle free of the bouncer’s clutches, but the man only dug his fingers in, tightening his grip; Alexx stopped struggling, and waited for Foster’s reply.
“Of course, of course,” Foster said quickly. He turned to Raoul. “I can vouch for both of them. Both loyal employees of the Chronicle.” He slashed one hand across his chest and held it up as if taking an oath, before laying the same hand lightly on Raoul’s shoulder.
Alexx watched the two men closely, trying to pick up clues to their relationship, as well as the current situation. He was an avid observer of the human condition, and he liked to second guess what he saw, pick up on details and vibrations. He thought these were qualities that would be useful to him as a crime-solving reporter.
To his disappointment, he received only mixed signals. Raoul shrugged away from the other man’s touch; his face was closed off, an unreadable mask.
“Fine then. Vouch for them,” he grunted. “Makes no difference to me. Feel free to babysit them for all I care.”
Alexx felt a sliver of disappointment shoot through him. Raoul never looked toward his way, as if he didn’t exist—he’d been dismissed.
“I will, I will,” Foster said quickly, tossing back the dirty blond hair that fell to his shoulders. “Why don’t I take care of this, and meet you—” He was stopped short by the black look that Raoul Marchand threw him. A storm raged in his beautiful eyes.
Alexx saw a shudder run through Raoul’s body. He was surprised at his desire to stop the tremor and soothe it away. Kiss it away, and make everything all right. It had to be time; or so close to it only mere moments separated Raoul from the change. What would happen now?
The bouncer was the first to react. “Go on, Raoul,” he urged him. “Go quickly! We’ve got this.”
Alexx held his breath, his gaze fixed on Raoul, waiting to see what he would do.
Suddenly, Raoul turned his head toward him and their eyes met; Alexx thought he saw something. A deep pain etched within those topaz eyes, a flash of torment illuminated there.
He swayed toward him, lips parting breathily, utterly unable to look away.
Then he blinked, the moment passed—and Raoul was gone.
While I can't offer you a cover, obviously, I can show you my version of Raoul (sadly he will never appear on the cover, but this is how I see him)
I hope you've enjoyed these glimpses into two of my couples. I'll have more on Sunday. Tomorrow I have a guest and won't that be fun!
Until next time, take care!