Ava March – Convincing Arthur

by Mlissa | Feb 22, 2010 | Birthday Blog Party, Loose Id

Convincing Arthur
Genre: M/M Regency-set historical erotic romance
Length: Novella
Author: Ava March  www.AvaMarch.com
Now Available from Loose Id:  http://www.loose-id.com/prod-Convincing_Arthur-979.aspx

Blurb:

Mr. Leopold Thornton missed his chance ten years ago. He isn’t about to let this one pass him by.

Given Leopold’s reputation for vice and debauchery, Mr. Arthur Barrington has a fair idea why the sinfully beautiful man invites him to his country estate. A shooting excursion? Unlikely. Especially considering Arthur is the only guest invited to the estate. He shouldn’t consider the invitation, but a few days of mind-blowing sex could be just the thing to help him get over the heartbreaking end of a ten year relationship. Then he can return to London, to his thriving law practice, and quietly search for an amiable man who understands the meaning of the word discreet and who recognizes the value of commitment.

There was a time when Leopold wasn’t such a rakehell. When every night didn’t end with an empty bottle of whisky. When he believed in the rewards of patience. When he didn’t give himself over to just anyone who’d have him. Old habits die hard, especially when tempted by six feet of solid muscle, but Leopold will only have a few days to convince Arthur he can be that man again — that his love is genuine and he’s worthy of Arthur’s heart.

Publisher’s Note: this book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, male/male sexual practices.

Excerpt:

Thornton took one more step, closing the last remaining distance, his gaze locked with Arthur’s. He placed a hand on the dresser beside Arthur, blocking the path to escape, and slowly, ever so slowly, leaned even closer. So close Arthur could make out the midnight blue flecks in his heavily lidded gray eyes. The faint scents of whisky, the enticing spice of cologne, and clean male skin wafted around him. Warm breath fanned Arthur’s parted lips: teasing, tempting. A tremble of anticipation rocked him.

“You refused supper. You refused a nightcap.” The words were low, a mere rumble of sound. Thornton’s mouth barely moved. Then he dipped his head at the last moment before their lips touched.

Disappointment began to crash through Arthur when a hand palmed the placket of his trousers, long fingers wrapping around his hardening prick.

Thornton looked up at him through his black forelock, his eyes blazing with lust. “Is there anything I can tempt you with tonight?”

Arthur opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Anything?

And Thornton meant it.

But…what to choose? The possibilities… Arthur knew of a few, but he was certain there were more. Many more. Thornton’s experience radiated from him. An intimidating force. The confidence of that hand wrapped around his cock, the easy self-assurance behind every move he made. The man had knowledge of carnal pleasures that went beyond anything Arthur could imagine.

Though what he really wanted was a kiss. To taste those full, red-tinged lips. To feel the soft skin. To sweep his tongue inside the hot depths of Thornton’s sinfully gorgeous mouth.

But surely a man like Thornton would find such a request much too tame.

“Perhaps not?” Thornton murmured. Those long fingers loosened their grip as the man began to ease back.
At the hurt finding its way across Thornton’s beautiful face, he blurted, “Yes. I-I mean, no.” He let out a short, frustrated grunt, struggling to find the words. Hell, it was hard to concentrate with another man’s hand on his prick. Thornton squeezed lightly, then feathered his fingertips along Arthur’s length, robbing him of his wits anew. “I-I…I want…”

Don’t say it; he’ll think you a bore.

Thornton arched a brow. He rubbed his jaw against Arthur’s; their day’s beards a rough yet tender scrape. “Shall I guess?” he whispered, hot breath tickling Arthur’s ear.

Arthur nodded once.

A wink was all the warning he received before Thornton dropped to his knees. He felt the tugs as Thornton made short work of the buttons on the placket of his trousers. In the next blink of an eye, his suspenders were unhooked from his waistband, and his trousers and drawers were at his knees. One swipe of Thornton’s hand tucked his shirttail under his waistcoat. He barely detected the brush of cool air on his erection before a hand wrapped securely around the base and moist heat surrounded the head.

“Ah…damnation.” Arthur gasped, his eyes closing against the most intense pleasure. By God, the man knew what he was about. Bobbing along the length, sucking hard enough to almost pull the orgasm out of him. It had been over a month — hell, almost two — since he’d been the recipient of such a favor. And never had the favor been bestowed with such blatant, unabashed skill.

Thornton pulled back until only the crown was held between his lips and then pressed the tip of his tongue against the highly sensitive slit. A jolt of pure sensation shot down Arthur’s length to his ballocks, his knees threatening to buckle, his eyes flying open.

Arthur grabbed the edge of the dresser and held on tightly as Thornton picked up a luxurious rhythm that brought him closer and closer to the edge. Before he was aware of it, his other hand was threaded in Thornton’s soft, thick hair, palm cupping his skull.

Thornton let out a moan that sounded distinctly like approval. Aggression, raw and stripped bare and completely unexpected, rushed to the surface. Growling low in his throat, Arthur thrust his hips in counterpoint, fucking Thornton’s mouth. Thornton’s hand, gripping tightly at the base, fell away as he took the entire length of Arthur’s cock. As he let Arthur use him for his own pleasure.

A distinctive sound drew his attention down beyond the decadent sight of Thornton’s hollowed cheeks and full lips wrapped around his length. The other man had his own trousers unbuttoned, cock in hand. The flushed head poked through the top of his clenched fist with each rapid stroke.

The climax barreled upon Arthur. His senses narrowed, focused only on the heat and suction and wonderful, blissful slippery wetness surrounding his prick. And then his world exploded.

Arthur gritted his teeth to keep the roar inside as he came down Thornton’s throat. Thornton didn’t pull back or snap at him for getting a mouthful of seed. The man swallowed it all, sucking hard as the last tremor shook him, until it became suddenly too much, the sensations overwhelming his senses.

“Enough,” Arthur gasped, tugging on Thornton’s hair, desperate to get him to stop.

There was a wet popping noise. Then Thornton shot to his feet, his lips slanting harshly across Arthur’s mouth. The hunger and pure need in that kiss… Arthur thrust his tongue boldly inside, sweeping the hot recesses of Thornton’s sinfully gorgeous mouth. Beneath the salty flavor of his own release and the spicy hint of whisky was the unique taste of Thornton. Lust flared, igniting his senses once again. With a tug on Thornton’s hair, Arthur jerked the man closer, unable to get enough.

He was vaguely aware of Thornton’s arm moving between them: quick, determined, and furious. Thornton’s labored breaths puffed against his cheek, scorching his skin. Tension gripped Thornton’s sleek body. Then he groaned into his mouth. Heat splashed onto Arthur’s prick.

The kiss softened, slowed, lulling Arthur’s senses with the heady mix of smooth lips and the scrape of stubble. His flingers unclenched, slipping out of Thornton’s hair, his hands shifting to gently cup the man’s jaw. He felt the rigidity ease from Thornton’s body, heard the soft murmur of contentment as the man sank into kiss.

And for Arthur didn’t know how long, he simply kissed Thornton, soaking up the feel of the man’s body against his, the taste of him, and the sounds of his sighs.

With a nip, Thornton pulled back enough to break the contact of their lips. Could he be any more beautiful?

Full lips, stained rose red from their kisses, tousled black hair, and flushed cheeks. His features were so patently aristocratic, so fine and sharp while at the same time approaching femininity.

Long, thick lashes swept down. Then the corner of his mouth quirked. A little jolt shot up Arthur’s spine as Thornton dragged a lazy finger through the remnants of his climax coating Arthur’s cock.

“I do believe I shall have to take care of that.” Thornton dropped to his haunches, took hold of Arthur’s bare hips, and lapped up the seed, licking him clean.

© Ava March 2009

I have read all Ava’s books and so far, the two Bound books and this one, Convincing Arthur are so far my favorites. Her new release, tomorrow, From Afar… I can’t wait!

The Awesome Ava March

by Mlissa | Feb 21, 2010 | Birthday Blog Party, Loose Id

She has generously gifted us with four yummy excerpts which I will post over the next two days. She said I didn’t have to use them all, but… Yeah, I’m using them all!

Bound by Deception
Genre: M/M BDSM Regency-set historical erotic romance
Length: Novella
Author: Ava March  www.AvaMarch.com  
Now Available at Loose Id:  http://www.loose-id.net/detail.aspx?ID=806

Blurb:

Lord Oliver Marsden has a secret. He’s been in love with his childhood friend for years, though Vincent’s never shown an interest in him beyond friendship. Ruggedly handsome, wealthy, and successful, Vincent is everything Oliver is not. And Vincent doesn’t prefer men.

Then Oliver discovers Vincent hires a man during his visits to a London brothel. Desperate to be with Vincent, Oliver orchestrates a deception, switching places with the brothel’s employee. When Oliver arrives at the bedchamber, he’s in for another surprise. Restraints and a leather bullwhip? Apparently Vincent isn’t as conservative as he appears.

Lord Vincent Prescot has a secret of his own. One kept locked away and only indulged once a month. But this month’s appointment is different. The mysterious man is so perfect, so beautiful in his submission, rousing protective instincts Vincent can’t deny. Yet he refuses to believe he might truly prefer men, for it could mean the end of his hopes of earning his father’s respect.
Will betrayal destroy them or will they be bound together by deception?

Publisher’s Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, BDSM theme and content, including bondage and spanking, male/male sexual practices

Excerpt:

Rolling onto his side, Oliver reached for the top drawer of the bedside table and slid it open. The early morning sunlight seeping through the slits in the threadbare brown velvet drapes provided enough illumination for Oliver to see. But he didn’t need the light. His fingertips skimmed over the objects in the drawer, stopping when he encountered the distinctive ridges marking the veins on the shaft of the black marble dildo.

He set the dildo on the table beside the bottle of oil he hadn’t bothered to put away last night. Flicking the blanket aside, he lay back on the bed. The fire in the grate had burned out sometime during the night, but the chill April morning air did little to cool his already heated skin. He licked his palm then reached for his hard cock. It was the way he had started and ended every day for the past week, since he had last laid eyes on Vincent at White’s. His hand on his prick, stroking himself to orgasm. And after the dream he had last night…there was no way he could begin this day any differently than all the others.

That dream had been so vivid and crisp, so authentic, that when it woke him a few minutes ago, he had actually been shocked to find himself in his own bed, alone, without Vincent.

Closing his eyes, he fondled his cock as he sifted through the memories, those snippets of scenes from the dream, trying to decide where to start.

The brothel. That masculine, tidy bedchamber. Vincent, fully dressed and standing beside the large bed, arms crossed over his impressively broad chest as he appraised a naked Oliver.

Are you good at following orders? The deep cultured rumble of Vincent’s voice sounded in Oliver’s head.

 “Yes, milord,” he muttered.

I don’t recall giving you permission to touch your cock
.
Oliver snatched his hand to his side, left his prick resting on his lower belly. His breathing quickened. One time with Vincent and he was already addicted to the heady sense of anticipation. The added thrill of waiting, of being at another’s mercy, being forced to proceed at their pace.

Good boy. Then the hard command seeped back into his voice. Do you want me?

“Yes.”

What do you want?

 “You. Your cock in my arse. Please, milord.”

Ah, you must be very, very good to earn that reward. First, you must show me how much you want me. Touch yourself, Oliver.

Reaching down, Oliver cupped his ballocks, dragged his palm roughly over his sac then up to his shaft. His grip firm, he picked up the familiar rhythm. He stroked the length, flicking a finger over the needy head, spreading the leaking fluid.

He ran his other hand up and down his abdomen, sweeping over the quivering muscles, pausing every now and then to deliver a hard pinch to his nipples. Lost in the decadent sensations, his head tipped back, his lips parting. He lifted his hips, rocking into each stroke. Faster and faster, his hand flew along his cock, chasing the climax teasing the edge of his mind. The muscles in his thighs trembled. His entire body drew tight. The orgasm coiled down his spine, gripped his bollocks.

Stop.

Gritting his teeth, Oliver heeded the command. It hurt, in the most intense pleasurable way, to be left poised on the verge, teetering on the brink. Impatient and needy, his cock throbbed, sending heavy, quick pulses throughout his body in time to the rapid beat of his heart. He bit his lower lip, forced himself to remain still, to resist the almost unstoppable urge to touch his prick. Just one stroke. That was all it would take for him to come.

Are you ready for my cock?

“Yes, yes, please, milord.” The whispered words rushed out of Oliver’s mouth.

Then prepare yourself.

He snatched the glass bottle from the bedside table and poured a generous amount on his palm. Bending his knees, he spread his legs, feet planted on the mattress. He reached down under his thigh and oiled his entrance. Swirled his fingertips over the puckered skin then eased two of them inside. Scissoring his fingers, he stretched himself, prepared himself. His movements quick and efficient, to hold off the eminent orgasm strumming his senses. Then he coated the dildo, his hand slipping over the cool black marble. The width so substantial his fingers barely enclosed it. He had more than a few such toys in the bedside table drawer and this one most closely matched the dimensions of the real man’s cock. The crown wasn’t quite as broad and the length nearly an inch short of Vincent’s, but the shaft matched in thickness.

His arse tingled, eager and ready for that first amazing thrust. Holding the dildo by the flat circular base, he closed his eyes and waited for a moment. Let the anticipation build, let his nerves coil tighter and tighter. Sweat pricked his brow. A drop of precum leaked from his cock, dripping onto his skin. His ballocks clenched, drawing up so tightly it felt as though his testicles were trying to get inside his body.

Good boy, Oliver. Vincent’s voice was soaked in sin, low and luxurious. You want me, don’t you? Tell me.

“Yes, fuck me, Vincent, please,” Oliver said, the words hitching in his throat.

He positioned the dildo at his entrance then pushed. One long thrust, just as Vincent had done. Determined, persistent, demanding complete submission.

A wince tightened his brow, his mouth opening on a soundless cry of pleasure. He gasped for breath. Grabbed the blanket by his hip and gripped it tight. The intense stretch as his muscles worked to accommodate the intrusion caused a flush of raw heat to sweep over his skin. He shoved it deep, bottoming out, the base pressing hard against his flesh. It wasn’t quite as long as Vincent, and he craved that extra inch, the one only Vincent could provide.

Releasing the blanket, he pinched one nipple, twisting hard. Sharp sensation radiated across his chest. He arched his back and grabbed his cock, stroking furiously as he picked up a matching rhythm of hard, relentless thrusts. With each stroke, the veins along the marble shaft teased his hole, just as Vincent’s cock had done. His ballocks ached with a need to be touched. His nipples smarted, reminding him of the sweet luscious pain that was only a twist away. Damn it, he didn’t have enough hands.

“Beg for my cock. You want it, don’t you? Tell me.”

He could almost feel Vincent’s broad chest pressed against his, the heavy weight of his body, the heat from his skin, the warmth of his breath as he spoke those words into Oliver’s ear. He turned his head, searching for those firm lips, wanting to feel them against his own.

“Yes, I want you, Vincent. More…please,” he begged in broken tones.

If the real Vincent saw him now, like this — knees drawn up to his chest and ramming a big dildo in his arse…

© Ava March 2008

I need a really cold drink now!