**Updated 4/2/21 - the MidWeek Tease blog hop has ended.**
It's been a trying season. Here we are into October and I feel like I missed summer. It's time to get back on the writing horse and let the muse know I now have a whip. If she misbehaves again, I might use it.
All that aside, welcome to my corner of the MidWeek Tease! The MidWeek Tease is a blog hop showcasing the works of various authors. Be sure to check out all the offerings by using the list at the end of this blog entry.
This week - Surrendered Victory. Here is an excerpt you won't find anywhere else. Enjoy!
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“You’re killing me with kindness.”
Dalton snorted and rolled to his feet. “Sit there and relax. I’ll grill some burgers. Won’t be fancy, but it’ll help.”
I expected him to disappear into the kitchen. Instead, he leaned over me, his hands on the back of the sofa above my shoulders. My throat went dry as he paused, his face scant inches from mine. His gaze locked on mine, serious, concerned, and blazing hot with naked desire.
I couldn’t move, or even breathe. Never had anyone looked at me like that. Never. My very soul stilled, caught in an agonizing vise, with desperate longing on one side and numbing fear on the other. I stared up at him.
His lips finally touched mine, gentle and seeking. The shock of his soft lips on mine coursed through me as unexpected heat swept my skin, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. My cock, surer about all this and already at half-mast, filled and lengthened. I did the only pertinent thing I could think of. I opened my mouth and licked his lips. Dalton touched his tongue to mine.
One strong hand snaked up to cup the back of my head. His tongue swept into my mouth, demanding, searching, scorching. The aggression of a man on the prowl was there. I knew it on a visceral level. I tasted it as his teeth scraped my lower lip. Did he seek to lay claim to me? I suspected he did and nipped him back. Novice with a man or not, I knew some things about myself.
If he sought to dominate me, he would first understand it would not be without concessions from him. His lips bowed against mine and opened in invitation. I delved into the delicious heat of his mouth. Our tongues mated and danced until I was breathless and, even then, I didn’t want to stop.
His hand dropped to my crotch, his fingers making a quick assessment of my package. I had nothing to be ashamed of there. Fully erect I topped out at a solid eight inches, but I was willing to bet I’d just hit a personal best, not that I was going to ask him to measure me.
Dalton pulled away, something dark and unfathomable in the way he looked at me. I didn’t understand, but suspected I might before the night was over.
“We’re pretty much the same height and build,” he said. “Why don’t you go in my bedroom and find something more comfortable to watch the television in than your suit?”
He straightened and moved on, I assumed to the kitchen. I stared dumbly at the television, seeing nothing, my mind blanked to everything except the fact Dalton had kissed me. Somehow I’d survived both the kiss and the stupidity of not putting my hands on him.
I licked my lips to savor the lingering taste of him. Beer, bourbon, and somewhere between the pub and here, a cigarette. The scent of Old Spice lingered—it never smelled that good on me. Go into his bedroom, he’d said. I shivered at the very idea of walking into that room and seeing his bed.
It seemed I had little choice. My feet took me to his Spartan room without my conscious permission. He hadn’t been kidding when he said no work had been done in the room. The vaulted ceiling made up for the moderate floor space. The windows were bare, tucked up high under the eaves, and provided light with complete privacy.
The queen-sized bed and matching chest of drawers were the only real furniture in the room. The thick, chocolate-brown suede comforter neatly folded down to the foot of the bed looked expensive, as did the linens. A shadeless lamp and alarm clock sat on an old wooden electrical wire spool, and a pair of old webbed lawn chairs were in the corner. The walls were primed, but not painted. None of it mattered—just the bed, on which I perched.
Something more comfortable. What would that be? A pair of cut-off blue jeans lay on the chest of drawers as if Dalton had worn them last evening and planned to wear them again. Why not wear them? I stripped completely, underwear, too, then draped my suit over one of the lawn chairs. If it surprised him to find me running amok commando in his shorts, I’d assure him of my own surprise at doing it. The longer I traversed my Rubicon, the bolder I seemed to be. I pulled on the shorts. They fit perfectly.
A perverse thrill shivered through me knowing my cock rubbed the same fabric his did when he wore the shorts with nothing under them. I got a firm grip on my libido.
Like hell. It had a firm grip on me, and firm was a word that fit. Everything was firm.
I did a bit of judicious snooping in his bathroom and found his condoms. My knees gave out and I plopped down in the nearest rickety lawn chair. What the hell was I doing? If my heart didn’t stop pounding, I’d have a stroke. Or something. I splashed some cold water on my face when I should have splashed it on my balls instead.
Then I girded my loins, figuratively speaking, and wearing nothing but a pair of borrowed pants, stepped boldly out to embrace my future.
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ABOUT Surrendered Victory
Dalton makes Reed tingle in all the right places. Now Reed’s ready to answer the question that’s haunted his every failed relationship. Is he really gay?
Reed walked into Dalton’s life and everything changed. This time, Dalton won’t hide the fact he’s gay from anyone, even his son.
Together they surrender all to each other and claim the ultimate victory.
Available at: Amazon iTunes/Apple Barnes and Noble KOBO
KC Kendricks
