Thank you very much, Katherine, for allowing me a wee bit of space on your blog to spread the word about Talbot's Ploy. This story is set in 18th century France and is about two boyhood friends who became lovers. One of my bad boys--Talbot--already knows his tastes. A strong man in his bed has always been what he desires. Maxime, on the other hand, has gone from one female's bed to another and never been satisfied. Gee, I wonder why ... hmmm?
I never intended this to tale to go as long as it did but when the muse talks, you better listen. I'm glad I did. The first draft was all from Maxime's PoV. Talbot's definitely spices it up. Without further jabberjawing, a give you a taste of my m/m wickedness.
I never intended this to tale to go as long as it did but when the muse talks, you better listen. I'm glad I did. The first draft was all from Maxime's PoV. Talbot's definitely spices it up. Without further jabberjawing, a give you a taste of my m/m wickedness.
-:-
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Talbot Sauvageot has kept his wicked lifestyle underground for several years, going from one lover to the next. Decedent rake to females by day, passionate lover for his latest male companion at night. When he is forced to flee Paris or face the guillotine, Talbot realizes none of the men he has bedded over the past years burns at his soul like his dear friend Maxime LaRue.
Forced into seclusion in the forest of Bois de Lunor, he receives an invitation from Maxime for their yearly gathering at his estate in Varanguebec. One that Talbot has avoided the past few years. Refusing to submit to a life without love, Talbot schemes to discover if his childhood friend shares the same taste in pleasure as he.
Will Maxime submit to Talbot’s ploy or cast his friend in the shadow of death?
-:-
The smell of burning sage permeated Talbot’s clothing. He staggered down the hall with a bottle of red wine in one hand and a scantily clad female on his arm. Her perk nipples peeked out of a lacey bodice. He stumbled, and she giggled as she reached for the wine.
“Non.” Talbot put the bottle to his lips and finished it off. “Find another to buy you some Bordeaux.”
The hall of the maison, draped with sheer silks and embroidered fabric, curved and warbled in his drunken eyesight. The squeals of pleasure leaked out of the sliver at the bottom of each door. Talbot stumbled to the side as a naked harlot ran giggling past him with a lusty male hot on her trail. He snickered at the fool. A lover should fall graciously into a man’s arms and scream at every ramming thrust from his fleshy stick.
His escort stopped and ran her fingers up the doorjamb to a room. He molded his body to hers as a few other revelers in the brothel passed by. He licked his lips, his gaze wandering the many paths of her lace-covered skin.
She laughed and the door behind her swung wide. Her hand fisted in his shirt. His little minx whorled him around and gave him a playful shove. Talbot lost his balance and tripped, the bed catching his fall. He burst into a fit of laughter, too drunk to care.
She laid her body on top of his. Her lips sought his cheek and tasted before she slid off of him. “Ah, Talbot, someday I shall bed you, but for now your company awaits.” Her gossamer outfit swayed as she left the room. The door closed behind her and locked.
Paris had brought Talbot everything he desired, the most beneficial asset being the underground network for persons with unique tastes. Discreet and alluring, his deepest fantasies came alive within the walls of the brothel. His coin bought him almost anything.
“Where is my whore?” He chuckled.
“You promised you would be sober. And shaved.” Lean and fair skinned, a man draped in nothing but a sheer cloth around his waist walked out from behind one of the many curtains lining the room. He cocked a hip and twirled a finger in his long blond hair. Beneath the revealing fabric, his manhood twitched.
Talbot snorted, rubbing his beard. “I promise nothing, Tyeis, but the pleasure of my prick.” He crooked a finger as he unlaced his breeches. Tyeis rolled his eyes and tossed the fabric covering his body on the floor. Talbot grinned before dragging Tyeis down on top of him. His kiss was eager, threatening to swallow his lithe consort whole. His lover smelt of rose petals and lavender, soaking oils from a long bath at his request. Talbot’s fingers laced in Tyeis’s long locks as he tugged on his lower lip. A high-pitched moan escaped the small man’s throat.
Stalking Links:
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Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/PamBitner
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