Baron's Last Hunt (2 page)

The heightened attack made Rogue yelp and spread his slim arms wide in ecstasy. His arms fluttered until ragged fingernails raked against the rich leather covering the front seat’s back and the back seat’s front. A series of hoarse pants flexed his lips into a silent scream. Damn, this sweet man knew how to suck cock.

Poor staring Derek almost ran a red light. Fuck! He blessed the Rolls’ superior brakes and smooth suspension along with the time to admire the heated backseat drama.

To Baron’s startled surprise, young Rogue suddenly possessed no self-control. A strangled moan echoed in the back seat. Rogue forcefully erupted into Baron’s accepting mouth. Yes, interesting: Rogue’s cum tasted light and fresh; Baron preferred such a clean, young taste. He wasn’t much for the usual heavy, musky taste. Quick-trigger Rogue came so fast the enraptured Baron never reached his own peak. Ah well, Baron owned a feeling he might enjoy a second chance. Besides, at least he didn’t spurt in his custom-made trousers. Damn, he must remember to unzip before the next sexual attack.

Once Baron accepted Rogue’s powerful rush, he tried sitting upright, but Rogue suddenly embedded his fingers in Baron’s wavy hair. Those demanding fingers kept Baron’s head down at Rogue’s crotch. Now what was this added spice? Did Baron sense a little power play at work?

Rogue’s lust-hoarse voice echoed with satisfied release. His eyes gazed down at the stylishly shaggy, gray-kissed hair hiding his spent cock. “Baron. Yeah, what a trip. Here I finally travel to Stockholm to track down the man who lured my father away from his family ten years ago, and who the fuck do I meet within minutes? Charles “Baron” Sawyer, Swedish banking wizard. Hello, Charles, I’m Sean, your lover’s eldest son, and I take after dear old Dad. After your stellar sexual performance, now I know why dear old Dad took off after you. Sour old Mum never owned a chance against you.”

Charles choked in stunned alarm.

A concerned Sean slowly released the strong grip he inflicted on Baron’s thick hair. Damn, he didn’t want Charles suffering a heart attack or something nasty.

As Charles sat up, he numbly stared into the beautiful face hovering before his dazed eyes. His throat tensed in supreme wonderment. No wonder Charles felt supremely attracted to this intriguing young man. Yes, suddenly he saw Samuel’s rich brown eyes and recognized his petite nose. But those astonishingly high cheekbones and slightly upturned lips belonged to Sean alone. Plus Sean’s slightly pointed chin added a delicate touch to his face; Samuel’s firm, broad chin looked as stubborn as its owner. But that wavy rich hair was a carbon copy of his dead lover’s tempestuous mane, even if the hue captured a coal-black tone, not russet brown. And he should have recognized that epic smile, a sinful smile designed to corrupt the bored angels down from heaven.

This curious Sean was a sleek young beauty, and yes, his thick, rich cum tasted divine.

As he stared at Sean, Charles’s racing heart clenched in sudden fear. Hold on. What did this beautiful young man truly want from him? Had Charles stumbled into an ugly blackmail situation? The panicked Charles couldn’t handle the dangerous exposure, not in the damned conservative banking arena. During their life together, he and Samuel had remained low-key and subtle, never touching or reacting while in the public eye. They squired close female friends to public events or crucial dinners. Caring people understood their reality, but they pretended the two men embraced a loving bachelor relationship.

Did this bold Sean intend to change the dynamic?

At seeing Charles’s sudden alarm, Sean reached out one long finger, stroked the warm skin under Charles’s strong chin, and then teased the playful dimple. “Don’t worry, my handsome Baron, I know the score. Do you have a spare room at your manor? I assume you own a sprawling manor or something close to one? You are a bloody rich banker.”

Derek’s merry laugh startled them both. “Sir, might I suggest returning home?”

Profound relief melted Charles’s nerves into sexual jelly. “You may, and proceed.” Smiling seductively, Charles gazed at his young conquest. “Would the room adjoining mine suit you?”

“Does a cat howl while being fucked?”

What a colorful young man. Charles coyly winked. “Hmm, I suppose so. Tell me, Sean, does a banker howl while being fucked?”

“Well, we’ll just have to see what a banker does when fucked, eh?” Growling softly, Sean lunged forward and captured Charles’s lips with his own. The brutal hard kiss forced Charles down into the soft leather. Their tongues wetly met and danced in an intricate ballet. The smitten Charles owned no problem letting this fair youth control him. As they kissed, Charles’s fingers massaged Sean’s smooth back muscles.

After he released Charles’s relaxed lips, Sean smiled down at the panting Baron. Ha, this fling was going to be a blast, yeah, much better than staying home in London and slaving for the boring family law empire. “Yep, handsome dude, I think you bloody well owe me for stealing my Daddy away from me and forcing me to find my own way in life. Don’t worry; I can think of many delicious ways for you to make the family trauma up to me.”

Charles smiled in open satisfaction. Yes, so could he.

Lovely.

Both men thought they knew the sexual score.

They were both wrong, yet so right.

T
WO
years later, the classic old Rolls parked across from the imposing train station. Light snow spilling from the sky softened life’s harsh reality. The flakes gathered and streamed against the heated windshield.

A pained Derek glanced back at the brooding Sean. He worried about his young charge. Mere years parted them in age, but now poor Sean seemed so young and frail, like a crushed hummingbird. His pale face held care lines befitting a far older man.

Six months ago, Derek suggested this unusual cure to Sean. At first the younger man cursed and raged. A month later Sean shrugged and agreed. “The usual, sir?”

The shattered Sean sighed in bleak agreement. He wondered why he bothered to come here. He wondered if sitting down with a bottle of pills and a fifth of vodka offered him a sweeter option. He wondered.

No. Never. His determined Charles had never tolerated failure. He fluttered his fingers toward the window. “Derek, just bring me blessed oblivion.” And a temporary cure for a broken heart.

If only Derek could perform the requested miracle. Charles’s untimely death had ruined too many lives. The determined Derek exited the Rolls and stalked through the snow toward the station. He searched for a handsome, older businessman displaying a sweet, shy smile.

And a dimple.

Derek knew the dimple meant all.

The dimple meant love.

The dimple might save Sean.

Derek hoped.

He hoped.

About the Author

S.A. G
ARCIA
can never decide between red or white. Nor can she decide between creating visual art or word art, so over the decades a career in visual design, music journalism, and technical writing blossomed. Ten years of running an indie music magazine certainly provided plenty of wild characters and curious situations for fiction.

Even when traveling to interview bands, writing fiction always percolated in the background, and writing male romantic fiction ruled above all. Reading Gordon Merrick at age nineteen sounded a wonderful wake-up call. There's thirty years of male/male romance hidden away in her notebooks and on the computer. Now it is time to release the stories into the free air.

When not obsessing over different ways to describe romantic encounters, S.A. enjoys cooking for her beloved of twenty-five years; she endures the endless experiments with grace. Gardening, traveling, arguing politics, and teaching the house bunnies new tricks provide more fun. Unfortunately the furry furies refuse to learn how to type.

Also by S.A. GARCIA

Copyright

Baron’s Last Hunt ©Copyright S.A. Garcia, 2011

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

4760 Preston Road

Suite 244-149

Frisco, TX 75034

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Art by Anne Cain   [email protected]

Cover Design by Mara McKennen

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

Released in the United States of America

July 2011

eBook Edition

eBook ISBN:
978-1-61372-064-6