Double Delight...Two Warriors Ride In--Very Hard!
In a matter of three weeks, I have had two serial novels published by Siren, both in the erotic category of M/M historical. The series, labeled "scorching" by Siren, is called THE IRON WARRIOR.
First, I’d like you to meet the characters.
WARRIOR, RIDE HARD tells the story of three men:
Gristle is a tough-as-hobnails former Roman soldier who fell for a man once. After all the hurt of being abandoned has been pushed far inside, he has sworn it will never happen again.
Tristus is a beautiful, sensitive man whose family has been killed by savage Picts and who runs straight into the arms of a very hardened soldier.
Wynn is a young Welshman, a trainer of wild ponies, who has never experienced a woman--or a man--until he meets the aloof and sensuous Gristle.
WARRIOR, STAND TALL adds one more:
Dub is just a scholar, the high king’s top man--or is he? Gristle finds out that he is much more, and that he has possibly set his sights on the handsome young Wynn.
These characters have a compelling story to tell, and it takes place in the ancient world of Ireland, Wales and Britannia as each man struggles to find where lust ends, and love begins.
X-rated excerpt from Warrior, Stand Tall:
Gristle and Wynn have finally left their companions to try to capture wild mountain ponies on the Cairn Mountain summit in ancient Wales. Never before now have they been able to lose all restraint as they give in to their passions:
At last both men sat with full bellies in front of their fire. The sun had set half an hour ago, but they could still see the movement of kites darting and soaring and dipping. They watched the way their long, forked tail feathers twisted as they flew and changed direction close to the ground in their hunt for food.
“These birds need to visit Bear Mountain,” Wynn observed. “Fill up on supper scraps, eh?”
Gristle, close to him, looked into his tawny eyes and nodded, almost smiling. “Some creatures would rather kill their own supper. Keeps them sharp-eyed and fit.”
“Ye made a passable kill tonight,” Wynn told him.
Gristle glanced at the remains of a three-pound pine marten that he had felled with his slingshot. Wynn had scraped off the skin, and the pelt lay stretched a few feet away, brown with a soft, yellow bib and bushy tail.
“Are you saying that I am sharp-eyed and fit?” He left his cross-legged position and stretched out on the tarred blanket that protected them from the hard ground. His face was close to Wynn’s knees, and the young man reached out and lightly stroked his hair.
“Ie. I am fortunate to have ye.”
Gristle felt like probing a little tonight, to see how far he himself was willing to go.
“So you think you ‘have’ me?”
Wynn’s fingers did not hesitate in their slow movement.
“I have ye as a pony has a rider. Or as a sword has a sheath.”
Gristle felt a little nerve in his throat begin to beat and throb. “Yet who is the rider, and who the pony?”
“Griss, it matters not. We are one and the same.”
Gristle saw Wynn’s face drop close to his own, smelled the still-pungent aroma of juniper berries.
“Like a Centaur?”
“I think I know of centaurs. A man who is also a horse. That comes close to me idea of our companionship.”
“Then show me.”
Wynn shifted position in one lithe movement. Gristle felt strong hands seize his ass, pinning him facedown to the tarred cloth.
“I will show ye how I fuck assholes.”
If Gristle doubted that his lover was being humorous-serious, he left his illusions behind when he felt Wynn pull off his thong and lower his britches. He felt the boy lean over him, and then he felt the honey of his thick spit flooding into his ass crack. He spread his own butt as far as he could, while Wynn held him strongly to the ground.
Wynn’s lips were in his ear. “How deep, O trainer?”
Gristle’s cock banged and pulsed. “Up to your balls, boy.”
He heard Wynn’s soft laughter, and then he heard nothing but his own harsh breath as a broad cock-dagger split his ass and pushed fire almost to his gut. Until he had met Wynn, the Roman had never felt another man’s prick in his asshole. Actually, he had never even entertained the notion. He had always been the top dog, the rutting buck. But somehow Wynn’s reversal of the rules fired him deeply, sending quivers and hot spasms to places he never knew existed.
Now he bucked and twisted as Wynn held tight to his ass and rammed and pushed and slammed. He felt Wynn’s long, smooth balls slap against his own balls, and suddenly he felt Wynn’s cock thrust deeper than ever before, to a place he had never reached.
“Goddamn!” he shouted, actually feeling himself coming, more and more, as though for the first time.
“Now, now. I love ye!” Wynn drove himself with all his weight and passion, until both of them lay breathless.
Gristle could not open his eyes. He was still suspended in a dream of coming. He felt Wynn’s soft lips in his ear.
“Griss. Did me fucking make ye come?”
He opened his eyes. “Damn. Yes. How did that happen?”
He saw Wynn’s own eyes flicker in the light of the campfire. “Love,” he said.
“What?”
“Your mind made a connection between me prick and your body. I know not how it happens. But it happens.”
Gristle decided to overlook the implication of a love connection. This was not the time, he thought, to explore such a deep subject. Better to let it build, like his own climax. It would be released sometime in the future, he was sure. Tonight he simply wanted to hold Wynn until the dawn.
He opened his arms and welcomed Wynn. The pony trainer threw one leg over him and put his groin tight to his own. “Never stop,” the boy said.
“Stop what, Wynn?”
“Loving me.”
He tightened his hold. “Not ever.” He put his mouth over Wynn’s and bit his lower lip then sucked the blood he had drawn. “That is a pact, drawn in blood.”
Warrior, Ride Hard: http://www.bookstrand.com/warrior-ride-hard
Warrior, Stand Tall: http://www.bookstrand.com/warrior-stand-tall
Erin O’Quinn’s "The Man in Romance" blog: http://romancemanlove.wordpress.com/
