- Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
- Available in: Paperback, Kindle, iBook, PDF
- ISBN: 978-1-63216-469-8
- Published: December 15, 2014
The third in the Brandt & Donnelly Capers series, A Wedding to Die For involves intrigue, excitement, and plenty of sexytimes for Ethan, Gabriel, and some new characters that I think you’ll enjoy getting to know.
The action of this one picks up right after Wrestling Demons concludes, and you’ll get to see the troopers take their relationship to a new level. And of course Bryce and Nestor will be helping out, as usual!
When a high-profile gay celebrity couple asks two of the city’s most established vendors to provide cake and flowers for their wedding and they refuse, a resulting boycott threatens to shut them down. It’s up to the next generation in the family-owned businesses to save them from ruin. Justin Capella, baker’s son, and Roman Montgomery, floral scion, work together to plan the gay wedding of the year.
Justin and Roman haven’t seen each other since that fateful day in third grade when a single kiss shocked Justin and sent Roman to boarding school. As fate would have it, Justin and Roman rediscover love while working on the wedding. But disaster might pry them apart again.
Justin and Roman were inseparable childhood friends, torn apart by their parents when they grew a little too close. Their reunion is a journey of exploration, with the more experienced Roman guiding the virginal Justin. Here, they get a little frisky in the bakery late at night.
They once again stood before the large table, their half-empty cups of bourbon where they had left them, Roman’s pants and shoes on the floor. Roman pulled Justin into a long kiss, which tasted a little different than before, Justin thought with a thrill.
“You. Naked. Now.” Roman’s commands were staccato and brooked no argument. Justin complied.
He pulled his shirt off over his head (he had worn an old one, in case Roman was in a bodice-ripping mood again) and dropped his pants to his ankles. He heel-toed off his shoes and then yanked off his socks and stepped out of his pants. He stood before Roman in just his briefs.
“I said naked,” Roman growled impatiently.
Justin, startled by the ferocity of Roman’s order, slipped his underwear off and threw them behind him.
“Up on the table,” Roman said.
Justin, who didn’t even spare a thought as to the disinfectant regime he would need to impose the following morning before any fondant could be rolled out here, hopped up and sat on the table, his legs dangling over the side, his erection poking him in the belly button.
“Turn around,” Roman ordered.
Justin considered how he could possibly accomplish this, given that turning around would mean—what? Leaning against the table? He paused for a moment to work out the logistics.
“On your hands and knees.”
“Oh,” Justin said. It was only when he lifted himself fully onto the table and turned over onto his hands and knees that he considered the position this put him in.
Roman roughly pushed his knees apart, opening him completely. Justin sucked in a nervous breath. Was Roman planning on—what were the words he used? “Splitting him open”? He was about to voice his concern about boundary issues when he felt Roman moving behind him. But he wasn’t getting up on the table, so perhaps he was safe?
“Relax,” Roman murmured. “I’m not going to fuck you.”
“No. We’d be sanding your claw marks out of the table for days.”
“Sorry, I’m just a little nervous.”
Roman laughed gently. “I can see that. If your ass were any more clenched it would implode.”
“Sorry!” Justin was so embarrassed.
Roman laid his hands on Justin’s buttocks and rubbed them gently. “Just relax. You’re going to love this.”
Justin willed himself to stop breathing hard, to convince himself that he was in good hands. He was completely unprepared for the feel of cold liquid dripping from the small of his back, down between his buttocks. Then he felt Roman’s mouth—he was nuzzling and slurping the back of his balls, drinking in the liquid after it had run down through… Justin couldn’t even finish the thought.
A pause in the flow of liquid.
“Now this is how a true gentleman drinks his bourbon. Your hot ass beats the hell out of a coffee mug.”
More bourbon drizzled down his ass, followed by Roman’s insistent, wiggly lapping at the secret skin between Justin’s ass and balls. When the flow stopped, Roman surged forward and sucked both of Justin’s balls into his mouth, then pulled back, and they reemerged with a slurp. Then he licked his way up from the base of Justin’s scrotum, nibbling his way along. He was nearly to Justin’s twitchy anus when he lifted his tongue and then continued licking his way up the base of Justin’s spine to lap up the bourbon.
Justin was in a frozen frenzy. It wasn’t just that he hadn’t expected Roman to do this to him—he had simply never imagined that anyone ever did this to anyone. He was relieved that Roman had skipped over his asshole. Really, did anyone ever—
“Unh!” he grunted, shoved forward by the force of Roman crashing his mouth, suddenly, shockingly, right onto his anus.
So, he had his answer. People did do this. At least Roman did. He was actually kissing Justin’s ass. The thought was kind of funny, but the feeling was kind of… nice.
And then it happened.
He felt it—Roman’s tongue—slither right into his ass.
He tried to lean forward, to get away from this invasion, but Roman’s hands were around his hips, and he was held in place with a muscular force he was unable to overcome.
“Oh… God,” he grunted, his voice choked with the effort of trying to pull away.
The tongue retreated.
“You okay?” Roman asked, sweetly, as if his tongue hadn’t just been up Justin’s ass.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“I’m rimming you. Awesome, isn’t it?”
“People do that?”
Roman chuckled. “Oh, yes. People do. Now, take a deep breath and try to relax.”
Justin wasn’t sure he’d ever relax again. Then he felt Roman’s hands, ever on the move, his fingertips venturing into the crack of his wide-spread ass, pulling him even further apart, exposing him horribly. And then he felt the slow, delicate fanning of Roman’s breath on his most private place. Suddenly he was calm, feeling that slow cadence, that leisurely flow of respiration. Somehow, it soothed him.
When Roman entered him again, he vowed to count to ten before freaking out. By the time he got to seven, he was starting to feel how the tight ring of muscle was responding to the invasion of Roman’s slippery tongue. How that tongue could be thin and pointy, or thick and blunt, sometimes alternating by the second. How it thrashed and plunged, lapped and caressed. Justin lost count. He was about to lose his mind.
Instead of trying to squirm away, he found himself pushing back against Roman, opening to him, arching his back and biting his lip as the sensations surged through him. Roman responded by grunting and pushing harder so that Justin’s ass became their site of struggle—Roman to impale more forcefully, Justin to consume him entirely.
Then Justin felt his hand. Roman wrapped his fingers around the head of Justin’s cock, which had been oozing a steady stream of fluid since the invasion began. Roman smoothed this slick gel all along his cock and then gripped it firmly. He made a milking motion in time with the thrusting of his tongue, and created a symphony of movement and friction that unstrung Justin completely. His arms collapsed, but his legs were held in place by Roman’s hand—and his tongue.
“Oh, fuck,” whispered Justin. The circuit between his ass and his cock, something he never knew existed, was electrified by Roman’s steady, aggressive rhythm. Burning freezing tingling erupted from his very core, and Justin could only moan as it built up force. He feared it would take him apart; he hungered for the obliteration that this orgasm would bring.
And then he froze. Every muscle in his body locked against his frame, every cell straining for the impending release. He shivered, unable to move, unable to resist the force of Roman who had pitched him into the inferno of this orgasm. By the time he could hear the heavy splatter of his ejaculation raining down onto the tabletop, he could hardly remember a time before this orgasm started. It was unlike anything he had ever known.
Finally, Roman relinquished his grip on Justin’s cock and pulled his tongue from its playground. Justin collapsed to the side, breathing like he’d just run a sprint. He hoped he could stay conscious.
He felt Roman’s hands, caressing his legs, gently tickling his sides, gradually bringing him back to himself. He breathed a deep, contented sigh.
“You okay?” Roman murmured.
“No,” Justin replied dreamily. “I used to wonder what Galileo felt the first time he saw Venus through his telescope. Now I know.” He sighed. “If, you know, it was in his butt.”
Roman burst out laughing. “Wow. I’ve been complimented on my technique a few times, but no one’s ever said that. Yeah, not once.”
Justin joined him in laughing and then slowly sat up and slid off the table. “Well,” he said, looking at the tabletop. “This is kind of a mess.”
“Totally worth it,” Roman said. “To see you experience that for the first time, I would set fire to this place.”
“Don’t think that’ll be necessary. Just some Lysol, I think.” He turned and looked at the simply staggering amount that he had ejaculated onto the table. “And maybe a wet/dry vac.”
They shared another hearty laugh and then went to get a bucket. They had some cleaning to do. Together.