Series ~ Spell Slave #1
Publisher ~ Dreamspinner Press
Published ~ October 28, 2015
Genre ~ Fantasy, M/M Romance, Romance
Morality is relative. At least that’s what young sorcerer Regis Teller convinces himself. He’s done what he must to survive: working for a witch since he was nine, helping her throw the kingdom into anarchy, and taking his only comfort in her mysterious son, Crow. And soon, Regis is going to commit his first murder.
A do-gooder named Jonathan White has information the witch needs, and it’s Regis’s job to get that information and slit Jonathan’s throat. But then Regis actually meets Jonathan. And Jonathan is perfect—a hero with a passion for justice and little regard for civility.
Lucky for Regis, Jonathan has a weakness for attractive men. Lucky for Jonathan, Regis is fast developing a conscience and a heart. But for Regis, keeping both of them alive at their adventure’s end means breaking a magical oath and surviving his ruthless boss—all without telling Jonathan the truth. Falling in love is never easy, especially when everyone involved is lying through their teeth.
Half-drunk, Jonathan supported Crow as they stumbled through the hallway. By the time they reached his bedroom, the laces of Jonathan’s pants were undone, Crow’s hand weaseling in. “Wait,” Jonathan said, fumbling with the key. “Wait, will you?” Crow laughed breathlessly as they tumbled inside. Jonathan closed the door and locked it.
The bed was little more than a hay-stuffed mattress covered with a worn fur and two blankets. Crow collapsed onto it. Jonathan leaned against the door and took a moment to appreciate the sight. He’d killed a few slavers, bathed, eaten, had a few drinks, and now he had a man in his bed. Overall, it wasn’t a bad day.
He pulled off his shirt, then tossed it aside. Buckles clinked as he shed boots and belts. He found Crow propped up on his elbows, grinning like an idiot, watching him undress. “What?” Jonathan said.
“Nothing. I have a friend that’s going to kill me, that’s all.”
“You strike me as the type who likes to make trouble.”
“I do,” Crow said. “I’m a monster. D’you have any oil?” Jonathan’s belongings lay on the floor. He bent and untied one of the flaps, then held up a tiny flask. “Do you really just keep that on hand?”
“It’s for my sword.”
“I thought so.”
“Making the obvious joke?” Jonathan said. “Shameful.”
An unspoken question hovered between them: who was going to be using the oil, and on whom? Jonathan set the flask aside and knelt beside Crow. He drew out the laces of Crow’s tunic, but Crow batted aside his hands and straddled his hips. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” Crow said. “I have this.”
“I’m not a dead fish. I don’t want to just… lie here.”
“Yes, you do. Hush.”
Crow slid down between Jonathan’s legs, pulling aside the cloth. Crow’s eyebrows shot up. He leaned back on his palms for a moment, studying the curve of it. “Well?” Jonathan said. “Impress me.” Crow gripped Jonathan by the base, drawing a wide circle with his tongue.
Jonathan closed his eyes. In his mind, he could see a slim figure between his legs… bony limbs, freckled shoulders, and shaggy hair. Sharp gray eyes. A clever mouth, smiling coyly and—
Don’t think about him, Jonathan told himself, but it was far too late.
How would Regis act in bed? Would he treat sex with the same ruthless curiosity he had for the rest of the world? Every flick of tongue, every cautious stroke… it would all be methodically learned, his partner’s reactions carefully dissected. He’d probably talk the entire time, too. Ancestors, but Jonathan would give anything for that.
It’d been a long time since he’d allowed himself to enjoy another man, and even longer since he’d found one so willing to offer his mouth. He found himself on the edge so quickly it was embarrassing. His fingers tightened in Crow’s hair. “I’m going to—” he gasped, and Crow groaned around Jonathan’s cock, letting it fall from his mouth. Jonathan sighed, relaxing, but then Crow crawled up to whisper filthy things in his ear, stroking him hard and rough and at just the right pace. Jonathan went into a tight arch, pleasure building in his gut. “Hold on!”
But Crow didn’t. Jonathan groaned as agonizing pleasure burst through him. Wetness spread between them, and after a brief pause, Crow leaned away, eyebrows raised. “I told you to stop,” Jonathan said, voice a little slurred. “It’s been a while, all right?” Crow chuckled.
He caught Crow by the collar, pulling him down. Crow locked his arms, frowning, and refused to go. Jonathan smiled. He pulled harder. And, reluctantly, Crow went. Jonathan kissed him, enjoying the feel of Crow’s body on top of him, the angles, the hardness of it.
Crow laughed, drawing away. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Why not? I like you.”
“Talking to you was an impulse. I didn’t mean to start flirting. It just sort of comes out whenever I open my mouth.”
Jonathan dragged him back down. “Stay,” he murmured. “Let me please you, at least.”
Crow should have been the subject of a painting—his arched back, his delicate musculature, the flushed red creeping up his neck. Jonathan pulled off Crow’s shirt, then, unhurriedly, unlaced his pants, pushing them down and aside. Crow acquiesced, spreading out on the bed.
Giving pleasure was like fighting. It took rhythm, steadiness, patience. Fancy tricks were impressive but useless. The important thing was paying attention to the other man, reading his body. Jonathan took his time. Salt teased his tongue, and Crow curled upward, groaning. He was close. Jonathan drew up and off.
Crow’s expression was dazed. Jonathan took the vial of oil, then popped it open. “You’re not fucking me,” Crow said. Leisurely, Jonathan poured the oil into his hand and began to stroke. Crow’s entire body shuddered. “Just your hand?” His voice was unsteady. “If I wanted—a hand, I could have just—jerked off.”
More silence. Crow didn’t seem comfortable with it, the flush on his face darkening red. His eyes shut and his mouth opened, though no sound came out. Jonathan could see Crow’s body tighten, preparing for climax. Instead of allowing it, Jonathan slowed to a stop. Crow blinked at him.
Jonathan rubbed his thumb across the head, teasing the slit. Again, he began, and again, Crow became close, and again, Jonathan slowed. Not a halt this time, just slow enough that finishing became impossible. He did it twice more, and each time, Crow seemed to grow more tense. “I can’t tell if you’re very good at this or very bad,” Crow said in a strained voice. “Or both.”
“Mm? What was that? You want to finish?”
“You’re enjoying yourself more than I am,” Crow said.
“Another smart remark,” Jonathan said. “Cute. Ask nicely.”
“If you’d like,” Jonathan said, leaning down to speak low in Crow’s ear, “I can let you go. And then you can just get yourself off.”
He pulled back just in time to see Crow’s reaction. Eyes glassy, lips parted for a reply that never came. Crow shuddered as Jonathan squeezed, back arching, groaning like he couldn’t stop himself. “Fine,” he said. “Fine. Please.” Jonathan didn’t speed up. “Please,” Crow said raggedly, “I’m begging you, please, let me come.”
Jonathan took pity on him and sped up, but only a small amount. Crow’s voice broke as he pleaded, and bit by bit, Jonathan increased the speed. But only to a steady, medium pace, where he held it. Until, after several minutes of begging and cursing, Crow climaxed.
Jonathan wiped off his hand, then lay on the bed next to Crow, pressing his face into Crow’s neck, inhaling his scent. Crow sighed. His body was completely relaxed. “Stay,” Jonathan said.
“Shall I try flattery?” Jonathan said. “You’re a good conversationalist, an attractive man, and you seem sane. In the morning, we can part ways and never see each other again, but until then, why rush it?”
Crow shifted against him. “You’re hard again. Already?”
“I told you it’s been a while.”
“All right, all right.” Crow sighed. “I never meant to do this. I just wanted to see what you were like. I can’t seem to stop myself from escalating things… and now you’ve gotten me all sweaty.”
“They have a tub.” Jonathan rose to his feet, then offered Crow his hand, and together the two of them slipped into the small adjoining room.
Meet Evelyn Elliot
At first glance, Evelyn Elliott seems like a perfectly normal person. Do not be deceived.
Her hobbies include watching grisly horror movies, torturing her characters, and tending to her flower garden. She enjoys long walks on the beach and collecting the souls of small children. Whenever she reads a book, she always roots for the villain.
Avoid her at all costs. Certainly do not find her on facebook or befriend her online. You have better things to do.
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