Wanting more…Snippet from Unbroken

In my current promo, I’ve lifted a line from the novel Unbroken, one that sums up Grier’s pent up desire, and my own remorse at ending this brief book series.

In this scene, Grier (Gregory MacGregor) has been severely wounded by a knife attack. He’s just now beginning his recovery, in David’s little cabin aboard the Dutch trader Arend.

“I’ve never spread my legs for any man.”

… Grier was still an invalid, but he’d claimed a bed he could tolerate. It was the floor of David’s room, a cubby-hole the sailors called a “cabin” where David changed his bandage. He noted with a wry expression that the lad kept his eyes averted from his groin; but he said nothing. He could wait.

He clenched his jaw but didnae resist when his host sent him into a corner carrying a privy—a large chipped basin—and had stood like a soldier while the lad cleaned his verra personal places with a cloth dipped in water.

Well, he bore it not so muckle like a soldier. More like a wounded bear, back turned, leaning against a wall, his thigh throbbing and his cock too, cursing under his breath.

“Am I clean now, lad?”

“Shush, Grier. Spread your legs a little. Careful of that wound.”

“I’ve never spread my legs for any man.”

David was kneeling behind him, gently cleansing his buttocks. “I need you to be still.”

“And I need you, David. Still—or any way at all. Kiss my arse, lad, and use your tongue…”

David’s hand stopped, but he didnae remove it.

“What…did you say?”

“You heard me. The training you wanted, ’tis trembling before you. My arse is on fire for you. Lick my crack, lift me to the sky.”

A hesitation, a soft touch. A finger…or a wet tongue…something stroked his cleft, and his hungry cock shook, heavy with desire.

He moaned like a bairn and spread wider.

“More, David. More. Put it inside…”

“Put…what, Grier?”

“Your finger, or ten of them, your tongue, your cock. I want it all…”

David gripped his buttocks, hard…and now he could feel the heat of the man’s breath and the scalding sucks first next to his hole, then almost on the balls, a back-and-forth, an in-and-out, a flaring of the muscles deep inside his core, a rush of his own hot fluids.

He let it go on forever, shaking and crying, loving the release, hating the end, wanting more.

Finally he turned, clumsy, his wound making him lame.

He rested his hands on David’s flaxen head while the lad, still kneeling, looked up at him with his ocean-blue eyes.

“I couldnae wait. Och, lad, I’m sorry.”

David’s eyes lit in response. “Giving you pleasure—making your forget your pain even for a few seconds—I think I’ve never been so fulfilled.”

He eased himself to his knees in front of David and took the lad’s face into his hands. “Leaving you was the worst day of my life.”

“No. The worst day is years past, Mister MacGregor. Turning from me was only a…a pirouette. Another step in the dance…”