Description
Ian Bowers may be retired, but that doesn’t mean he’s old. At least he keeps telling himself that while wondering what his young lover Silas is honestly doing with him. So Silas sets out to remind Ian just how good they are together.
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EXCERPT:
In my forty years, I’ve never worried about growing old. I was always one step ahead of the hangman’s rope; worrying about trivial matters was not worth my time when my neck was on the line. But now I had the time, and things I’d not given thought to in the past were beginning to enter my mind. Things like last night’s failed explorations. Well, perhaps not so much failed, as curtailed.
Shoving back the thoughts, I hefted another timber and balanced it on my shoulder. The fence was nearing completion, and once done, it would give us space for small livestock. We hadn’t the land for anything ambitious, but a few smaller varieties would do well. Silas built the shelter last week and we hoped to get everything settled before the cold set in.
Almost a year had gone by before we made it back to Espana Pequena. Our little cottage on the hill was as we’d left it. A healthy sum kept it in general repair while we chased our fortune. Jean Florin’s trove gave us the means to survive rather comfortably once we returned, and we remained ever watchful for hints of new quarry.
The rains were heavy now, taking their toll on the land and the dark mud oozed up over my boots. Yesterday’s rain had turned the earth into a quagmire, making my work more difficult than need be. Still, despite the lack of purchase my feet had on the ground, I managed to erect the last fence post. If only other things were that simple.
I scowled and cursed, giving the wooden post a good, strong kick. Last night weighed heavily on my mind. Was I really so old as to lose my ability to perform? Though Silas hadn’t cared, as my fingers and tongue finished what my cock could not, I felt less than whole. What manner of man cannot fill his lover to the point of climax? I kicked the post again for good measure.
“Unprovoked attacks? Now that’s not like you, Captain Bowers.” A strong hand rested on one shoulder, then the other, Silas working the tension from my muscles. “Are you still concerned about last night?”
“How can a man call himself a man when he can’t keep his cock hard enough to fuck?”
“You are every bit a man,” Silas whispered in my ear, those hands working their way down over my chest.
“An old one.”
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