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Tell us what this book is about, Kastil!
Talbot Sauvageot has kept his wicked lifestyle underground for several years, going from one lover to the next. Decedent rake to females by day, passionate lover for his latest male companion at night. When he is forced to flee Paris or face the guillotine, Talbot realizes none of the men he has bedded over the past years burns at his soul like his dear friend Maxime LaRue.
Forced into seclusion in the forest of Bois de Lunor, he receives an invitation from Maxime for their yearly gathering at his estate in Varanguebec. One that Talbot has avoided the past few years. Refusing to submit to a life without love, Talbot schemes to discover if his childhood friend shares the same taste in pleasure as he.
Will Maxime submit to Talbot’s ploy or cast his friend in the shadow of death?
A few feet in, Maxime hunched over to catch his breath. The whinnying of a few horses had him ramrod straight. He whipped his head to glare at Talbot.
“Have I mentioned that Monsieur Beaumont also is a breeder of the finest steeds in France?”
“I thrice curse you, Talbot. By god, I am going to make you pay for this!” Maxime took off, delving deeper into the woods with his friend in tow. He would be remiss if the chase of being hunted did not thrum in his veins. Many times in their misspent youth they had snuck off in the dead of night to pledge their love to various females for the sake of deflowering them. Talbot insisted they were preparing the women for their future husbands. A woman who could please her lord would never have to worry about a mistress.
Maxime wondered if Monsieur Beaumont would be bold enough to shoot if he knew the target was Maxime Jean de Valette, visconte de LaRue? Perhaps if he named himself when the old man aimed the pistol in his direction, it would stop the madness of the chase, but the alternative of marrying a low born woman would have his father turning in his grave.
The hoof beats clapped closer and another shot rang over their heads.
“This way, Maxime!” Talbot bounded over a log and into a dense patch of trees. Maxime followed and crashed into his friend on the other side. They stumbled down onto the ground, Maxime’s face inches from his friend’s.
“Kiss me quick before we die.” Talbot laughed. The wine they had copiously consumed before their brave adventure wafted off Talbot’s breath. Maxime rolled off his friend and got to his feet. Talbot, still well in his cups, chortled louder until the steady clopping of hoof beats silenced him. He gained his feet and shoved Maxime against the tree, his brows pinched and color drained from his face.
“He will kill us without pause and bury the remains, my friend. Do you trust me?” Talbot said. Maxime’s heart thumped along with the pounding horse hooves. “Do you?”
“Oui. Now and always, my friend.”
Maxime’s eyes widened as Talbot leaned in and kissed him full on the lips. Despite the muffled protest, Maxime could not stop the probing tongue of his friend. The taste of the wine and honeyed musk of Talbot’s conquest lingered in his mouth. He stiffened and Talbot broke it off.
“S'il vous plait, Maxime. Abandon your thoughts and trust me, I beg you.”
Maxime cast a glance to the rustling foliage just meters away and brought Talbot in for a kiss. He deepened it, his hands fisted in his friend’s hair. Talbot worked the laces of Maxime’s breeches free and shoved his hand down in them. Intimate as a lover, his hand stroked Maxime’s cock. It hardened and Maxime jerked Talbot from their heady kiss by the hair.
His friend’s eyes were lucid, dull from the drink or his carnal act Maxime could not tell.
“Turn your head. He must not see your face, Maxime. I am of no consequence in this land.” He did as Talbot instructed, his drunken state leaving him open to his friend’s sinful ploy. A groan left his throat as his companion suckled at the base of his neck briefly. The hold on his cock did not cease, the hand gliding along the shaft with practiced ease.
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