Carved In Memory M-M

THE EXILE : CARVED IN MEMORY

…Slowly the Ancient separated the receiver’s cheeks and trickled some of the oil down his crack, then poured more into the palm of his hand. He replaced the bottle into the pouch. Taking his time, he began to prepare the receiver. The man was placed at an angle for Alonzo to see everything, and for the Ancient to watch Alonzo. The receiver groaned with pleasure as the Ancient’s knowledgeable fingers penetrated him over and over again. Alonzo’s cock felt like it was ready to burst with aching need. His ass muscles clenched tightly, yearning to be penetrated, remembering the feel of those hands on his body. But all he could do was watch. The Ancient straightened, thrust his hips, and oiled his massive cock. When it glistened and his hands easily slipped over the flesh, he placed the tip at the receiver’s opening, his intense golden eyes on Alonzo as he stretched and filled the lucky receiver. Alonzo watched the Ancient’s cock disappear, inch by inch, in slow motion, until finally it was lodged completely inside the receiver’s ass. His cheeks were stretched wide, the Ancient’s balls fitting snug against his twin sacs, heavy and supremely suckable from Alonzo’s point of view. His own cock was bursting, leaking pre-ejaculate onto the deck; even the strips of leather crisscrossing his flesh and tied around his balls couldn’t halt its flow. He couldn’t stop the needy groan from escaping his lips…

ALSO BY ADRIANNA DANE Achilles’ Charm An Acquired Taste The Argadian Heart Trilogy Azurene: Divine Seduction The Boy Next Door Breathless Peaks Carnal Carnivale Closing Time Come Into My Parlor The Diary Of Lillian Manchester, Book I: The Stranger Esmerelda’s Secret The Exile: A Seductive Tale Fertility Rite Graphic Liaisons If You Dare… I Want Images Of Desire Immortal Treasure Jebediah’s Promise Jewel Of Niveka Legend Of The Beesinger

The Lion and The Rose Mariposa Soul The Midas Bride Nights In White Satin No Choice Primal Magic: Scent Primal Magic: Swan’s Lake Realm Of The Ice God Ruthless Acts Sequestered Passion Smooth Finish Sully’s Heart Sylvie’s Gift Tempt Me Not Therapy Train Me Unicorn Craving Vampyre Falls: Animal Heat Vampyre Falls: Morganna’s Sacrifice A View To Possession Whisper Wings of Salvation

THE EXILE: CARVED IN MEMORY BY ADRIANNA DANE

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

THE E XILE: CARVED IN MEMORY AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2008 by Dream Romantic Unlimited LLC ISBN 978-1-60272-207-1 Cover Art © 2008 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Thanks to my publisher and my wonderful editors.

THE EXILE: CARVED IN MEMORY

CHAPTER 1 Acquisitor He remembered the feel of the warm sun on his face. He could almost sense the touch of a hard, masterful hand on his body, positioning him, preparing him. He still felt the ghostly presence of the beaded collar banding his throat marking him a receiver. The whistle of the wind rattling the glass in the window awoke Alonzo from his bittersweet reverie of a world lost to him. He had long been exiled, agreeing to become an acquisitor for the island brotherhood, an acknowledged outcast from Mannos, the Isle of Men, a pariah among his brethren. 1

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Accepting the position was the only hope he would ever have of redeeming himself and then returning to the isle where his kindred brethren resided. It was either this or death. He had been a receiver, chosen by one of the Ancient island lords to serve in his household. He had risen to the position of personal Attendant to an Ancient, basked in the power of his role until he had thrown it all away because of curiosity and the need to rebel. And fear. Of loving too much. An Ancient does not forgive, as Alonzo learned to his detriment. An Ancient has the power to exact revenge through eternity if he so desires. And Lord Phineas meant to wrest his full measure from Alonzo. He had received from Phineas what no other Attendant had known. He had loved him. Chastisement on the isle was final and a decree could only be lifted by the Ancient who leveled the punishment. Alonzo wondered if that time would ever arrive for him. Sometimes he thought Phineas received too much pleasure from his torture of Alonzo to ever forgive him. Yet, Alonzo could not hate him for it. He deserved the punishment. He touched the tattoo circling his throat. He didn’t need to look in the mirror to be reminded of its presence. He remembered the excruciating agony when the Painmaster applied it. A circle of black thorns entwined with the letter “E” marking him exiled. He fingered the lobe of his ear, where he could still feel the indentation of the small scar where they had ripped the midnight pearl from his ear and flung it into the waters from 2

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where he had retrieved it as part of the Rite of Ascension. Rising from the chair, he walked over to the window to gaze out on the gray world that marked his banishment. Diamond City was an appropriate name. Maybe better would have been Rough Diamond City because there was certainly no shining glitter to it. Smoke from the mills located near the waterfront curled into the air, giving the city a murky smog infestation that never lifted. It was a hard, unyielding place. A city that could cut your heart out if you weren’t careful. The sun was just beginning to set, coloring the city in subtle metal gold and rust hues, spotlighting spear-tipped silver-tinged buildings and rough granite exteriors. Unforgiving. Master Phineas had obviously thought long and hard for just the right place to send him. Quite possibly fashioned after hell itself. Or purgatory at the very least. Alonzo had loved them all—each Master he had served while on the island held a special place in his heart. But it was Master Phineas who owned him body and soul. His love for the Ancient Master would never die. Alonzo’s flaws, his fear of that all-consuming adoration had in the end destroyed him. For a century he had called Diamond City home. It would go on this way until he either begged for an end to it or was granted absolution for his transgression. He feared dead would come long before absolution. *

*

Angel-Boy 3

*

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“It’s something special, Alonzo. I’ve never encountered workmanship quite like this.” The voice on the phone had Alonzo intrigued. Angel-Boy had called him earlier in the evening, excitement filling his voice at his most recent discovery. The young man ran the secondhand store down near the docks in Crowtown. He had a special talent for reading the history of an object that came into his hands and knew exactly what Alonzo was looking for. A cunning talent for a boy who had literally grown up on the killing streets of Diamond City. Knowing that, Alonzo canceled his plans for the evening in order to visit the shop. It wasn’t his favorite part of town, nor after dark the best time to visit, but the discovery of these special objects was so few and distant between he didn’t want to wait another minute. Pulling on his long, black leather duster, he hurried out of his apartment over the art gallery and managed to hail a cab to take him to Crowtown. Even the cab drivers didn’t like driving in that part of town after dark. Angel-Boy hadn’t revealed on the phone exactly what it was he had acquired. The boy loved his surprises. Especially when it came to getting Alonzo to the shop. Angel-Boy was his street name, he’d never told Alonzo his real name, the one he’d been born with. Alonzo never pushed him on the subject. He didn’t go by his own birth name, so who was he to question it. He’d had help setting up his identity when he left Mannos, Angel-Boy didn’t want help to 4

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re-create himself. He’d been a brash, defiant lad, but eventually Alonzo had gotten him somewhat tamed. It was when he realized the kid had a special, unique talent he’d offered to set him up with a way to make a living. He’d been a bit leery when Angel-Boy chose the location of the store, but he’d been adamant. He’d said the best objects with the most colorful history would be found in the worst sections of town. Alonzo rented the storefront to the boy and he always paid his rent on time, never missing a beat. So far, the arrangement had worked out for both of them. As the cab pulled up to the darkened storefront, Alonzo paid him and got out. The driver wasted no time in flooring it out of there. Alonzo ignored the “closed” sign in the window. Using a key from his ring, one he didn’t use very often, he stepped inside, saw a light shimmering from the back room and headed toward the rear of the overfilled store. The back room was where Angel-Boy lived, if you could call it that. It was one room with a bed, dresser, compact refrigerator, hot plate, and microwave as its mainstays. As far as the street-smart kid was concerned, he was set. “Angel-Boy,” Alonzo called out as he skirted around the scarred front counter. A tow-headed boy who looked maybe eighteen, but was actually closer to twenty-five if you looked close enough, peeked around from between the frayed blue denim curtains separating the rooms. It was the dreadlocks that made him look younger. Alonzo hadn’t been able to get him to refine that look, but he was getting used to it anyway. When he saw 5

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who it was, he grinned. “I knew it wouldn’t take long for you to get here.” “You’re certain it came from the island?” “Hell, yeah. And it has your energy attached to it for some reason, so it’s got to have been around for a while. Some of the stuff is difficult to get a bead on, but not this one. It reeks of you.” “Show me.” “You’ll have to come with me into the back storeroom. It’s too cumbersome to carry out front.” As requested, Alonzo followed him into the back of the shop, through Angel-Boy’s living quarters and into a small, packed room that he used for storage. Angel-Boy flipped on the light and Alonzo stilled when he saw the object resting on its side on the floor. Flashes of memory bombarded him. The hemp ropes binding him tightly to the masthead, the clamps chewing at his nipples, the weight bearing down on his rigid cock. He felt it all in that instant and sucked in the raw ache that passed through him. He remembered being prepared by the attendant to the Shipmaster, oiled slowly. Even now, after all these years, he could smell the earthy oil as though it was moments ago. The memory of the rope he was shown and which he would be bound with throbbed deeply. It was special, made on the island at the Shipmaster’s personal request. The Shipmaster had wanted him to look particularly beautiful on that night, for that party. A part of the ship itself. And he had chosen Alonzo 6

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especially to decorate the new figurehead for the “Minotaur.” Cassius, the Joymaster, had even sent along one of his skilled attendants to be certain Alonzo’s body was properly prepared for display and entertainment. “You recognize it,” Angel-Boy said gleefully. “I knew it.” Alonzo couldn’t take his eyes off the figurehead to look at the boy. Or even acknowledge his statement. Memories swamped him completely, just like the surging ocean that night. He remembered being carefully displayed, of feeling the salty sea wind stroke across his overheated, naked and bound body. But it wasn’t until the Ancient with his gold-dusted face approached that the exquisite torture had intensified to almost unbearable proportions. *

*

*

He stood in front of Alonzo, arm negligently draped across the shoulders of a pretty receiver with dark, interested eyes. His glittering attention studied the intricately roped and decorated receiver hanging before him. Alonzo held his breath, suddenly feeling every imperfection in his body, wanting to be perfect for this Ancient. Alonzo watched as he leaned forward and whispered something into his receiver’s ear. The receiver smiled. “He says you are quite beautiful. Even more beautiful than the figurehead. He would rather see you mounted at the prow.” 7

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It was not Alonzo’s place to speak. The Ancient reached out with a gold-tipped finger and traced it along the length of his bound, painfully engorged cock. That simple touch had almost made Alonzo come right then. He remembered the touch of the Ancient so well from the ceremony of the Rite of Entrance. He had to be the same man, even though he was masked on that evening. He remembered how his enormous cock had stretched and filled him, completed him. Bound to the mast, all he could do was impotently watch the pleasure of others. The Ancient whirled around his receiver and thrust him against the deck railing of the ship, in full view of where Alonzo hung. Raising the receiver’s hands, he clasped them behind his head and against his neck in preparation for penetration. The Ancient reached inside the pouch every receiver carried and lifted out a bottle of amber oil. Beyond the decorative cock sleeve, the pouch was the only thing a receiver was required to wear at all times. Slowly the Ancient separated the receiver’s cheeks and trickled some of the oil down his crack, then poured more into the palm of his hand. He replaced the bottle into the pouch. Taking his time, he began to prepare the receiver. The man was placed at an angle for Alonzo to see everything, and for the Ancient to watch Alonzo. The receiver groaned with pleasure as the Ancient’s knowledgeable fingers penetrated him over and over again. Alonzo’s cock felt like it was ready to burst with aching need. His ass muscles clenched tightly, yearning to be penetrated, remembering the feel of those 8

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hands on his body. But all he could do was watch. The Ancient straightened, thrust his hips, and oiled his massive cock. When it glistened and his hands easily slipped over the flesh, he placed the tip at the receiver’s opening, his intense golden eyes on Alonzo as he stretched and filled the lucky receiver. Alonzo watched the Ancient’s cock disappear, inch by inch, in slow motion, until finally it was lodged completely inside the receiver’s ass. His cheeks were stretched wide, the Ancient’s balls fitting snug against his twin sacs, heavy and supremely suckable from Alonzo’s point of view. His own cock was bursting, leaking pre-ejaculate onto the deck; even the strips of leather crisscrossing his flesh and tied around his balls couldn’t halt its flow. He couldn’t stop the needy groan from escaping his lips. The whole time the Ancient fucked the receiver he watched Alonzo. Long, lethargic thrusts seeming to drive the receiver into a frenzy as he shoved his hips back and forth again and again. Sensual, undulating, lifting and pressing. Taking his time. The Ancient fastened his hands onto the receiver’s hips, steadying him, maintaining the rhythm he sought. A small audience had wandered over to watch the performance, murmuring their appreciation of how the Ancient commanded both the receiver and Alonzo, glancing back and forth between them. Several of the masters reached for their own receivers, kissing and fondling as they observed the skilled Ancient. The crowd issued ahhhs of admiration when both Alonzo and the receiver came at the same time, spilling their seed onto the 9

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deck. This Ancient had skills of erotic command that far outdistanced many of the masters in attendance. Finally, he slid from inside the receiver, adjusted his gold cloak, and turned to stand before Alonzo. Again, with one finger, he slicked over Alonzo’s wet tip, then brought it to Alonzo’s mouth for him to lick it clean. Alonzo needed no second invitation and quickly sucked the warm digit into his mouth. If Alonzo hadn’t been enraptured by the man before, he certainly was then. The soul ripped straight out of his body. *

*

*

“Hey, man, where’d you go?” Alonzo blinked and returned to the present, his body hard and needy, his prick pressing painfully against the front of his leather pants. The hellish present. “You’re right, Angel-Boy. It came from the island. How much?” With difficulty he ripped his attention away from the figurehead and looked at the young man, whose eyes had gone dark as he gazed at Alonzo. He sighed. Alonzo knew the boy was infatuated with him. It was one of the reasons he’d tried to keep his distance and kept everything as businesslike as possible, because he didn’t want the boy to love him. He didn’t want anyone to love him. “I’ll tell you want I want,” Angel-Boy said in a low voice. Alonzo didn’t want him to say it. He would have done anything not to have Angel-Boy voice his infatuation. “It’s all I want. All I’ve ever wanted.” 10

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“Don’t say it, boy. You don’t know what you’re asking.” Angel-Boy shrugged. “I’m not asking you to fall in love with me, for cripe sake. But I want one night. All night. Tonight.” Alonzo shook his head, trying to ignore the plea in the young man’s voice. “You don’t know what you’re asking. I can’t give you what you want.” Angel-Boy crossed the room, closing in on Alonzo, making him feel like a trapped panther. He reached up to stroke Alonzo’s dark hair. “I know exactly what I want. I want to feel you inside me. I want you to fuck me. I want you in bed next to me.” He reached out with his other hand to cup Alonzo’s stiff hard-on. “I know this isn’t necessarily for me. That it’s from some memory you have. But let me take care of it for you.” “I can’t love you.” He cared for the boy. Had helped to get him off the streets. Had bought this place so he’d have a way to make a living and had trained him on how to do the bookkeeping and run the place. He’d even offered to fund his education, but he’d turned that down. He’d managed to keep him out of his bed for five years. Why now? “I didn’t ask you to. Give me this one night and the masthead is yours, free and clear. You always seem to feel you have to pay for this stuff. Well, it’s not money I want this time.” He cupped the boy’s face, torn with the needs of his body and the attempt to be sensible. If he did what the boy wanted, it would change everything, no matter how much he denied it. 11

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Intimacy did that. Even with strangers. But he was so right; the hard-on was almost unbearable. He needed relief. He wanted something different, but he’d give Angel-Boy what he wanted. For tonight. Company in his bed. He liked the boy and maybe they could come to some mutual understanding. But he would not love him. Slowly, he lowered his head and fastened his lips over Angel-Boy’s. The young man wound his arms around Alonzo’s shoulders and drew him closer. He felt the pent-up breath escape and his stiff body loosened. For tonight, at least one of them would get their heart’s desire. *

*

*

Angel-Boy’s Bed Angel-Boy took him by the hand and led him back into the bedroom. He pushed him down onto the double bed and then proceeded to divest him of his clothing. “Let me take care of you,” he said. Alonzo wanted to say no. But he couldn’t seem to speak. The boy’s hands moved efficiently and tantalizingly over his body, sending his libido into fever-pitch. And then Angel-Boy was kneeling between his outstretched legs, his fingers learning the texture of Alonzo’s prick. “Damn, you’re more beautiful than I thought you’d be,” he 12

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murmured and then licked his lips. Alonzo had located a waxing shop frequented by mainland members of the Brotherhood of the Midnight Pearl. Many of the members waxed and shaved all the hair from their bodies, keeping them smooth and hairless, but Alonzo chose to simply trim and shape, maintain the air of a slightly savage nature. Maybe it was just another hint of the rebelliousness that seemed to be housed in a dark corner of his soul. One he had not faced until that last agonizing betrayal. Even after his exile, he had continued to maintain his body just as he had on Mannos. He arched against Angel-Boy’s touch. “I’m going to make this good for you, Alonzo, so good you won’t want to leave.” And then his mouth was consuming Alonzo’s cock. He arched his hips as he clutched at Angel-Boy’s hair. It had been a long time since he’d allowed anyone to go down on him. His warm, wet mouth felt good, so good as he suckled him, his tongue tracing beneath the hood, sliding up and over the length of his slit. He looked down at the boy, whose hands were now tracing and skimming over his body as if trying to learn every crevice, every hidden valley. He released his cock and sucked in his testicles, bathing them with his tongue, drawing them deep inside. He pressed a hand down between his crack, moving toward his anus. Angel-Boy stopped sucking long enough to wet his finger and then Alonzo was arching as he slid it inside his rectum. 13

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He pulled his cock into his mouth again, this time to where Alonzo could feel the back of his throat, opening and allowing him to slide deeper. The boy was an expert cocksucker, that was for sure. Blinding white heat surrounded him as he felt his prick slide deeper still. This obviously wasn’t the first time. He pressed Alonzo farther into the mattress. His glistening prick slid in and out of Angel-Boy’s mouth, down his throat and back out again and again and again. Alonzo couldn’t take much more of this and felt his balls tightening, drawing up, his cock stretched tight, wet and needy, throbbing for release. Angel-Boy’s tongue wooed him like any expert whore. Like he had once done so long ago. Learning the lessons of cock-sucking until it was an art. Thinking about those lessons had him spurting into AngelBoy’s mouth, down his throat as he remembered the island and the master who had taught him to deep throat. He pushed away the memory, afraid of the doors it would open. The ones he’d tried to keep locked because of the painful yearning they caused. Instead, he opened his eyes and looked up into AngelBoy’s sweet face as he released his spent cock. He owed something to the kid. Pressing up, he pushed the boy onto his back. He had plenty of skills to leave the boy sated and happy when he left. He knew how to please a man, and he would be certain not to disappoint the infatuated young man. Climbing over him, he sought his flat nipple and began to tongue it, circle around and over, teasing with his teeth. He 14

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rubbed his slick, softened cock against Angel-Boy’s and heard the man beneath him moan. His hands came up to clutch Alonzo’s hair, drawing him closer. Alonzo moved up his body and claimed his lips, running his tongue over his mouth and then sinking it between his lips. A hand anchored above Angel-Boy’s head, played with the locks of his hair, stroked his forehead, as he rubbed his body sensuously against the lover beneath him. “I knew it would be like this,” Angel-Boy whispered. “I knew we’d be good together.” “Shhh,” Alonzo soothed him. “Let me take care of you. You have a fine way with cock-sucking. Where’d you learn to be so good at it? It took me forever to loosen my throat to take a dick that deep.” Angel-Boy arched up against him, nudging his cock closer. Alonzo could feel himself hardening again. He was surprised at how quickly his body responded to the boy. “The streets,” Angel-Boy murmured in between feathered kisses along the column of Alonzo’s neck, over the hated tattoo. “I had to eat somehow. The street ain’t for no pussies, if you know what I mean. Make it good for a customer or you don’t get paid. A few kicks to the ribs and you learn fast. I’m guessing that ain’t the way you learned.” No, it most definitely hadn’t been the way Alonzo learned to please. His lessons were artful and enjoyable, and he’d gone to the island for the specific purpose of learning to become a receiver, a submissive to the demands of the masters on the island. It had been all he had dreamed of for so long. The 15

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college he had chosen to attend was because of his knowledge that a sect of the Brotherhood existed there. He’d never regretted that choice. He turned his attention back to the man beneath him as he sucked at his body, licking his way over his pecs, up along his neck, possessing his sweet mouth once again. He could have loved someone like Angel-Boy if he wasn’t already broken. He deserved to be loved. It was just that Alonzo wasn’t the man to give him what he deserved. Alonzo worked his way down Angel-Boy’s body, nipping and tasting the flesh of his abdomen. He had a tight, young body, muscular and yet resilient. He liked the taste of him. Until, finally, he reached his cock and gave him the attention he so richly deserved. He licked up the sides and down to his balls. Sucked the testicles into his mouth bathing them with his saliva, allowing them to pop from his mouth, wet and glistening. He dipped his tongue beneath the sacs, pressing and tasting. Angel-Boy rotated his hips, moaning and gasping as Alonzo gave him his full attention, taking his time in building and keeping him at the edge of release, allowing him to float down and building him back up until he was begging to come. “Please, Alonzo, please.” He moved back up to his cock, his fingers trailing over his inner thighs, along his crease, then drove a finger into his opening. “Yes, oh, damn, yes,” Angel-Boy screamed. Alonzo sucked his cock deep into his mouth, expertly 16

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relaxing his throat as he took him to the root. He felt the first pulse, the spurt that signaled his climax, and he sucked and sucked until there was nothing left to feed him. As the prick softened, he released it with a pop and rose up to stretch out next to the replete young man. Angel-Boy turned to him and stroked across his broad chest. “That was so good.” Alonzo pulled him close, stroking a possessive hand along the length of his spine downward, gripping his pretty, muscled ass. “All night, remember? That was just foreplay.” He felt Angel-Boy shiver against him and cuddle closer. There had been orgies on the island that had lasted for days. Angel-Boy could never begin to imagine the fortitude required of the receivers. Tonight he would give him just a taste of the bliss. *

*

*

The Light of Morning Alonzo awoke before the grayness of dawn filtered into the room the next morning and attempted to ease from the bed. He had stayed much too long. He’d enjoyed the night more than he should have. More than he’d expected. Angel-Boy rolled over and gave him a sleepy grin. He reached out for him. “You don’t have to leave yet, do you? It’s still early.” “Busy day today,” Alonzo mumbled. “A lot to do.” He stood up and bent down to pick up his discarded pants. He’d 17

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never been able to get into the habit of wearing underwear since his return to the mainland. He stepped into them and zipped up the fly just as a pair of arms circled his waist and moist lips pressed against the small of his back. “I’m glad you stayed. It was a fantastic night.” One of Angel-Boy’s hands slid inside the front of Alonzo’s pants and his fingers stroked against his cock, making him shudder. “Sure you can’t stay for just a bit longer?” Alonzo couldn’t help himself. The boy was so tempting, and for someone not formally tutored in the erotic arts, he was quite talented. He twisted around, cupped Angel-Boy’s face and leaned down to seize a passionate kiss. He swallowed the soft sigh. Lifting his head, he stared down into the wide, duskylashed doe eyes of the man looking up at him. He brushed a thumb across his swollen lips, grazed his hand along the morning shadow of his jaw. “Cassius would have loved you,” he murmured. “Who’s Cassius?” Alonzo smiled, remembering the initial pleasure of Cassius’s mastery on the island. He’d been the first to penetrate him. He pushed Angel-Boy back onto the bed, covering him with his body, looking down at him. “Cassius was the Joymaster.” “What’s a joymaster?” Alonzo chuckled. “Something like a…madam of a whorehouse would be the best way to describe it. He trained 18

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the pleasure boys—called joyboys. The joyboys were men who preferred variety rather than committing to a specific master. They liked acting and playing parts, like scening. Cassius only chose very special men for the joyhouse.” Angel-Boy reached up to nip at Alonzo’s lower lip. “You liked him?” “Yes. He was my first master on the island. He would have tried to acquire me for his house. He was very good at seduction and difficult to resist.” Alonzo brushed a finger over Angel-Boy’s winged brow. “He was such an artist with makeup. And had a great talent in applying it. You would have looked absolutely irresistible when he was done with you. You have excellent bone structure.” “What did you see in me, Alonzo, to get me off the street? I never understood why you helped me and got me set up with this place.” Alonzo stroked a hand down his chest as he peered at him. “You make me homesick. You were a young, scrappy urchin and I wanted to take you under my wing. I saw a spark of intelligence in you, so much wasted potential. If I’d left you on the streets, you would have been dead within a year.” Angel-Boy sucked one of Alonzo’s fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the tip. Alonzo wished it were his cock. He pulled it free and watched as Angel-Boy licked his lips. “You still taste good, Alonzo. I taste us on your fingers.” There was no doubt about it, he was going to have to fuck 19

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this boy once more before he left. “You’re incorrigible.” He pushed him back onto the bed. “Spread your legs.” He reached over the side of the bed and picked up the tube of lubricant from the night before. Almost used up, but just enough for one more good, squishy fuck. Quickly, he readied the man beneath him, who squirmed and arched, crying out with need. Alonzo leaned down to kiss him, thrusting his tongue deep as he fucked him with his finger. Then two. He was so ready. Alonzo shoved his pants down and his heavy cock sprang free. Quickly he positioned himself and thrust into his lover’s waiting hole. He felt good, so good. He tunneled in and out as the tight sheath surrounded and gripped him. He stroked over AngelBoy’s thick, silky length, timing his strokes with his own penetration. Finally, his driving thrusts grew stronger, faster, and he groaned as he spurted inside the man beneath him. Angel-Boy came with him, gushing cum onto his belly. “Yeah, oh yeah.” He sighed as he fell back onto the bed. Alonzo pulled out and rose from the mattress, gazing down at the replete man. He turned away, cleaned himself up and resumed dressing. That wasn’t supposed to happen. When he was completely dressed, he turned back toward the bed. Angel-Boy hadn’t bothered to cover himself, but lay there, naked, golden skin glowing in the rays of the morning sun peeking through the dirty window. It was no wonder his street name was Angel-Boy. With that long, pale blond dreadlocked hair and golden skin, he looked more fallen angel than man, 20

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and quite the most decadent temptation. “I’ll send someone by to pick up the figurehead.” Angel-Boy rose to his knees, totally unselfconscious of his naked body. Even in repose his cock looked quite impressive between his well-muscled thighs. The blond hairs of his bush gleamed in the morning sunlight, making it hard for Alonzo to take the steps necessary to leave. “When will I see you again?” Alonzo shrugged. “When you have something for me, I guess.” “Is that the way it has to be?” Alonzo looked at him, trying to keep his thoughts well disguised. He didn’t want to lead him on. The fucking had been great, but that’s as far as it went. There couldn’t be anything more. “Yes, that’s the way it has to be. You knew that from the beginning.” “I’m in love with you, Alonzo. But I would say you probably guessed that.” “Don’t be. I can’t love you back.” “Why? Because you love someone else? Someone from that island?” Alonzo winced at the jab. Then stuffed the memory away. “It doesn’t matter why. It’s just the way it is.” He spun around and headed toward the door. “Alonzo.” Alonzo stopped at the doorway. “When I find something you want, I’ll be calling. And you 21

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know what I’ll expect for payment. If I can’t have your love, then I’ll take that gorgeous body instead. Whatever way I can get it.” The man was stubborn, Alonzo would give him that. Maybe too stubborn. He slanted his head and slid a gaze at the magnificent man in the tangled sheets. He was certainly tempting. “Just remember, it better be a worthy enough item to warrant a night of fucking.” Angel-Boy gave him a cocky smile. “Oh, it will be.” *

*

*

The Shipmaster The Minotaur figurehead arrived early in the evening. It now sat in the spacious living room of Alonzo’s apartment. He sat in a chair across from it. It was the perfect, gilded image for a tallship owned by a member of the Brotherhood. One of the carvemasters on the island had fashioned it. Alonzo had apprenticed with him during the creation, which was probably why some of his energy was attached to it. A man’s sleek head with huge protruding horns, the double pearl earring evident. It was a subtle symbol that only another member of the Brotherhood would understand. Flecks of the gilding still clung to the carving and Alonzo remembered how amazed he had been at the detail of the face. The owner of the ship had sailed into the harbor early one morning and everyone had been awed by the majesty of the 22

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ship. The owner was a mainland resident now, but returned to have the figurehead and detail to the trail boards fashioned by a Brotherhood carvemaster. In the taverns he had told many tales of the mainland and his travels at sea, and the stories gained him many worshipful receivers to attend him during his stay. Alonzo had been lucky enough to be asked to serve him on several occasions. What a wonderfully skillful master he had been. He liked to play with rope and on more than one occasion had bound Alonzo up with hemp, making it so he couldn’t move even a muscle until the master released him. He would tantalize and tease him until Alonzo begged for mercy, begged to come. Alonzo yanked his pants open as he gazed at the figurehead, pulled his cock free and began to stroke himself. No one had ever made him yield so completely as the masters on the island. There, his submission was a pleasure and he gladly yielded to each and every one of them. He willingly did anything asked to please them. He had no wish for the rest of his life than to serve as a receiver among the masters on the island. Maybe he should have yielded to Cassius and become a joyboy. He had loved them all well enough. But Phineas had been so commanding, so necessary to his existence. If only he had understood his own true nature, maybe he would have made different choices and not failed so undeniably. The night of the celebration should have told him something, and he had ignored the total of it, isolating only his response to the Ancient. He’d been infatuated, he knew that 23

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now. Just like Angel-Boy. He remembered the other receivers’ hands on his body that afternoon, preparing him for the christening of the new figurehead. There had been so much festive excitement in the air that day. Everyone was to be taken out to the ship that night for a moonlight cruise around the island. Alonzo was to serve as the live figurehead, representative of the wooden sculpture. He was to be bound to the forward mast, the onboard centerpiece of the festivities. Cassius had sent over his best assistant apprentice to oil and prepare him before the Shipmaster spent several hours binding and tying the intricate knots that would anchor Alonzo to the mast. Alonzo stroked his cock as he remembered the Shipmaster winding the rope over his body in tantalizing ways set to suspend, support, and bind him in place. When it was done he remembered gazing up at the full moon which had seemed so close that night. The wind had brushed through his hair as he was hoisted several feet above the ground for the turn around the island. It was several hours before he was again lowered to the deck to watch the festivities. There had been that one moment like no other when he felt like he flew with the gulls in the sky, rising and flying toward the moon. He gave himself over to the ropes, to the ship, and to the Shipmaster in that moment. He had wanted nothing more than to become a permanent fixture of the tallship to which he was bound. 24

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He’d heard the laughter, the murmur of the men below him, the clinking of glasses, the singing, but it was as though it emanated from another world. It was the flapping of the sails, the cry of the gulls, the creak of the wood and the scent of salt air that enshrouded him and pulled him into the very eye of the moonlit night. He heard the call of a whale in the distance, the slap of the water against the wooden hull. He was no longer within his own body, but soaring high and free as he had never been before. Much later, when the festivities were over, the Shipmaster had taken his time untying him and then led him down to his own berth below deck. He’d fed him and washed and fucked him masterfully. Over and over. It had been so beautiful. So perfect. And he had loved him so much. The figurehead brought back so many painful memories of the things he had lost. The things he yearned for every day of his immortal life. The things it was likely he would never have again. He didn’t think he could bear the reality of that knowledge. And that’s what Phineas wanted. That’s why he had named him acquisitor. Just another form of torture. The Ancient was truly a master, not strictly of pleasure, but lingering, anguished torture. And Alonzo knew he meant to break Alonzo. Eventually. Alonzo leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to ease away the pain, visualizing that starry, full-moon night and the 25

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smell of salt water. He didn’t think there had ever been a night in his life as perfect as that one. When he had felt so one with his environment and with his destiny. His eyes snapped open with a sense of urgency and suddenly he had to be near the water, to hear it slapping against the docks, to touch it. He pressed his aching cock back inside his pants and jumped up from his chair. He had to get away from the figurehead, away from the pang of longing. Grabbing his coat, he donned it and slammed out the door. He needed to walk off this gnawing at his insides. He needed to find ease. He didn’t hail a taxi but began walking. The night was late and quiet and dark. He looked up and saw the full moon, just as large and low as it had been that night. Maybe that’s why he was having particular difficulty tonight. Ever since he had drunk of the immortal waters, the call of the moon always did crazy things to him. He walked and walked, ignoring the people around him. A fine drizzle fell like mist, leaving a cool sheen on his face. He walked through Crowtown and onward toward the docks, toward the water, unable to halt his determined steps. He had to reach the water. He heard a cathedral clock chime the hour somewhere on the other side of town. Eleven o’clock. Late enough that he was glad he had the knife strapped to his ankle inside his boot. It wasn’t the best part of town to be meandering about this late at night, but there was no denying his need right now. Finally, he reached the dock, saw the ships quietly 26

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undulating in the sparkling, mirrored depths and he exhaled. He sat down, dangling his legs over the side of the wooden dock. Heard the drawn out call of a lonely foghorn echo over the water. He wondered if a day would ever come when the loneliness that shrouded him like the low lying clouds would ever leave. He was chained to this place and he’d done it to himself. Screwed for eternity. “You alone?” a gruff voice asked from behind him. Alonzo glanced up. He was big and tattooed and had the visage of rough waters. He looked like a sailor from one of the ships. Alonzo slowly rose to his feet. Even though Alonzo was tall, this man was at least a head taller and far broader. Solid as the iron anchor. He felt the dark demands inside him arise and the tattoo at his neck throbbed, thorns digging into his skin. He found the sailor intriguing. “Yes. You?” The man eyed him, sized him up with a black, bottomless stare. His faced was weathered and ageless. The man nodded. “I could use some company tonight. Interested?” Suddenly, Alonzo knew just what he needed tonight. He needed a man. Like this one. “Yes, I am.” *

*

*

The Sailor The sailor pulled him into the alley not far from the 27

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waterfront. He unzipped his fly and pulled out an immense cock and looked at Alonzo. Alonzo couldn’t see his expression in the darkness, but he could feel his dominance. And reveled in it. “Think you can handle this?” he said in a guttural tone as he thrust his hips. Alonzo decided not to waste time with words and dropped to his knees, the pleasure of submission cloaking him comfortably. The man smelled of the sea; he ignored the stale ale and sweat. This was a man who could make him submit and tonight he needed that more than anything. He needed to know that demand of service, something he had missed, would always miss. It was like a gaping hole inside him. Angel-Boy was lovely, but he needed more. He swallowed the large cock, taking him deep. The sailor’s hands fisted in his hair, forcing him to take the full length. It was no hardship and Alonzo relaxed his throat in order to accommodate the big man. He tasted of sea and wind, wild ocean, musky and untamed. It was what he sought tonight. Why he had come here. The sailor pulled him to his feet before he could bring him to orgasm. “I’ve got a room rented down the street a bit. We’ll go there,” he growled. “Zip me up.” Alonzo did as he demanded. The man snaked an arm around his neck as though he’d bolt and run if he let him go. A block down the deserted street, he yanked Alonzo to the right and he saw a set of outside creaky wooden steps. The sailor 28

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pushed Alonzo up ahead of him, one of his big hands pressed against Alonzo’s back, forcing him upward, keeping control. They walked down a short corridor, stopped at a door, the sailor unlocked it, and shoved Alonzo inside. “Get naked,” he said as he tossed his worn blue peacoat onto a chair and started to undress. He yanked his own black T-shirt over his head and Alonzo was struck by the sheer, savage beauty of the man. He was nothing like the masters on the island. He was all seaman, rugged and wild as a hurricane wind. The man was covered in a thick pelt of dark hair. Alonzo had never been with anyone so covered in fur. The man standing before him was primal in every sense. Alonzo found him very foreign and very desirable. Male testosterone drenched the small room. Alonzo needed hard and deep. He needed to be punished by this big man. “Get on the bed.” Alonzo turned to do as he was told and then felt a slap to his ass. The sting felt good and he scrambled onto the lumpy mattress. Another slap and then another. He was on his hands and knees. The bed squeaked and dipped as the sailor moved up behind him and rubbed his cock against Alonzo’s ass. His hard hand came down on his ass again and Alonzo reveled in the pain as he spanked him again and again. He sank into the arousing anguish of punishment quickly, giving himself over to the man who would control his desires this night. Alonzo thought he wouldn’t be able to stand much more as 29

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it continued, his skin throbbing with the intensity. Finally he stopped and the sailor’s large hands rubbed over the throbbing, hot skin. Alonzo was breathing heavily, his cock thick and hard, bobbing at full mast between his quivering legs. “You like it,” the sailor said. “You want more?” Alonzo could only nod his head. “Good boy.” And then the flat of the large hand built a rhythm on his cheeks and over his buttocks. Tears started to spurt, falling down his face, dripping onto the bed. The sobs broke from his throat as he bent forward and raised his ass in the air, silently begging for more. After long moments, the sailor finally stopped, and Alonzo’s ass throbbed and burned from the intensely passionate spanking. This man was very good at administering punishment and Alonzo wondered how many men had come beneath the lash of his firm control. Suddenly, he felt cold lube squirted into his ass and he shuddered. He heard the crackle of a packet and was about to tell the sailor he didn’t need to worry about it, that he was immortal, and then thought better of it. Too much to explain and he didn’t want to wait any longer. The thick tip was at his opening, feeling magnified in breadth after the demanding punishment. And then he was pushing inside, past the bud of tight muscle, forcing him open, making his way, widening Alonzo impossibly. Alonzo couldn’t remember any master being as wide in girth as this man, practically splitting him open. 30

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“Yes,” he said in a low tone. “Harder.” The sailor delivered the intensity he craved, driving into him again and again. Raw pain and sharp pleasure mingled and blended. It felt like he was being ripped apart and yet the stinging bliss sliding through Alonzo was blindingly exquisite. The man slammed into him time after time and then finally let out a loud yell as he came inside Alonzo. “Like that. Yes, like that.” He let out a shuddering breath. The inflamed burning in his ass still throbbed as the sailor slid his softened prick from inside Alonzo’s widened channel. He was left feeling so opened, so exposed. The sailor fell back on the bed beside him. “Get something to clean me up.” Slowly, Alonzo climbed off the bed and headed into a small, dirty bathroom connected to the room. He came back carrying a wet washcloth and proceeded to do as the sailor asked. It felt good and right to service him. How low had he come to feel softened and pleased by this complete stranger. But in some ways even that added to the depth of his submission. When he was done, he took the washcloth back to the bathroom. By the time he returned to the bedroom he noted the sailor’s cock was hard and standing straight up, his hand fisted around the root. He looked at him as he stroked his erection. “Took you long enough.” He pulled out a packet. “Put this on me and ride me. I should last longer this time. And you’re nice and opened up now. More than ready for a good, long ride.” 31

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Alonzo climbed onto the bed and took the packet. He tore it open and rolled it down over the thick prick. It almost didn’t fit. Then he climbed over the big man and positioned his hole over the massive head. Slowly, he dropped down as he guided the cock inside him. Once he’d gotten it all the way in, he started to rise, but the sailor clamped down on his hips. Alonzo looked at him through the dim light provided by the dingy street lamp shining through the dirty window. His dark eyes glittered. “Damn, I wouldn’t mind a pretty boy like you on my ship at my beck and call. I wonder how you’d hold up under the lash? Wouldn’t mind seeing your back striped pretty. It would match that nice red ass of yours. Too bad I won’t have more time here. Wish I’d found you sooner.” He slapped his ass. “Now ride me. I’ve got me a feeling it’ll be a long one ’cause it’s gonna need to last me a while.” He was so right. The sweat poured off Alonzo as he rode him, forced to keep up a pace that the sailor refused to let him alter. Every time he tried to slow, the sailor swatted him on the ass, forcing him to move faster. The muscles in his thighs quivered, his ass burned and his cock was rock hard. Suddenly the sailor wrapped his thick fingers around Alonzo’s cock. “Faster, boy. If you wanna come with me, get your ass going.” Alonzo loved the feel of the masterful hand on his prick, sliding up and down, demanding his orgasm. He quickened his pace until finally the big man exploded inside him and his own climax echoed. The intensity had him seeing 32

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stars and the world tilted. The walls of his channel pulsed around the softened cock, and he couldn’t help dropping onto the big man’s chest, the penis slipping out from inside him. He curled closer, notching his head beneath his chin. He had needed every moment of this so badly. It felt like he’d run for miles and finally reached the destination he sought. Alonzo’s breaths came fast and hard as he lay there, listening to the strong beat of the man’s heart. The sailor’s possessive hand gripping his buttock. He had given Alonzo what he needed. It was wonderful and earthy and he submitted himself completely. A sense of odd peace settled over him. Yet, there was a twinge that he tamped down. Inside, he knew it was not the same as on the island with the masters. And he did not love this man. *

*

*

A Dinner Companion Alonzo slipped out of bed before dawn, the sailor still sleeping deeply, snoring loudly. He dressed as quietly as possible, carefully because his body felt bruised and battered by the night of hard, insatiable sex. It was more than he expected and yet, less. But it certainly had been what he needed. Quietly he slipped out of the room and walked through the awakening, garbage-littered streets, making his way back to his apartment. When he arrived, he went straight for the 33

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shower and stayed there a long time. His body wasn’t likely to forget this night any time soon. But in some way the turbulence of his memories had quieted. He had fought the need for that kind of pure dominance for a hundred years, so why had the sight of the figurehead torn him open? Every piece he managed to acquire over the years had chipped away a bit of his soul, but never like this. Never so intensely. So many emotions warred inside him. He knew he would never see the sailor again and maybe that’s exactly why he’d allowed it to happen. He was answerable to no one. And maybe that was part of the problem. Since leaving the island he’d felt so alone, so separated from the way of life he had shared and loved. Rudderless. Tired and worn he walked into the living room and looked at the figurehead. The pain of memory was now dulled, his body satisfyingly achy. He padded toward the bedroom and sank onto the bed. Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, he dropped off to sleep. The dreams were there, along with a voice calling to him. The faces, the warmth, the cold ice of betrayal. He tossed and turned and finally awoke, sweating from his exertions. The nightmares were worse than usual. Looking at the clock, he realized he’d slept most of the day away, but he felt rejuvenated. Padding into the living room, he noted that the figurehead had been removed. Someone from the gallery must have come in to get it and take it down to the vault where all the other items were stored. He was the keeper 34

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of such things, the acquisitor. It was his duty to safeguard the items until someone came to take them back to the island. How the objects got to the mainland was anyone’s guess, but it was his job as acquisitor to locate anything that might belong to the Brotherhood and see to its return. There should never be a Brotherhood item on the open market. Those that were sold by Brotherhood members were done so privately. Some of the items he located went to private museums for the various sects throughout the world. The Ancients would be the ones to decide what would go where. He wondered what had happened to the Minotaur and how the figurehead had found its way to the mainland. Had it been shipwrecked, or had someone gained access to it and dismantled it for some reason? He wasn’t sure he’d ever find out the truth. Returning to his bedroom, he dressed. He didn’t think he wanted to spend the evening alone with his thoughts, with his memories. He left the apartment and ambled down the street. He wasn’t really sure where he was headed until he found himself in front of the secondhand store in Crowtown. It looked like Angel-Boy was just closing up shop when he hesitated in front of the window. He shouldn’t go in. It would raise the kid’s hopes when there was no chance Alonzo would ever return his affections. The bell rang when he opened the door and Angel-Boy looked up. Several expressions warred on the lad’s face. Hope. Surprise. Confusion. Pleasure. “I don’t have anything new in.” 35

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“I know.” Alonzo hesitated. Why had he come here? He shouldn’t be doing this. “I wondered…” “What? I’m just closing up. Something else you wanted?” Alonzo licked his lips, remembering the taste of the boy, feeling the aching imprint of the sailor. He sighed deeply. His emotions felt so turbulent right now, just like the surging sea during a thunderstorm. “I’m going for a bite to eat. I wondered if you wanted to join me.” “Join you? For dinner?” “Well…yes. But if you’ve got other plans—” “No,” Angel-Boy said quickly. “No plans. Just give me a minute to finish up here.” Alonzo waited as Angel-Boy quickly locked things up, grabbed his denim jacket and vaulted over the counter. “Ready when you are.” Alonzo pivoted around and walked toward the door. He stopped and turned back to look at the young man. He’d been young like that once. Still looked it. But he wasn’t. Inside he felt as ancient as the land itself. “Don’t read anything into this.” The light dimmed in the boy’s eyes, but then that survivalist attitude that had carried him so far appeared to take over, and a defiant gleam dropped over his expression. “What makes you think I would? It’s just dinner, ain’t it? A guy’s gotta eat.” “Yeah, a guy’s gotta eat,” he echoed and turned to walk out of the store. A guy’s gotta eat and a guy’s gotta fuck. It 36

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was like breathing. He had to find a way to not keep looking back. Not keep remembering. He reached up to trace the tattoo on his neck. No, he could never forget. They wouldn’t let him. “Ready?” Angel-Boy asked as he locked the front door. But maybe there was a way to at least survive the mainland. The young man sure was pretty. As pretty as any joyboy on the island. Maybe prettier. “Yeah, I’m ready.” He was ravenous. He was just afraid it was for more than food. He could train this pretty boy. He certainly was a quick learner. But Alonzo wasn’t going to fall in love with him.

37

ADRIANNA DANE

Theresa Gallup uses the pen names of Tess Maynard and Adrianna Dane. Theresa has been writing since the age of 10. A legal secretary for 30 years, she is currently working on another erotic romance, as well as a full-length romantic mystery/suspense. She has been married for 30 years and has three grown children (a daughter and twin sons), and is a new grandmother. Writing as Tess Maynard, her first published short story appeared in the ezine, The Whispering Forest, in January of 2004. Writing as Adrianna Dane, where adding sensual heat to romance is her motto, Esmerelda’s Secret was her first foray into the erotic romance genre. Having traveled and lived from the East Coast to the West Coast, Theresa receives inspiration for her stories from a variety of sources, including music and poetry, and her tastes are eclectic. For more information about current projects, visit Theresa’s web sites at: www.tessmaynard.com or www.adriannadane.com *

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Don’t miss The Exile: A Seductive Tale, by Adrianna Dane, available at Amber-Allure.com!

The Brotherhood of the Midnight Pearl… An island known as the Isle of Men, a place where passion among men is the rule—the only rule… Linus Masterson, once a powerful man of authority, has left the isolated, mystical Isle of Men to return to mainland life. He left Mannos because of love and desire for one man, an initiate, he couldn’t truly possess, but now he meets another man who reminds him of the object of his desire from paradise. Sam, a young, attractive waiter, wearing the double pearl earring, marking him a mainland member of the Brotherhood of the Midnight Pearl, draws Linus’s heated attention. Sam’s a man meant for pleasure and Linus is determined to show him how good it can be at the hands of an immortal, experienced authoritarian. Linus can only hope that in the arms of his new lover he will return to the paradise he had thought forever lost…

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