Join Prism Book Alliance® as Edmond Manning goes Outside the Margins today.
Because Come Back To Me won SECOND PLACE in the 2016 Rainbow Awards in the Erotic Romance category, I decided to celebrate by sharing narrator Vin Vanbly’s seduction of his soon-to-be lifelong love, Mark. Seemed fitting. In this scene, Vin has just met Mark (who he has only chatted with online) from a convenience store parking lot, and driven him back to a cheap, filthy motel…
The motel is a run-down piece of crap, a haphazard construction in a U formation, individual rooms cut from the long rows, like stingy pieces of birthday cake. Or maybe this place washed ashore from the nearby ocean, perhaps after a few years rotting at the bottom. The siding’s fat vinyl slats evolved into tired gray yet remain colorless at the same time. A weak orange neon sign blinks VACANCY, and the poor sign must get no rest because there’s no way this place would ever be fully occupied. I wanted a cheap motel with cheap walls. I want temporary neighbors to hear him groan and beg and howl when it happens. I want this night to be trashy and mind-blowing.
I’m gonna bareback him. No condoms.
Shit. Can I do this?
I navigate the parking lot, avoiding plastic take-out containers and splatters which may have once been food.
“Is this place even open?” Mark chuckles nervously, trying to initiate conversation again.
“Bring the beer.”
We walk the wet, black pavement in silence, him trailing me, following my lead. Even the parking lines are geriatric, faded to the point of irrelevance.
Using the motel’s one concession to the modern world, I stick a plastic card into the slot to unlock Room 1_1—what I assume is meant to be Room 111, since the middle digit has gone AWOL. I send him in first. Get in there. Feel it. Absorb the squalor of this skanky room where you lose your virginity.
Once inside, he pauses, unsure what to do with himself. Should he sit on the bed, or will I pounce on him there? Set down the beer? But where? Or maybe he should start out kneeling…he just doesn’t know. He glances around the room, stalling.
I like his confusion.
He sets the beer on the tattered floor, and several bottle necks clink together nervously, expressing hesitation regarding whether they themselves should stay. I left a dim lamp on, a beaded brown lampshade missing as many beads as it possesses, but it might have been more of a kindness to leave the room dark. The wide, sunken bed does not inspire comfort; the stained carpet does not encourage going barefoot. Nothing in here suggests relaxation. Cigarette burns aligned atop the cheap plywood desk, suggesting someone waited impatiently. The whole history of seedy, gritty residents has conspired to leave behind their indelible print and oily residue. It’s disgusting. I love it. I belong here. The perfect home for a Lost King.
From behind, I breathe against his neck. It’s too dim to see the tiny hairs rise, but I feel them against my stubble. My arms fold around his stomach, thick hands meeting on his belly, and I pull him in to my chest.
“Relax,” I whisper. “It’s okay…it’s okay…”
He doesn’t relax; he isn’t relaxed.
While his brain is likely screaming, “Why am I here?” the rest of his body seems compelled to stay, if not relax.
I kiss the soft, olive-colored skin on his neck, rubbing the same square of flesh with my chin, while simultaneously massaging his stomach in tiny circles, letting him adjust to the feeling of me wrapped around him. He tenses when he feels my lips against him, but then he breathes, and pushes back a fraction. He melts a tiny, tiny bit. The degree he relaxes is so small, but matters so much.
After another minute of my comforting presence, my hands move in fluid motions, go under his shirt, and slowly drag it over his head. He’s shirtless in a cheap motel room with a man he met only minutes ago. His body stiffens. My hands return to his smooth, brown tummy, circling the wispy trail of hair leading to treasure below.
He’s self-conscious and nervous again, anxious about what I think of his body. I know this because I know. It’s cute, really. This adorable muscle boy is into bears…and he’s nervous about how I’ll perceive his body. Worried I might judge him and find him lacking. I feel his sudden anxiety through his shoulders, in his taut breath, in the way he shifts his legs uncomfortably.
I kiss his neck with wet lips, and he shivers.
My left hand travels his chest—more hard muscle than his shirt revealed, that’s for sure—up his neck to his chin, and I tip his head back onto my shoulder. I stroke the front of his neck, like a dog’s, while kissing him, the rough texture of my tongue tasting him, taking his measure. He tastes clean. In a room this layered with dead skin and unidentifiable odors, that’s saying something.
He’s never been with a man before. Hell, he’s never been with anyone. He’s a virgin.
I’m going to fuck a virgin without a condom.
My dick rises instantly, as if responding to an alarm. Ready.
Do it, Vin Vanbly. Be the Lost King you’ve always been. Fuck him. Fuck him and come inside him.
With my right hand, I unsnap his jeans.
His body stiffens. “I’m—I’ve never done this.”
“I know. Your body already told me.”
He moans, less moan than soft air escaping him, a secret exposed with a quiet vocalization.
My left hand joins my right and I unzip his jeans, holding him close to me. I allow the back of my thumb to graze his pouch, bulging now, lumpy and semihard if I’m not mistaken.
I’m not mistaken.
“It’s okay, baby…” I coo into his ear, “You want this…you want this…”
I push his jeans to the floor and command him to step out of them and his shoes.
He wears sexy low-rise briefs, white ones, and as he leans over to remove his jeans, I see the deeper cleft of his ass crack. My dick throbs. I can’t believe I’m going to fuck a virgin. I can’t believe at my age my dick can still squirt out precum without being jacked. This kid is really doing it for me.
“Turn around. Face me.”
Instinctively, my left hand reaches under his balls. With fingertips, I stroke them. My right hand reaches around to cup his perfect ass. My god. It’s flawless, a combination of muscle and plumpness curving into ripe perfection. No one has ever parted these cheeks!
He breathes awkwardly, staring into my eyes, trying to understand my silence.
I don’t answer him.
His eyes plead with me already, wondering how rough I’ll be, how gentle, where our mating will fall in between. Our lips are already close, but I move my head closer, and his eyes widen, as if scared we might touch. My right hand finds the crack of his ass, and I swear it’s taking all my self-control not to rip off this underwear and bite his damn ass cheek.
I speak into his parted lips. I want him to smell my warm breath.
“I’m going to give you an order. Turn around—face away from me, and slowly pull down your briefs. When you do that, Mark, you’re mine. Do you understand? Your submission is complete, and your nudity is a contract agreeing you freely give me your body to use for the night.”
“All night. All mine. No resistance. Think carefully. This night and this opportunity will never come again. Are you ready? If not, get dressed. I’ll drive you back.”
He stands before me, bewildered, recognizing a way out of this, but not sure he has the power to take it. I remove my hands from his body and take a step back.
He regards me again, and his face reveals reluctance melting into imploring. Don’t push me too far. I’m new to this. Oh, Mark. You’ve no idea what I planned for you.
Title: Come Back To Me
Author: Edmond Manning
Publisher: Pickwick Ink Publishing
Publication Date: 08/23/2016
Cover Artist: L.C. Chase
Genre: Gay Fiction
After years of lying, scheming, and dangerous manipulation, Vin Vanbly finally gets what’s coming to him: love.
How can he survive unstoppable, uncontrollable love when his very nature demands he control everything? Clues about his one true love—tantalizingly hinted at in each of the books in The Lost and Founds series—come together in four life-changing stories.
In No Kings, a sex hookup with a parking lot stranger reveals more about Vin’s life as a Lost King and his destiny than he could have dreamed. In King Fitch, Vin meets the last king in his long legacy, one final weekend before he withdraws from the world to an anonymous Latin American jungle. The Lost Ones recounts a terrifying kidnapping by street thugs from Vin’s past. In King Malcolm the Restorer, Vin’s mysterious relationship with his older brother—and the soul-crushing secret which drew them together—is finally revealed.
Through it all, Vin Vanbly struggles to survive. But what if he is destined for more than mere survival? Is he finally ready to embrace the truth and remember who he was always meant to be? Once there were a tribe where every man was the one true king and every woman the one true queen…
About Edmond ManningEdmond Manning is the author of King Perry, King Mai, The Butterfly King andFilthy Acquisitions. He spends a great deal of time standing in front of the fridge with the door open, wondering why it’s not stocked with more luncheon meats and cheese.
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