Series Blog Tour & Excerpt:
More Heat Than The Sun Series
By John Wiltshire
Book 8: His Fateful Heap of Days
Out Now
Released February 26th
“Into his fateful heap of days the soul of man is cast.”
Only a few months from his fiftieth year, Nikolas is feeling a distinct wobble in his formidable certainties. Aleksey Primakov appears to have become irrelevant. All he needs, therefore, is to be dragged into an adventure with Devon’s answer to the three musketeers. How many times can he tell Ben and his moronic friends that a mutilated body buried on Dartmoor has nothing to do with them? But not only does this desecration slowly become their business, it cuts to the heart of the life they have created together. It’s just as well, perhaps, that generals never do actually retire…
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Just as Ben relaxed fractionally to give this acknowledgement, Nikolas flipped him, a sudden, explosive surge from his core, which he followed up with by pinning Ben face down in a half nelson.
The next part was always tricky because his hands were now fully occupied and unless Ben eased the clench he was clearly applying to his impressive glutes, nothing much more interesting was going to occur.
Very cautiously, in a stratagem that put to very good use his new ability to squat so impressively, Nikolas brought up one foot and tapped it experimentally on the desired object. Ben chuckled into the tight hold, so he did it again, working his toes into the protected crevice until Ben hissed and tried to dislodge him. Nikolas wasn’t just stronger, he weighed almost thirteen stone now, the heaviest he’d been since he’d met Ben, and he was more than willing to apply every ounce to his advantage. He adjusted his grip, making it a little bit painful for his captive in punishment for the escape attempt, and slid his foot lower, massaging Ben’s balls with his toes. Ben tensed again. Nikolas smirked. Ben was well aware how quickly this massage would change to something else if he complained again.
“Spread your legs.”
Ben knew it wasn’t a polite request, so his furious, “No,” was provoking. Nikolas pressed. Hard. Ben rose at the waist with a cry of distress. Nikolas was forced to readjust his hold, and then Ben was free and laughing and calling him a sap for falling for it and then he was pinned and…
…and he didn’t really care, because he was in Ben’s mouth, cock and thoughts equally, because the sensation of Ben’s lips sliding over him and the lightest touch of his cockhead to Ben’s throat was visual in its exquisite pleasure inside the darkness and privacy of his mind. Ben knew this, of course, which is how he subdued him, defeated him every time, and then he felt the thing Squeezy never had—said he had no fucking intention of ever knowing either—and Nikolas laughed at the incongruity of his life and at the knowledge that lying there, Ben Rider-Mikkelsen’s victim, plaything, conquest, was the most courageous thing he’d ever done.
It took a special kind of bravery to allow this.
Pleasantly occupied with planning to put it to his new training partner in these terms—that Squeezy was a coward, a petookh, therefore, by definition—Nikolas came, and he held Ben’s head to his chest as Ben finished off inside him, working until his whole body went tense, his breath hot and fast on Nikolas’s chest, and then the weight of him descended, still joined, still a last twitch and firing of nerves and a sticky togetherness that defined more than just which position they chose to take during sex.
Nikolas combed through Ben’s hair, enjoying the feel of the silky strands sliding between his fingers, slumber not so much calling him as beating him around the head as his mother had once done, slap, slap, until his ears had hissed with the sound of waves coming in upon the shore—he’d expected bells and had been disappointed.
But despite lying naked and dishevelled, his powerful frame wrung out and limp, Ben was clearly still far from sleep, even though it was now a little after seven in the morning. He was idly trailing a finger up and down Nikolas’s belly and ribs, a habit that always slightly annoyed Nikolas because it tickled. He seized the finger, as he always did when he could stand it no longer, and heard a huff of amusement. He bit it hard as punishment then sucked it into his mouth.
“You don’t know where that’s been.”
Nikolas mumbled around the sucking, “I think I do.”
****
More Heat Than The Sun Series
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About John:
John Wiltshire is the pen name. The author was born in England, but she travelled widely whilst serving in the British Army, living in the States and Canada and Europe. She retired at the rank of Major, and finally settled in New Zealand.
To date the author has written 14 novels.
Connect with John:
http://johnwiltshire.co.nz
https://www.facebook.com/johnwiltshire.nz
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