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THE VERANDA
LAVENDER SHORES BOOK 3
BY
AUTHOR ROSALIND ABEL
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SYNOPSIS
Donovan Carlisle helps countless people in Lavender Shores with his skills as a therapist. It seems, however, that his ability to enable others to live their happiest life only works outside of himself. Donovan truly loves his life, but isn’t able to find a relationship that satisfies his heart’s craving. Maybe the problem is that the only man he wants is off-limits.
Spencer Epstein came to Lavender Shores to find himself. Instead, he married one of the local town beauties. He’d thought his prayers had finally been answered. Then, he met his pregnant fiancée’s brother. It turned out those answered prayers were just cruel twists of fate.
A decade later, after a divorce and the crumbling of all Spencer thought was set in stone, he sees his brother-in-law at a masquerade sex party. He takes full advantage of the anonymity and acts on the desires he’s held at bay all those years. The problem is, those silent and frenzied moments didn’t satiate anything. The fire and heat between the two men only grows as secrets are uncovered and they must determine if the cost of their passion is too high...
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In this chapter, Spencer, who is a lawyer, is giving Spencer a tour of his work. Let’s just say, Spencer gets quite a bit more than he’d imagined…
Donovan’s eyes grew wider with each step we took on the tour of my firm. I nearly thought they were going to pop out when he realized the law firm filled the top three stories of the high-rise. It was kind of cute.
He’d kept his Friday afternoon free of clients so we could start our San Francisco weekend a few hours early. Donovan started out the tour nervous, finally meeting my coworkers. By the time we were done, I could feel that my head was a little bit swollen by his awe and the pride I heard in his voice as I introduced him to people.
Giving a tour to a new client was typical, but I normally explained what the client was there for or why I was introducing them. With Donovan, I didn’t give an explanation. The obvious assumption would be that he was a client. And if they assumed something else? Well, that’s what the weekend was. Us not having to worry about what anyone else thought.
As I brought him to my office, my assistant pulled me back to clarify something about one of the cases. Donovan went on in while I chatted with her for a few minutes. I made certain to emphasize that I didn’t want to be interrupted from that point on, by anyone. That the things we were discussing trumped any case that might rear its head. As I joined Donovan, I locked the door, just to be sure. He was leaning by the wall of windows, and he glanced back as I entered but then returned to the view. “This is what you see every day? I bet on clear days, you can even see the Golden Gate Bridge.”
“That’s true. I’ll have to bring you back up here at night. That’s my favorite time.” I joined him by the window, standing behind and wrapping my hands around his waist, holding him to me. He leaned against me, and I marveled at how natural it was already.
“Well, that puts what I see outside of my window to shame. There is a squirrel that comes by every once in a while. Sometimes I think he’s waving at me. So, there is that.”
I chuckled and tightened my embrace.
“Lavender Shores is so upscale most of the time that I feel fairly cosmopolitan, plus I make it into the city frequently enough. Coming up here, seeing you like this, everybody in suits, I feel like I’m from a hick town.”
“I hardly think Lavender Shores qualifies as a hick town. That would be like saying Restoration Hardware is a Walmart.”
He shuddered.
I chuckled again. “There’s that founding family sensibility that you try to hide so well.”
He tried to twist and look at me, but I held him close, refusing to loosen my grip, enjoying the feel of his muscular back against my chest. “I’ve seen your suits, Spencer. You didn’t get those at Walmart.”
“I’ve noticed you have a thing for suits. Don’t pretend that you aren’t a little hard at touring three floors of men in suits.” I lowered my hand, grazing his groin. “See? I told you so.”
“That’s because”—he tilted his hips back so they rubbed against me—“I felt your erection pressing into me since you got in here.” He reached back between us and gave me a squeeze. “But you in a suit? That’s about as porn-worthy as it gets.”
He’d read my mind. I moved my hands to his belt, and began to unfasten it.
He stiffened, though didn’t move until I had his pants unbuttoned and the zipper all the way down. “What are you doing?”
The breathless quality of his voice said that he knew exactly what I was doing, but I played along. “What does it feel like I’m doing?” I pulled his pants down, letting them fall around his thighs and palmed his hard-on over his underwear.
“We’re in front of an entire wall of windows.”
“I know.” I slid his underwear to join his pants around his knees. “It’s four thirty on Friday. Trust me, anybody watching from the other office buildings will appreciate this pick-me-up.” I pressed into him, pushing him against the window.
He sucked in a breath, but I wasn’t sure if it was excitement or the contact with the cold glass, probably both. “But—”
Gripping his hips firmly, I knelt to one knee, and cut short any concern he had by running my tongue between his asscheeks. This time when he gasped, I didn’t have to wonder about the reason. I licked him again, and he trembled. “Spread your legs for me.”
There was a moment’s hesitation, and then he spread wide. He’d taught me a few things over the past week as I’d explored his body nearly every night and I’d committed each of those lessons of what he loved to heart—licking the tender skin of his opening, blowing, daring to push my tongue in farther and farther. With each new ministration, Donovan’s whimpers grew louder and more frenzied. I knew he was trying to keep it quiet with all the people in the office on the other side of the door, and it was amazing bringing him so close to losing control.
“Spencer, I’m about to come.”
I leaned back from his ass, feeling a bit dazed, I hadn’t even realized he’d been jerking off. I grabbed his pumping arm from behind, pressed him against the glass, and held it still. “Don’t you dare. We’re not even close to that yet.”
He let out an agonized groan, but I didn’t relent. I’d noticed Donovan liked being told what to do sexually from time to time. And he wasn’t exactly subtle about his arousal at men in suits. I figured it was high time to combine those into an orgasm he’d never forget. And merely pushing him up against the window and eating his ass for all of San Francisco to see was not what I had in mind.
“You good?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, and I wondered what the cleaning crew would think of the smudges on the window that evening.
“Good man.” I stood, walked away from him, and sat behind my desk.
Donovan stared after me, still standing at the window. After a second he took a couple steps back from the glass and started to pull up his underwear and pants.
I shook my head at him. “Oh no you don’t. Take them off.”
He hesitated, halfway bent over. “What are you doing?”
“The question isn’t what I’m doing; it’s what you’re doing.” I could barely keep from laughing; I felt a little silly trying this role-play.
He glanced toward the closed office door. “There’s about thirty people out there. And we have to go soon. Our dinner reservations are—”
“Do I look like I care about dinner?” I gestured toward the office door. “And, we can be quiet. But if they happen to hear something….” I shrugged. “They’ll just be jealous they’re not me.” Maybe I was pushing things too far.
Donovan looked back and forth between me, the office door, window, then back at me. Then, nervously, he took off his shoes, and stepped out of his pants and underwear. He started to remove his socks.
“No, leave those on.”
He hesitated again, licked his lips, and then straightened, standing tall. If his straining erection jutting through the opening in his shirttails was any indication, I wasn’t forcing things too far.
And judging from my own erection screaming to get out of my pants, I was enjoying this just as much as I figured I would. After all these years, it was time to fulfill some of the fantasies I’d tried so hard to keep at bay. “Stroke yourself for me.”
His pause was briefer this time, and he wrapped his long fingers around his shaft and began to stroke. His enjoyment was obvious as he wasn’t pumping trying to orgasm, but showing off.
This had been all to try to fulfill a fantasy for Donovan, but watching the man I desired for so long, standing in my office, all my coworkers a few feet away, and the entire city of San Francisco in view, I realized I might be getting more out of this than he was. He looked like a fucking sex god, those muscled legs flexing as he stroked his long, thick erection, swiping his fingers over the head and smearing his precome over his shaft, his chest muscles twitching beneath his shirt, and his fully lust-filled gaze boring into me. It took every ounce of self-control to not unzip my pants and join him. It was only through reminding myself that this was for him that allowed me to endure. But I wasn’t going to last as long as originally intended.
I swiveled my chair, clearing the edge of the desk and spread my legs wide. “Come closer.”
Donovan crossed the office, stroking his dick with every step, and came to stop within arm’s reach of me. He didn’t say anything. Yeah, he was enjoying being told what to do.
“Leave your dick alone.”
He did.
I already knew what I was going to tell him to do next, the true test to see if he really would do anything I asked, but I got distracted by his freed erection. I stared, watching the precome roll down his cock. I wanted to get on my knees, take him into my mouth, feel him shooting down my throat.
Again, this was his fantasy. Not mine.
Although, at this point, this was equal to any fantasy I’d ever had.
His cock twitched a couple times, which made me tremble. He must’ve noticed, because he twitched it again. I glanced up to him and saw confirmation there. He knew exactly what he was doing. Donovan was always hot, but seeing him like this, exposed in front of me, that glint of seduction in his eyes, I didn’t know he could look that good. I didn’t know anyone could look that good.
I had to force myself to get back on track. I also made certain my voice left no room for question. “Take off your shirt.”
Donovan reached up and began unbuttoning his dress shirt.
“No, not like that.”
He paused.
Here went nothing. “Rip it off.”
His brows knitted in confusion. “You want me to rip off my shirt?”
“Yes.”
“But this is what I’m wearing to the—”
It seemed I’d left room for question in my tone after all. I fixed that. “Rip it off, Donovan.”
There was another heartbeat of a pause, then he curled his fingers around the fastened hems and yanked. Buttons flew across the office, hitting the window, filing cabinets, the desk, my chest. I seriously almost orgasmed right there.
“Holy fuck.” I hadn’t meant to whisper that, but damn. “Now, take it off.”
He did, chest and shoulder muscles rippling as he pulled his arms free, and let the ruined shirt fall to the floor.
I almost considered skipping the next part of the plan, knowing that I would have to be careful to keep from coming, but I thought he’d like it, and at this point, I needed to see it, feel it, cement it in my memory. I angled my hips up, unzipped my pants and pulled my erection through my fly, leaving the belt fastened and everything else in place, and then sat back down in the office chair. “Get on your knees and blow me.”
He whimpered.
I hope you enjoyed that little excerpt. Trust me, you don’t want to miss out on the rest of that scene or traveling along side Donovan and Spencer as their love story unfolds.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rosalind Abel grew up tending chickens alongside her sweet and faithful Chow, Lord Elgin. While her fantasy of writing novels was born during her teen years, she never would have dreamed she’d one day publish steamy romances about gorgeous men. However, sometimes life turns out better than planned.
In between crafting scorching sex scenes and helping her men find their soul mates, Rosalind enjoys cooking, collecting toys, and making the best damn scrapbooks in the world (this claim hasn’t been proven, but she’s willing to put good money on it).
She adores MM Romance, the power it has to sweep the reader away into worlds filled with passion, steam, and love. Rosalind also enjoys her collection of plot bunnies and welcomes new fuzzy ones into her home all the time, so feel free to send any adorable ones her way.
CONNECT WITH ROSALIND:
Amazon Author page: http://amzn.to/2qoiuLC
Facebook Author page: http://bit.ly/2rH8C4o
Rosalind Abel Website: http://www.rosalindabel.com
Rosalind Abel Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2v6iuXI
Lavender Shores Website: http://www.lavendershores.com
Twitter: @rosalind_abel
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