Sizzling Excerpt #5: The last sizzling post for the month of May
One of my favorite series I wrote is my shape shifter series featuring my white tiger – Antoine – and his lover – Sentinel agent Jack Hunter. In the first book – The Tiger Within – they must work together to track down and kill a beast. In The Hunter Within, their story continues, and Jack must decide if he goes back to his ‘old’ life or start fresh with his tiger in tow. The time period is late 1940’s – post WWII. Homosexuality is still very much hidden and abhorred. Jack has a hard time accepting his sexuality.
Here’s an except from The Hunter Within:
The situation was far worse than Antoine had first thought. Jack had retreated back into his self-hatred, and Antoine had to tread carefully, or he’d lose what they’d gained in the short time they were together. Not more than a few weeks spent as a couple, first in France, then in New York, after they had killed Le Bête and Eidolon escaped their grasp. But oh, what times they had shared—in and out of the bedroom. Jack had shown Antoine his favorite haunts in the city, taking him to a jazz club, McSorley’s Old Ale House, and walks in Central Park. They even took in a baseball game—a silly sport, but Jack had loved every second of it, and Antoine loved seeing Jack happy.
He caressed Jack’s stubbly cheek and then stole closer, his lips barely touching Jack’s mouth. Their breaths mingled. He could smell Jack’s smoky scent, feel the tension in his stiff back.
“Why can’t you just leave it?” Jack asked, his voice cracking.
“Because, khalid, I love you.”
Jack sat stock-still, his mouth parted, his breathing rapid. The teal eyes darkened.
“Je t’aime.” Antoine would say it in every language if he had to. He kissed the side of Jack’s mouth, and Jack flinched but didn’t push him away, so Antoine forged on. “It stabs me in the heart knowing you are ashamed of us.’”
“We’re two fucking men.”
Jack’s frustration assaulted Antoine. He buffered against it as best he could. “Yes, we are men, and thank God. We can manage. Come live with me. France is more accepting. My home is secluded, quiet. We can live a full, rich life there.”
Jack rested his hand on Antoine’s shoulder. “If we live that long…”
“Always the pessimist.”
“One of these days we’ll slip up.”
“I will not let anyone harm you.” Eidolon flashed in Antoine’s mind, but he brushed away the image. He captured Jack’s mouth, tired of his lover’s subterfuge. He thrust in his tongue, deep and thorough.
Jack opened up for him, and his taste hit the back of Antoine’s throat. It lit a bonfire in his groin. It had been too long, and he was too greedy for slow and easy.
Jack struggled, but Antoine held his waist. He broke off the kiss and brushed his lips near Jack’s ear. “I will not let you escape so easily. You want this. Need it. Need me.”
“Damn you.” Jack grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him back, and Antoine inwardly smiled at how quickly Jack’s reticence turned into passion. His lover never refused him in the end.
He shoved Jack onto his back, then straddled his waist. He raised Jack’s arms over his head and held down his lover’s wrists with one hand. What a sight. Jack’s chest heaved, and his eyes glared with undisguised desire.
Antoine slipped off the tie, smiling as he thought of how he could bind Jack’s hands or maybe blindfold him, but he knew that would be too much for his hunter. At least for now, and he dropped it to the floor.
One by one, he unbuttoned Jack’s shirt, then pulled aside the fabric. Hardened nipples peeked out from a dusting of brown chest hair, an invitation to touch. He skimmed his palm across Jack’s stomach, loving how Jack’s muscles rippled under his hand.
Jack moaned. “You play dirty.”
“And you let me.”
His khalid was all masculine hardness—nothing effeminate about Jack Hunter. Tall, commanding, with a rock-hard body defined by years of a soldier’s training and showing the faint scars of battle.
He released his grip so he could unzip Jack’s trousers, and he shoved them down around his knees, along with his briefs. Jack let out a low growl. After freeing his own dick, Antoine lay spread-eagle on top of Jack, pinning him to the bed, and forced his arms back above his head once again. He licked Jack’s square jaw and pressed his lips to the dimple, then dipped his tongue into the recess. He cupped the side of Jack’s face, stubble roughing his palms. He loved coarse skin, firm muscles, and the hot, hot clench between cocks.
Jack bucked his hips, firing up the friction between them.
Antoine had won this battle. Jack wanted this as badly—needed this as badly.