Ashton Laytham was a happy little boy until, at the age of seven, he lost his parents. Sent to Fayerweather to be brought up by his uncle and his uncle’s wife, he was perceived to be an unhappy, unlovable child. Shunned by family and servants and permitted no friends to visit, he grows to adulthood alone and aloof, with only an occasional illicit rendezvous to lighten his days. When his uncle dies, leaving the estate virtually bankrupt, it’s left to Ashton to make good on his uncle’s gaming debts and save Fayerweather. But how? The family talisman, worth thousands of pounds, has been stolen and the suspects vanished in the night, leaving Ashton to face the loss of the home he’s come to love. Geo Stephenson, who works in His Majesty’s civil service, has ghosts of his own. The product of a marriage of convenience, Geo has known all his life his father never loved his mother, and he vows that will never happen to him. Marked by a physical scar earned in battle, none of his previous lovers could bear looking at it without shuddering; his mental scars are due to the many friends lost in useless battles. Geo arrives with a fistful of Sir Eustace Laytham’s IOUs and a solution: Ashton accommodating him in bed, thereby paying off the debt. Attracted to Geo in spite of himself and desperate for any human kindness, Ashton agrees ... never expecting to lose his heart to a man who has sworn he’ll never give his. Can these two men find a measure of happiness together?

Bless Us With Content

John’s breath hitched with need. “More, love. Give me more.”


Instead, I removed my finger and began to stroke the thick, wiry hair that curled around his prick, smoothed the soft skin where thigh and groin joined. I pushed his legs back, opening him to my tender assault, and I gazed down at him.


His prick was oozing pearly drops of liquid with which I was quite familiar, and his hips thrust blindly into the air, seeking something to rub against to satisfy his maddening desire.


“Gently, my love, gently,” I whispered and leaned down to worship his prick briefly before covering my own prick with the cream and fitting it against his hole, slowly pressing forward until it accepted me. He gasped at the steady intrusion and thrashed his head back and forth upon the pillow, while I shuddered at the hot, silken ripple of muscles that tightly clasped my hardened flesh.


Chapter 21