"A jug of wine, a loaf of bread, and thou." Omar KhayyámVictimized by the con man he'd been married to, and grieving the death of a beloved dog, internationally known mystery writer Alan Brynton plunges into complete writers block. Needing the income, and desperate to meet his publisher's deadline, he leaves Los Angeles and rents a house in a village in the south of France. Beside the blue Rhone River, among lush vineyards in wineproducing Provence, he struggles to overcome his anger and grief to break the hold the block has on him.
When rescuing an injured dog, he meets and finds himself falling for the irresistibly charming Frenchman, Jacques Marchand. But Jacques has the same easy charm his ex had, and having been burned in his marriage, Alan no longer trusts his ability to know who a person really is. He can't risk being victimized again, but can he risk losing the intoxicating "new wine" Jacques is to him?
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...Jacques was dressed in a lightweight charcoal suit, white shirt and a tie patterned in gray and black with subtle touches of red in the design. He had the body for it, and he looked so good Alan felt his gut clench. His eyes on Alan’s, Jacques loosened the knot on his tie and tugged it loose, then slid the top button of his shirt through its buttonhole.
Alan hadn’t realized how sexy and stirring that simple movement could be. It was as devastating as any seductive Chippendales dance. His heart sputtered, then broke into a race. It clogged his throat as he watched Jacques shrug out of his suit coat and hang it beside the raincoat. Jacques ran his hands through his wet hair, and Alan’s dick responded to sudden, electric sparks of desire shooting right through him.
“I’ll get a towel.” Did he really sound so lame? Alan’s tongue had trouble forming words. His cock had no trouble filling and rising. He turned away and hurried to the bath.
Alan handed a white towel to Jacques, who dropped it over his dark hair and blotted with one hand, while his other reached for Alan and pulled him close.
“You look very sexy in your nightwear, Alan Brynton.” His gaze fell on Alan’s crotch. “I see you’re feeling sexy, too. I hope that’s all for me.”
His hand teased as it brushed over Alan’s cock before he leaned in and tilted his head enough to capture Alan’s mouth. Alan opened to him, forgetting to breathe as sensations rolled over him. The smell of Jacques’s cologne and the lingering taste of the rich wine he must’ve had for dinner made the moment real. He closed his hands over the butt he’d ridden behind and ached to touch only hours ago. The cheeks were hard and firm, but just soft enough to be squeezed. He pulled this lover tight against his groin, reveling in the stiff cock he felt enclosed in suit pants as it pressed against his.
“I’m at a disadvantage. I’m not wearing a shirt, but you are,” Alan said. He reached up and tugged until the tie’s knot came completely undone and the silky fabric fell to the floor. His hands found the rest of the buttons, and Jacques watched as his fingers slipped the rest of them out of their holes.
Jacques undid the last buttons at his wrists. He shifted restlessly as Alan pulled the shirt out of his trousers and then off his shoulders.
Alan pressed his lips to the pounding pulse beat in Jacques’s neck and grazed his skin with his teeth as he ran his hands down the pelt of dark hair covering the wide chest. He felt for a belt.
“I left it in the car.” Desire made Jacques’s voice unsteady.
Alan stilled. The impact of the words settled in. “You planned this.”
“I did, mon amour.”
Alan found his zipper, and Jacques stopped his hand. “Be very careful…my underwear’s with my belt.”
Alan thought his knees would give way with the need to hurry before he exploded and stained his pajamas. “In that case…” He slid his other hand inside and covered Jacques’s warm and inviting package as the zipper whispered its way down and his palm grew slick with pre-cum.
The towel joined the forgotten tie on the floor, and Jacques gasped at Alan’s touch. He tugged Alan’s nightwear down and spanned the smooth skin between Alan’s hipbones with his hands.
“Don’t stop there.” Alan drew in a sharp breath when fingertips and a thumb closed around his swollen and throbbing cock. In turn, he let Jacques’s low-hanging sac rest in his hand. He thumbed the shaven skin, outlining each egg-shaped orb as he caressed them.
Jacques’s hand was firm and sure as he stroked and pulled Alan’s cock up and down, making it difficult to concentrate on pleasuring Jacques when so much excitement was building in his own body. He felt echoing tremors begin in Jacques just when they surged in Alan. He squeezed the sac, felt it tighten until it was snug up against his body, and knowing Jacques was on the verge of coming, he wrapped his hand around his lover’s hard cock and pumped faster and faster...
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