A Little Filth to get you Through~

And now, I would like to bring to you a little Excerpt from Selah March’s novella, Seven Year Ache in the Amber Pax You Make Me Live collection.

Take one bitter, unforgiving Montana rancher. Add a washed-up one-hit country music wonder afflicted with low self-esteem. Mix in a ranch cook with a painful secret in her past. Bake in the hot August sun until steamy. Will serve three.

EXCERPT from Chapter 5 of Seven Year Ache:

“Jamie?”

“Huh?”

“Everything all right?” Rafe came around to stand in front of him, and there was no way for Jamie to hide his hard-on. It stood between them like Goddamn flagpole. He tried to smile, laugh it off, but Rafe’s eyes ate him up like a starving man, and all Jamie wanted was to reach out and snag a hand around his neck and pull him up close.

But he didn’t have to, because Rafe stepped forward ’til there was only a whisper of space between them. ‘Til the head of Jamie’s cock brushed Rafe’s stomach, and Rafe’s breath was warm and damp on his chest. Then they were moving together, Rafe stepping forward and Jamie walking backward ’til he felt the cold metal of the shower door against his ass.
“In,” Rafe said, “Into the damn shower, Jamie. Now.”

Jamie fumbled for the latch and nearly fell into the stall when the door came open behind him. “Christ, Rafe. What the fuck are we doin’?”

Which made him an idiot, because he’d started it, popping a boner from out of nowhere. He’d started it, and now he reckoned Rafe was gonna finish it. And maybe that was fine with Jamie and maybe it wasn’t, but he wouldn’t back down. He’d see it through to wherever it led.

“I dunno, Jamie, what the fuck are we doing?” Rafe said and laid a quick, hard kiss on him. “You wanna talk about it?” There was a gleam in his eye, all wicked beneath his arched brow.

Jamie shook his head. He didn’t know what he wanted, but it sure as fuck wasn’t talk.

Rafe tongued at the hollow of his throat and dug his blunt fingernails into the middle of his back. “You sure? ‘Cause maybe we should…you know…discuss it.”

Jamie shook his head again, struck altogether dumb by the sensations spiking through him. After a second or two he unstuck his mouth long enough to say, “Think you know better. Now cut the shit.”

Rafe smiled up at him, sharp enough to flay his face off and said, “You’re the boss,” before reaching around to turn on the water and grab the bar of soap. Next thing Jamie knew, he was pumping his hips, looking for friction as Rafe stroked his dick with a loose, slippery grip.

“Cocksucking-motherfucking-son-of-a-bitch.”

Rafe laughed, low and filthy, like grounds at the bottom of a rusty percolator. “Where’d you learn that language, JT?”

“Same place I learned most things, and don’t — oh, fucking hell — don’t call me that.” Jamie looked down and saw that Rafe’s cock had joined the party, curving high and tight against his belly and looking like it would appreciate a little attention. He reached past Rafe for the soap, lathered up his hand and  wrapped it around Rafe’s, shifting ’til both their dicks were inside the clasp of their palms. Then it was a slow, dirty grind, all slick rhythm around jumping heat. Harsh breathing that steamed the air around them, and Jamie choking on Rafe’s name. The water had gone lukewarm, sluicing over them.

“Rafe…God, Rafe, please…” He didn’t know what he was begging for, but he wanted it bad. He felt like someone had replaced his blood with gasoline, and Rafe’s touch on his cock was a burning match. And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he started to talk. “Only you, Rafe. Only ever been you. You gotta know that.”

“Huh?” Rafe’s hand slowed to a stop. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

Jamie should’ve noticed the new tone in his voice — something more than just the return of his country-bumpkin accent. Should’ve thought about what he was saying and how Rafe might react.

“Roseanna said we had to wait ’til after the wedding, and I was fine with that, so…” He shrugged and rocked his hips, trying to force Rafe to move again.

But now Rafe seemed determined to talk after all, and when he spoke, he sounded like he was choosing his words with more care than was common for him. “What are you telling me, exactly?”

Jamie swallowed. Too late to back out. “I’m tellin’ you that you’re the only one I’ve ever been with…this way.”

“You’re saying you’re a–” Rafe stopped cold, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to say the word.

“A virgin. Sort of, I guess. I mean, that time with you out behind the Hotspot counts for something, right? And me and Roseanna — well, we weren’t saints. We fooled around some. Just didn’t go all the way. I mean, I wouldn’t propose marriage to a woman unless I thought I could…do the job.”

Rafe’s hand tightened on their two cocks, pressing them together. It felt good, but Jamie got the feeling Rafe didn’t even know it. He was too busy staring at him like he’d just said he’d been born on the planet Krypton. “But you never fucked anybody? You’re twenty-fucking-eight years old, Jamie.”

Jamie nodded. What could he say? It was a fact. “This gonna be a problem for us?”

Rafe looked at him for a long, tense moment. Then his face changed — his mouth relaxing and the line between his eyes going away. He shook his head. “No. No, it’s not.”

Jamie squeezed his hand around where Rafe clutched them both. Rafe took the hint and started moving again, slow but gaining speed. Still, it wasn’t quite the way it’d been just a minute ago. Something was off…in the way Rafe held his shoulders, the way he tilted his head away…

Jamie leaned forward and licked a line up the side of Rafe’s throat. He heard Rafe’s breathing hitch and stutter, and felt a shiver run through him. His cock surged, feeling hot and hard as new-forged iron in Jamie’s hand. Yeah, that was more like–

“JT? Rafe?” Aunt Cindy’s high-pitched voice echoed through the big main room of the barn.

Rafe froze. Then they both pushed away, Jamie nearly landing on his ass as he scrambled backward. The shower door stood open, and the wayward spray had soaked their already soggy shirts and jeans and boots. Worse, Jamie’s cock still waved big and purple in front of him, and Cindy was getting closer, chattering at them all the while.

“You boys about done? We saved you some lunch, and the guests are askin’ about the dance tonight. We might have to talk about a caravan and designated drivers if a whole bunch of ‘em want to–”

Rafe reached out and slammed the shower door just as she turned the corner.

“We’ll be out directly, Aunt Cindy,” Jamie called.

“Oh. Well.” There was a pause, and then the sound of her voice going away again. “All right then. See you in a few minutes.”

Rafe gave a loud bark of laughter that held no humor in it. Jamie reached for him, curling a hand around his neck. The other man’s body felt like a coiled spring. Jamie glanced down and saw Rafe’s cock had gone half-soft.

“Jamie, I think we’d better–”

“Yeah.” Jamie nodded and let his hand slide off Rafe’s wet skin. “Yeah, all right. Whatever.” Ignoring the ache in his dick and balls and belly. Ignoring the bigger one in his chest.

“Sorry.” Rafe ducked his head, staring at the grungy stall floor. “Doesn’t feel right. I shouldn’t've started anything.”

“Sure,” Jamie said, and was surprised at how calm and distant his own voice sounded. Like he didn’t give a shit one way or the other. “Why don’t you go on up to the house? Tell Aunt Cindy I’ll be there in a few.”

Rafe didn’t look at him. Didn’t apologize again. Just nodded and left the stall.

Jamie reached out and turned off the water. He listened close and could hear the soft noise of Rafe rubbing a towel over his body and yanking on jeans, a shirt and his boots, and then his footfalls on the floorboards, fading as he left the barn.

Jamie took hold of his dick and pulled at it, quick and hard, rougher than usual. When he came, his climax was just as brutal, but he
didn’t like it much. It felt a lot like giving up.