Master's Flame (Cirque Masters)

by Joseph, Annabel

  If you missed the first two stories in the Cirque Masters series, I hope you’ll go back and check them out. The first book is Cirque de Minuit, Theo and Kelsey’s dramatic love story about overcoming mistakes and healing the ones we love. The second book is Bound in Blue, featuring a cross-continental romance between Sara and Jason, as Michel tries to come to terms with being a father. (Spoiler: it’s not easy for him.)

  Many thanks to Linzy Antoinette, Candace Blevins, Tasha L. Harrison, J. Luna Scuro, and dear Doris for reading Master’s Flame and sharing your thoughts, and thanks to my editors Lina Sacher and Audrey for helping me polish Michel and Valentina’s story to a glowing shine.

  If you liked this book, I hope you’ll be kind enough to leave a review at your favorite online site, mention the title on Facebook or Twitter, or perhaps recommend it to a friend. Without your support I couldn’t do this, so THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for reading and encouraging me. To Annabel’s Army, to all my faithful readers: You are the magic—and fire—of my days.

  Sign up for Annabel’s Naughty Newsletter at annabeljoseph.com to learn more about upcoming releases and promotions. For more frequent updates, you can follow Annabel on Twitter (@annabeljoseph) or Facebook (facebook.com/annabeljosephnovels)

  An excerpt from Training Lady Townsend, a kinky historical romance coming soon from Annabel Joseph

  The Lady Aurelia has been promised in marriage to the Marquess of Townsend since she was four and he was fourteen. Unfortunately, she grew up into a pillar of propriety while her betrothed grew up into a renowned rake. Of course, no one would expect such an unsuitable match to go forward…

  “It is a lovely day, isn’t it?” she said, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say to his daunting shoulder.

  “Yes, and a lovely party, as you mentioned some moments ago. You seem to find everything lovely. What a charming quirk.”

  Aurelia bit her lip, wishing she could quirk him right between his eyes with her slipper's heel. “I only mean to make polite conversation, Lord Townsend.”

  “Ah, well. I can do that too if I apply myself.” He tapped a finger against the sculpted edge of his jaw. “I’m delighted you’re enjoying yourself, Lady Aurelia. How kind of His Grace to host this party in our honor.”

  “You call the duke ‘His Grace’? I thought you and he were close friends.”

  “We’re longtime friends, and I’ve called him many things in the course of our history, but in such a lovely setting”—he emphasized her word with a tone of mockery—“I find myself inclined to adhere to formalities.” He gave her a speculative look. “Is that what you and your friends do there at your tea table? Gossip about me and Arlington?”

  “No, we don’t do anything of the sort. It’s only that your name comes up in conversation, now that we’re engaged.”

  “That must be a trial for you.”

  Aurelia decided not to answer. In truth, it was a trial, just like everything else about this engagement. This was the third social event they’d attended in one another’s company. The opera had been easy—they’d simply sat beside one another until they could leave. Riding in the park had been easy too, since the bustle of people and carriages made conversation impossible.

  This garden party was far too quiet, and strolling on the Marquess of Townsend’s arm felt too intimate for her tastes.

  “Out of conversation already? No more lovely topics?” he jested lightly. “We’d suit one another better if you weren’t such a mouse.”

  “I am not a mouse.”

  “Look at me and say that.”

  To her chagrin, she realized she’d ducked her chin practically to her chest. But his closeness unsettled her, no matter how she tried to ignore it. His conspicuous masculinity tangled her in knots. This great, ungainly man was going to be her husband. He was going to get children on her. She’d been sheltered, but she still knew how that was done. She’d heard enough tales to thoroughly flummox her.

  “I am not a mouse,” she repeated, almost managing to meet his gaze.

  “They call you Lady Dormouse. Did you know that?”

  “I do not care. And it’s not a gentlemanly thing to point it out.”

  “Ah, but I’m not much of a gentleman. How poorly we suit each other. It’s a shame.”

  “Cry off on our betrothal then,” she said through tight lips. “I wish you would.”

  “I wish I could. I’ve tried to think of ways to do it, but there are more powerful forces than us forming this union.” He paused and turned to her, tilting up her chin with one gloved fingertip. “Besides that, I find you too fragile and innocent to ruin. It would weigh on my conscience.”

  His lofty expression made her cross. “I thought you abhorred my fragility and innocence.”

  “Abhorred is a strong word. No, Aurelia, fragility and innocence aren’t bad qualities in a wife. At least I’ll know no one has trespassed before me when I mount you on our wedding night.”

  She drew in a breath as delicately as she could, when what she really needed to do was gasp for air. Of all the inappropriate and coarse things to say! She moved to pull away from him, to flee, but his grip tightened on her hand.

  “Does my forthright speech trouble you, my lady?”

  “You know it does,” she said between her teeth. “You...you impolite blackguard.”

  “Oh, dear, is that the best you can do? Lady Dormouse indeed. You ought to call me a bastard instead. A bleeding bastard, if you really want to make a point.”

  “Ladies don’t talk that way. Gentlemen shouldn’t either.”

  “And gentlemen shouldn’t speak of mounting their brides. I know. That doesn’t change the fact that it shall happen very shortly, my Aurelia.” He paused, gazing down as she considered him with a stricken expression. “I’ll make it good for you, darling. Don’t worry.”

  She wanted to spit at him that she wasn’t worried, but the truth was, she was terrified. Her gaze dropped to his neatly tied cravat, down to his broad shoulders and chest. When she looked back up to meet his eyes, he wore a self-satisfied expression.

  “You only spend time with me because it gives you the opportunity to taunt me.” She looked away, wishing him to hell.

  “In what way am I taunting you? I’m trying to reassure you.”

  “By threatening to mount me?”

  He made a sound of muted reproach. “It’s not a threat. It’s what’s going to happen in precisely eight days. I’ve been counting down the hours until our wedding night. Such is my hunger to possess you.”

  “I want to return to my friends.”

  “Look at me and smile then. We must convince people we are happy to marry, not trapped in some unwanted and ill-conceived betrothal.”

  She skirted a bed of colorful blooms, trying to smile, and failing. “If you hadn’t dragged me into the woods at your parents’ ball we might have found a way to convince them how unsuited we are. They might have allowed us to marry others of our station.”

  “Like your precious Lord Everett? It would never have happened, I promise you. At any rate, I have a larger cock. I’ve seen his. Impressive, but not quite up to my—”

  “Oh, no, please.” She pressed her hands over her ears, knocking her hat askew in the process. “I beg you, don’t speak of such things to me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because. You know why.” He was impossible. He refused to converse with any modicum of respect. “Can we not reference anything to do with your—your thing—and what shall happen on our wedding night? Can we not discuss it any more until the hour is at hand?”

  He turned her to face him and set her hat to rights, biting one side of his lip in concentration. She closed her eyes rather than stare at his mouth, then opened them with a start when he brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear.

  “I wonder why you have such a negative regard for the act of sexual congress. It makes me wonder if you haven’t already been mounted by some brute who didn’t know what he wa
s about.”

  “I have never been m-mounted before,” she protested, flushing hot. “I am perfectly pure.”

  “Are you? Then you’re too pure to realize that being perfectly pure is a very dull state indeed. Do you like when I touch your ear?”

  His fingertips lingered, heating the sensitive skin beneath her lobe. She set her teeth and shook her head. “No, I don’t like it.”

  “What if I stroked it instead, like this?”

  His fingers moved again, not just touching this time, but caressing. She suppressed an instinctive shudder, knowing he watched. She could feel his dark eyes upon her even though she averted her gaze. The strange lilt in his voice, the rasp of his words, the slowness of his caress, the nearness of his body, all of it combined to affect her in some novel, disturbing way.

  “I wish you would stop,” she said, meaning to draw a halt to this.

  “No, you wish I would continue,” he murmured. “Don’t tell lies.”

  She blinked, confused and ashamed, because she did wish it. But she also wished for him to stop. People might be watching, which embarrassed her, but truly, what would they care? They would find it romantic and appropriate, for her fiancé to be touching her this way.

  “Please, you disturb me so,” she whispered.

  “Do I?” His hand went still, left her and dropped to his side. “Then perhaps there’s hope for the two of us after all.”

  An excerpt from the m/m romantic suspense trilogy My Brother’s Keeper by Adrienne Wilder

  The town of Gilford has a Big and Terrible secret hidden in the ground.

  Infecting those it touches.

  Exploiting their darkness.

  Consuming their souls.

  It’s hungry. It’s vile. It’s evil.

  And it wants out.

  Book One: The First Three Rules

  Marshal Jon Foster lost his purpose and his sanity the day he saw the image of his dead brother. The distraction saved Jon’s life but cost the lives of innocent people including his best friend and partner. It was a price for survival Jon couldn’t live with and was sure he’d never understand.

  Driven by grief and guilt he tried to escape his past by fleeing to a small town in the middle of nowhere. Only instead of peace, the memories festered. Then the offer of a stick of gum from a stranger changes Jon’s life and puts him on a road out of the nightmare he’s trapped in.

  Ellis Harper has lived the past twenty years isolated from the outside world and sole caretaker for his mentally disabled brother, Rudy. While Ellis loves his brother, he longs for a life he’ll never be able to have.

  Shut away, his days consist of chores, endless cartoons, and games of Go Fish. A world that seemed to have no end until an innocent misunderstanding turns Ellis and his brother into a target for a town bully. It’s a fight Ellis can never win on his own but thanks to a chance meeting with a stranger, he doesn’t have to.

  What begins as a new journey in love for both men quickly unfolds into something neither of them could have ever imagined.

  Ellis thought of Jon’s soft lips, his gentle hands, and how his touch dancing across his skin made him shiver.

  He gripped the doorjamb hard enough to make his fingers ache. What else could Jon do to him? What other memories could he burn into Ellis’s mind to leave him hurting when he left? The list would be endless.

  Since he was already going to suffer, why stop at a kiss? “Jon?” His voice trembled.

  “Yeah?”

  “I think I might like your help, after all.” He hobbled in the direction of the bathroom. Jon would either follow or he wouldn’t.

  Ellis stood in the middle of the bathroom with his back to the door. The hinges creaked and a cool draft rolled over his bare feet. The light came on. Ellis squinted but the excruciating pain he expected didn’t happen. Jon shut the door, and a long line of warmth pressed against Ellis’s body.

  A caress brushed the back of Ellis’s neck. Jon slipped his fingers under the hem of Ellis’s shirt, feathering a touch across his stomach. The contact all but blistered. Close to Ellis’s ear, Jon said, “Bath or shower?”

  With Jon so close, his hands on Ellis’s flesh, he didn’t know.

  Jon grazed the shell of Ellis’s ear with his teeth. The sharpness traveled down his body, striking him in his groin.

  Jon eased Ellis’s shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor.

  “You still haven’t answered me.” Jon licked a hot wet line across Ellis’s shoulder. There no longer seemed to be enough air in the room. “Do you want me to choose for you?”

  Ellis nodded and Jon turned on the spigot, filling the room with the sound of rushing water. He pulled the valve. The pipes rattled until silenced by the hush of spraying water.

  Clouds of steam turned the air white. Jon made no attempt to conceal his erection, straining the front of his pants. Ellis stared, not knowing what else to do.

  Jon unbuttoned the pajama top he wore and slipped it off.

  Should Ellis touch Jon, not touch him? And where? How? Jon pulled Ellis’s chin up and pressed their lips together. Ellis didn’t hesitate to welcome Jon’s tongue. He put an arm around Ellis’s back and pulled him closer. The long hard length of Jon’s cock rode against Ellis’s hip. Jon rocked forward, creating delicious friction where his thigh pressed between Ellis’s legs. He wanted somewhere to put his hands and settled on Jon’s upper arms. His hold tightened and he probed Ellis’s mouth deeper with his tongue.

  Ellis needed to breathe and at the same time he didn’t care if he never did again.

  Jon stepped back and the hunger in his gaze gripped Ellis’s insides.

  “Are you sure you’re okay for this?” Jon said.

  “Yeah.”

  “We can wait.”

  “I’m okay. I am. Just don’t stop.”

  “I’m going to take your pants off now.”

  Pants. Ellis used to know what those were, but he couldn’t think. All he could do was feel, and every nerve in his body came alive with fire.

  Jon knelt in front of Ellis and placed a kiss on one side of his navel then licked a line to his hip. When he stopped, Jon looked at Ellis like he was waiting for something.

  Since touching Jon seemed to please him before, Ellis ran his fingers over the stubble on Jon’s jaw. Ellis shouldn’t have been able to hear the rasping sound over the roar of water. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’d imagined it. Maybe he was imagining all of this.

  If he was he hoped he never woke up.

  Jon loosened the ties on Ellis’s pajama bottoms, tugged, and they fell away, forming puddles of fabric around his ankles. A wet spot had already formed on the front of Ellis’s underwear.

  Jon took more time pulling those down. Ellis closed his eyes unable to stand the sight of his cock, hard, leaking, and so close to Jon’s mouth.

  His touch slid up Ellis’s thighs to the juncture of his hips. Jon wrapped his fingers around the base. The pressure made Ellis whimper.

  “Look at me, Ellis.”

  Ellis shook his head.

  “Open your eyes and look at me.” The strength in Jon’s words gave Ellis the courage. Jon smiled and flicked his tongue across the head of Ellis’s cock.

  He threw his head back. The ache in his balls condensed. “Oh, God.” Jon closed his mouth over the head. The heat, the wet, the suction. Ellis couldn’t hold back. He barked out a cry and came. The surge of pleasure echoed through his entire body, washing away the pain left in his head and the ache in his side.

  His entire life.

  Embarrassment replaced the euphoria. Ellis’s face burned and he fought to hold back the tears stinging his eyes. He was far more successful at that than controlling his body’s need to come. He bit his lip, making the cut hurt.

  “Ellis.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Ellis. I told you to look at me.” Jon’s hands tightened on Ellis’s hips. He couldn’t. He would never be able to look at Jon again.

  The warmth o
f Jon’s body traveled upward and he cupped Ellis’s face. His wet lips pressed against Ellis’s. This time, when Jon invaded Ellis’s mouth there was a bitter salty flavor. Ellis opened his eyes and Jon broke the kiss. Cum coated his chin and part of his cheek. A perfectly round dot stuck to his eyebrow.

  He dragged his finger through the smear close to his mouth and sucked his finger clean. A breath shuddered out of Ellis and he trembled.

  “Let’s get in the shower before the hot water runs out.”

  Ellis climbed in, facing the wall while Jon undressed and joined him.

  I have to do this. I can do this. I’m not going to give up this chance.

  Ellis picked up the soap and the washcloth, but they’d become alien objects that he had no idea how to use.

  Jon took them. With his arms around Ellis, Jon worked a lather in his hands.

  Soap bubbled between Jon’s thick fingers and ran in clumps down his wrists. Slick like that, how would they feel running down Ellis’s body? What else could Jon do with them and would he?

  Jon put the soap back on the tray and swiped the cloth up Ellis’s arms, to his chest, down to his cock. On the way back up, he stopped at one of Ellis’s nipples. Jon made small circles over the bud with his thumb.

  Jon kissed the back of Ellis’s neck.

  “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

  Sex. Ellis tried to wrap his mind around the thought. He knew what it entailed, but, at the same time, it seemed impossible.

  “Or maybe you want more of my mouth?” Jon grazed Ellis’s shoulder with his teeth. The sharpness made Ellis push back against Jon. His grip tightened and he growled. The sound echoed though Ellis’s chest.

  Jon rolled his hips and his thick cock slid along Ellis’s crack. How could something that big even fit? It would hurt. It could only hurt.

  “Talk to me.”

  Ellis wanted Jon. He wanted the man close, wanted his touch, but now, the reality of what Jon expected strangled Ellis’s courage. He shouldn’t have done this because he had no idea how to do what Jon desired.