It`s time for Tuesday Tales.
Today we have an excerpt from Reflections of Cypress, Love’s Journeys #2.
Please do bear in mind that these snippets are unedited so please be kind if you find any mistakes.
This story may have gay erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!
“Shit.” I jumped up, threw some cash on the table, and rushed back out into the blazing sun to find Donvino making his way down a little footpath to the river. I ran after him, eager to avoid him going ass over Merlot down into the river and drowning. Sure, it might be low but a person could drown in a teaspoonful full of water or so Nanny Ingrid used to tell me. Which lead to a year of me being terrified of teaspoons. Gods I so disliked that woman. “Would you please slow down?”
“I will wait for always for you my beloved Arlo,” he called over his shoulder, tipping his head back to take a slug of wine then falling ass over Merlot – called it – into the fucking river. Yelping in fright, I skittered down the rocky path, red dust kicking up as I skidded downward to Donvino lying in a pool of lethargic water. He rolled to his back, sat up, and frowned at the bottle of wine which was now empty of wine but filled with brackish water. “Well fuck.”
He chucked the wine bottle to the bank then lay down, the current so slow it was barely moving. The water curled around his ears as I stood on the bank panting, my hand over my heart, as the cypress trees lining the waterway shimmied on the rivers reflective surface.
“Are you okay?” I asked, hunkering down to place my hand on his thick thigh. His clothes were soaked but he seemed uninjured. My heart was thudding madly in my breast.
“No, Arlo, not so fine. Will you sit with me?”
“In the water?! This vest is a Donald Rey Amigo original from last year’s Paris line and—” He made a sloppy swipe to grab me but I scooted back, just far enough that his long arms couldn’t’ reach me, then I pulled out my silk hankie and placed it over a dusty, flat rock. “I’ll sit here.”
“That is good,” he murmured, moving to sit up. Water streamed out of his thick hair, rivulets sliding along his nose to tickle his lips.
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