The Master Series Book 1: Devil's Spawn

The Master Series Book 1: Devil's Spawn

Sarah Masters

The Master Series

Price: $2.40




Week nights, gay men gather in Devil’s Spawn, Julian’s club, and though Vincent doesn’t partake in sexual contact, he visits the club as a way to bring Julian closer despite his absence.


One night, Vincent’s life is turned upside down with the return of Julian. Though his heart tells him to open up and allow Julian in, his pride rears its stubborn head. Will Julian be able to break down the barriers? And will Vincent find out why Julian is really called The Master?


PUBLISHED BY: loveyoudivine Alterotica
ISBN: 978-1-60054-390-6
CATEGORIES: ManLove, Historical
KEYWORDS: ship, sailing, historical, gay, queer, homosexual, Sarah Masters, The Master Series, m/m malexmale, BDSM, dominance, submission, bondage, erotic, erotica,

EBOOKS BY loveyoudivine Alterotica

EBOOKS BY Sarah Masters

COPYRIGHT Sarah Masters/2009

 Julian unlocked his office and pushed the door open, his hand out indicating Vincent should enter. He brushed past him and caught a whiff of his new scent—sea salt and the need for a good soak. Rather than disgust him, it heightened his desire. Contrary to this, he sat in a burgundy leather chair beside the empty fireplace and said, “You have a stink about you, Julian, one that—”

“Appeals to your baser instincts, I would wager.” He sauntered to a walnut cabinet and opened the glass door. The hinges creaked, shouting of their disuse. He selected a bottle of rum—fitting—and two crystal glasses.

Vincent appraised Julian’s backside, the swell of each cheek goading his cock to attention. His hands itched to palm those globes, to press his fingertips into those slim hips and settle his cock inside the valley there. To feel the heat, the throb of blood in his cock’s tip. He crossed his legs.

“Well?” Julian asked and turned, pouring a drink. “Would I win the bet?” He moved toward him and held the glass out, his pelvis at Vincent’s eye level.

Vincent took it, their fingers brushing for an instant. His heartbeat quickened, and he swallowed. He stared into coal-black eyes. “I imagine so.”

Julian threw his head back and laughed. Eye contact maintained once more, he whispered, “I know so.” Presenting his back, he strolled to the cabinet and poured his own beverage.

Damn him.

Vincent inhaled deeply and released a lust-laden, shaky breath. “Your business took you away for quite some time, then.”

Julian’s shoulder’s straightened, and the muscles beneath his thin white shirt flexed. “It did, though I am gratified to see Shyler kept my other business in good order in my absence.”

“Your brother proved a good host here.” Vincent smiled.

Julian whipped around, his brows knitted, his mouth a tight line. “I do hope you refer to the running of Devil’s Spawn.”

“Of course. Whatever did you think I meant?” Vincent compressed a laugh and sipped his rum. “The only trouble he encountered was from that disgusting fellow who approached me just now. Jacobs seems to think he is the only man with needs like ours and that they should be met by whomever he chooses.”

“And he has chosen you, I take it.” Julian swallowed a mouthful of rum and winced. He paced the room, coming to a halt beside Vincent’s chair. “And I also take it that you refused his…offers.”

“I did. He repulses me. I would rather—”

“Go without? Or opt for a younger, tighter fellow?” He stood in front of the leather chair, his legs straddling Vincent’s, his cock tenting his breeches. The swell of his bollocks—

“That is my business, Julian.” Vincent uncrossed his legs, his own arousal open for perusal.

Julian’s gaze sought it out, and his eyes widened. “Have you abstained, my love? All this time?”


“I hear you have not,” Vincent said.

Damn my treacherous mouth.

Julian took Vincent’s drink and placed both their glasses on the mantel. He bent his knees and settled them either side of Vincent’s thighs. His crotch inches away from Vincent’s face, its scent permeating his breeches, almost, almost brought a groan from Vincent’s mouth.

“I did not,” Julian said, running his fingertips over Vincent’s shoulders. “One is able to imagine them as just a body…one that belongs to someone else...” He stared at Vincent. “Though it pains me to admit it, I have missed you.”

Vincent closed his eyes and clenched his fists. His cock twitched. “I have not…missed you.”

Julian lowered his buttocks and leaned forward. “Ah, do not tell me you have not missed my touch. Do not tell me.” His tongue flicked Vincent’s earlobe. “You have not yearned for the feel of my cock against your cleft.” His hand glided over the bulge in Vincent’s breeches. “And do not tell me you have not wished for me to finish what I started so long ago.”

His breath caught in his throat, and Vincent held back the urge to grasp Julian’s buttocks and bury his face in the desirable crotch before him. To peel down those breeches and free the cock straining against the fabric. To take that rigidity into his mouth and lick, suck, nip. To beg Julian to tease his hole once more… He gripped the chair arms and made to get up. Julian’s knees held him tight, and Vincent relaxed back into the chair, his desire a pain in his britches.

“I have not,” Vincent muttered and stared at Julian’s midsection. “I have been quite…fine without you.”


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