Cut to "The Chase"

The Chase... Featuring a new excerpt, "The Penultimate Douche"

An outspoken gay and a quiet rancher are each pursuing a fantasy. Where will the chase lead them?

One month ago, Amber Allure published the second “Noble Dimensions” novel, titled The Chase. This novel is a scorcher, with well-developed characters whose passionate sex lives will have you begging for more.

Noble, Nevada is a small town halfway between the gambling meccas of Las Vegas and Reno. As one of the character muses, it lies somewhere between Big Daddy’s Pawn and the Fly-By-Night Motel.

Brew Lloyd is the son of the town’s only lawyer, Cranley Lloyd, a man who has rejected his son after discovering his homosexuality. From the time his father turned away, the reader sees that Brew is devastated by the rejection, but that he has put up a sarcastic veneer to protect his inner hurt.

Brew has allowed his father to “pay him off,” in a sense—to buy him a sports car, pay his rent, put him through college in Los Angeles—with the unspoken arrangement that Brew will stay at arm’s length.

Chase Grayson has a loving relationship with his own father, Roy. What has tormented his sleep for the last several years is a long-ago attraction for the high school kid Brew Lloyd, captain of the debate team, Best Thespian in the high school drama club. Chase himself was a standout in high school--a football hero chased by girls, all the while his imagination was chasing Brew, two years younger than he.

Chase and his father live on a ranch fifteen miles from town called The Chase, which supports a hundred head of cattle and a bare-subsistence silver mine. As the story begins—to cut to the chase, so to speak—Brew has shown up on the ranch half-heartedly looking for a summer job, sent by his father, while the lawyer himself has had to go to Chicago to visit his dying brother. Since high school graduation two years before, Chase has stayed to himself out on the ranch, not really understanding his hidden attraction for a memory with dark eyes . . . the guy named Brew.

Two men meet after six years, remembering each other only through the haze of almost forgotten high school debates and autumn football games. Smartass Brew is openly gay. The shy rancher's son Chase is still trying to understand his own sexual needs.

As if [Brew’s] own fertile imagination had called him up, he heard another man’s voice cut into the silence of the room.

“Pa. Introduce our guest.”

Brew turned his head to the door. There he was, framed in the doorway. A freaking Greek god, an Adonis come to earth. Chase Grayson was even more fine looking now than his memory had conjured up. He had red-gold hair, a little past his ears, and a cobwebby rust-colored stubble. His eyes, the green of Chinese jade, gazed straight into his own.  His mouth was full, his chin prominent. His even tan glowed in the overhead light, sending even more subtle rays into the room.

And his body. Jeezus. His chest almost tore the wife-beater, swelling with muscle. His waist was slim, his hips slender, like he remembered. Brew wished fervently he could see the man’s ass. And then he was glad he could not. He knew he’d be unable to keep his face expressionless, or his prick quiet.

The two spend a few minutes guardedly speaking, each man seeming to be shyly drawn to the other.

Mister Muscles in a Wife Beater watched his father leave the room. Then he spoke. “Brew. I do remember you. You were a few years behind me at Sloane County High. But I remember the young guy with the golden mouth.”

“The . . . the golden mouth?”

“That’s how I thought of you. You were an actor, a speaker. You could do everything I couldn’t. I wanted to be you about a million times.”

Suddenly the breath seemed to leave Brew’s chest altogether. What this man was telling him couldn’t be true. And yet he spoke so openly that it must be true, some of it, anyway.

“You? Wanted to be like me? But you’re the one with the--the goddamn golden body. That’s how I thought of you. That’s funny. The golden mouth and the golden body. Each one wanting to be like the other.” 

No, not like you Chase. In you. As deep in you as my prick would reach. In your mouth or your ass. Or merciful holy shit, you in me.

Then Chase stood, and Brew drew a long breath, sucking in the man’s muscled glory. 

“Yes. Funny. Let’s go. Let me show you The Chase.”

Over the next weeks, I’ll be showing you The Chase. I hope you’ll hang on for the ride, as the two men become lovers . . . as a ruthless federal agent seeks to strip The Chase from the Graysons . . .  and as Brew’s father at last must face his estranged son.

Your buy links:

http://www.amazon.com/The-Chase-ebook/dp/B00B8A3O0E/ref

http://amberquill.com/AmberAllure/TheChase.html 

You say you want more explicit sex? Here's a short scene never pubbed outside of the book:

The Penultimate Douche

Brew joined him, letting the water hit his hair and face. “I haven’t douched you yet, have I, Chase?”

“Show me.”

The fixture on the end of the douche was unmistakable in its purpose, shaped almost exactly like Brew’s own long dick, studded with small holes. Brew knelt in front of him, mouthing his cock, licking his balls. Chase knew the douche bag behind him was full. Then the tip entered his hole, while Brew captured his balls in his mouth, drawing them in and letting them out with wet, slavering exaggeration.

Brew was working the cock-shaped tool up his ass. Bathed in mild soap, the prick-like tool easily entered his anus. Brew manipulated it like a fricking maestro, pushing gently, now harder, bending it and coming back out.

All the time he was pushing the douche tool into Chase, Brew sucked and drooled, playing his tip like a musical instrument and tonguing his slit. He heard Brew’s husky voice. “Talk to me. Let me know how. Tell me when.”

He grasped Brew’s head, showing him how fast to go. “Oh, shit, Brew, I want it. I feel it from both ends. Oh, now, let it happen, now.”

As Chase began to spurt cum into his lover’s mouth, Brew let the water shoot up his butt at the same moment that his whole fucking asshole started to climax. He began to cry and sob, needing it, loving it, wanting it never to stop.

The next thing he knew, Brew was kissing and murmuring into his mouth. “Okay, okay, big guy. You were fucking great. So ready. I loved that.”

He took Brew by the shoulders and squeezed, hard. “Goddam you, Brew, I can’t take too many more like that.”