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Rockhounds: The Rockhound's Riddle
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Rockhounds: The Rockhound's Riddle
by CB Potts
Torquere Press
Copyright ©2006 by CB Potts
First published in www.torquerepress.com, 2007
NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser
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Rockhounds: The Rockhound's Riddle
by CB Potts
Chapter One
This was the best time of the day, probably my favorite
ten minutes out of the whole twenty-four hours. Morning tide
was just starting to come in, gently rocking the houseboat
from side to side. The first rays of sunlight were slanting
through the porthole, lending just enough light for me to see
Parker's slumbering form.
I loved that, loved lying on my side, looking up at the
curve of his shoulder looming over me. The sunlight slid down
his back, catching in a few sandy-gold hairs here and there
that were invisible at any other time. Illuminated, they
shimmered in the sunlight, faint edges of russet revealed for
a few taunting seconds. Nobody else knew about these faint
golden hairs. Nobody else saw the russet flashing in the
morning light. I'm not sure anyone would think to look for
such beauty on the back of my big, burly Marine.
That was fine with me. It was my secret. My beautiful little
morning treat. No one ever had to know.
Just like no one ever had to know that at long last, Parker
was starting to sleep easy in my bed. We'd been together
three months now. In all that time, I don't think he's slept
more than twenty minutes at a go while we were in port.
On the wide water, he's fine. He snores so loud that
whales flee in terror and Posideon himself plugs his ears.
Pull Tuesday's Rubies into a docking slip, and he's an
instant insomniac.
But last night was the first night of Carnivale.
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Rockhounds: The Rockhound's Riddle
by CB Potts
Parker'd never been to Rio before. It hadn't taken much to
persuade him to abandon Boston Harbor before cold weather
set in, but I don't think he'd had the first clue what February
in Brazil really meant.
He caught on pretty quick.
Half a million people descend on Rio for Carnivale. They're
all intent on dancing, drinking, and having a hell of a time.
Vibrant feathered costumes, beautiful barely-dressed bodies,
music that shakes through your soul. It would make a dead
man dance.
It certainly did wonders for my Marine. We'd had drink
after drink, gotten caught up in a mad conga line, and danced
our way through the streets. One bump and grind session
easily included a dozen dancers, all writhing around us: men,
women, twisting and turning all around us. It was
intoxicating, a heady mix of flesh and flashing smiles, music
and more.
I'd turned left only to find myself face to face with a
towering black woman. With her feathered headdress, she
had to be seven feet tall.
"Come to Mama," she purred, arms spread wide. From
behind, the crowd propelled me into her arms, where I was
greeted with an enthusiastic, intimate embrace. And then she
smiled, said, "Welcome to Carnivale, cutie," and sent me
spinning back out into the throng again.
I landed squarely in Parker's arms, surprising him with a
big, sloppy kiss.
"That okay here, Rockhound?" he murmured against my
lips. "Brazil's pretty Catholic..."
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Rockhounds: The Rockhound's Riddle
by CB Potts
"Everything's okay, mon!" A booming voice came from
behind me. "This is Carnivale. Everyone wants feel good!"
I smiled backward at the stranger, a friendly grin, a
greeting.
And, apparently, an invitation. The hands that were
suddenly on me were long, dark and thin, pulling at my
clothes. I thought Parker was going to go ballistic—but I
thought wrong.
When my shirt fell away, it was his mouth on my nipples,
tongue tracing hot circles round the tender nubs. Two pairs of
hands were sliding over my body—new and explorative, as
well as steady and sure.
The tall stranger was biting at my neck while Parker slid
one hand inside my pants.
"He's so fucking hard," Parker said, speaking not to me but
to the stranger. "Is there somewhere we could take him?"
My cock gave a jump against his palm, interpreting 'take
him' in the best way possible. Parker gave an answering
squeeze, velvet tight around me.
"Let's take us over there," the stranger replied, "For I've a
powerful need to taste your pretty boy."
Over there turned out to be a grassy park under some Pau
trees, filled with knots of frolicking people. Couples,
threesomes, even more—if I hadn't of been so distracted, it
would have been quite a thing to watch.
Not that I minded being distracted. The stranger's touch
felt good—Parker's hands were amazing. He stripped me in a
matter of seconds, pulling me onto his lap. Strong hands slid
up my thighs, parting them for the stranger.
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