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Taking Chances, by E. L. Van Hine and L.H. Nicoll
Bigheart:
Lovely pics, Louise and Fabienne :)
You have 2 beautiful daughters, Fabienne :)
MaineWriter:
Re-readers, today we have chapters 86 to 90:
http://louisev.livejournal.com/24750.html
From 86:
He set the phone down, a sudden dizziness striking him, and he stepped back, stumbling as his leg bumped into the chair, and sat heavily. He slumped against the table, head down, his breath feeling like fire in his chest. “Jack would be proud a you…”
Jack, would you be proud a me, movin out a town and down to the city to move in an have a queer life with a college eddicated detective deputy sheriff? Jealous as fuck maybe, rollin over in the grave…. His thoughts were dismayed, disconnected, wrenching an audible sob from him, his stinging tears soaking through his shirt as he gasped out his regret, his guilt, his ambivalence. It seemed that every moment of happiness was somehow mixed with despair, every joy, sullied by a tinge of grief. Even this bold move, giving him a new career and the hope of love once more, spoiled by the grim, silent dismay of the only other person whose esteem he truly valued, because Francine and Alma had shut him out years ago.
MaineWriter:
And a reunion in Chapter 87:
The sun was hot on the windshield as he turned off the 287, the lump of grief in his throat from his departure from Riverton felt half as big now, his mind shying away from emotional pain, now alternating between two appetites, food and sex.
As he turned into the driveway behind the El Camino, he felt his guts tighten with a now-familiar ache, his breath attenuating, and he nearly dropped his keys as he turned off the truck. Swung his now-quite-full gunnysack out of the back, stuffing the black t-shirt down inside. That shirt had been under his pillow during his brief stay at Junior’s, the one tangible item that connected him to this strange, new life he was embarking on, and as he hurried, now breathless, up to the door, he became aware once again that he was not alone. He tried the door, and it opened, and as he walked in, he glanced over at the sofa, the long lean body, all in black, topped by his black, thin-brimmed hat, tilted jauntily over his eyebrow at an angle.
“Well if it ain’t Mr. Please an Thank you,” he said, smirking, tilting the hat back and looking him up and down.
L
louisev:
ack! I love the quotes you pick out, Leslie!
MaineWriter:
From Chapter 88:
“Ya come home, make me suck you off, fuck me, now yer eatin everythin in the kitchen. Was it that bad in Riverton?”
Ennis swallowed. “Yeah. Hardly ate since yesterday mornin. It was a major shit storm.” He buttered another biscuit. “An you weren’t there. And it sucked.”
“Well there go my fears a you not comin back. What’d she say?”
Ennis took another bite, demolishing his fourth biscuit before he replied once more. “She said I needed ta find a girl ta step out with an not go back ta my evil ways.”
“She said that? Evil?”
“No, the snakebite in her tone a voice said evil. Becomin just like er momma.”
“Ennis I don’t want ta sound like the devil’s advocate or nothin but a couple weeks ago you ain’t never set foot in this city, never mind take up with a man out in the open, don’t you think it might shock yer daughter just a smidge?”
“Yeah but she didn’t have no call ta treat me like dirt.”
and later, same chapter, the famous burning biscuits:
“I don’t think so.” Those slate eyes were piercing him, daring him, provoking him, and he scrambled up out of his chair, white hot with anger, gripping onto sharp elbows, glaring into his face.
“I said shut up,” he growled, his breath hot on Ellery’s face, and he in turn was seized, Ellery’s long fingers digging into his upper arms, as he forced his mouth on Ennis’s, prying his lips open with his tongue, pulling him into a hot kiss that was half rage, half passion, and Ennis responded automatically, his hands letting go the elbows and crushing him into a bear hug, a surge of lust making him hard once more, fueled by a helpless anger that had no proper outlet.
He fumbled his pants open and pulled Ellery up to his feet, marching him to the sofa and pushing him down onto his knees, then tore his briefs down , already thrusting blindly with his hips, then grabbed his cock, aiming it back into him with a savage thrust, then tightening his hands over his hips and riding him savagely, not stopping until he came with a strangled groan, feeling Ellery’s body shudder with orgasm beneath him.
He pulled out, slowly, feeling guilty and ashamed of his rage, running his hands down Ellery’s ass as if to console him after a rape, then backed away a step.
“Sweetheart,” Ellery said softly, his voice pitched with the husky tone of satisfied lust.
“Whut?” he asked, his heart thudding.
“Doughboys are burnin.”
L
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