Mark Antonius deMontford Read online

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  Mark Antonious deMontford

  by G.A. Hauser

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  Erotica/Romance

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  Linden Bay Romance, LLC

  www.lindenbayromance.com

  Copyright ©2008 by Hauser, GA

  First published in www.lindenbayromance.com, 2008

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgement:

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon...

  Chapter One

  About the Author

  Other works by G.A. Hauser:

  Recommended Read:

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  MARK ANTONIOUS deMONTFORD

  G.A. HAUSER

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  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement of the copyright of this work.

  MARK ANTONIOUS deMONTFORD

  Copyright © G.A. HAUSER, 2008

  Cover art by DAN SKINNER

  ISBN Trade paperback: 978-1-60202-141-9

  ISBN MS Reader (LIT): 978-1-60202-140-2

  Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

  PDF, PRC & HTML

  Linden Bay Romance, LLC

  Palm Harbor, Florida 34684

  www.lindenbayromance.com

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Linden Bay Romance publication: December 2008

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  Acknowledgement:

  I'd like to give a special thank you to Elisa Rolle for her help with the Italian translations. Thank you, Elisa, it was very much appreciated. Grazie.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

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  Prologue

  “Oi, gather round, boys.” Mark Antonious Richfield signaled his lover, Steve Miller, his best friend, Jack Larsen, and Jack's lover, Adam Lewis, together for an intimate conversation.

  “Mum's just come back from a visit with her relatives in London,” Mark began, “and she had a chat with a genealogy specialist from Cambridge.” He winked at Steve. “One of her old school mates. Anyway, you'll never believe what she found out.”

  Jack wrapped his arm around Adam as Adam rested against his shoulder. “We can't wait, Mark. Knowing you, there's no telling what she found out.”

  Adam laughed. “Come on, Mark. What is it? Descended from a Roman god?”

  “Greek, more like,” Steve added mischievously.

  “No. Shut up, all of you.” Mark sat straight in the chair. “Eight generations back ... yes, eight...” He pointed his finger to chide anyone who spoke up. “Mum found I was the product of a Venetian patriarch—Oi! Steven, stop laughing.”

  “Sorry. Go on.” Steve covered his smile.

  “Well, it seems my ancestor had similar problems to yours truly.”

  Adam exclaimed sarcastically, “He was a sex fiend?”

  “Well, close,” Mark chuckled. “If you'd be quiet a moment, I may even be able to tell you the story.”

  “Sorry.” Jack gestured. “Go on. We're listening.”

  “It seems it all started back in Newbury, England,” Mark began.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

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  Chapter One

  London 1713

  During the final year of Queen Anne's reign of England, Antonio Vivaldi astonished audiences with his miraculous Four Seasons while a flourishing new commerce helped London grow at a remarkable pace to become a “wonder city". Men came and went in white powdered wigs, wearing colorful brocade vests with elaborate floral patterns, rows of pewter buttons over their stocking covered legs, and black buckled shoes.

  Mark Antonious deMontford knew nothing of the world until his nineteenth year, though his Uncle David insisted he not be as illiterate as the hogs. Mark absorbed everything he was told, for he was bright and extremely quick-witted. So much so, that his questions were ignored, especially concerning the parents he had never known. The mystery preoccupied Mark so completely at times that he could not sleep. A sense of not knowing who he really was gnawed at him like the mice on the crop. Could he have been some royal heir left mysteriously in a basket by the lane?

  His first trip outside Newbury was with his Uncle David to visit some distant cousins in London. Mark could hardly contain his excitement as they rode in the hired stagecoach.

  In his preacher monotone, Uncle David engaged Mark in some discussion about the family in order to pass the time. “Thomas and Gabriel Holloway have three children: Richard, Margaret, and Peter. You are to behave whilst you are around them. I assume you will act accordingly. There is a code of conduct to high society, not unlike the Royal Navy. I insist you perform courteously, like a gentleman, and remember to use your knife when eating. Never forget to bow and thank them for the meals and the stay.” Uncle David paused as he concentrated. “Oh, and keep quiet unless you are asked a question. Under no condition are you to venture out alone. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Uncle.” Mark absorbed the lecture with a dull attention. He knew no matter how he tried to be good he would misbehave miserably. He was so starved for a good adventure he felt giddy at the possibility of a day without shoveling animal dung.

  After a two-day journey the carriage finally stopped in front of an exceptionally large home. Mark hung his head out of the window to gape at the rows of brownstone and brick buildings that dwarfed anything he could have imagined back on their little farm. The Tower of London, the spires of churches, the bustle of so many people—almost six hundred thousand—was more than Mark could absorb.

  The valet opened their carriage door and Uncle David climbed out, brushing the dust off his brown coat. Removing a coin from one of the oversized pockets, he handed it to the driver with a bow. An efficient valet carried their bags as Mark tried to keep his lips closed while his silent gasps of awe sought to keep them open.

  A woman with an affectionate smile and plump, rounded cheeks greeted them at the door. His uncle warmly embraced the woman Mark assumed to be his cousin, Gabriel.

  “So good of you to come. Why has it taken so long for you to accept my invitation?” When Mark attempted to hide behind Uncle David's broad back, though his six-foot height made him far from invisible, Gabriel intercepted him and crooned, “And this must be Mark.”

  As his eyes raced to find hers he knew he'd been caught admiring the two velvety mounds that rose up above her low neckline. His face grew crimson. So much for first impre
ssions.

  “What a lovely young man you are.” She caressed his smooth skin with a sensuousness that made him imagine he was already on top of her and shoving up those satin skirts. His brazen thoughts shocked him. He'd never been with a woman but knew how the pigs did it on the farm.

  Uncle David was obviously waiting for him to accept the compliment gracefully. He even cleared his throat trying to remind Mark.

  Mark's mind was a clutter of visions of Gabriel's lovely, naked cleavage, the tantalizing city, and the rock hardness agonizing his body. With all the disorder in his head, he managed a, “Thank you, Cousin Gabriel,” spoken so softly that she had to lean forward to catch it.

  Mark distracted himself from Gabriel by moving his admiration to the home itself. The wealth of this family was displayed with obvious pleasure. A gilded harpsichord filled one corner of the sitting room, an unlit candelabra on its white enamel surface. Oil paintings of fine gentlemen and ladies in luxurious dress lavished with pearls and intricate lace hung on the walls, each in heavy, gold leaf frames. The windows towered over him, as high as the ceilings, and were surrounded by dark burgundy curtains. Each piece of furniture had a touch of gold to tantalize the eyes. So much richness encircled him, making Mark wonder why on earth he lived on a modest farm.

  Uncle David wasn't poor, merely frugal, and only opened the purse when necessary. He wore no rings and bought only what was practical to cover his body. He made no exceptions for Mark, and until now, Mark had never thought he was lacking.

  Mark realized that Gabriel could not keep her eyes from him. Forcing himself to keep his posture impeccable, Mark wanted to die of embarrassment as her gaze kept darting to his tight breeches. She was old enough to be his mother. Whatever could she be thinking?

  A servant appeared with a tray of tea and biscuits. Mark sat on the settee and, before he could blink, his cousin sat next to him, quickly preventing Uncle David from getting in her way.

  Thinking only of pretending to be a gentleman in such fine company, Mark nodded and said, “Thank you,” to the servant and lifted the teacup carefully, horrified he might spill it. Pausing to see the appropriate way to drink, Mark waited for his uncle to sip his, mimicking him perfectly.

  An amazing heat was coming from Gabriel's body. It distracted Mark so badly he couldn't hear a word his uncle said. What was he going on about?

  Trying to act like a civilized human being and not an animal though his body was on tenterhooks of unabashed passion, Mark raised his gilded porcelain cup to his lips for another tasty sip of the lovely milk and honey flavored tea. At that moment Gabriel turned to ask his opinion on something and jarred his elbow ever so slightly. A drop of tea made a swan dive off the rim and onto his immaculate white breeches. And he had tried so very hard to prevent any sign of clumsiness on his part. Instantly, Mark raised his chin up to his uncle, expecting a rebuking.

  Gabriel apologized profusely, having the servant remove the cup and attending to the spill herself. When she produced a handkerchief from her sleeve and rubbed the spot, that was no larger than his pinky nail, Mark held his breath and caught his uncle's impatient eyes.

  “Gabriel, leave it! We'll tend to it later,” Uncle David scolded.

  After she had a good feel of how large and hard Mark had gotten under her rubbing, Mark waited for her to recoil or humiliate him at her discovery. Instead she finally tucked her tiny kerchief back away, never missing a word as they continued in their debate. “Yes, isn't the national debt a horrible thing!”

  Afraid to breathe, Mark sat frozen. He knew if he moved the friction might make him come in his breeches.

  At that moment of Mark's embarrassment, a commotion sounded in the entranceway.

  “That must be Margaret and Richard returning from their shopping!”

  Two of Cousin Gabriel's three children were coming in after their excursion. Gracefully, Gabriel rose up like she was on a pulley, seemingly elevating without the use of any of her muscles. She met them at the opening of the room and kissed a fifteen year old Margaret on the cheek and her nineteen year old son Richard on the lips. Holding their hands, Gabriel brought them deeper into the room to proudly make the appropriate introductions.

  With none of Gabriel's grace, Mark stood and tried to dry off his sweaty palms on his jacket. His uncle shook hands with the tall, slender Richard who wore a small white wig on his head and a very costly coat of purple velvet on his back. When Richard turned to welcome Mark, something odd happened to Richard's expression. Being innocent, Mark felt its disorientating effect, but never understood the message.

  Next the sweet, pure Margaret bowed to him. Mark bowed in return and tried to remember she was only a child and he shouldn't keep staring at her cleavage. Now in a terrible state and quite sure this torment of the flesh was not some heavenly gift to be guarded with one's life, as his uncle and aunt had preached to him on more than one occasion. Mark was sure this craving in his loins was becoming a satanic curse. Could he be reading lust in every eye, or had he simply gone insane? Maybe he had been bitten by something on the farm and his brain was dissolving. He'd heard nightmares about the Black Death in 1349. Maybe he was sick with some strange disease?

  “You must all be famished from your journey. I've had a meal prepared. If you need to freshen up, the servant will show you the way.” Cousin Gabriel gestured to the waiting butler.

  Mark and Uncle David were shown to their rooms. Sighing with relief to see that he had his own sleeping quarters, for his uncle snored something awful, Mark felt a sense of liberation. He dipped his hands into a basin of fresh water and splashed his face. Wiping the drops off on a towel, he took a better look at the room. It was as extravagantly dressed as the sitting room. Its scent reminded him of a church. Incense of some kind? The bed made of thick, dark wood with four corkscrew spires had a burgundy curtain drawn back from it to reveal the lush satin of the pillows and quilt, all very colorful and uplifting. He had never slept in anything like it in his life. His own bed back home was a bit hard and lumpy.

  He noticed the door moving and remembered he was going to change his breeches and had forgotten. He wondered if it was his uncle gathering him up for the meal. Dipping the towel into the basin, Mark tried to rub out the tiny stain quickly, thinking of an excuse as to why he hadn't changed from these soiled clothes.

  Cursing under his breath as he scrubbed, Mark heard the door close and latch. Raising his head up, he was stunned to see Richard. His white wig had been left behind somewhere and his own brown hair had been brushed and left flowing softly, though a little flattened. Richard had a very pleasing face and an air of wealth that Mark envied instantly.

  “Am I late?” Mark asked shyly.

  Richard's lips curled into a very wicked smile.

  “No?” Mark tilted his head curiously.

  “You lovely thing. Why have they kept you away from us for so long?” Richard closed the gap between them and dug his left hand into Mark's long hair.

  Mark swallowed down a dry throat. Could he have been right then?

  “God, you are glorious. I must have you!” Richard pressed against his length. “Don't say no, it isn't polite.”

  Mark leaned back on the dressing table as a very hungry hand made its way inside his breeches. When Richard's mouth touched his lips, Mark's eyes widened in astonishment at his first kiss. It was only when Richard backed off and knelt down before him that Mark was able to catch his breath. His ruffles were heaving from the attempt to fill his lungs with oxygen, his exhale making them wave like a fan. When his pewter buttons fell back and a hot mouth surrounded him, Mark thought he was hallucinating. He'd heard of such things. A kind of madness where you invent things in your head and they seem so real that you could not distinguish them from fantasy. He was sure this was one.

  “Ah!” Mark cried out before he could prevent it. “Richard! What on earth are you doing to me?” As the sensation overwhelmed him, Mark's knees gave out and his entire weight dropped against the dresser behi
nd him. “Oh, Lord ... Oh, Lord!” he moaned in a prayer. From his wet dreams as a youngster to the pleasure of his own hand, he knew exactly what his body was about to do. Never could he imagine someone sucking his penis this way. It was so unforgivably naughty that Mark wondered if he'd be killed instantly by a bolt of lightning. All thoughts of God and Country flew out of his mind when Richard's tongue swirled around his cock.

  Closing his eyes, Mark came with so much power he thought he'd collapse to the floor in a heap.

  Even whilst his head still spun, Richard nudged him to lie on the bed, face down on the quilt. Mark's breeches were drawn down to his ankles. With the fluffy spread under his chin, Mark peered at the locked door, wondering when his uncle would come pounding. When Mark felt a hard shaft between his legs, he gasped and stiffened.

  “Tighten your thighs, my pretty,” Richard ordered as he hammered between them. Mark did as he asked, clamping that hot, hungry dick between them. In a matter of seconds Richard came in a blaze of pleasure.

  Shocked at this turn of events, Mark lay panting in disbelief. Once Mark regained his sanity, he twisted around to find Richard's wicked smirk as he fastened his own breeches, staring down at Mark's exposed ass.

  “You are divine! But I fear Mother awaits. Come, fix yourself up.”

  “Dear Lord!” Mark panted. “What the devil was that all about? Is this the way things are done here in London?” Mark leaned up and climbed off the bed, holding onto his clothing to cover himself. Hot, sticky goo ran down his leg. He blinked and looked sheepishly into Richard's face. “You're dripping down my thigh.”

  Richard's eyes widened in surprise first, then he burst with laughter. “Oh, Cousin Mark, your innocence is something I want to devour.” Richard tugged at the fabric. “Come on then, down they go.”

  Mark let his britches drop, flopping over his stockings. With swift efficiency, Richard found the towel and knelt low to mop him up.