Here in England, we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving. When I was asked to write on this theme, I knew roughly when it took place and that it had something to do with turkey, so consider me educated! I’ve done some research and read up on the history of the event. There seems to be a fair amount of overlap with the Harvest Festival season here and giving thanks for the bounty of the year.
Many of my characters have plenty to give thanks for. I do have a habit of dragging them through the mill a bit before they get their happy endings, so I thought I’d let one of them talk about what giving thanks would mean to him. Olly Glenn is the central character in Reaching the Edge, the first book in my Tales from the Edge series and he appears in all the subsequent books. He’s a bubbly, irrepressible brat with golden curls and an alarming propensity for getting in to trouble…
“This Thanksgiving thingummy sounds fabulous. Anything that brings with it an excuse to eat scrummy things is good with me. Joe (he’s my Dom) doesn’t let me eat too much sugar because he says it’s too much like hard work getting me down from the ceiling afterwards. What can I say? I like to bounce. I love him to bits but he can be way too strict. But seriously, and yes I can be serious, if we had a day for giving thanks it would have to be a long one. Joe brought me back from the brink. He saved my life and I’ll always be thankful that he rescued me from the abusive freak that treated me like garbage. True love – that’s something to be thankful for isn’t it? In all its forms, kinky or vanilla.
I’m so lucky I found someone who understands me, knows what I need… wow, I’m getting all gooey. Sorry. I’m thankful for my friends (even though my best friend Aiden is far too brainy and pretty for his own good), my lovely home on an island off the coast of Yorkshire - after all, how many people get to live at an exclusive corporate training centre that secretly doubles up as a BDSM school! Oh yes – I have to be thankful for my job too, for all the military servicemen who survive their injuries and let me nurse them better even if they do get grouchy as heck. That’s my harvest I suppose – I’ve grown too, grown in to myself if that makes sense. Of course I’m also thankful that Joe likes to tie me up and spank me… am I allowed to say that?”
I’m not sure I can follow that! Here’s an excerpt from Reaching the Edge that Olly would approve of:
Joe guided Olly to the ensuite bathroom and left him alone. Olly stripped and climbed into the shower cubicle, admiring the shiny fittings and pristine tiles. The water was plentiful and hot, and the spray nice and hard. Olly washed quickly and dried himself off with a deep red towel. He didn’t really want to put his clothes back on, but he was nervous about walking out into Joe’s bedroom in just a towel. He shrugged. Joe had seen it all before, so what did it matter?
He peeked around the door and couldn’t stop the gasp that slipped from his lips. Joe was silhouetted against the window as he drew the curtains. He was barefoot and shirtless, the outline of broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist stark against the soft light outside. Olly held his breath as Joe turned towards him. He was so graceful, every movement a study in controlled elegance.
There was a scattering of golden hair across his chest, but it didn’t hide his well-defined chest and distinct abdominal muscles. Olly had to fight not to lick his lips. He suddenly realised that he was staring and that Joe was looking directly at him, an amused glint in his cool blue eyes. Olly ducked his head and peeked up from beneath his lashes. He just couldn’t stop looking.
“Do you intend to wear that towel to bed, Oliver?”
He looked down in confusion. Towel. What towel? Oh! That towel.
“No, Sir.” He trotted back into the bathroom and folded the offending object neatly over the side of the bath before returning to the bedroom, hands crossed demurely over his cock.
“Hands behind your back.”
Olly obeyed, wishing that his cock would behave itself. The moment he had caught sight of Joe’s semi-clothed body, the bloody thing had risen in immediate and ardent appreciation.
“Hide yourself from me again and I’ll spank you so hard you won’t want to sit down for a week.”
Olly moaned as his cock got even harder at that thought. Joe hadn’t raised his voice. He didn’t even sound cross. He was just stating a very simple fact, and Olly was left in no doubt that it was the truth.
Joe stripped off his trousers, revealing a hip-skimming pair of black briefs, before climbing into bed. Olly’s heart beat a little faster. He waited for an order because that was the easiest thing to do.
When Joe patted the bed next to him, Olly let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and clambered up next to him. His head sank into a soft pillow and he sighed happily as Joe pulled the downy duvet over him. Forgetting that he should never touch without being asked, he snuggled into Joe’s side and rested his head on the bigger man’s chest. When Joe pulled him even closer, Olly purred with satisfaction. His cock was stiff, demanding attention, so he instinctively went to grasp it.
“Touch that and I’ll have you in chastity for a month.” Joe’s whispered words were accompanied by a light kiss to the top of Olly’s head. “Now go to sleep.”
About LM Somerton:
Lucinda lives in a small village in the English countryside, surrounded by rolling hills, cows and sheep. She started writing to fill time between jobs and is now firmly and unashamedly addicted.
She loves the English weather, especially the rain, and adores a thunderstorm. She loves good food, warm company and a crackling fire. She's fascinated by the psychology of relationships, especially between men, and her stories contain some subtle (and some not so subtle) leanings towards BDSM.