Casa Rodrigo

Johnny Miles

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On a lush, tropical island inhabited by rogues, thieves and villains, where men take the law into their own hands, a father and son are thrust into tumultuous events that will change their lives forever. Bernardo de Rodrigo is ...
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On a lush, tropical island inhabited by rogues, thieves and villains, where men take the law into their own hands, a father and son are thrust into tumultuous events that will change their lives forever.

Bernardo de Rodrigo is proud of his son. Alonso is handsome and winning, and everyone he meets is instantly drawn to the tall, warm Spaniard. But how could either of them have known that a forbidden love is about to claim Alonso’s heart?

Arbol, the charismatic male slave who was saved from the clutches of Raul Ignacio Martín, feels an instant connection with Alonso, the moment he looks into Arbol’s eyes, the moment they touch.

Bernardo has other things to worry about, however. He’s trying to exorcise himself of an intensely gratifying yet shame-filled sexual affair with Raul, who secretly adores Bernardo but doesn’t know how to show it.

When Raul blackmails Bernardo, their dark and sordid relationship not only threatens the bond between father and son, it places Arbol’s life in danger. Now Bernardo must make a difficult choice that could further alienate his son while Alonso must find a way to keep the man he loves.

  • Note:This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Dubious consent, male/male sexual practices.
Casa Rodrigo stood at the top of a hill, facing south toward the harbor. The two-story home was still made from the original mustard-colored stucco but barrel tile had replaced the previous thatched roof, and the windows were now protected by wooden shutters.

Arbol stood in line with the other slaves just outside the arched veranda that ran the width of the house. His back was straight, shoulders back, head lifted. He wanted to stand out from the others, to be chosen as a house servant and spared the arduous fieldwork he had performed since he had been brought to the island. He only hoped don Bernardo remembered him. It had been so long ago.

Señor Perez, who doubled as overseer for the de Rodrigo and Raúl Velasco plantations, paced back and forth, anxiously awaiting their arrival. From where he and the slaves stood, they could all just make out the mast in the distance.

It wasn't long before they heard the horses.

Arbol held his breath as first the two horses pulling the uncovered wagon came into view, then Augusto, who was in charge of the stable. Sitting beside him was Don Bernardo, and behind them, holding on to the wagon, was one of the sons.

But which one? Arbol wondered and hoped that whichever son it was, he had not changed. Life had a way of doing that to people. Oftentimes for the worst.

The wagon came to a stop, and several slave boys scrambled en masse to take care of the trunks and traveling bags. Don Bernardo jumped down and shook hands with señor Perez. The overseer began talking animatedly.

Arbol looked away and stared instead at the tall young man in the wagon. He watched the Spaniard stand, stretch, and walk toward the edge, then jump down smoothly and solidly.

He was not at all what Arbol had expected or what he remembered. This was a young, handsome man with thick impossibly black curly hair. He had a long, graceful neck and broad shoulders that tapered down to a thin waist. He was slim in the hips with a round, sculpted rear and long, shapely muscled legs.

Arbol's breath caught in his throat as the young man bent over to adjust his boots. Arbol sighed and licked his pink lips. And then the Spaniard stood and their eyes met.

Even from that distance, Arbol was hypnotized by the penetrating gaze and the slow, easy, sensual smile that spread across the young man's face.

Does he recognize me? Arbol dared to hope so.

But it was his heart that responded.

This man was the boy who had brought his very own toys to Arbol when they were children, who had played with him. And he knew just by the feelings coursing through his body that this young man, this handsome creature who now approached striding slowly and confidently, was the very same boy who had shared his birthday cake.

Arbol's heart lurched as if with a mind of its own, then stopped as the world around him slowed down dramatically. The only thing that existed at that very moment was the beautiful man with the warm smile standing before him. Arbol's knees went weak, and he grew dizzy. He was sure he would faint.

And then the young man spoke. His voice was deep and resonant. Rich and textured.

“Why do you look familiar?” the young man asked, head cocked to one side. And then his eyes lit with recognition.

“Are you Arbol?”

S-sí, señor,” Arbol replied awkwardly, lowering his head. And yet he could feel the young man's gaze.

Alonso leaned in and whispered, “Good to see you.” Then he gave Arbol an unexpected, powerful hug. Their eyes met as Alonso pulled away, and Arbol suddenly felt lost in the most wonderful of ways.

Uncertain of what to say, Arbol nodded and grinned sheepishly as Alonso clapped him on his arm and squeezed.

Even as the young man moved away and introduced himself to the next slave, Arbol could still feel the warmth of Alonso's hand on his arm and the hot breath in his ear.

He had to think of the most horrible, ugly thing he could imagine to keep from growing hard, lest anyone notice just how excited Arbol had become.

* * * * * 

Alonso stood in his darkened bedroom completely naked. It wasn't something he normally did at home. But here, in the Caribbean, things were different. All he had to do was breathe the air into his lungs, and he was aroused. There was a certain energy, like a charge. Something he could feel more than touch. It was almost as if lightning had struck in that part of his mind where sexual desire resided.

It had been one thing, on the ship, to allow Tocino leeway, let himself be lured down a path he had never followed. In fact, late the night before, they had been most indiscreet while on deck. They had been in shadows but could still have been seen if someone truly had bothered to look. It was part of what added to the excitement of their hurried encounter.

And what sensations he had felt!

First Tocino's hands had been all over his flesh, burning him. Then the man had hurriedly freed Alonso's cock from his pants and undergarments and hungrily wrapped his lips around the head. Even after repeated attempts on their three-month voyage, Tocino was still unable to take Alonso all the way down his throat. It thrilled Alonso tremendously.

The excitement of being serviced the way he had been, only semihidden from the others on duty had been thrilling enough. But now that he was finally on the island, especially after having seen Arbol again, after touching his hand, feeling him near, Alonso felt as if a large fire were burning brightly and roaring somewhere inside him.

But where was Arbol? Where did he live?

Looking through the window in his room--beyond the barn and beyond the forest of trees to the clearing where the slave quarters had been built and were now lit by the waxing moon--Alonso thought to search for him. He wanted to take Arbol's hand and share with him the wonderful pleasures of the flesh, show the tall, handsome slave all the things he had experienced.

If only he were here now. Alonso groped himself.

Unfortunately there had been no assignments left for Arbol. And despite the smile on his dark brown, almost black face, Alonso knew Arbol had been gravely disappointed.

Alonso had tried to persuade his father, to no avail. The man refused to budge from his decision that Arbol was best left in the fields for his own protection.

In private, Alonso had argued that after all this time, Raúl would have forgotten about the lost baby, assumed him dead. But his father still refused him, finally confessing that due to Arbol's strength and size, he could do the work of three men. That type of field-worker would be a tremendous loss. Then his father did something he had never done before. He abruptly ended the conversation.

Still irritated by that, Alonso leaned into the night air and looked up at the moonlit sky. He spread his arms wide on the sill made from thick wooden timber. Feelings he had forgotten, memories that were all but a whisper, came flooding back.

Perhaps I should not have hugged him, Alonso thought, then pushed the thought aside. He was the master's son. He would do what he wished.

But what of that strange feeling when I touched and squeezed his arm? Alonso could feel a tingling coursing through him, numb yet still there. Like the memory of a burn. It was as if Arbol had made an impression that lingered, one that was still very much alive despite how many hours had passed.

Alonso had never felt that before. It was an odd sort of tension, something he could almost put his finger on and touch. It felt similar to what he had felt that first night with Tocino. Only much stronger. All he could see in his mind--all he could smell--was Arbol.

Alonso was sure Arbol would welcome his advances. He briefly wondered if Arbol had been with another man before. If he had, all the better. And if he hadn't, how exciting it would be to show him how it felt to have another man do such pleasurable things to him.

As he thought of it, Alonso stroked his groin with his palm. He curled his fingertips around his pubic hair and tugged while his cock--thick, long, and tumescent--bobbed in the night air, seeking much-needed attention.

He closed his eyes and imagined Arbol, lips wrapped around the head of his cock, a hand around the base of his shaft, cupping his balls.

A lone drop of clear liquid flowed and dangled several inches below the head of his cock. It sparkled in the moonlight.

Alonso reached for it, brought it up to his mouth, and sucked on it. The salty taste only aroused him more. With a sigh, he knew he had to find a way to bring Arbol out of the sugarcane fields and into the house, into his bed. But first he had to find him.

Turning from the window, Alonso hurriedly reached for the clothes he had worn earlier that day. He dressed, walked across the room, and opened the door.

Then stood there at the threshold.

What if I'm getting the wrong impression? What if I'm just imagining Arbol wants the same thing as Tocino? I'm sure he already has a girl--or a boy. Someone to take care of his needs. Why would he want to be with me?

And then another thought popped into his head.

What if he expected to be friends?

Copyright © Johnny Miles


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