Kinky Revenge on the Plantation

By Lotte Larsen

Munroe is heading home to South Carolina for his cousin Daphne's wedding when some white jerk in a Confederate uniform runs in front of his car. As a black man, this was why he left the South. But it turns out Adrian is a sexy Brit who feels horribly guilty that his ancestors sold slaves. And the wedding venue is a big old plantation house . . .
Ex-slave getting kinky revenge on young white master? They're both up for that scenario. But when their naughty games take a romantic turn, Munroe is forced to question how he copes with his family's intolerance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lotte Larsen
• Release date: Apr 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310579752

Lotte Larsen

Lotte Larsen is a Swedish-Canadian who lives in Toronto, Ontario. She hopes you have as much fun reading her smutty little pulps as she has writing them.

Book preview

2MANROMANCE

KINKY REVENGE ON THE PLANTATION

Lotte Larsen

Copyright © Lotte Larsen, 2016

Cover design copyright © Lotte Larsen, 2016

This cover was designed using Gimp 2.8

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

One: Road

Two: Restaurant

Three: Motel

Four: Lazy River

Five: Plantation

Six: Attic

Seven: Sneaking Around

Eight: Stable

Nine: Wedding

Epilogue

One: Road

Munroe had grown up black and gay in Cottonwood, South Carolina, and had moved north as soon as he could. He'd started a no-frills gym in Chicago that grew into a chain then a franchise. He liked to think he could brush off the prejudice, play the rich man who pitied the unenlightened, but he still hated visiting his family down south. Couldn't miss his cousin Daphne's wedding though, could he? Which was why he was driving his rented Ford sedan past a cornfield in Tennessee on a fine July afternoon. No way was he making the trip in his new red Camaro as much as he'd like to show it off to his friends. He resented the other precautions he'd taken, especially inspecting his clothes to make sure they didn't make him look gay. Honestly. He was built like a brick shithouse and had to smile a lot so he didn't scare people. Was he really going to get aggravation for wearing a pink dress shirt? No. Did he pack the pink dress shirt? No.

Munroe turned up the blues station to drown out his internal monologue. An unexamined life might not be worth living but an over-examined life wasn't any better. The breeze through the open window felt good. There was no traffic on the country road and not too many potholes. He drummed his fingers on the outside of the car door in time to the music, willing himself into a better mood. Things were changing in the Deep South. He might not have to deal with racists or homophobes at all.

The cornstalks up ahead to his right thrashed wildly then something dashed onto the road. Munroe hit the brakes and skidded to a stop. Then swore. A few feet in front of the car was a thin white man dressed like a Confederate soldier.

Munroe killed the radio and leaned out the window. Thank you for the big welcome home, asshole. Now get off the road.

The guy was terrified. Please, this isn't what it looks like. I'm a history student. I've made a terrible mistake. I need to get back to my motel in Norris and get out of these dreadful clothes.

Norris was the second little town up the road. The guy was young and sounded like a posh BBC announcer but Munroe wasn't letting him off easy. Why'd you dress like that to begin with?

I met these people in Georgia. They said they did re-enactments to better understand the causes of the Civil War. They seemed very nice. I didn't understand their political bent until we came out to the field and they started saying horrible things about black people. There were so many of them. I had to play along.

Shit. Munroe scanned the fields. Nothing was moving the corn but the wind. How close behind are they?

Miles away. I swear. I've been walking since midmorning. Please help me.

Polite, gullible and desperate; how could Munroe resist? He popped the locks. Get in the back. There's clothes in the green gym bag and food and water in the canvas one. Don't touch anything else.

Thank you, sir. Thank you. The Brit scurried around the car and dove into the backseat.

Being called sir sent a wonderful rush of blood to Munroe's groin. He put the car in gear and casually adjusted the rearview mirror so he could watch. The Brit owed him a favour, right? The guy peeled off like a pro but had a hard time getting the gym bag open and selecting the clothes. Munroe didn't mind. Clean shaven boyish face