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Mount Royal: There's Nothing Harder Than Love by Basil Papademos

  • ISBN: 9781504501637
  • Written by: Basil Papademos

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A wildly entertaining roller-coaster ride, this novel combines ferociously clever slapstick, frenetic satire, and extremely sizzling love scenes to expose a turbulent 1980s Montreal. While following petty thief, drug dealer, and ladies' man, Johnny, as he explores his sexuality and unearths political cover-ups, this complex narrative examines issues of sexual power and individual identity, the nature of bureaucratic tyranny and political control, and the effect of history on us all. Concluding with the Montreal massacre, this is mostly a bittersweet romance: a love letter to a time and a place.
 
Warnings: This tile contains graphic language and adult situations, anal, threesome, drugs, bdsm.
 
Word Count: 96000
 

      

 
A BOOK FOR READERS SAVAGE & SMART
Reviewed by Margaret Wagner 
Mount Royal shakes you up like a freight train, hitting you with the brash sounds and hell-bent forward motion of an underground culture fueled by high octane drugs, sex, disobedience, and a singular lack of remorse. The sex is unsparing and incredibly lush. It is a love story, in the sense that being honest in the portrayal of human passions and complexity without passing judgment is the essence of love...
Margaret Wagner - Amazon
 
EXCERPT:
Her legs part a little. I play with her, tease her as revelers walk by and cars whiz past. Nobody notices in the dark. Pretty soon she’s soaked and running onto my wrists. I cup my hand and feel her pulse through her clit. Maybe it’s the excitement of doing this outside with people going by, or the rising moon, the dense heat—but Shalini comes with a sudden unexpected jolt.
“Whoa,” she says quietly, kind of surprised. “That caught me off guard.” She grabs my shoulder to steady herself. Christ, she’s like a teenage boy. You just blow on it and she’ll erupt. Within a couple minutes she’s at it again, breathes deep and arches her spine, hands coming up to her breasts, fingertips push at her nipples.
“I think there’s somebody coming,” I whisper.
“I don’t care,” she swoons. “It’s dark out.”
I begin to stroke her again and she lets out a faint growl, pulls my face against her stomach. I can smell her through the skirt’s fabric and drool a bit, put my fingers to my mouth. Her taste makes me delirious.
“Uh... I can’t take much more of this,” she mumbles. “Let’s go inside.” She hauls me to my feet and soon as the door closes, jams her lips against mine. “We have to be quiet,” she murmurs. “Suzanne’s asleep upstairs. So shh...”
“Why don’t we go up to your room?”
“No, it’s too hot and my stuff’s still all over the bed. Let’s stay down here.” She glances up. “It’ll be okay.”
Shalini lets the big oversized skirt drop around her feet. She sits on the wooden steps, gets out of her t-shirt as I slide off my boots. She draws me close, undoes my jeans and pushes them down. I bend toward her and she pulls my shirt over my head. I stop and listen for the roommate’s kid, but hear only a clock tick somewhere.
“Don’t worry. C’mere.” Shalini’s got her legs wide apart and leans down to take me in, her mouth filling and I want to yell something, front and back brains struggling to merge. My head spins with memories of coming, Morgan’s wild laughter, Shalini clawing my neck during the mountain storm, laying in Slim’s bed, driving somewhere long ago with Janey. Shalini sits up and wipes her mouth on the back of her wrist. She takes me in hand and slowly guides me toward that flawless little ass. Legs rising to my waist, her heels squat against my hip bones. She nods at me with a feverish pout. I twist and circle and push in just a bit, just a tiny bit. Everything’s all wet and slippery, the thick smell of sex fills my head. Almost there then draw out a little, tickle her, do it again, then some more, teasing, teasing, watch her eyes roll back, her open-mouthed smile so white against her dark skin. “Oh, c’mon...” she half begs, half chuckles. “Don’t make me wait...”
Her and her snaky dancer’s body, she reaches under and using heels and hands, pulls me in. We both let out low groans. Shalini’s eyes go sideways, ears pricked at whether our little bit of sound was noticed. She gives me a playful shrug and her ankles come up to the small of my back. Her hand goes between us, shoving fingers in, watching herself.
I reach down. “Let me try.”
“No, I’ll do it. I can come so nice like this.”
“C’mon, show me how.”
She’s unsure but takes my hand. Our fingers entwine and work together. “Turn your wrist around. I don’t like pressure right on it...” Saliva runs off her lip and drips onto her breast. She sucks it back in and lays my fingers on either side of her clit. “Here, like this...no, hang on... yeah, there. Start by touching it through its little jacket.” She takes a long breath. “Like that— no, down a bit. Yeah, there...”
“Its little jacket,” I repeat. The way she says it makes me smile.
Shalini stops, gives me a bit of a scowl. “What’s so funny?”
I can’t stop grinning. “Nothing. You. How incredible this is. How beautiful you are.”
Her smile returns, shy but profane, one of those ancient Chandela temple dancers, twenty-five centuries of perfectly contorted sexing right here on these Montreal tenement stairs. She steers my hand. “Curl your fingers.”
And I feel the rougher texture behind her pubic bone, a scalding central nerve that makes her jaw drop. We rock and we roll and I am totally fucking high on her, forget where we are, mind whipping round a screaming maypole. Shalini bites my hand to stifle her noise. It all leads onto a delicate verge, a miraculous tipping point. Hands now jammed back against the stairs, she spikes herself onto me. There’s a long hush, a buzzing in my ears. Her entire body twists, every muscle and tendon contracting.
.
We don’t move and I try to pant silently, my heart pounding. Both of us listen to street noises, creaks in the night. Then a young girl’s voice, a little frightened. “Are you there, Shalini?”
She holds onto my arm, puts a finger to my lips and calls up with a reassuring tone. “It’s okay, Suzanne. I’m right here, sweetheart. But you can’t come downstairs right now. I have a friend with me. I’ll be up in a few minutes, okay?”
The girl doesn’t approach or say anything. We hear her shuffle off then a door closes. Shalini cranes her neck round to look up the steps. “I think she’s all right.” After a few moments she reaches down for my shirt and throws it on. “I’m gonna go check on her. I’ll get us some wine.” I watch her sneak upstairs on the balls of her feet. She returns after a bit with a cold bottle of white and a couple glasses. “She’s fine,” Shalini grins gently and sits next to me on the steps. “But she wanted to know where all my clothes were.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That it’s so hot I had to take most of them off. Suzanne’s that age where she has some idea of what’s going on, but can’t decide if it’s mysterious or disgusting.”
I glance up the stairs then back to her eyes. “Listen, um... should I do my thing in the can or right here?”
Her thigh slides against mine. “Can’t you wait a little longer—so we can at least get you off? C’mon, it’ll be nice.”
“I dunno. I guess I can wait a bit.”
She kisses me with all her mouth and reaches between my legs. We both look down and I’m still hard, still ridiculous, still completely blind.

This book was added to our catalog on Friday 22 January, 2016.

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