SBF SEEKING...by LaToya Hankins

SBF SEEKING.... by LaToya Hankins

Four months before her wedding, Yvette Thurman realizes this might be her last chance to have a sexual fling with a white man. But she never thought placing a personal ad would lead her to discover she was a lesbian.

Yvette's small town life in eastern North Carolina never prepared her for the personal journey she undertakes as she struggles to find her heart’s path.

Through personal ads and late night visits to an adult bookstore, Yvette learns more about her own personal desires than she ever did when she was engaged to be married. If she embraces her true self, can she find acceptance and love from her family and friends? Or will she be forced to hide who she really is from those she cares about the most?

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EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.



“So bottom line: you kissed her and now what?”

“That’s the thing. I want there to be a what. I liked her energy and even though she is the second lesbian I have been attracted to, I really think I have a chance to see what could happen with her.”

“I know I gave you the speech in the club about starting fresh, but I don’t want you to start down this path and halfway down you realize you’re not wearing the right shoes. If you plan to get to know this chick in order to ‘get to know’ this chick, then I want you to be sure. I don’t know her, but no one wants to be an experiment just ‘cause lesbian chic is everywhere you look.”

“Agreed. I have been thinking about this since last night, and you know I don’t make any moves until I have thought about all the angles. I guess I will know what to say the next time I talk to her. Speaking of which,” I said, looking at my watch to see its blue face read 7:45 P.M. “Jasmine should be getting home soon. She is taking some night classes at Central towards her MBA. I texted her and told her I wanted to talk to her about last night and she said she would call me around nine on her way home.”

At 9:02 P.M., my phone rang.

“Hi, Yvette, how was your day?”

Hearing her suede purr over the phone released butterflies in my pelvic area. I shared my good news about my job to which she congratulated me and told me about her day both at work and at school. A pause fell.

“About last night,” we said in unison, then replied, almost in unison again, “No, you go first.”

Finally, I took a breath and told Jasmine I kissed her because I was really attracted to her and felt like I wanted her to know.

“I appreciate you feeling that way about me and, trust me, the kiss was nice. Yvette, I have to tell you it took me off guard. I mean, I was not expecting you to kiss me, especially after our conversation about your ex-fiancée and the fact you came out to the club to support your friend, that you were not looking to meet anyone.”

“I know, but even if my intention was not to meet anyone, I did meet you and I felt comfortable enough to come over to your place. I had a great time just sitting, listening to music, and talking. I can’t explain it, Jasmine. I just felt like kissing you, so I did.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed the kiss. But Yvette, straight girls usually don’t kiss women they just met. Hell, lesbians usually don’t kiss girls they just met.”

“I agree, most straight girls wouldn’t want to kiss a woman they just met. So since I did it, I guess I’m not your typical straight girl.”

As the words rolled off my tongue, the implications hit me in the gut. Did I just say I wasn’t a straight girl? Does kissing a woman make you a lesbian? I didn’t think it did, but then again, did being a lesbian require some kind of entrance exam or internship? Maybe it just involves feeling a certain way and acting on it. If that, I guess I’m a lesbian, or maybe a lesbian-in-training.

“Yvette, in the short time I have known you, I would not say you are a typical anything. I have been a lot of places and I don’t think I have ever met anyone like you before.”

“I will take that as a good thing. Growing up with the superstar known as my twin sister, I had to decide to blend in or stand out so no one would be confused. I decided to go for being as much as a singular sensation as I could manage.”

MAINTENANCE! by J.M. Snyder

MAINTENANCE! by J.M. Snyder

Though maintenance man Elliot has a list of work orders a mile long, he decides to knock out one of the easier jobs right before lunch -- an upper floor apartment has a leak in the A/C's condensation line. It'll take five minutes to blow through, then Elliott can take a break.

When he arrives at the apartment, he finds the female tenant in the shower. He debates coming back later, but he's already there and wants to get the job over with as soon as possible. He's halfway finished, too, when the bathroom door opens and there stands Donnie -- very wet, very naked, and definitely very male.

Suddenly Elliott wants to blow something other than an A/C line.

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EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.



I noticed the bathroom door was shut. Light seeped under the crack along the floor. I closed the apartment door behind me -- didn’t want that supersonic cat making a break for it -- and crossed the short hall to the bathroom. I heard the rush of a shower running inside, and was the fan running, as well? A man’s voice sang out, some rap song I didn’t recognize. She probably had the radio on, too. No wonder she couldn’t hear me.

I debated waiting. I didn’t want to knock on the bathroom door and startle her -- what if the music playing came from an iPhone within reach on the corner of the sink, and she decided to call the police? What I should do, I reasoned, was knock off early for lunch and come back after I had something to eat. Give her time to get out of the shower and get dressed.

But I was already there, I’d dragged the shop vac upstairs, and it would take literally two minutes to clear the a/c line and vacuum up any condensation she’d heard dripping behind the panel. I could be done with it in no time. She’d never even know I’d been inside the apartment until she found the work order I left signed on her counter.

I’d work fast, I assured myself. And if I heard the shower cut off, I’d holler out again so she wouldn’t be surprised to find me in her apartment.

Sounded like a plan to me.

The air conditioning unit was in a maintenance closet inside the apartment’s utility room. I went inside, stepping around a pile of dirty laundry and the cat box on the floor, pulled the shop vac in after me, and shut the door for more room. When I opened the closet, though, I realized too late she used it for additional storage -- a broom, an old mop, and a snow shovel leaped out at me like some poorly constructed booby trap. I dodged them aside, catching the mop and broom handles, but the shovel was shorter and I winced as it clattered to the floor. Shit! Was she seriously not hearing this?

I strained to hear through the closed door and yep, the shower was still flowing in full force. All right, fine. I planned to be quick, didn’t I? And already I’d wasted a minute fiddling with broomsticks. I leaned the broom and mop against the side of the washing machine and got to work unscrewing the a/c unit vent. As I was on the last screw, I heard the a/c kick on and I could’ve groaned in frustration. Why hadn’t I cut that off?

It didn’t matter now. Plugging the shop vac into the outlet behind the washer, I leaned into the unit and blew out the line, then vacuumed up the condensation that had pooled on the floor. It was an awkward reach -- one of the cooling lines blocked my path, and my arms weren’t long enough to reach all the way inside the unit. The closet was too small to hold my bulk. Easier to go around the front of the unit and unscrew the vent in the hallway.

Which was just across from the bathroom door, now that I thought of it.

But I’d be done in a heartbeat. I’d get all the dripping water out of the a/c and the unit would be as good as new, until the line decided to block up again as they tended to.

So I turned off the vac, pausing a moment to listen for the sound of the shower. Yes, it was still running. Good. I pulled myself out of the cramped closet, unplugged the vac, screwed back on the vent cover, shoved everything that had fallen out of the closet back into it, and shut the door quickly before the broom and its friends could jump at me again. Then I opened the door to the utility room, took a step out into the hall, and came face to face with an incredibly sexy -- and incredibly naked -- wet man.

He rubbed a towel over the top of his head, letting his slim, toned body air dry. Shower spray beaded in the scant tufts of hair on his chest, glistened on his arms and legs. Water ran down chiseled muscles to the V of his crotch, where a fistful of black curls coiled above his heavy dick. I caught a glimpse of his face, nothing more, then couldn’t seem to tear my gaze away from that thick, ruddy, semi-erect cock.

Sweet Jesus. My day just got a whole hell of a lot better.

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BURNING BRIGHTER by Drew Hunt

FIRESIDE ROMANCE BOOK 2: BURNING BRIGHTER by Drew Hunt

After declaring their love for each other on Christmas Day, Simon Peters and Mark Smith settle down to a cosy life of domestic togetherness.

A new year brings new joys and challenges. Sam, a neighbour boy comes to stay for a few days and adopts Simon and Mark as honorary dads.

A promotion at work gives Simon more responsibility. Mark finds employment at the local café. The purchase of a car allows the couple to get out and about to explore the Yorkshire countryside.

Snuggle up in an easy chair and toast your toes in front of the fire as you read Simon and Mark’s continuing romantic adventures.

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EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.



We’d just finished eating when there was a knock at the front door. I went to answer it.

It was Paul Bates and his fourteen-year-old son, Sam.

“Sorry to bother you,” Paul said in a rush, “but Helen’s waters have broken, and --”

“She’s early,” I said, then realised Paul didn’t have time to debate such things. “Sorry. How can we help?”

“Would you mind looking after Sam? My parents are on holiday and --”

“No problem.” I interrupted.

“Thanks.” Paul dashed back down the street, leaving Sam standing on the doorstep, not looking terribly happy.

I gave Sam an encouraging smile, then stuck my head out of the door and called, “Paul! If you need to stay with Helen overnight, Sam can bunk on the sofa.”

“Thanks.” He waved before disappearing into his house.

Turning around, I saw that Mark had come into the living room. “This is Mark ... a friend of mine.” I told Sam, beckoning for him to come inside. “Are you excited about having a baby brother or sister?”

“No, not really,” came the meek reply. Sam’s eyes were hiding behind long lashes, which I suspected many girls would be envious of.

“Why’s that?” Mark asked.

“He or she will probably cry all night.”

“But it’ll be nice to watch the baby as he or she grows up, starts crawling, walking and talking.”

“Suppose,” Sam said with little enthusiasm. “What happened to your hands?” he asked Mark.

“Someone I knew was playing around with chemicals, and things went wrong. I should be okay in a week or so though.”

“That’s good.” Sam smiled; he seemed to be warming up to Mark.

“Would you like anything to eat?” I asked Sam.

“No thanks. We just ate when Mum decided she needed to go to hospital.”

“What about watching some television, or maybe a video?” I asked, pointing at the shelves of tapes. I felt out of my depth, never having had to keep a teenager entertained before.

He shrugged and walked over to the shelves.

“So, Sam, what are you studying at school?” Mark asked.

He shrugged again. “Oh, you know, the usual boring stuff.”

I sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“There must be something you’ve done that you’ve enjoyed.” Mark wasn’t giving up.

“We’ve just finished a project on 1930's Britain. The differences between those who had a job, and those who didn’t.”

“My grandfather went on the Jarrow March,” Mark said.

“Really?” Sam turned from examining the rows of video tapes. “Did you know the march was fifty years ago this year?”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah, 1936,” Sam said. “Did your granddad say much about the march?” he asked Mark.

“He said he felt betrayed.”

“Is your grandfather still alive?” I asked.

Mark shook his head. “He died a couple of years ago.”

“Sorry,” Sam said.

The subject moved back to the Jarrow March and Mark told us more about how it had affected the area where he’d grown up. “Basically the government couldn’t have cared less about conditions in the traditional industries.”

I had no idea Mark was so political.

“Things were a lot better for the newer industries like car making and electronics,” Sam said.

“But most of that was in the Midlands and the South,” Mark pointed out.

“That’s true.” Sam nodded.

The room grew quiet. Then Sam, who had gone back to choosing a film, said, “Can I watch this one?” He’d pulled out an action movie I’d bought for Mark but we’d never gotten around to watching.

“Of course,” I said. “Put it in the machine and come and sit on the sofa.”

Sam sat in the chair looking at first Mark then me.

“Is there anything wrong?” I asked.

“Erm ... I, are you ... I mean, do you mind me asking, is Mark your boyfriend?”

I looked at Mark. He gave a slight nod.

“Would it bother you if we were?”

“God, no. My uncle Steve is gay, he’s cool!”

“Do you get to see him much?” Mark asked.

“No, he lives in the north of Scotland. He doesn’t have a boyfriend though. How long have you and Simon known each other?”

“A few months, but we only became boyfriends yesterday.”

“Really? Wow, that’s great!”

“I think so, too,” Mark said.

I smiled, touched that Mark would say such a thing. But thinking we should change the subject, I said, “Shall we watch this film?”

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FREEZER BURN by Kate Early

FREEZER BURN by Kate Early

When David and Randy literally crash into each other things heat up in the grocery store freezer

Randy is facing the gauntlet of grocery store aisles and too many options when he crashes into another shopping cart. David can't hide his reaction, recognizing Randy has him short of breath.

Things heat up when the men escape into the store freezer for a little privacy.

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Freezer Burn


Free Range.

Fertilized.

Organic.

Vegetarian.

Free Range Organic.

How many fucking different kinds of eggs were there? Randy started to reach into the cooler filled with the neatly organized cartons for the third time then stopped. He was pretty sure all the different options were stocked on the shelves just to confuse him and every other clueless guy that wanted something yellow to go with his bacon. The chickens were having their subtle revenge. A picture of the foul birds rubbing their feathers together and plotting formed in Randy's mind.

With a groan of defeat, he picked one carton at random and added it to his cart. Visiting the grocery store was not a high point in his week. He’d worked up the motivation to go only after sitting on the toilet next to an empty cardboard roll. He was not a masochist, so only emergency items were written on the paper towel shopping list. Looking down at his messy scribble, he searched out the next item. Bacon, check. Eggs, check. He took a step forward, shopping list in hand. Time to move on to—Bang!

"Umph."

The sound of metal crashing together echoed in Randy's ears as his cart collided with another one coming down the aisle. The force of the collision pushed the handlebar out of his hand and buried the edge in his gut as the cart swung around. He grunted painfully as the air blew out of his lungs, leaving him hunched

over and gasping.

The painful stabbing via shopping cart distracted him. Add that one to the list of lethal weapons. He tuned out the other driver's apologies until he heard his name.

"Oh my God, I am so—Randy?"

Of course, he would recognize that voice. Embarrassment felt like a snake squeezing his chest tight.

Was it too much to ask that he crash into someone he didn't know?

Shit, this could have been a scene from a bad comedy. He could see the script now, being green lighted as ‘Randy, the Bumbling Idiot’. Handsome man turns the corner at the grocery store and runs into another shopper. Queue laugh track.

Randy fought to stop wheezing and respond, but it took a moment to recover his breath. The other man froze like a deer in the headlights, staring at Randy and making the situation even more awkward. He hated looking like a klutz and drawing attention to himself in public.

‚Hello, David.‛ By the time he managed the two words, heat burned his cheeks and he was taken over by stage fright. It was Macbeth in high school all over again. He didn't know his lines.

**END EXCERPT**
 
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WHO'S WATCHING WHO? by J. Tomas

 

WHO'S WATCHING WHO?

by J. Tomas

Read an excerpt or buy your copy today!

BLURB:

It's the first Saturday of summer vacation. But upcoming high school senior Logan Bradley can't celebrate -- he has to watch his younger brother Dylan while their mother attends her monthly book club meeting. She even forbids him from inviting his boyfriend Chad Adams over when she isn't home!

Logan's only consolation is his cell phone, which connects him to Chad. Now, if Dylan will just leave him alone long enough to chat up his boy, the evening might be salvaged ...

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EXCERPT:

“Logan, are you listening to me?” His mother jingled her keys as she shouldered her purse. “Dylan has to be in bed by nine.”

Logan sighed. “Mom, it’s summer --"

“And we’re not arguing about this. Your brother already tried. Nine.” She tried to kiss his forehead but Logan stepped out of reach. “Spend some time with him before he goes down, will you? Don’t hole up in your room all night.”

Logan followed her to the door. “Can Chad come over?”

She shook her head. “You know my rule on that. No one in the house if I’m not here.”

“Mom,” Logan moaned. “It’s not like we’re going to have sex.”

Over her shoulder, she threw him a stern look. “Not in my house you’re not.”

Only half-joking, Logan said, “See, that’s why we need to go out riding tonight.”

His mother didn’t laugh. “No one in the house, you hear me?”

Logan sighed. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Dylan in bed by nine. You can stay up until I get home --"

“Mom!’ Logan cried. “I’m seventeen.”

“Which is why you can stay up.” She smirked, pleased she had won this round. “I should be in before midnight. I have my cell with me if you need to call.”

“If I’m calling anyone, it’ll be Chad,” Logan groused.

“Do not spend all night on the phone,” his mother warned. “When I call later, you better answer, mister. Now give me a kiss.”

Grudgingly Logan leaned forward, but he kissed the air in front of her face instead of landing a peck on her cheek. “Have fun. I sure won’t.”

His mother sighed. “Not with that attitude.”

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ENCORE by J.M. Snyder

ENCORE by J.M. Snyder

BRAND NEW FICTION FROM J.M. SNYDER!

In Beautiful Disaster, pop superstar Corey Evans realizes how hollow he feels until he discovers he's in love with his best friend and band mate, Ian Coltraine. Together they form the successful pop duo 2ICE, and this story picks up where the first left off.

A couple not only onstage but in the bedroom now, Ian and Corey have managed to hide their newfound relationship from the fans, the press, and -- most importantly -- their management. But when manager Dean Summers stumbles upon the two of them together, he's determined to put an end to what he sees as a destructive course which can only end up tearing the band apart.

Is the budding love Ian and Corey share strong enough to stand up to the pressures they face?

If you haven't read Beautiful Disaster, this story may not make much sense. So pick up the first story before diving into this short, satisfying sequel!

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EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

The kiss was electric, spiking between them, burning away the moment, the world and everything in it, everything that wasn’t Ian on Corey, in him. Yes, Corey thought, the single word eclipsing all other processes in his brain. Yes, God yes, this, please.

When Ian broke away, Corey fell back to the pillow and stared up at his lover, breathless. For a long moment, neither said anything. Truth be told, Corey thought they could never move or speak again, and he’d die happy. Ian was his, here with him now, and nothing else mattered.

Then a familiar glint lit up Ian’s eyes, a hunger Corey knew all too well. The heated blush of arousal spread through him like a fever -- the anticipation of things to come. Of them coming, together. Coyly Corey asked, “What?”

“You know what.” Ian half-rolled onto Corey, pressing his groin against Corey’s hip. “The condoms are in my bag on the sink. Unless you aren’t interested ...”

“When am I not interested?” Pushing himself up with both arms, Corey claimed another quick kiss, then slid off the edge of the bed.

He didn’t get far -- Ian caught one hand and held onto it, pulling him back.

“Give me one more,” he said, puckering his lips.

Corey obliged. What began as a quick peck deepened, and Corey had to lean heavily on the bed with his knees to keep from falling back to the mattress. Releasing him, Ian ran a hand up Corey’s forearm, over his bicep, up to his shoulder then down the thin muscles of his chest. One of Corey’s legs rose of its own volition, already climbing back into his recently vacated spot beside Ian. Fuck the condoms. He needed this.

Before he could climb back into bed, a hard knock rapped on the room door.

Corey’s eyes flew open. He found Ian staring back at him, a look of fear frozen on his face. When the knock came again, Ian groaned and closed his eyes in frustration. “Fuck,” he whispered, his hands falling from Corey’s body. “It’s too damn early for this.”

Corey frowned. “Who do you think it is?”

Ian touched Corey’s stomach. “You think I know?” When Corey grinned, Ian poked his forefinger into Corey’s belly. “Go find out. Tell whoever it is we’re busy and don’t wish to be disturbed.”

“We need one of those signs.” Corey stretched as he stood, and Ian’s finger trailed down his stomach, over his slight pubic mound, to tweak his half-erect cock. With a laugh, Corey danced out of reach. “Maybe it’s room service. I could use breakfast in bed.”

Ian rolled onto his back, the bed sheets sliding down to expose bare skin. “I didn’t call.”

A third knock kept Corey from answering. As he crossed the room, he snagged his boxer briefs from where they lay discarded on the floor and tugged them on, tucking his swollen dick roughly into the front of the underwear. If it wasn’t room service, it better damn well be something serious. His spot in the bed was getting cold, and he wanted Ian’s arms around him again. Quietly he approached the door and peeked through the peephole.

Their manager Dean stood on the other side. He blinked in the bright lights and looked down the hallway, scratching the back of his neck as he waited.

“Who is it?” Ian asked, snuggling deeper into the blankets.

Corey’s breath fogged up the peephole. “Dean. Shit.”

Before Ian could respond, Corey unlocked the door and opened it a crack, hiding behind the sturdy wood. “Yeah?” he asked, frowning.

Dean blinked at him and took a step back. “Whoa, wrong room, man. Sorry about that.” He looked down the hallway again and frowned. “Wait a minute -- aren’t you on the other end of the hall?”

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BEAUTIFUL DISASTER by J.M. Snyder

BEAUTIFUL DISASTER by J.M. Snyder

Twenty year old Corey Evans is one-half of 2ICE, the biggest duo on the radio at the moment. Pronounced twice, they're number one on the Billboard charts this week with their latest single. And number one in download sales, with two albums that have already gone platinum, to hear their manager tell it. And currently on their second U.S. tour, which has sold out stadiums across the nation.

Despite this, there's an emptiness inside him which Corey can't seem to fill, no matter how many groupies he takes to his bed. He sees this same emptiness mirrored in the eyes of his band-mate, Ian Coltraine, who drowns his evenings after each show with a bottle of whiskey. Ian's the one Corey turns to when he wakes beside an unknown fan, still asleep in his bed and needs help evicting her. He's Corey best friend, the only person on the tour he can confide in, who he really trusts ...

The one, Corey finally realizes, with whom he is madly, deeply, terribly in love. And he suspects Ian might feel the same.

But his recent string of one-night stands makes Ian cautious about Corey's true feelings. He's wanted Corey for so long, and has watched him go through countless fans in search of ... what? Ian doesn't know. And he doesn't yet believe Corey when he says Ian might be it. Ian hopes so, but can't bring himself to believe Corey's fickle desire won't be gone in the morning.

Can these two young men somehow move beyond Corey's past and Ian's pain to embrace a love they both so desperately desire?

NOTE: The paperback also contains the short stories Encore and Render, which feature the same characters.

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EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

Corey pulled back the comforter, exposing pristine white sheets that still looked ironed. Ian hadn't slept in the bed at all. As Corey eased between the covers, the sheets cool on his skin, he frowned and tried to forget about the girl in his own bed down the hall. What the fuck was he going to do about that in the morning?

He didn't know.

Leaning back against the pillow, he pulled the comforter up to his armpits and looked over at Ian, who sat in the chair watching him. Watching him. So he still existed. He was still real, still alive, still here. "The bed's big enough for two," he murmured.

"I'm fine," Ian replied, but suddenly he didn't look fine to Corey. He looked sad and old and alone, and not fine in the least.

With a sigh, Corey rolled his eyes and let a slight whine creep into his voice. "Ian. There's plenty of room." To emphasize his point, he patted the empty space beside him. When Ian didn't reply, Corey said, "This is your bed. I'll sleep on the floor if I have to. Is that what you want? It doesn't matter to me. Just as long as I don't have to go back --"

"Fine." Ian hoisted himself out of the chair and stumbled to the bed. Sitting on the edge farthest from Corey, he kicked off his shoes and glared at the floor. "You happy now? You got what you wanted, Corey. You fucking happy?"

"Jeez." Corey didn't say another word as Ian began to undress, slipping out of his shirt and tugging down his pants until he stood in just his boxers and undershirt. As he reached across the bed to cut off the lamp, his shadow fell over Corey, blocking the light from his eyes. Then the room plunged into darkness, and the bed shook as Ian climbed beneath the covers.

Corey lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, blinking to assure himself his eyes were still open. He waited until Ian settled into a comfortable position before he turned toward his friend, who was rolled on his side away from him. All Corey could see was the slump of Ian's shoulder outlined against the dim glow of the curtains. "Ian?"

"What?" His voice was muffled, his mouth probably buried in the pillow.

Clearing his throat, Corey asked, "Are you mad at me?"

For a moment he didn't think Ian would answer. Then Ian sighed. "No."

Corey released a shaky breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Good."

Now that the lights were out and Ian was just a shadow in the darkness, Corey's mind couldn't stop turning, and he didn't want the silence that surrounded them to get inside. He wanted to hear Ian's deep voice, soft and comforting and slurred, wrap around him and hold him close. He wanted to hear Ian's steady breath drown out the tick of the alarm clock and the sounds of the city beyond the drawn curtain. "Ian?" he asked again.

"What?" Ian replied, gentler this time.

"Talk to me." Talk to me and make me real. Make this real, so I'll be able to look back on it when I'm alone and scared again and know for a few moments at least I existed to someone as just Corey and not anything else. Please, Ian. Please give me that much.

Ian chuckled. "You wanted me to get into bed so we could sleep. Now you want me to talk to you? What do you want me to say?"

"Anything." When Ian didn't answer, Corey prompted, "What were you doing in the lounge?"

"Drinking," Ian said.

Corey grinned. "I know that. What were you thinking about?"

"You," came the soft reply.

"Really?" Corey frowned at Ian's back. "Me? Why?"

Ian sighed. "I don't feel like talking right now, Corey, okay? I just don't."

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TWELVE HOURS I by Drew Hunt

TWELVE HOURS I by Drew Hunt

High school quarterback Zack Pierce’s life is spiralling out of control.

To hide from his growing attraction to Sam, his best friend and team mate, Zack drinks, smokes dope, and has sex with any girl who will have him.

Things reach a crisis point when Zack’s girlfriend dumps him after she finds out he’s got another girl pregnant. Not knowing what else to do, Zack breaks out his father’s bourbon and calls Sam for help.

The call in the middle of the night scares Sam, who rushes to his friend’s side. Dare he risk everything by confessing what he feels for Zack? The next twelve hours will either make or break them.

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EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.


Zack paced the floor of the den. It was all such a fucking mess. For years, he’d tried to ignore his problems, drinking, smoking or fucking them out of his mind. But in recent weeks, no matter what he did, the scary thoughts kept creeping in. He couldn’t stop them.

Zack reached up and tugged at his hair. It was all over the place, but he didn’t give a shit. He would normally spend ages on his hair, combing, gelling, and styling it just right. Jill would joke he spent longer on his hair than she did on hers. When she’d found out Janet was pregnant, and that he was probably the father, she’d dumped his ass.

He’d been at her house. She’d screamed and stamped her feet. She’d picked up everything from a hairbrush to CD’s, to a little statue of a pony he’d bought her, and had thrown them at him. He’d tried to talk her down, but when he’d gotten close, she’d slashed his cheek with her nails.

Zack reached up to his face. At least it had stopped bleeding.

He’d gotten the hell out of there. Her high-pitched screams had still been audible from the sidewalk. Once home, he’d lost no time in getting wasted on a bottle of his dad’s bourbon. Then not really knowing why, he’d called Sam. He hadn’t known what to say, and, fuck, he hadn’t meant to start crying. What a fuckin’ pussy. But he couldn’t hold it in any more. He needed another drink.

Stumbling in the direction of his parents’ bar in the corner of the den, Zack tripped over the coffee table.

“Who the fuck put that there!”

As he tripped, the glass in his hand knocked against the table and broke, shards scattering over the carpet.

Recovering, he stepped around the broken glass, made it to the bar, splashed a healthy slug of bourbon into another tumbler, added some ice, and threw back the glass’s contents.

“Zack?”

Sam’s voice startled Zack. He jerked his arm, and some of the liquor splashed onto his cheek, stinging like a motherfucker.

“Sumbitch!”

“Zack?” The voice was closer. “What the fuck you been doin’, man?”

Sam’s fingers touched the edge of his cheek.

Zack found himself leaning into the touch. Suddenly realizing what he was doing, he jerked backward and swung at Sam. “What the fuck! You a fag or something?”

Sam stepped back, his hands held up in a gesture of peace.

The momentum of Zack’s punch caused him to overbalance. He landed face first on the carpet, the glass landing next to him, its contents forming a puddle near his right ear. He could smell the alcohol as it soaked into the carpet. His mom would go ape shit! Suddenly, it all became too much. For close on six years, he had guarded the secret he’d held inside. But now, the break up with Jill, his shitty parents, the pain in his cheek, and now in his chest, were too big a burden for him to cope with any more. He curled into a ball and started to sob.

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BIRTHDAY PARTY SURPRISE by Cheryl Dragon

BIRTHDAY PARTY SURPRISE by Cheryl Dragon

Lucky Springs Series, Book Two

Turning thirty-five isn't easy for Jessica. Most of her life is going fine, but her love life has been in a holding pattern. Tired of waiting, it's Jessica's turn to go a little wild and her friends help arrange it. One night, one fantasy, and four sexy men make for a happy birthday!

The urge to repeat the fun haunts her, but when she finds out exactly who her mystery lovers were - all the rules change. Four men she loves want more than friendship or sex. They become caught in a web of passionate love that can't be denied. The quad of hunks wants to share her and each other every night. Her patience paid off times four but can this traditional girl commit to group love?

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Excerpt:

Jessica’s Salon was a fixture in Lucky Springs. Some had tried to open competing places, but they never lasted. People were just used to coming here. Her great aunt had owned it and passed it down. Every day, Jessica styled hair and listened to all the news. Part therapist, part friend, and part beauty genius—she loved it!

This morning was her favorite client, the one who actually wanted to hear what was going on with Jessica. Her cousin, Cassie. She’d been home for six months straight and showed no sign of going back to her nomadic ways to take pictures. A handsome neighbor had gotten wandering Cassie to stay put.

“Hey, Jess!” Cassie grinned from ear-to-ear as she slipped into the salon before the official opening time. Cassie was always smiling now.

“Hi, Cassie. You look like the cat that got the rat.”

“Or three.” Cassie hugged her cousin and headed for the shampoo station. “Hi, Andrew!”

Jessica had completely forgotten Andrew was coming in early to help his boyfriend, Stuart, with inventory. Andrew was the best stylist and her best friend in Louisiana. She’d met him in beauty school and hired him as soon as she had her own salon. He brought along Stuart. The cute and serious man managed the office, payroll, ordering and inventory. Most of the women loved having cute, younger men fussing over their hair. Their husbands felt better knowing the pair was gay. It worked out.

“Hey, Cassie!” Andrew winked from the back room.

Jessica caught an extra bounce in Cassie’s mood today. “What’s up?” she asked automatically as she shampooed Cassie’s soft brown locks.

“Nothing new here. Life’s great. What about you?” Cassie stared up at Jess.

“Same old here, too. The guys are doing inventory.”

“You don’t look okay.” Cassie toweled off her hair and moved to the big chair.

“I’m fine. When you’re about to turn thirty-five, we’ll see how you take it.” Jessica combed out Cassie’s hair and saw the smile in the mirror. “Okay, fine, maybe you’re so happy and in love with Dominic that you won’t care.”

“Sorry. I wish you were this happy. So it’s your birthday? Or is the problem that Frank hasn’t been around?” They acted like sisters, and the honesty between them was refreshing.

Normally, Jessica had to support and sympathize with clients, whether she agreed or not. But with Cassie, Jessica couldn’t hide her real feelings. “Both. Neither. Frank never made any huge promises to come back. But I always thought by now he’d be back.” Frank was her high school boyfriend, but he’d wanted college and to take the world by storm with his best friend, Eric.

Jessica just wanted to cut hair and stay in small town Lucky Springs forever. Her family, her friends and life were all right here. Frank planned to make millions and move back to run his business from Lucky Springs. But times had been tough, and now those dreams felt silly and idealistic. “I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not!” Cassie jumped in. “Frank has come back every year, sometimes twice. To see you! He’s got it just as bad as you do. The economy is still tough. Lucky Springs is doing okay, but the factory is slowing down. No layoffs but still. Not that that is an excuse. Frank should’ve moved back years ago. Has he called or anything?”

Jessica shook her head.

Andrew slid out from the back room and hugged Jessica from behind. “No and he’s crazy, if you ask me. That man might be hot, but he doesn’t know what he’s got.”

Smiling, Jess let her head rest on Andrew’s strong shoulder. He was sexy with blond spiky hair, blue eyes and a winning smile. Stuart was more classically handsome with brown hair, but the pair always teased her, hitting on her as if it were a dare for her to say yes. Some days, she wanted to call their bluff just to see what they’d do. They were so sexy. She loved them, knew them and they were here. To watch them together would be amazing. “What is it about the one that got away?” she asked.

Cassie shrugged. “Until now, I was always the one going away so I can’t answer that. But you’ve dated other guys. It’s not as if you’ve been in a convent for fifteen years. Maybe Frank’s pal Eric is the problem? I don’t remember him being a jerk in high school, but swinging single men in the big city…”

“No, Eric is a great guy. He always gives Frank and me plenty of time alone in town, but he’s great to hang out with. I had a crush on him in junior high. If Frank ever dumped me, I might go after Eric but they’re always together so it’d get weird. What am I doing wrong?” Jess hated it. All these hot men, and she slept alone.

“Nothing!” Cassie and Andrew said in unison.

“You’re the hottest single woman in Lucky Springs.” Andrew pointed her toward the mirror. “Look at that sexy mocha skin, glossy brown hair with those auburn highlights done by yours truly. And you have green eyes that men get lost in. It’s not you. What can we do to make you feel better?”

“I don’t know. A one-night-stand won’t fix it. I want to feel sexy and desired, not cheap and used. I want someone to pay attention to me. I just want to enjoy my birthday and not think about everything. Great sex and to feel beautiful. Is that too much to ask?” Jess stared in the mirror. She wasn’t a bad package.

“Stuart and I are always available.” Andrew squeezed her waist.

“I wouldn’t ask you to sacrifice like that.” Jess kissed his cheek.

“We might be able to fix this.” Cassie smiled.

Jess held up her hands. “No, not your boyfriend’s brother. I don’t want charity.”

“You’re too hot to be labeled charity.” Andrew nudged her into the chair.

Cassie looked at Andrew. “Not him. I think we need to tell her.”

Andrew lifted an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

“What? Tell me what?” Jess’ hopes lifted. Maybe Frank was coming in? She refused to ask out loud. No doubt about it, Jess needed to wean herself off the dream.

Cassie sat in the next chair. “I got mixed up with Dom because of these parties he has. He was my neighbor and attractive, but when I moved back, I heard a lot of noise and went over to check. They’re into the group thing—sort of. And I got pulled into it, too. Way hot.”

“Parties? Group?” Jessica’s brain spun, but her body tingled. “You sleep with just random groups?”

“No, not random. It’s not like that.” Cassie blushed. “Just Dom and Monty and Alex and sometimes Ham.”

“Wow.” Jessica swallowed. “Sometimes Ham?”

“He’s a little kinkier than I am, but I’m sure he’ll find the right girl. You’re not right for him, but I think we could arrange something. Plenty of guys at these parties would love to make your birthday memorable.”

“Not your guys?” Jessica shook her head. Was she really thinking about this as an option? Cassie was serious. If she were lying, she’d be giggling by now. Cassie wasn’t this good at practical jokes.

“No, those are all mine. Ham is unique. But the other three, no other girls for them. But we still do the party thing once a month. It’s really hot to watch and be watched.”

“You’re serious?” Jess looked up at Andrew. “You know about this?”

“Yes. It’s not like I go every month. But Stuart and I have been known to go just to show off and watch. There are hot men. We like looking at girls, too.”

“Sure. But how is it I don’t know about this? I know everything that happens in this town! People spill their guts in these chairs. Why didn’t you tell me?” She smacked them both on the arms.

“Stuart and I have offered to help you personally. Repeatedly.” Andrew folded his arms.

Cassie gave her cousin a look but let that comment go. “I didn’t know until I moved back. It’s a big secret so the more conservative of the town don’t freak. It’s not that big, really. I know it’s not normal, but it works for us. Not that I’m suggesting you need that every day. But one time with a group of men just focused on pleasing you… It’d be a birthday you’ll want to remember.”

“Pleasing me?” Jess pushed away thoughts of porn with demanding men.

Andrew leaned down. “Exactly. There are men who love sex and love to get women off. You deserve it!”

“I couldn’t do that at a party with people watching.” Jessica rejected the idea on her reputation alone. The grandmothers of Lucky Springs came here to get their hair set. They could ruin her weekly revenue.

“Okay, fine. We can set up a private party. That’s how it started for me. I think four men would be good. Three can get the job done, but it’s your birthday.” Cassie made it sound as if they were ordering enough cake.

Jess took a few deep breaths. “Who are these men? I don’t want to know. This isn’t about love, Cassie. It’s about sex and birthday fun. I don’t want to pick men. This is insane. How will I know it’s safe? I mean, will they just show up at my house?” Jess got up and grabbed her scissors. “I need to trim your hair before the regulars arrive. Thanks for the offer, but it’s too much for me.”

“Don’t say that. You’ve had a bit of a dry spell.” Andrew leaned on the counter. “What if you’re blindfolded? You won’t see them. We’ll pick the guys. It’ll be really safe and mysterious. Super hot.”

Cassie smiled wide. “Definitely. And they’ll never tell you. These are guys from the party who will keep the secret. They’ll play by the rules, always use protection and want to please. We can trust them.”

“But I won’t know who they are. I’ll be blindfolded. This is nuts. That’s not safe. What has Dom done to you?” Jess asked.

“So many wonderful things. I’m trying to share the goodness. Just not my men.” Cassie shrugged.

“Stuart!” Jessica called.

He stepped out from the office with clipboard in hand. “What do you need?”

“Do you hear this? Do you know about this?” she demanded.

A smile tugged at his lips. “Obviously, I don’t let Andrew go to parties alone. I think it’d be good for you. If you’re not sure about the safety, have Cassie and Dom chaperone the private party. She can get video just in case you ever want to see it. If you’re at all curious, you’ll like it more than you think.”

“Sure, my cousin wants to watch me in a group sex romp, blindfolded, and she’ll record it.” Jess tapped the scissors to the back of her hand. The pinch told her it was no dream.

Cassie spun in the chair. “Remember Kitty and Violet from junior high? My friends who sort of drifted away?”

“Sure,” Jess replied.

“I’ve seen them together, with the hubby. They’re a three-way since forever. Watching you have a great birthday won’t bother me. I’m sure the men will be worth watching. That’s what I’m into watching. So quit being a prude and let Andrew and I set this up. Blindfold and lots of condoms and lube. Any other requests?” She winked at Andrew.

“Sure, tie me down so I can’t change my mind.” She threw her hands up in the air.

“I was going to suggest that.” Andrew nodded to Stuart.

“Sounds good to me,” Stuart added.

If Stuart thought it was safe, it wouldn’t be that extreme…and Jess wasn’t a prude. Her brain argued, but her body liked the idea. “Back up a second. Being blindfolded you want some sense of security. How is Cassie safety? Four men. She’s no match for them if something goes weird.”

“They aren’t into force. These aren’t BDSM parties. Stop being paranoid.” Cassie used her stern voice.

“If Dom and you are there, to make sure it’s all safe. And it’s in your house. Fine.” Jess got busy cutting hair. She needed to focus on reality because what she’d just agreed to felt like someone else’s life.

“You’ll thank us later.” Andrew gave her a kiss on the cheek and followed Stuart into the back. No doubt, they were deciding whom to cast in Jess’ birthday orgy. The idea alone aroused her.

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CHOOSING LOVE by Winona Wilder

CHOOSING LOVE - Coming Out Book One by Winona Wilder

Cal has hidden his true feelings from Waylon for years, not willing to jeopardize their friendship. After a night of drunken passion, the truth finally comes out. While Cal learns to accept his true nature, Waylon is afraid to risk alienating his family. Will he live in denial or choose love?

With the help of their sexy history teacher, Evan, the three men learn that love has no boundaries. But are evenings filled with hot sex enough to forge a lasting ménage?

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Excerpt
ADULT EXCERPT

Fire sparked in Waylon’s eyes and, without warning, he kissed Cal—passionately. He nearly fell back against the closed door but caught his footing in time, and Waylon’s strong arms were around him in an instant. His cock pulsed and thickened knowing that Evan watched from his perch on the desk. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the advance, kissing back, nipping, tasting. Waylon reached between them, rubbing his hand over the bulge in Cal’s jeans.

“Use my desk, boys. I’d love to watch the both of you in action.” Evan’s voice faintly registered in Cal’s mind. Soon Waylon was escorting him toward the desk, barely breaking their kiss along the way. Every nerve in Cal’s body fired hot with erotic need when his boyfriend undid his pants, letting them drop to his knees. He grabbed Waylon’s cock, pumping it in his fist, enjoying the wide girth of hard flesh. Cal undid his own pants, eager to get fucked before he lost his mind. When he turned to face the desk, Waylon spun him back around.

“You’re gonna fuck me, Cal.”

“What?” He’d never entered Waylon. He’d lost his virginity, but in a sense, Waylon had not. Cal just assumed that his boyfriend wanted to dominate, didn’t want to be penetrated, and he was okay with that. The mere idea of fucking Waylon’s beautiful, firm round ass nearly made him come on the spot.

“Evan taught me about give and take. I want to do this, Cal. I have to do this.”

Cal turned his head and looked at Evan sitting beside them, less than a foot away. With both their cocks bare and bobbing with desire, they were in full view for a virtual stranger. Their teacher no less. The openness between them all made him so hot, so fucking horny, he’d die if he didn’t release his load soon.

Waylon leaned over the desk on his elbows, his bare ass ready and waiting. Cal rubbed the smooth, muscled mounds while looking Evan in the eye. The teacher opened a drawer beside him and held up a tube of lube.

“Here. Rub it in.” Evan squeezed some lube into Cal’s palm. He did as told, rubbing the salve along Waylon’s crack, making the man groan, and penetrated him with his finger to distribute the moisture. “Your cock, too.” Then Evan’s lube covered hand was around Cal’s shaft, rubbing and pumping. He closed his eyes, his head lolling back on his shoulders from the onslaught of wicked sensations. A new hand caressed him, and he was about to penetrate Waylon for the first time. How much stimulation could one man handle?

Waylon peered at them from the side, frowning as he watched Evan stroking Cal. “What about me?”

“Okay, Cal, go slow,” urged Evan. Evan aimed the head of Cal’s cock at Waylon’s tight rosette. Properly coated with moisture, he pressed in. His urge to thrust full force was difficult to rein in, but he managed to embed himself to the hilt with a firm, but gentle pressure. Once fully seated, he exhaled. Waylon’s breathing came in shallow gasps, but he took Cal’s cock like a man without wimping out.

“You okay, Waylon?”

“Yeah. This is good,” he muttered, a hint of hesitation in his words.

Cal felt him clench around his cock. Being connected with the man he loved was comparable to nothing in the world. It didn’t matter who did the fucking. It was the same bond between them. “I want to fuck you so bad,” Cal groaned. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Why don’t I help?” offered Evan, his eyes dark and flirty. Cal would agree to anything about now with his cock throbbing to the point of pain. Evan pulled off his T-shirt, his body toned and tanned an even golden hue. Then he unzipped and lost his pants. His cock was ripe for fucking, pre-cum slipping off the tip.

“You’re not fucking Cal,” ordered Waylon.

“Of course not. You get to be the meat in our sandwich.” Evan winked at Cal. “It’ll be easier on you if you get to fuck while being fucked—for your first time, anyway.”

“Whatever. Hurry up because I can’t hold back much longer.” Cal began to grind his hips, pushing deeper into Waylon, desperate to begin thrusting.

Evan passed Cal the lube and leaned over the desk beside Waylon.

“Put a condom on me, Cal.” Cal’s heart filled with love knowing that Waylon wanted him fucking his ass bareback, but insisted Evan use protection.

Cal was on cloud nine, raking his eyes over the two delicious men. With both hands free, his dick still embedded in Waylon’s ass, he reached down and pulled a condom from his pocket and sheathed Waylon. He then poured lube into one hand. He bent forward, reaching around to coat his friend’s hard cock and then directed him to mount their teacher. Once in position, they both aimed at Evan’s waiting asshole.

Evan groaned, an erotic sound that echoed in the small room. Waylon wasn’t gentle as he’d been for Cal’s first time. He thrust in, holding the man’s hips securely. Cal followed suit, pulling out and plunging back in. They worked as a team, a finely tuned mass of male muscle and strength with one united goal.

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IN FROM THE COLD by Carolina Valdez

IN FROM THE COLD by Carolina Valdez

East is East and West is West, and never the twain shall meet...

Jon and Wendell were fourteen when they first experimented with each other and discovered they were gay. Lovers and in love, they drifted apart after graduation when Jon left to follow his dream to rock 'n' roll stardom. A heartbroken Wendell recovered by earning an animal husbandry degree at a California university. He returned to the small Oregon town where they'd grown up to raise sheep with his father.

Ten years later, Wendell's contentment is shattered when Jon and his band arrive to play for their high school reunion. Love surprises both men by immediately flaring into liquid heat. Jon begs Wendell to give up his life in Oregon and live with him in New York City. Wendell refuses, however, asking Jon to move in with him instead. But Jon refuses to abandon his career and returns to Manhattan.

Will Wendell and Jon remain star-crossed lovers, or will they find a way to bridge the distance and discover the true meaning of "home"?

Note: IN FROM THE COLD is included in the five-story erotic gay WHERE THE HEART IS AmberPax 

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Excerpt:

...Wendell froze. He forgot to breathe. Warm lips touched the hollow just beneath his right ear and a tongue slowly tasted, savoring him. He closed his eyes as the tonguing changed to a wet mouth trailing kisses with agonizing slowness down his neck to where his sleep top began. Fingers slid beneath the neck and slid across his bare skin, following its line.

“I wore your gift tonight,” Jon said in a voice as rough as gravel.

Mesmerized by the touch of Jon’s mouth and hands, all Wendell could get out was, “I noticed.” When a lack of oxygen threatened to cause a blackout, he drew in a long breath through his nose. Not my soap, he thought. Not my shampoo. Only Jon’s scent. His soap, his shampoo, his arms strong and familiar around me.

His lips and tongue that I have missed so very much.

He crossed his arms over Jon’s and became aware of the rock-hard cock pressing against his buttocks and his dick growing long and big in response. That, too, was familiar. He didn’t want to move, to stop the mouth at his neck or destroy the pleasures rumbling inside him. He just wanted to stand there and feel Jon in the stillness, with the blazing fire shooting flickering shadows around them, and convince himself Jon was real and this wasn’t a dream.

Jon released his waist and turned Wendell to face him as his lips brushed over the corners of his closed eyes and his tongue lapped at the tip of his nose before zeroing in to devour Wendell’s mouth. As the kiss deepened and their tongues intertwined in an imitation of penetrating sex, Wendell wrapped his arms around Jon and ran his hands up and down the broad back. Jon thrust his pelvis against Wendell’s until they were so tight together he couldn’t tell Jon’s dick from his. It didn’t matter. Melding into him, becoming one with him was all that mattered as erotic sparks shot through him and lust caused his body to quiver.

Someone groaned, and Wendell realized it came from his throat.

Jon must’ve taken that as a signal to slip his hand beneath the band of Wendell’s sleep pants because he was there, and his hard knuckles stroked the tender flesh above Wendell’s bush.

“Lower. Go lower,” Wendell begged, hungry for and helpless against the sensual onslaught. He rocked his hips from side to side to increase the friction as the knuckles continued to rub.

Jon was trembling now. He slid Wendell’s sleep pants down and took his cock in hand.

“Not here,” Wendell warned, his voice thick and hoarse with what testosterone was doing to his vocal chords. “I’m on the verge.”

“Yes, here,” Jon insisted as he pulled down his own pants and wrapped Wendell’s hand around his tight erection. “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long I’m not going to let you go. Besides, we have all night.”

Pleasure splintered Wendell, and he exhaled with a groan as he enjoyed those all too brief seconds when everything centered in his groin and drowned his entire body in feeling.

“Oh, God, Wendell. Wendell.” Jon moaned as he came, too.

Later, they wandered to bed, stripped, crawled under the covers and died to the world.

In the deepest part of the night, Wendell roused to the weight of someone, something on his butt, something hard and velvety gliding, sliding in and out of his crack. Something nipped at his shoulder. “Is that you, Jon?”

“Who else, lover?”

He started to turn, but hands captured his shoulders and kept him in place as Jon’s knees forced his thighs apart. Hands rubbed his back as Jon licked his skin, awakening nerve endings running the length of his body. Thinking he should only feel this in his groin, the sensations caused every nerve to spring to life. Awash in feeling, he decided to relax and enjoy it, not to miss even one little flicker of arousal...

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ROUGH CANVAS by Joey W Hill

ROUGH CANVAS by Joey W Hill

When his father dies, Thomas is forced to abandon a burgeoning art career in New York. As difficult as it was to give up his lifelong dream, it’s nothing next to walking away from the man he loves. Marcus taught him to embrace who he is, a sexual submissive who responds to the touch of only one Master. But why would the sophisticated Marcus need some farm kid from the South?

Then Marcus shows up and offers him a way to continue his art career and help his family. There’s only one hitch – he asks Thomas to spend a week with him in the Berkshires. Thomas knows he should refuse. But he’s never been able to say no to his Master.

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By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: ROUGH CANVAS

Copyright © JOEY W. HILL, 2007

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

“These hands are the real works of art, pet.”

When his Master said that, they’d been in Thomas’ tiny warehouse room, which also served as his studio. He’d guided his Master’s hands into the paint and they’d stood together at the canvas, hands overlaid. They created something that, while not great art, was as much an expression of life as a child’s handprint in plaster.

His Master’s white silk shirt had been open, the lean muscular slope of the chest down to the sectioned stomach muscles exposed. He’d removed the belt from his slacks so they’d dropped lower, giving Thomas even more of the mouthwatering sculpted abs and diagonal musculature angling toward the groin. The shirt was loose so there was the hint of the points of his broad shoulders, the biceps disappearing into the sleeves.

Thomas had pressed behind his Master, turned him toward the mirror so he could trace his stomach with paint-covered fingers, taking streaks of color up over the pectorals and hard nipples, all the way to the throat. His Master had even allowed Thomas to run his hands over the expensive shirt so he left streaks of color on his clothes as well as his skin. Then his hands had overlapped Thomas’, mixing the colors, making a living tapestry that reflected Thomas’ passion for all that was his life.

All that was his life then. Not now. Not ever again. Cracking open an eye, he found he still had five fingers, though the tip of his forefinger was welling blood. A slice had been taken out of the meat and part of the nail was torn. It was more blood than damage. Cursing regardless, he picked up a rag and wrapped it around his finger, holding it to staunch the bleeding. He squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t scream out his rage.

Earlier this morning his mother had suggested an improvement to the paint color area. “Why don’t you paint a display there, Thomas? Something that will make people see how certain colors work together for their bedrooms and trim. You’re so good at that. You haven’t been painting since you came home, and you used to love to do it so much.”

He thought he might get physically ill if he walked down the paint aisle today.

Fuck it. Whoever the hell it was, he had to see. No way Marcus Aurelius Stanton was wandering around a hardware store in the middle of North Carolina. Surely he wasn’t the only one in the world with a drop-your-pants-because-I’m-going-to-fuck-you-now voice.

Thomas strode out of the back room, maneuvered around the repair counter and nearly trampled Les, coming around the corner from the other side.

“Oof.” She stopped herself with defensive hands against his chest. “Clumsy oaf. What’re you doing, charging out of there like a bat out of hell? I was just coming to find—”

He didn’t hear her. Not after the first sentence, when his eyes found the customer standing in the aisle behind her about fifteen paces away, who turned from his contemplation of fixtures at the sound of her exclamation.

Lucifer would have looked like that, Thomas was sure. Temptation, a hundred percent Grade A, tightly packaged in a hard-muscled six-foot frame. He knew what that frame looked like without a stitch on it. Marcus had a faint birthmark on the inside left thigh, but no tattoos or piercings. His lip had curled with disdain when Thomas teased him about it.

“Art is fixed on a canvas for a reason. If well preserved, it doesn’t distort or fade. I don’t believe time will be as kind to this canvas.”

He wasn’t wrong about much, but Marcus was wrong about that. Thomas knew the man he was looking at would be riveting until the day he died, even with the sculpted lines of old age. But he didn’t need tattoos or piercings. It would be like trying to touch up and improve Michelangelo’s David.

He wore his black hair loose on his shoulders. It was silk, the different lengths that fell over his brow and swept back from his aristocratic cheekbones only emphasizing his bone structure. He was the prince of every fairy tale that had ever been written. Not the prince who led the king’s armies, but the one who handled his negotiations for peace with a rapier intelligence that was twice as deadly a weapon as any general could imagine. A king might gain capitulation through force of arms. Marcus could acquire surrender through nothing more than a look.

Not only had Thomas touched those sensual, firm lips with his own, they had touched every part of his body. He remembered his arms and legs spread and bound as Marcus’ mouth moved over his belly, his chest, nuzzling his throat briefly before he straddled Thomas’ face and fed his thick, long cock between his eagerly waiting lips.

His jaw had rubbed against the rough texture of Marcus’ leg and the smoother skin of his inner thigh as he’d sucked and licked and done everything to drive Marcus mad. When Marcus’ grip on his hair fisted and the thighs hardened to drive himself deeper into his slave’s throat, Thomas had felt triumph.

How many lips had touched that impressive cock since Thomas’? Probably more than he could count. Thomas hadn’t been anything special. Lots of people knew how to give good head.

He told himself cruel things like that and tried to paste them as words in Marcus’ mouth to wean himself from the images that haunted him. He’d been successful enough that they plagued him mostly at night now, or when he’d worked a sixteen-hour day at the store and everyone else had gone home. Then it was just him and the silence of the old building, the sky dark outside and winking with stars that certainly couldn’t be seen in the night sky over New York City.

That long cock was contained in dark slacks probably custom-tailored by some impressive name like Armani. A blue T-shirt was tucked into it and Marcus wore a dark suit jacket over that. The Swiss timepiece on his wrist probably cost as much as their John Deere tractor inventory. Thomas knew Marcus would be wearing snug cotton boxer briefs in his preferred black. Glancing down, he saw Marcus wore Italian loafers. New York Upper East Side casual, which would be the equivalent of church clothes around here.

“Tommy, this man had some questions I didn’t know how to answer.” Les held up a small handful of clips. “How much weight can these hold if you’re using grade-two nylon line? I told him he might prefer the twine stock, but—”

“Too rough,” Marcus said, his green eyes focused on Thomas’ face. “I want something that won’t scratch.”

“Oh, like to protect a boat’s gel coat.” She nodded. “How much weight did you say it needed to handle?”

Marcus’ gaze dropped, passed down Thomas’ torso and back up again. It only took a moment, just long enough that Celeste turned to him as he reached Thomas’ flushed face again.

“About one sixty-two. Not that much, after all.”

Son of a bitch. Thomas had been one-ninety before he’d come back here. How did Marcus do that?

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CATCH HER WHEN SHE FALLS by Missy Martine

CATCH HER WHEN SHE FALLS by Missy Martine

Sequel to TABLE FOR THREE

Serena Dammler is recovering from a savage beating and needs protection. Cowboys and lovers Marc Weller and Tony Estabon are taking jobs as bounty-hunters, and their newest assignment is to capture her attacker and return him to Texas. They take one look at Serena's fragile beauty and decide she'd be the perfect third to their family.

Serena's always dreamed of catching herself a rich man, and she'd do just about anything to make that dream come true. She's not going to allow herself to fall in love with her two cowboy protectors, no matter how sexy they are.

Marc and Tony want Serena as their third, but they want her love to be real and not based on their bank accounts. So what will it hurt if they take her to a little cabin on their ranch and pretend to be simple cowboys?

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Excerpt
STORY EXCERPT

“What room is Serena Dammler in?” Marc smiled at the elderly woman sitting at the information desk in the lobby of Pioneer Hospital. His fingers drummed impatiently on the counter while she pulled up the information on her computer.

“She’s on the second floor, room two twenty-one.” She pointed down the hall. “The elevators are down there on the left.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled and motioned for Tony to follow him. Silently, they entered the elevator and punched the button for the second floor. “After we talk to Ms. Dammler, we should drive by the sheriff’s office. We don’t wanna be busting heads with the local fuzz.”

Tony grunted, but didn’t say anything. The doors opened and together the two men walked over to the nurse’s desk and looked around. Marc didn’t see anybody at first, and then voices drifted out from a small room behind the desk.

“Dr. Farin’s not happy about having her admitted to his service. I think he avoids making rounds on her whenever he can.”

“Well, what do you expect?” The unknown female snorted. “It’s hard to feel sorry for somebody that finally got what they deserved.”

“You really believe Serena deserved to get beaten up? I went to school with her, and she’s not so bad.”

“That’s your opinion, but I guarantee the rest of the women in this town don’t feel the same. I still remember when Randy fell all over himself fixing her car last year. For free, no less. She came around the shop in her skimpy clothes, practically drooling all over him.”

“Do you think he slept with her?”

“He always claimed I was imagining things, but I never really believed him. Hell, Joseph told us all about the things she was into.”

Marc had heard enough. “Excuse me,” he called out loudly. He waited for one of the women to stick her head out of the room.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there.” An attractive blond woman dressed in pink scrubs walked over to the counter, followed closely by a brunette who could have passed for her twin. Both women were young and had badges on their uniforms identifying them as Evie and Alice.

Tony leaned close to Marc’s ear and whispered. “Stepford nurses.”

Camouflaging his snort with a cough, Marc pulled out his notebook and wrote down the names of the two nurses. “Which way is room two twenty-one?”

The women glanced briefly at each other and then the blonde spoke up, nodding toward the end of the hall. “It’s the next to the last room down there on the right.”

The brunette smirked. “Are you friends of the patient?”

The emphasis on the word friends wasn’t lost on Marc. He narrowed his eyes and put his notebook aside. “No, we’ve never met the lady. Let me ask you something, Alice. Have you and Evie ever heard of HIPPA laws?”

Alice hunched her shoulders and looked down at her feet. “Of course we have. Why do you ask?”

“Because you’ve violated patient confidentiality about a dozen times since we’ve been standing here.” Without another word, Marc walked away with Tony following close behind.

Just as they reached the end of the hall, the door to room two twenty-one opened, and a tall man wearing a law-enforcement uniform stepped out. His name plaque identified him as Sheriff Burtram. Marc stopped and eyed the man critically. “Sheriff Burtram, I’m Marc Weller, and this is my partner Tony Estabon. We were sent by the Houston PD to track and retrieve one Eric Abernathy. I understand he had an altercation with one of your citizens Friday evening.”

Sheriff Burtram glanced from Marc to Tony and back again. “According to Serena’s statement, she practically invited him up here and then refused to give him the information he wanted when he showed up.” He chuckled. “Understandably, he was a mite pissed off after coming all this way.”

Marc gritted his teeth, struggling to control his temper. “Sheriff, you do realize that Eric Abernathy is a convicted felon now presently guilty of parole violation as well as wanted for a new list of charges?”

“Yeah, I know all about the boy’s background. His conviction was for malicious mischief. That hardly qualifies him for leg irons.”

“The man beat a woman severely enough for her to be hospitalized,” Tony said with a growl.

“Yes, I know the details. He had a little tiff with his wife, and he paid the ultimate price. Doesn’t make him a habitual criminal.”

“Except that now he’s gone and put another woman in the hospital. Most folks in law enforcement would call him a serial offender.” Marc couldn’t believe the attitude of the man.

“Well, son, let’s not forget that this little lady invited him to the party. She had an agenda all her own and tried to get him to do her dirty work for her. This time, things just happened to go wrong.”

“Sheriff, have you got your men out looking for Eric?” Marc asked.

“Yes, they’ve been given a description and told to keep their eyes open. But, I’ll tell you the same thing I told Cass. That boy’s long gone by now. He skedaddled out of there as soon as he heard my sirens, and he’s probably still running as fast as he can.” He crossed his arms across his chest. “Are you planning on going in to talk to Serena?”

“Yes, we need to get her statement before we do anything else. Unless there’s some reason you don’t want us talking to her.” Marc just wanted to wipe the smug smile off the asshole’s face.

“No, not at all. You go right ahead, but you best be careful. Serena will be all over you two like white on rice. She’s partial to young, handsome men.” Laughing, he walked away.

Tony sighed deeply. “Let’s get this over with so we can get the hell out of here.”


ADULT EXCERPT



“Going somewhere, princess?” Tony asked. Both men were naked except for the towels draped around their waists. He walked over and took her in his arms. Bending, he brushed his mouth lightly against hers before pressing his tongue against her mouth. Gently he took her bottom lip between his teeth.

Marc pressed up against her back and let his face close in on her neck. “You smell good,” he whispered. “I don’t think we’ll ever get enough of you.”

Wicked, sensual thoughts fluttered through her mind when she felt his tongue flick against the skin of her neck. Her hands slid up Tony’s smooth chest to grip tightly on his shoulders. He released her mouth and pulled Serena’s head down to his chest while Marc rubbed her back in long, seductive strokes. Tony pulled her fingers away and kissed the tip of each one before he let her robe fall from her shoulders. The silk’s slow glide to the floor caressed her skin with the softest touch as a blush crept over her.

Marc’s hands ran up her torso to the outside of her breasts as he leaned closer, his chest hair tickling the skin of her back. Her hands timidly reached out and loosened the towel around Tony’s hips, unveiling the beauty of his masculine form. His cock, long and thick, jutted up toward his navel with just a glitter of moisture decorating the tip. His hands captured her taut nipples and rolled the tips, eliciting a groan from deep in her throat.

“I think she likes that, Marc.” Tony smiled as he flicked his thumbs back and forth across her sensitive nipples.

“Turn her around,” Marc demanded. His hands gripped her shoulders and turned her quickly, pulling her hard against his aroused cock. She lifted her hands to his chest and skated her palms upward through the dark, springy hair.

Her head fell back when she felt Tony suck her earlobe between his lips, nipping it lightly with his teeth while he ground his erection against her ass.

“Let’s move this to a soft surface,” Marc crooned. The men took her by the hands and led her to the bed. He turned to the dresser and came back with a bottle of oil in his hands. He winked at her. “This is edible. Get in the center of the bed and lay down.”

“No, I’ve got a better idea.” Tony moved onto the bed. “Come on, princess. I want you to lie on top of me.”

“Oh, yeah. Perfect,” Marc drawled. When she didn’t move right away, Marc kissed her softly. “It’s all right, sunshine. We’ll take good care of you.”

Serena almost snorted. She wasn’t worried about them taking care of her, just the opposite. How disappointed were they going to be when they found out everything she knew came from books and not hands-on experience? She started to climb on top of Tony and then yelped when he reached and plucked her off the bed and settled her on top of his warm, aroused body. Before she could muster her thoughts, he pulled her closer and murmured her name against her mouth. He skimmed the tip of his tongue across the seam of her lips before slipping it inside mingling their flavors together.

On her other side, Marc was toying with her hair, his body close to hers. Sandwiched between them, she could feel his thick cock nestled against her ass as he pressed a kiss into her nape. He lifted his head, slipping his hands along her shoulders and down to her waist. “This might be a little cold, baby.”

Serena squealed and glared at him over her shoulder as the cold oil dripped down her back. “That wasn’t very nice.”

He just grinned as he worked in the fragrant liquid, relaxing her muscles. Once the oil evenly coated her back, he turned it into a sensual massage, his hands sliding down, rubbing and kneading the area from her shoulders down to her ass.

Serena started when Tony ran a shaking hand over her from her shoulder to her hip and then up again, cupping one breast. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispered reverently. Instinctively, she rubbed herself against his cock, which had grown even harder between them as he caressed the hardening tip of her nipple against his palm. He bowed his head to one breast and laved the nipple hungrily with his tongue while kneading the other one between his fingertips. Latching onto one hard nipple, he suckled, tugging hard enough to send sharp spasms to her throbbing clit. He raised his head from his feast on her breasts and grinned at her wickedly. She felt a light smack on her ass and before she could voice a complaint, Tony stilled her with a kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth, finding all the sensitive spots.

“I want to watch you suck him while I’m inside you.” Marc’s words tickled the hairs against the back of her neck. He caught her hips, urging her to rise up.

Tony threaded his hands through her hair and drew her closer to his cock. “Touch me,” he whispered harshly.

Remembering every erotic book she’d ever read, Serena opened her mouth over him, sucking the head of his cock and then running her tongue around the sensitive ridge at its base. She raked her nails down his thighs, her teeth along his shaft.

“Careful, princess,” he cautioned. “Watch those teeth, pretty lady.”

She looked up and grinned before tentatively running her fingers along the velvety length to the tip that glistened with a drop of pre-cum.

Pulling her courage together, she ran her tongue down into the slit to tease him, surprised at the salty, musky taste. She swirled her tongue around the tip and then opened her mouth to take as much of his length as she could handle. As she pulled back, she gripped her fingers around the hard shaft and swirled her tongue around and around.

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