HOT RIVALS by Cheryl Dragon

HOT RIVALS by Cheryl Dragon

Jay and Robbie both bare their bodies at the most popular strip club in Vegas.

Pleasing the customer is their main job. However, Jay isn’t going to let the new guy knock him out of the top spot without playing dirty.

Dating another stripper is asking for trouble, but in the end Jay finds himself being seduced by the sexiest cowboy in Vegas!

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Excerpt:

 

Jay Belfer watched his main competition from the corner of his eye. Robbie Sloan was fairly new to the Big D’s strip club. Sexy and friendly, Robbie made it easy to like him. The clients went wild for that cowboy charm. Jay worked hard not to get too close but kept an eye on the new meat. This was a job, and Jay had a lot invested in Big D’s.

Everyone knew the “D” stood for Dicks but the owner insisted it stood for her last name, D’Agostino. She loved well-hung men performing in her club, which was actually two strip clubs sharing one big building. One side for male patrons, the other for female.

The men’s half of the club featured all-the-way performances on stage. All the men—at least those working on the men’s side tonight—stripped down to nothing. On the other side of the building, another group of guys were doing the exact same thing for a screaming crowd of horny women. Jay never got tired of the rush of being on stage, no matter who he entertained.

In this crowd of gay men, he easily spotted the owner, Bev, watching Robbie shake his ass for the crowd. A professional stripper seven years now, Jay kept his eyes on the crowd and connected with the customers. He was still the top draw—for now.

The new guy, Robbie, was hard to resist and two years younger at twenty-five. He was tan with short brown hair and dark brown eyes. The guy came from a rodeo background so he was flexible and rugged, but rumors reported he had zero cash. Not unusual given the type of work he’d fallen into.

As the men’s pants came off, the crowd cheered. Jay gave them a little smile and saw a lot of regulars out there. Down to gauzy briefs that were pretty much see-through, he let the thrill of the crowd and exhibition turn him on. Jay insisted to himself that it wasn’t Robbie’s tight ass or slightly hairy chest getting his dick up. No way!

Bev generally demanded meticulous manscaping, but Robbie’s chest hair wasn’t overly thick and laid flat against his muscled form. She said it gave him added sex appeal and matched his wild western image. Jay glanced over and saw Robbie’s cock growing. Bev liked men to show it all on stage. It set their club apart. One side for women, one for men, but all of the men went nude and got turned on!

Having to show their erection on stage sent many newbie and wannabe strippers running for the hills. Most new guys thought it’d be easy money on their first day, but Bev was tough on her dancers. Performing took practice and work. The group of men turned and ripped off their briefs. Jay looked at Robbie and cursed himself. With his back to the crowd, Jay admiring other men didn’t matter for the show, but he was really getting turned on. This wasn’t just his usual showing-off hard on today.

Turning, they strutted their stuff and fanned out on the stage to display their full potential. The crowd went wild and after a few minutes, the strippers all headed back to the dressing room. Nudity never bothered Jay, and it didn’t last long. He’d done worse things for money.

Dressing for their next rounds, Jay didn’t have to rush. He was in the last group as a featured dancer. Robbie had moved around the lineup and was growing in popularity. Of course, tonight, he grabbed the chair next to Jay.

“Great crowd.” Robbie closed his jeans then tugged on a long-sleeved shirt.

“They’re good.” Jay noticed Robbie’s cock was still firm in the jeans.

His own member wasn’t relaxing as fast as it normally did. Damn attraction. He always wanted the wrong men! Robbie wasn’t a bad guy, at least not that Jay had found out, but he was the main competition.

Robbie layered a vest and a worn leather jacket atop his shirt. When he bent over to tug on his cowboy boots, Jay forced himself not to imagine Robbie blowing Jay’s cock there in a room full of mostly naked men. No other stripper had turned Jay on so much without even making a pass at him.

“You okay? You looked lost,” Robbie said.

“Fine. Just some stuff on my mind. On stage, I can blank it out, but I don’t go on for a while.”

“I’m up now. See you later.” Robbie smiled wide and dashed for the stage.

Bev liked the contrast of going all nude at first then having men layer on the costumes and show off their individual appeal. The first dance with all the men let customers check them out. Whatever tips came in were split equally from that. From now until the finale, it was one to three guys on the stage performing.

Jay refused to get up and watch Robbie from backstage, no matter how much his cock twitched. Luckily, another dancer came over and sat next to Jay. Any distraction was welcome and Ken had been around Big D’s a lot longer.

“Hot guy. He’s got a crush on you,” Ken teased.

“He’s got a story.” Jay didn’t like competition, but no one could be on top forever. He’d unseated Ken as the top dog a few years back. Ken was blond with dark brown eyes and a swimmer’s body that made women drool. But at forty, he was a veteran. Women and men still loved him, but he wasn’t the new flavor anymore. Jay felt the tug of knowing he wasn’t new, either. Hopefully, he’d handle losing the top spot someday as well as Ken had. He hadn’t iced out Jay, and Ken certainly hadn’t given up.

“We’ve all got a story. I heard his family is in rodeo. They found out he liked dick and tossed him.” Ken adjusted his tie. His tuxedo costume was perfect for him. Classy, sassy, and let him show off his dancing skills at a slower tempo without screaming that he was the older guy here.

“There are gay rodeo riders. Tons of them. I’ve dated a few.” Jay had heard so many sob stories from new strippers that he’d turned a little jaded. Maybe he wanted to find fault with Robbie as an excuse to deny the attraction.

“I guess his family had money, and it was all wrapped up in their show or whatever. So he was out with nothing. He’s hot and can move, though. Bev can pick them.” Ken looked at Jay in the mirror. “You’re really not interested?”

“No, I’m not taking a new guy in and making it easy on him. As soon as he gets his footing, he’d dump me for someone else. Those types always want a nice guy to save them and then run off with a bad boy who’ll hurt them. I’m not into rebound relationships or dealing with someone else’s drama.” Jay didn’t have to spell it out for Ken. Some of the men in the profession were complete users and anyone would do. “Of course, he’s good, Bev doesn’t hire crap dancers.”

Jay made it through his rough years because Bev and one of his Aunt’s up in Reno had looked out for him. Bev had no reason to help thus she had his eternal loyalty and respect. A former Vegas showgirl who’d gone topless on stage and did all sorts of things in hotel rooms, Bev understood the tricks of survival and strength. Now pushing sixty, she helped young men without judging and used her experience to put on a show she swore would run forever!

“Don’t get bitter. You’re not even thirty. Romantics.” Ken chuckled.

“I’ve been called a lot of things, but that isn’t one of them.” Jay listened for the music. Shit! He suddenly realized he’d been waiting for Robbie to hustle his nearly naked body back here.

“You are. Sure, you hook up with guys. Date. But the second a relationship goes south or something bad happens, you bail. You want the perfect Happy Ending. Maybe this Robbie is the one?” Ken brushed off his jacket.

Chuckling, Jay ignored a tug of need in his gut. He wanted more than sex, but that wasn’t the world he lived in. “He’s the competition not the boyfriend. You should worry about finding yourself a man to settle down with. You’re old enough to have fathered some of these guys.”

“If I ever screwed a girl, may rattlesnakes strike my dick. Why would I want to settle down?” Ken stood and headed to the stage as the announcer took over.

Jay smiled but didn’t believe for a second Ken liked being alone. Neither of them had ever been with a woman, but it didn’t change the fact that age happened to everyone. In the end, no one really wanted to be alone. He wanted to see Ken find the right guy. It’d give Jay hope. Just then, Robbie strutted back, his tight g-string filled with money. All Jay saw were Robbie’s firm buns.


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WORKING IT OUT by Sara York

WORKING IT OUT by Sara York

Passion and lust brings them together, what they don't expect is to fall in love.

Jake Grant is a sexy personal trainer not looking for anyone after his long-time partner passes away. He's ready to throw away his dreams by selling the gym just to get away from the ghost of his past. But once he meets Lance everything changes.

Lance Abbott is an orthopaedic surgeon who specialising in sports medicine and is completely in the closet. He is convinced that if his clients found out he was gay they would all leave his practice and he would have to abandon the work he loves. When he meets Jake, a man who is totally out, all of Lance’s perceptions about being “out” are challenged.

Passions and lust drive Lance and Jake together. But they soon find out their relationship is deeper than the physical heat between them. Can what they have last without anyone finding out? Or should Lance give up his insecurities and embrace Jake fully?

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By reading any further, you are stating that you are 18 years of age, or over.
If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
Copyright © Sara York, 2011
All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.
Excerpt From: Working It Out

Jake Grant dropped the eighty-pound weight to the floor, hid his face in his hands and cried. The gym was closed, had been for hours and that was the only reason he let the tears flow.

Six months had passed since Mark had been killed. The insurance company had settled early, and the money sat in an account he didn’t want to think about. The huge Victorian house they had bought together in downtown New Bern and refinished had sold last month.

All that was left for him in North Carolina was the gym.

It pained him to admit that the gym was the one thing he had always loved more than Mark. Even though Jake loved the gym and wouldn’t want to part with it for anything in the world, every corner of the place held memories of his lover. Hell, he’d changed the office, moving from the plush room they’d created together to a small storage space where the files used to be kept. It hadn’t helped.

The gym sat in a perfect location, only a few blocks from the Trent River where he and Mark used to end their jog every morning. They’d walk over to Port City Java for a quick fruit smoothie before crossing the street to work. All of their little habits were reminders of how good his life had been.

A train whistle blew mournfully in the distance, breaking the eerie silence of the early morning. In a few hours people would filter in, trying to get in a workout before their day started.

He’d been stupid to stay up so late. The old apparitions of Mark always came out when the place was empty.

Jake picked up a towel and scrubbed his face, angry at his reaction. Hot tears burned his eyes again as he remembered his late-night workouts with Mark when they were getting to know each other.

They’d both been jocks before they met. Fitness had been Jake’s life through college. Meeting Mark his junior year had opened up a world he hadn’t really expected to live in. Mark had been sure of his sexuality. Out but not a flaming fag. He’d taught Jake to feel comfortable with being gay. They’d become lovers slowly, coming together over the Christmas break. But Jake’s insecurities had kept them from being open about their relationship until after college.

After graduation they’d both worked double shifts, Mark dancing at the male strip club in front of rabid women and Jake waiting tables at a high-end restaurant. When they’d finally scraped together enough money to purchase the building and equipment for their gym they had no longer been hiding their relationship. No one who had come in made it a big deal, of course. Neither had he or Mark. No public displays on the gym floor, and that rule went for everyone, hetero or not.

The club members had been supportive since Mark’s death, but Jake could tell their well-wishing was wearing thin. Better to sell and get out from under the grind of putting on the happy face every morning for clients who didn’t understand, even if they were well- meaning.

Jake pulled a pillow out of the closet, tugged on a sweatshirt and lay down on a floor mat. He couldn’t face the apartment he’d rented another night. He was being stupid, and he knew it. It wasn’t fair to him, or to Mark’s memory, to be so totally screwed up, but what the hell else was he to do?
After tossing and turning for a few hours he heard the key in the lock then the annoying beep of the alarm. The lights flipped on, blinding him momentarily. He threw his arms over his face, blocking out the light.

“Jake, sorry. Didn’t realise you would be here.”

“Really?” Jake peeked out from behind his arm, spying Trixie looking all happy and bubbly.
“I guess I should have known. You’ve been sleeping here quite a bit lately. But it’s morning. The gym will open soon.”

Jake struggled to get to his feet. Not that he was out of shape, but too many nights on the floor was starting to wear on him. His attitude stank too. “Shit, I need something to kick-start me.”

“Coffee?”

“Sure. Anything will do.”

“Next time you think about sleeping here on this uncomfortable floor you should really think about coming home with me.”

“What?” Jake stuck his pinkie in his ear, not sure he’d heard the girl right. She had known Mark and knew he didn’t swing that way.

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ANNA DOUBLES DOWN by Missy Martine

ANNA DOUBLES DOWN by Missy Martine

Anna can't believe how much the woman in the picture looks like her. They could be twins, except the picture was taken in 1871. Either she's a relative, or Anna had a past life in Hamilton, Nevada. Either way, the temptation to visit the old ghost town is too much. She and her friend Kat travel west.

While off exploring on her own, Anna is knocked unconscious when she falls down the steps in the saloon. She can hardly believe her eyes when she wakes.

Beau and Zeke won the Silver Rush Saloon in a poker game and have been partners and secret lovers for over ten years. They don't know what to make of the woman they found half-dressed in their cellar. She claims to know something terrible that's about to happen to their town and needs their help.

Will Anna be able to win their love and trust before it's too late?

*5 STARS - The Romance Studio   *4.5 STARS - Manic Readers

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Story Excerpt:

Anna waited in silence for a moment and then heard footsteps coming closer. “Down here,” she screamed. Suddenly, a sound had her head turning toward the right. Above her, to the left, an opening appeared where a strange, amber glow illuminated a man. “Holy shit!”

Blinking her eyes to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating, Anna stared at the vision above her. A half-dressed man was staring down at her. An old wick lantern in his hand highlighted a hard, sinewy body with broad shoulders and a worried frown on his long-jawed face. His bare chest gleamed in the lamplight, his belly flat with an intriguing bulge in the front of his pants. He took a couple of steps down, and another tall, lanky man appeared in the shadows behind him.

“Who the hell are you and how’d you get in here?”

The man holding the lantern spoke harshly, his hand gripped into a fist at his side. Realizing she was alone, with two half-dressed men, Anna felt her lips tremble, her mouth going dry as she took a couple of steps backward. She felt frozen, her heart racing, the sound of her heartbeat roaring in her ears.

“Darlin’, it’s all right. You don’t have to be afraid of us.” The shadowy man’s voice came from the darkness as blackness closed in around Anna.

* * *

Zeke blinked and then swallowed hard at the sight before him. He’d never seen anything like her. She didn’t appear to be very tall, and she was barely dressed. It looked like she wore some newfangled female undergarments he’d never seen before. Short drawers that barely came down to her knees and some kind of skimpy chemise that left her belly button showing were all that covered her. Where the hell were her clothes?

The light wasn’t good enough to see much, but if he lived to be a hundred, he’d never forget the wild, doe-eyed look in her eyes as she stared up at him in stark terror as she backed away. He took another step down, wanting more than anything to calm her, and froze in horror as her pupils rolled back in her head and she swayed to the side in a dead faint.

“Damn it to hell!” Zeke put the kerosene lamp on the step and rushed down to the fallen woman.

“Is she alive?” Beau asked as he picked up the lamp coming down the steps.

“Yeah, she just fainted.” Zeke easily plucked the small woman from the floor and caught his breath. Her clothing didn’t hide much, and she was a buxom woman.

“Is she naked?”

Zeke grinned, looking over his shoulder at Beau. “Damn near.” He looked back at the skimpy material covering the woman’s breasts. “There’s something written on her chemise.”

“Bring her closer so I can see.” Beau moved to the bottom of the steps. He held the lamp close to the woman’s chest and stared at the words across her bosoms. “Nurses do it with care.” He looked up at Zeke. “What the devil does that mean?”

Zeke shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me.” He glanced down at his bundle. “What am I supposed to do with her now?”

“For crying out loud, Zeke. What do you think you’re supposed to do? Carry her upstairs and put her in the bed.” Beau started up the stairs holding the lamp so Zeke could see the steps.

“Why don’t we just call Bart to come get her?” He ran his cheek along her soft hair as he climbed the steps. “She’s bound to be one of his girls.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I saw the fear on her face right before she passed out. We’re not turning any woman over to a man she’s afraid of. There had to be some reason that made her hide out in our cellar.”

Zeke continued on in silence until he laid her out on the feather bed in his partner’s room. Beau lit a second lamp and brought it in to set on the dresser. With the added light they could both see the treasure they’d unearthed. Soft, shoulder-length hair the color of ripe raspberries in the field draped across the white muslin sheets. Her creamy skin was the color of eggshells with just a touch of sunburn across her nose.

“What’s this on her feet?” Beau had lifted one of her legs and was staring at some type of mangled shoe on her foot. “What do you suppose happened to her shoes?” His hand caressed her leg briefly. “Hell, she’s as smooth as a baby’s butt.”

Zeke looked closer at her shoes and frowned. They were brown leather with straps across the top of her foot and behind her heel with only a thin piece of something soft underneath to walk on.

“Damn, look at that!”

“What?” Zeke peered closer.

“She’s got some kind of paint or something on her toes.”

Zeke focused in on her feet and saw a light pink covering on her toenails. “I never seen nothing like it.”

“She’s got it on her fingers, too.” Beau held up one of her hands for his inspection.

“What the hell kind of belt is that?” Zeke looked at the leather around her waist more closely. “Hell, it’s stretchy on the sides but it ain’t holding nothing up. It’s not threaded through any loops.” He poked the large pouch on the front. “It looks like some kind of wallet on here.”

“Kat?”

Both men jumped back when the woman began awakening. She groaned harshly and tried to roll over.

“Hang on, little darlin’. Don’t be moving too fast.” Beau put a hand on her arm.

Adult Excerpt:

Work-roughened palms with long, tapering fingers roughly untied the rope at her waist and yanked the loose pants down her thighs. She groaned and let her fingers slide through Zeke’s hair when he nuzzled her mound over the satiny cloth of her thong. “Darlin’, you’ve got some of the strangest drawers I’ve ever seen. There’s practically nothing to ’em.” He ran his thumb over the silky nub of her panties eliciting a soft gasp from her lips.

Beau pulled her hand away, forcing her arms back as he unfastened and pulled off her shirt. She became pliant as he kissed every inch of the skin he exposed, his hand sliding down her back to rest on the swell of her ass. She could feel him tugging on the elastic of her thong. “I wanna see you, Anna.”

“Yeah, me too.” Zeke slid the tiny scrap of material down her legs letting his fingers run through her feminine curls. “You’re so silky here.”

“Let me see.” Beau’s hand snaked around her hip, his fingers skimming over her pussy lips. “Damn, she’s sopping wet.”

Zeke reached between her legs to brush a fingertip across the hood of her throbbing clit. “I can’t wait any longer, Beau.” He dropped to his knees and rubbed her swollen clit with his thumb. Leaning close, he replaced his hand with his mouth and ran his tongue up the slit of her wet pussy.

“No!” Anna cried out when Beau pulled her away from the fiery pleasure of Zeke’s mouth.

“Patience, Anna. We just need to get a little more comfortable.” He scooped her into his arms and tossed her onto the bed. Now we can all get down to business.”

Anna watched the two men quickly strip off their clothes. Their chiseled, work-roughened features causing the breath to catch in her throat. Both men sported impressive erections, and both were already leaking pre-cum. She swallowed hard. “What about protection?”

Beau gave her a wink as he climbed onto the bed. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll make sure to pull out in time. We won’t be leaving you with a babe.”

Anna forced herself to concentrate as Zeke snuggled close on her other side. “No, that’s not what I mean. You can’t get me pregnant, at least not right now.”

Zeke placed a hand on her chin and forced her gaze up to his. “I’m so sorry, Anna. You can’t have children?”

“No, I mean yes, I probably can. I just wouldn’t be able to get pregnant for a few months. I just had my Depo shot before we left on vacation.” She sighed at the puzzled frowns on their faces. “It’s an injection the doctor gives me a few times a year that keeps me from getting pregnant. That way I get to decide when I want to have a baby.”

“Guess we don’t have to ask if you’ve been with a man before.” Beau smoothed the hair away from her face.

“Well, yes, I’ve had a couple of relationships with men.” She watched their faces carefully. “Does that make a difference?”

“Absolutely not!”

“No, honey, not at all.”

Anna giggled. “I’m glad it doesn’t bother you.”

“If you can’t conceive a child, then why were you asking about protection?” Zeke moved over and settled between her spread thighs.

His warm breath on her stomach made it difficult for Anna to voice her thoughts. “I meant condoms, you know, for disease.” She took a deep breath. “Not that I’m sick or anything, I mean I’m clean and I’m sure you are, too, but it always pays to be careful.” She could feel herself flushing as she rambled on.

“What are you—”

“I know what she’s talking about.” Beau ran his hand through Zeke’s hair. “I read about ’em. Some kind of little coverings men could use to catch their seed so they didn’t spill into their woman’s body.”

“I never heard of such a thing.” Zeke leaned close and blew gently on her spread pussy. “As far as I know there’s nothing like that around here.”

Anna groaned and closed her eyes as she brushed her hand along the bristly roughness of his unshaven beard. She could feel the muffled heat of his breath flicker across her abdomen. “I guess it’ll have to be okay then.” She lost the ability to talk when Zeke stroked her clit with his thumb, his fingers working their way inside her. She began to pant as he rubbed gentle circles around the tiny nub.

“You’re so beautiful.” Beau kissed her eyelids softly, his hand caressing across the skin of her chest. His lips roamed over to her earlobe and then down the side of her neck while his fingers teased the sensitive tip of her breast, making maddeningly slow circles around the peak. He pinched and kneaded each nipple in turn before lifting her breast in his hand. He circled her nipple with his tongue just before he sucked it deep inside his mouth.

“Spread your legs wider,” Zeke ordered. He settled his upper body even lower between her spread thighs and licked her from bottom to top. “God, you taste like sweet honey.” He laved her most intimate places with his hot tongue, stroking down her slit and back up, swirling around her pulsing clit.

Anna groaned harshly when Beau’s thumb circled her nipple, torturing it into a hard bud before sucking it deep into his mouth. She couldn’t stop a moan from escaping when she felt the sharp nip of his teeth on her tender flesh.

Zeke opened her folds with his fingers and began to lick her clit in earnest while he penetrated her sheath with his fingers. He plucked and teased her swollen nub, slipping his thick index finger in and out before tracing her cleft again.

“Oh, God,” she cried out, her hips bucking off the mattress as an orgasm washed through her senses.

Zeke threw a hand across her abdomen, holding her still as he lapped and sucked until the last wave of pleasure receded.

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UNMASKED by Carolina Valdez

UNMASKED by Carolina Valdez
Part of Amber Quill Allure's Masquerade Series

When they meet, Antony, an Italian-American, and Sam, a Frenchman, are immediately attracted to each other, even if costumed from head to toe for an elegant masked ball in Venice, Italy. Mid evening, when the men go into Antony's room to remove their full masks and replace them with those covering only half their faces, their attraction ignites sudden desire that drives them to fulfillment.

They're still drawn to each other when the complete unmasking occurs at midnight, but Sam isn't aware that Antony, a former hockey player, also harbors secrets he's not ready to reveal. As the weekend ends and the men each return to the United States, a discouraged Antony sees no future for their fling to build into something solid. He has a fledgling business to run on the California coast, and Sam's life revolves around energy-devouring hours of practice in a mountain ice rink in order to win figure skating's coveted World gold medal.

Their mutual love of skating might have kept these men together, but Antony still hides behind a mask. What will it take to strip it away and give the star-crossed lovers a chance for love?

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Excerpt:

...Antony pushed back his hood, and dark brown hair with golden highlights tumbled out. He ran a brush through his hair. “God, but that feels good. We’ll need our half masks, but the hoods can go.” He handed the brush to Sam. “Want to use it?”

Sam freed his head from the hood and ran the brush through his sandy blond hair. Amazing how intimate just sharing his brush felt.

“I might have known you were blond,” Antony said in a quiet voice.

“Oh?”

The need to touch Antony had been so strong all evening that Sam couldn’t resist tipping up the man’s face now. “And then there’re your eyes. Now I understand the reason for the smoky lenses in your mask. Anyone who knew you would guess on the spot who you were just because of these remarkable eyes.”

Antony looked down, his composure seeming to evaporate at the compliment.

Sam ran his finger with a light touch along the scar he’d seen peeking from beneath the half mask. “The accident?”

Antony nodded.

“It gives you character.” Without thinking, Sam framed Antony’s face with his hands and leaned in to press his lips on his eyelids, closing them.

Antony let out a slow breath and rested his hands on Sam’s hips.

Sam boldly sought the lips he’d wanted to taste all evening.

Antony’s response was immediate. He slid his hands around to Sam’s butt and pulled him hard against him. He opened his mouth, and when Sam’s opened in pleasure and surprise, his tongue dived in. They tasted and explored heat and wetness, tongues twisting, then penetrating with the foretaste of sex, hot and steamy.

Lust ignited in Sam’s groin and, hungry to satisfy it, he fought to find a way into Antony’s pants to touch the thick cock rubbing against his. With a groan, Antony reached under his top and pushed his pants down enough his erection could spring free. They both stared as it landed in Sam’s hand.

The blue veins on his cock were distended, mapping the way to an almost purple crown.

“Rub me,” Antony said, in a strangled his voice.

Sam’s pulse raced as, one-handed, he freed his own cock. The minute Antony’s warm hand closed around it, he began to tremble with the need to feel more and lose himself in the feelings.

When Antony released him and pulled his hand away, Sam uttered a firm “No,” as the warmth and pressure of the hand disappeared. He reached for Antony’s hand and sought to guide it back to his oozing, aching hard-on.

“Wait. We’ll ruin our costumes. I have condoms.”

In seconds, they’d stripped, velvet falling to the ground in a silent settling of black and cerulean, while stockings, boots and shoes joined it with a thud. Antony pushed Sam until he fell back on the bed, and Antony unrolled the thin latex sheath over him and pressed another into Sam’s hand. Antony leaned down, and Sam felt heat as Antony stroked his balls with a light touch, gently squeezing before kissing them. Then he licked, his tongue circling each globe.

“I can’t get enough of you,” Antony said as his hot breath laved the sac even as his mouth did. “All night I’ve wanted to fuck you so bad I couldn’t stand it. I guessed I’d have had to jerk off if you weren’t gay, if you hadn’t wanted this, too.”

He knelt and straddled Sam, jutting out his cock. Sam sheathed him, bringing a gasp from Antony. “Did it feel that good for you?”

Sam knew it was a rhetorical question. Antony took his cock in his hand and traced Sam’s belly button with it, pushing its crown into the shallow dip.

Sam pulled Antony onto him, and as soon as Antony’s body covered his, they kissed open-mouthed as they pressed and rocked their cocks together in frenzied mating. The room rang with the little moans of their lovemaking as they strained to drain every ounce of pleasure out of the act...

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BACKING BRIAN by Cheryl Dragon

BACKING BRIAN - A Raider's Bodyguards Tale by Cheryl Dragon

Once a Texan, always a Texan and Brian Beaumont has come back home to open his high-end western wear shop. Not everyone is thrilled with the gay son of a Texas millionaire opening a clothing store. Lucky for Brian, his new brother-in-law sends protection from Raider's Bodyguard Service. If only Brian could resist the hunky muscled Texas native assigned to guard his body day and night.

Jones never wanted to go back to Texas. He left at eighteen for many reasons, but his career is more important than the demons of his past. Always a professional, he meets his match in the tempting Brian. The line between business and pleasure vanishes when their mutual love of sex, rope and power play takes over.

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Excerpt:

The Western wear shop designed like an old saloon wasn’t yet open, but the flurry of activity made Brian smile. His dream was coming true, and in a couple weeks, the shop would open. Brian’s cell rang, and he grabbed it off the hardwood counter.

“Hey, Mrs. Raider,” he answered teasingly. His sister, Penny, had pulled off the biggest wedding in Texas history and jetted off to Hawaii with her bodyguard hubby, Grayson Raider.

“Stop it,” she replied.

He could hear the smile. “How’s that sex on the beach? Make sure you use sunscreen. You burn.”

“Brian, it’s my honeymoon. I’m not doing that on the beach. You’re terrible. How’s the shop?” she asked.

“Coming together. You didn’t have to come up for air to check on me.” Brian was so happy for his sister. The couple glowed with passion, and Penny marrying a Yankee had sent tidal waves through the family. The fact that it didn’t bother Penny at all told Brian it was forever.

“We’ll be back in time for the grand opening, but we’re sending you an early present.” Her voice was soft.

Brian knew it was more than a gift. “Present?”

“Dad mentioned you might have some issues. Protestors and stuff.”

“Please. It’s leather, boots and jackets. Pure Texas with a bit more class. They’re only going to protest because I’m gay and a Beaumont. It’s nothing. Ignoring it is best.” Brian had heard it already, and nothing would stop him.

“But you are high profile because of Dad’s money. Isn’t that the excuse you used when I went to Italy?” she replied.

“Oh no, you don’t. No, Penny, I’m not a sweet girl who needs a bodyguard.” Brain knew being gay meant he might as well being wearing a dress to a lot of his family, but Penny didn’t think that way. Brian worked out and could defend himself, but the gay label came first. Still he loved everything Texas, riding, roping and leather.

“Big tough movie stars use bodyguards. Grayson went to a lot of trouble to pick the right team.”

“Team?” Brian leaned on one of the pillars in the store. The rope to wind around them was still in a box. He had so much to do. “I don’t need men underfoot to get in the way.”

“Think about your employees, Brian. All the workers and delivery people. It’s not just you that could be hurt or scared. The bodyguards will keep things under control.” Penny made it sound so sensible and easy.

“Is this what I did to you?” he asked.

“Pretty much. And you drooled over Grayson. I won’t do that to Jones. Just take the help. Family perks from your new brother-in-law.”

“Is this Jones a Raider?” Brian knew how attractive those men were. That was another type of distraction he didn’t need.

“No, Jones is an employee from the L.A. branch. He’s dealt with this stuff before—all that gay marriage back and forth. It’ll be fine.” Penny sounded confident.

“This is Texas, not California,” Brian reminded her.

“Will you relax? He’s a professional. And when Grayson and I get back in for the opening, he’ll review the situation and decide what’s best. Now, I’ve got to get changed for the luau. Promise me you’ll play nice with Jones and let him do his job.”

“When is he arriving?” Brian asked.

“Promise me,” Penny pushed back.

The front door opened, and Brian looked up. A tall man with shoulders that took over the doorway stole Brian’s focus. Black hair, dark eyes, and muscles for days. Jeans and a gray T-shirt were filled out to perfection, but the black boots were the hottest part. Those told Brian that this guy knew style. Brian’s gaydar tingled.

“Fine, I promise to play nice. Gotta go. Work to do. You need to get back to making me a niece to spoil and style.”

“Brian!” Penny replied.

“Aloha.” Brian disconnected and turned to the new guy. “Can I help you?”

“Brian Beaumont?” His deep voice made Brian pray this was Jones.

“Guilty.” Brian smiled. “You are?”

“Jones Preston from Raiders. You’re expecting me?” He held out a hand.

“Just got the news from my sister.” Brian took his hand, and the spark made his shake a little too long. He pulled back and wiped his palm before his turned into a giggling idiot. “I’m still putting the place together. Not much for you to do.”

“Protection is all the time. My team is scouting the area. Interviewing other owners and making sure what we’re dealing with. Seeing if anyone will be trouble.” Jones looked around. “Nice set up.”

“Thanks. But really, I picked a gay friendly area. I can’t imagine there will be an issue. It’s the conservatives. My Dad runs in those circles. So it could be an issue there. Texas can be weird about things like that. My Dad is big; so odds are they won’t hurt me or anyone. It’s just a big show.”

“Let me worry about that.” Jones walked closer. “For the next two weeks, you let me worry about your safety and you listen to me. I’ve got your back, and I’m not putting up with any arguments or games.”

Brian could think of dozens of naughty games to play with a man so tightly wound. Jones oozed power and control. “I appreciate my brother-in-law’s concern. I’ll let you do your thing. But I’m not a damsel in distress. I grew up in Texas. I know what I’m dealing with. Not sure L.A. guys can handle it.” Brian leaned in with his hands on the counter and tightened his muscles to show off.

A barely noticeable tug at the corner of Jones’ mouth gave Brian a thrill. The man wasn’t all gloom and business.

“I’m sure you can defend yourself. These situations can get heated and tense. Protestors can turn crazy. You need more than muscle for that. You need a neutral party to calm things down.” Jones glanced at Brian’s nice sculpted arms.

“I’m not looking for trouble. It’s not like I opened a gay bar or dating service. Penny and I always loved fashion. I like leather and the Texas look. Being gay owned doesn’t make this a gay business. It’s not like my leather jackets are done in rainbow.” Brian took a deep breath. Part of him believed he’d found his place in the world. He knew what he wanted, but still he felt so alone. Was the world against him?

“I understand. Once you’re open and people are here for the merchandise, things will probably calm down. It’s the grand opening and the prep time…this is when you’re most vulnerable. Others are forming opinions without information. Anything can happen.”

The urge to keep arguing with the sexy man kept Brian’s mouth going. “But nothing has happened. No threats or protests.”

He’d only been in the space for a couple days.

Jones nodded. “Fair enough. But you’re barely started by the looks of it. Grayson said the lease began a day or so ago. Troublemakers take time to get followers. The classy ones are putting pressure on your dad to do something to stop you. Move you to L.A. or New York. It might be quiet. Or it could escalate. You have deliveries coming. Strangers will be in and out. Very vulnerable. One could slip in and plant a bomb.”

“A bomb?” Brian shivered at the idea. “Come on. Get real.”

“I am. With my guys watching, no one will get in and cause trouble. All strangers will be watched and names taken. It lets people know we’re paying attention so if someone tries something, we know who was in the shop. Just asking for identification is a deterrent.” Jones was confident and serious.

Brian relaxed. “That’s where you come in. Protecting my employees is important to me. They shouldn’t be in danger because of my personal life.”

“So you’ll let me do my job?” Jones asked.

“Not sure I ever had a choice.”

“It’s your shop. I can’t protect you without your cooperation,” Jones admitted.

“Met my sister?” Brian asked.

Jones shrugged. “No, got my orders from Grayson by phone.”

“My sister is a force of nature. She gets her way. You report I’m resisting, and I’ll never hear the end of it. But I’ll cooperate.” Brian studied Jones, wanting to flirt and cooperate naked, but the all business signals shut down Brian’s boy cruising. Clearly, Jones was serious about his work. “So how do you think you’re going to handle all the Texas stuff? I promise, this isn’t L.A.”

Jones smiled wide. “No, it sure isn’t. But I’ll manage.” The soft Texas drawl rolled off Jones’ tongue.

Dazzled, Brian wanted more of Jones and that magic tongue.



“You’re from Texas?” Brian asked.

Jones smiled. Brian recovered quickly, but Jones had thrown him off balance. Jones seemed at ease.

“I lived here until I was eighteen. As soon as I could, I left for a safer place.” Jones didn’t talk about his sexuality much. At least not at work. “L.A. is much safer.”

“Dallas isn’t bad in the city. I escaped to New York for college, but this is home. I’ve accepted it; now, they’ll accept me.”

“Like it or not?” Jones admired Brian’s courage and conviction.

That and his piercing green eyes. Brian’s brown hair was short and would pass any manly inspection. The lean muscled form also met with Jones’ approval. Brian could protect himself, but Jones knew his interest in Brian’s body was not at all professional. He’d avoided involvement with a client thus far, but the day had arrived. Jones was attracted to a client. To deny it was pointless, but Jones had to push it away. His job was far more important than a fling.

“Texas is home. I’m not running. I like my Uncle Lubby’s little ranch. I could ride and rope as well as any kid growing up. I bet you’re good with a rope.” Brian flirted.

“I do okay.” Jones wanted to give in. Back in L.A., if they’d met in a bar, they’d be making out by now. Jones would take him home, and after a night of great sex, they’d be over. But Jones valued his job. No way would he ruin his reputation.

“So you went to L.A. and became a bodyguard?” Brian prompted.

It was normal for people to want to know something about the person they’d let into their life to protect them. This was less flirt and more sanity. “I started as a bartender and then found I preferred the bouncer role. I got hired by some minor celebrities who wanted security.”

“The boy toy in a gay bar,” Brian teased.

“It was a gay bar, but I was hired for muscle, nothing more. This celebrity liked the biker types. Anyway, it got me other work, and discretion goes a long way in this business. I ended up at Raider’s.” Jones looked Brian in the eye. “So I know something about Texas and about being gay. Trust me, I’ll keep you safe.”

Brian nodded. “Thanks.”

Jones wanted to get closer. To feel the heat from Brian. He’d been single a long time. Random sex never gave Jones what he wanted, but most relationships never got as deep as the information he’d just shared with Brian.

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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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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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