Cameron D. James's Blog, page 10
December 16, 2018
Blissful Surrender by MC Fields
Greetings readers! Today I’m sharing Blissful Surrender by MC Fields — this is a sexy little novella that we published over at Deep Desires Press. If you’re looking for some hot hot hot sex and quick weekend read, this is just what you’re looking for!
Blurb:
Justin is a Mixed Martial Arts instructor who has been enlisted by the ruling Mohawk Matriarchs to help protect the most vulnerable women in their community. Since then he has devoted his life to empowering women.
Marie is a free-spirited aircraft mechanic determined to live life to the fullest. And she’s Justin’s student.
Justin is the best martial arts instructor Marie has ever had. He is also the subject of her raunchy sexual fantasies. Unfettered by the traditional roles of women in society, she’s unafraid to show Justin what she wants, but he’s having none of it.
After Justin saves her from being attacked, Marie realizes her feelings go deeper than sexual attraction alone. She knows that Justin is reluctant to have sex with a student but pursues him brazenly nonetheless. But she doesn’t know that Justin is guarded for another reason: he is able to call up the Shadow of the Leopard, a mysterious force that once led him to kill two cops.
As the attraction between them intensifies, Justin is forced to make a decision: keep walking the tightrope he is on, or surrender to Marie and risk putting the school in jeopardy or even worse….
Excerpt:
Justin had to work to keep his eyes off her and made sure that he was looking at just her eyes when he looked at her. Luckily, he was drawn to her eyes — they glinted a sparkling magic blue when she smiled, which was often. Her thick reddish brown hair flowed just below her gently muscled shoulders as she moved almost effortlessly across the floor. He would sometimes forget to breathe when a few tendrils of her silky hair came to rest in the moisture that would form on her chest near one of her breasts.
As he looks directly at her with this thought in mind, she winks at him and he feels a twinge near the base of his testicles. An old saying from long ago pops into his mind: She’s got wrench eyes because every time she looks at me my nuts tighten up.
He quickly discards the thought and looks away from her purposefully. “Again!” he shouts with such force that a few students actually flinch, but they set themselves again quickly and prepare to begin. “Two minutes, jab and right cross with a left hook followed by a front kick combination with speed.” Justin demonstrates the move with lightning quickness and devastating force. Everyone is impressed when he does this because it looks so surreal coming from such a powerfully built man and it extends the promise that they might be able to do something like that one day if they followed him. So they followed him almost fanatically. “Let the music guide your pace,” Justin bellows out as he begins to recover from Marie’s distraction.
The Mob Rules by Black Sabbath is one of Justin’s favorites and it blares from the speakers he has placed at the front of the gymnasium as he prowls like a panther through their three ranks, correcting, feinting, and working with all of them. On rare occasions he even smiles.
It is a dark destructive sounding heavy metal song, but that is what Justin wants them to have in their intentions when they fight … destruction. This is a class of all women and he is proud of that and proud of them for sticking with his harrowing workout routine. He feels like a father to all of them since he’s almost fifty and the oldest of them is barely over thirty.
“You get what you put into this world so when in doubt try love first,” he shouts above the music. “But if love fails you, if you are attacked and an attacker persists then destruction must be your aim until that attacker is no longer a threat.” They have heard it all before and they love it. They never get tired of it, most of these twenty-five that are in this class have been with him for almost three years and they are devoted to this workout.
Justin begins to move with a purpose as his favorite verse begins. It speaks of ruin that will come to you if you toy with powerful elemental spirits. He cannot believe it is coincidence that this part of the song is blaring as he approaches Marie. He swats at her head and she ducks just barely under his outstretched arm to finish the combination smoothly. “Good,” he says, “but you have to maintain proper rotation to develop your power. Concentrate, Marie.” She does the movement again. “Better, but you have to keep working on that rotation, Marie.”
He is leaning in as he says this and she purses her lips and motions a soft kiss towards him while smiling at him mischievously and performing the combination. Justin feels that familiar twinge at the base of his testicles again as an image of them together flashes in his mind.
They are covered in sweat and he is on top of her sliding his cock into her from behind and feels like he is about to come as she turns her head to look at him, moans softly, closes her eyes, and pushes back with her hips to sink his cock deeper into her soaking pussy.
As she opens her eyes again he cups her head before placing his lips on hers and softly sucking her tongue into his mouth while grinding his hips into her ass.
The image is gone within a second, but it leaves him speechless and she smiles again as he turns away.
“Thirty seconds, pick it up,” Justin bellows as he struggles to regain his composure.
• • •
Marie watches him move towards her and immediately imagines him on top of her…thrusting his cock into her as she moans and digs her fingers into his ass. He holds himself up with his arms and his biceps bulge as he sinks his cock into her and she drives her hips up towards him.
But she knows that he is going to assess her movements so she had better be ready. She focuses her attention as he approaches and forces herself to breathe and relax. He pauses as he nears her and she knows it’s coming and forces a breath out just as his hand snakes out towards her head.
It was not nearly his fastest jab but it was as fast as she had seen him swing at anybody. She reacts without thinking, leaning slightly to the left and ducking just barely under his outstretched hand as he had taught her many times. Her spirit soars at the closeness of the blow she just so flawlessly avoided and punctuates the movement with a crisp combination.
She knows it was good, but she still loves to hear him say it. He locks his eyes on her when he both compliments and challenges her. She can tell that he exists just for her in this moment, for him no one else exists except the student in front of him. It is a magical gift that enthralls all of them in the class. He makes each one feel uniquely gifted and important and he does it effortlessly.
But no one else matters when he stands in front of her because no one else matters for him. He totally belongs to her in these few seconds. He has given himself to her as much as she has to him.
This motivates as well as excites her. She drives herself to will more destructive force into the combination and feels her movement gain a little more power.
It feels like she is an instrument and he is plucking the right strings to produce what he wants and she loves the feeling of being finely tuned by him. She has become much stronger and faster since joining his class and she can feel it. She is totally committed to doing whatever he says to see what she can become.
His training has permeated every part of her life and she feels herself transforming. This morning she did something she did not think she was capable of with a very important customer of the company where she worked as an aircraft mechanic. She took control of the conversation and salvaged a deteriorating situation.
Bob Elder was a no-nonsense pilot who had made a small fortune building an air delivery service to the North. But at over six foot, two inches tall and well over three hundred pounds, most of his flying days were over. He stood in front of her that morning, flanked by her apprentice Jordan and her boss Mel, demanding that they finish with his engine so he could get another of his aircraft back in the air making money.
Before her training, she might have felt a little intimidated by the three large men around her, since Mel was around the same size as Bob, while Jordan looked like a younger, more slender version of both men. But instead she watched Bob like a hunter waiting for an opportunity to strike and she found it when he said, “I can’t lose any more money on this engine, I need this thing in the air.”
“But for how long!” She had almost shouted the statement at Bob which galvanized the stares of all three men towards her. “You are at the top repair shop in the province, talking to the top mechanic in that shop!” She couldn’t believe she said that but she was encouraged by the pleased looks on both Jordan’s and Mel’s faces.
She continued, “Look around this bay and you will see that nothing else is being worked on. Everything is devoted to getting your engine serviceable and keeping it that way so you keep making money and spending it here only when you need us.” This was only partially bullshit; there were two other engines in the bay, but they were both waiting on parts.
“We want you to make money, Bob, but you need to keep this aircraft in the air and I need to get working on this engine to make sure it does.” She said this last part in a much softer tone and she could see by the calm look on Bob’s face that she had won him over. Mel was grinning from ear to ear.
She was still riding the high from this morning, she felt like she was in total control and she knew it was due to Justin’s training.
December 11, 2018
The Gravity of Nothing by Chase Connor
One of my very good Twitter buddies, Chase Connor, has a new book coming out today!
Blurb:
All stories start with “once upon a time” and end with “happily ever after.” Except for Tom’s. Tom’s story ends with “happily never after.”
But a life is full of “once upon a times” because a life is full of stories. Everything in between the “once upon a times” is just details.
Two boys met on a bus. Two boys went to summer camp. Two boys walked into the woods together. Two boys swam in the lake.
One boy was assaulted. One boy was frozen with fear.
One boy became overwhelmed by everything. One boy was dragged down by the gravity of nothing.
This is a story of two boys. They met. They became best friends. And now one of them is dead.
Over the course of this book, Tom tells a story to the other people in his therapy group. But, whose story is he telling?
Excerpt:
Walking away from the front doors of the community center, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my pack of cigarettes. I flipped the top and fished out the lighter that had been slid into the space left by cigarettes already smoked. Then I pulled out one of the cigarettes and brought it to my lips. My hands wanted to shake, but I wouldn’t allow it, as I lit the cigarette and took a deep drag. I stepped over to one of the long brick planters, that, unsurprisingly, had nothing planted in it, and sat down on the edge. I deposited the lighter back into the empty space in the cardboard pack and shoved the entirety back into my pocket as I exhaled blue smoke.
“Can I bum one of those?”
I turned my head to find a guy standing there. Immediately, I realized that he was the only other guy in group who hadn’t said anything when everyone else took turns asking me questions or interrupting me. He was scrawny, tall, lanky, gangly. His long sleeve shirt—no coat in this cold weather—was baggy on him. His baggy jeans were barely kept on his waist by a tightly cinched belt. His dark hair was buzzed close to his head. His clothes, and the guy himself, looked well washed and clean, but the bagginess of them made him look as though he was dirty.
“How old are you?” I snorted, turning my eyes from him again.
“Nineteen.”
“Don’t believe it for a second.”
“What else don’t you believe?” He asked.
I pulled the pack out of my pocket and held it out to him without actually looking at him again.
“Take as many as you want.” I said.
Take your cigarettes and go.
The guy took the pack from me, took only one, lit it, then put my lighter back into the pack before handing it back to me. I retrieved it from him and shoved it back into my pocket once again. The other attendees walked out in a loud group together, glanced at us, then continued on their way, walking in a group down the sidewalk to parts unknown. They probably lived nearby.
“John killed Dally?” The guy who had bummed the cigarette asked.
“I’m kind of having quiet time here.”
“I bet you don’t get a lot of quiet time.” The guy said. “I bet your brain talks a lot, huh?”
Taking another drag off of my cigarette, I decided to just ignore the kid.
“I have anxiety, too.” He said. “My thoughts go, like, ninety-to-nothing most of the time. It’s like I can’t stop myself from thinking no matter how hard I try. Sometimes I can’t even sleep because of how much my brain just keeps going and going.”
I turned my head to look him in the eyes.
“You don’t have anxiety.” I spit a piece of tobacco out with the tip of my tongue. “You had a meth problem. Now you’re suffering the after-effects of that.”
He frowned at me.
“When you do meth, probably long-term, but not so long that it gave you major skin problems or tooth and hair loss, you stop mentally maturing at the age you started.” I took another drag. “The longer you are clean, the more quickly your brain will start catching up to your actual, physical age. You’ll learn the emotional and psychological skills you should already have at your age—which isn’t nineteen—and slowly you’ll start putting weight back on. Might even be able to wear that shirt and those jeans without looking like a scarecrow.”
The kid swallowed hard.
“Now…I would like to be alone.” I nodded. “Please.”
“I’m nineteen.” He stammered. “I just look young and I’m small I guess.”
Then it was a great choice to do meth.
I thought it.
I wasn’t rude enough to actually say it.
“Look, dude—” I breathed out heavily but didn’t turn to look at him again, “I don’t care what you’ve done, or whether or not you lied about your age, okay? I just want to be alone.”
For several moments, the kid stood there, smoking the cigarette I’d let him have and watched me. I stared straight ahead, pretending that he wasn’t there. I could ignore him, just like I could ignore anxiety and depression.
“Did John kill Dally?” He asked again, tapping his cigarette to knock off ashes.
“Why the fuck do you care?” I turned to snap at him.
He jerked slightly.
Scared the recovering meth-head.
Points for Tom.
“Because I want to know how the story ends.” He said in a small voice, sounding as though he would run away, but he didn’t.
“You’re looking at the end of the story.” I said. “Here, outside of this shitty community center. Smoking a cigarette, anxious and depressed, trying to make some kid who lies about his reason for being in a group leave him the fuck alone. That’s how the story ends. The rest is just details.”
The kid stared at me.
“You said all ‘once upon a times’ get a ‘happily ever after’.” He squeaked.
“I said mine ended with a ‘happily never after’, kid.” I replied evenly. “But who knows? Maybe yours will be different. Is that what you want? Someone to assure you that if you stay sober, don’t do meth again, do your steps, go to your appointments and meetings and get yourself together that your ‘once upon a time’ hasn’t actually happened yet? That maybe it starts sometime in the future?”
“Yeah.” He nodded meekly. “I guess.”
“Well, come back on a different day.” I ashed my cigarette. “Today you won’t get the answer you want.”
About Chase Connor:
Chase Connor currently lives in Des Moines, Iowa with his husband and dog and spends his free time writing LGBTQ Young Adult, New Adult, and Paranormal Romance…when he’s not busy being enthusiastic about laziness and waffles.
December 2, 2018
Excerpt from “Gay Love and Other Fairy Tales”
Hi folks! Did I tell ya I also write gay young adult fiction under the name Dylan James? Here’s an excerpt from my first YA novel, Gay Love And Other Fairy Tales, which has been on two top-100 lists on Amazon for almost three months straight!
Nineteen minutes and thirty seconds.
I can’t keep counting down like this. I’m going to drive myself insane. I’m going to kill the mood if I’m glued to the clock. I hear some rustling beside me and I see that Jordan has pulled out his phone and he’s scrolling through Instagram. He suddenly angles his phone away from me.
“What?” I ask.
He hesitates, then says, “Nikki’s posting pics of her and Winston.”
“I’m not her boyfriend,” I say automatically. I’ve never actually said that to anyone. I’ve always just let people make their own assumptions and I was happy to play along with it. “We were never together.”
“Really?” Jordan asks, raising an eyebrow.
“I make her look good in photos, but I have no interest in her,” I say. I can feel a bead of sweat forming at my temple.
He scoffs. “You put on a good act then.” He goes to her profile and scrolls down until he finds pictures of me and Nikki. Together. Kissing.
“That’s exactly what it is. An act.” My heart is beating so hard it feels like it’s going to punch through my ribs.
He looks at me like he’s assessing me. “She’s gorgeous,” he says. It’s like he’s pushing me, like he knows what I want to say, even though I don’t think he has a clue. “She’s a control freak sometimes, yeah, but she’s gorgeous.”
“Not my type,” I say.
“Oh?” He shuts off his phone and tosses it on the couch between us. “What is your type?”
You. You’re my type. But can I say those words out loud? Hell no. Coward.
Instead, I turn my attention to the TV. Fourteen minutes left.
“I’m still figuring that out,” I say.
He seems to accept that as an answer, or at least accepts that I’m not ready to talk more about it. We silently watch the rest of the countdown and inwardly I’m kicking myself again — way to ruin the mood right before the hug! I’m saving my last mouthful of Bud Light for midnight, so I’m just sitting here idly holding an almost-empty can of beer.
Finally, what seems like ages later, we’re down to less than a minute. Slowly, the energy in the room warms up. I lean forward, like getting closer to the TV is going to somehow make this more exciting. Beside me, Jordan does the same.
“Ten!” he says out loud, joining the cheering people on the screen counting down.
I join in with him. “Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy new year!”
I take that final swig of beer, letting the alcohol give me a burst of courage. I stand up and hold my arms out and Jordan stands up and comes into them. I wrap my arms around him, holding him tight.
“Happy new year,” I whisper.
“Happy new year,” he whispers back.
I know I should let go, end this hug, because it’s getting too long — it’s past the limit of how long friends hug. But I don’t want to let go.
I never want to let go.
Jordan feels so right in my arms.
But there’s something I want even more.
I loosen my arms a little bit and he backs up just an inch or two and he looks up at me. His eyes sparkle in the light and I can see a question behind those clear, brown eyes. He knows something is different.
With the alcohol pushing my decisions, I angle my head in and kiss him.
He puts his hands on my chest like he’s ready to push me away, but I keep kissing him, even though he’s not moving his lips, even though he’s as still as a statue. Panic starts to rise in me and I can feel myself starting to shake. Jordan isn’t responding.
December 1, 2018
Sugar Plum’d by Leon Mauvais
Greetings book-lovers!
Today is the debut release day for author Leon Mauvais!
Read on for the blurb, cover, excerpt, and more! And if you’re a Twitter user, click here to find Leon on Twitter and give him a follow!
Blurb:
As a young weredeer, all Pembroke has ever dreamed of is being harnessed to Santa’s sleigh. Yet his world comes crashing down when Santa’s slain.
A war erupts in the Artic Circle-pitting elf against reindeer.
Pembroke is sent on a perilous mission. If he fails, his herd will be lost. When the mission goes awry, the stag-shifter must put his trust in an unlikely ally.
Where does one turn in a land of ice and blood?
What happens when the enemy infiltrates your heart? What begins as a wavering alliance, takes both stag and elf farther than they both could ever imagine.
Get your copy of Sugar Plum’d:
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | JMS Books
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Excerpt:
“I hear,” Kassel’s whispers filled the empty stalls of the barn, “the Toy-Maker can be quite demanding.”
Pembroke didn’t care.
He would prove himself.
He arched his back as if he was getting ready to be harnessed to the sleigh. His shoulders back, Pembroke held his head high. His flanks rising in the air, as if supporting an uplifted tail.
As if he was still in stag form.
“No.” Kassel said, “Like I’m really Him.”
Pembroke felt the rough sole of Kassel’s foot against the broadest part of his back. Pembroke was caught off guard by the pressure. His face forced down, Pembroke felt his haunches rise till his ass, like a halved plumb, split open for the Toy-Maker’s inspection.
Pembroke flinched as he felt the weight of a large buckle fall between his shoulder blades. Kassel dragged the cool metal down Pembroke’s spine, resting it on the small of his trembling back.
Kassel paused only for a second, before dragging the metal even further, splitting his friend’s cheeks, teasing the soft pink skin of Pembroke’s puckered hole.
Without thinking, Pembroke let his shoulders take the weight of his prostrate body as his fingers lifted to spread his cheeks further apart.
He felt Kassel’s hot breath blowing across.
“Now how many days till you guide my sleigh?” Kassel asked.
Thwack.
A sting blossomed against Pembroke’s hole. It leapt away as fast as it came. A bolt of lightning zapping through his body. The pain surprised him so much that he hadn’t heard the question.
Thwack!
There it was again.
Get your copy of Sugar Plum’d:
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | JMS Books
[image error]About the Author:
“Sugar Plum’d” is Leon Mauvais’ debut! He’s a beret-wearing sprite who fell asleep in the cornfields of Pennsylvania. He dreams in the husks, hoping his tales taste like taffy, but help build crystallized armor. Once, he lingered in the corners of the last used bookstores searching for forbidden adventures on exotic worlds.
October 28, 2018
Submissive Candy by Zane Menzy
Good morning, MM book lovers! Today I’ve got Submissive Candy by Zane Menzy — check it out!
Blurb:
Everything blew up in Levi Candy’s face when he set out to seduce his best friend Josh Stephenson. Instead of having his dubious way with the sexy straight boy, and making him the unwitting star of the next Candy Boy blog entry, Josh’s father thwarted Levi’s plan and taught him a humiliating lesson.
In exchange for Josh’s father’s silence, Levi is forced to write a story about the night his body was disciplined by the dominant man in ways he will never be able to forget or undo. If he doesn’t want people finding out about his scandalous online alter ego then Levi best damn well do it. But there’s just one problem… no one tells Levi Candy what to do and gets away with it.
Two stubborn men, both dominant by nature, are on a collision course with cruel carnality where there can only be one winner and hearts will never beat the same again.
Buy your copy now or read for free with Kindle Unlimited!
Excerpt:
Dwight tugged nervously on his earlobe as he watched the boy head towards the smokers area out the back of the tavern. He’d never been cruised so blatantly before that he was unsure of what to do. Certainly never in his local tavern. His head knew that if he were to follow the boy then he would put himself in danger of doing something stupid and reckless but his hardening cock begged him to stand up and chase after the young man regardless of the consequences. In the end—like always—his cock was what he listened to.
“I’m just nipping out for a fag,” Dwight said, standing up. If he wasn’t so nervous about Shifty asking to join him he would have laughed at how honest his statement was. He needn’t have worried. His older pal was far too engrossed in the rugby to give a toss about joining him for a cigarette.
With a sure stride, Dwight headed to the outdoor smoking area, hunting the blond lad down like a dog chasing a frisbee. As soon as he stepped outside, Dwight was taken aback by how dark the courtyard was. It looked to be deserted and no sign of the blond boy. He scanned the empty chairs that were placed around dimly lit braziers but could not see him anywhere.
Maybe he didn’t go this way.
Just as he turned on his heels, about to head back inside, he heard a low cough come from the far corner of the courtyard. He spun back around and that was when he saw him stood against a vine-covered brick wall. A smile formed on Dwight’s lips and he made his way over to the flirty boy.
“Howzit,” Dwight said, his voice pitched low with gravel.
“Hey.” The boy stood there completely relaxed, oozing a sexual confidence rarely found in young guys.
Dwight jammed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet, not entirely sure how to progress things. He liked to be the alpha who had the power but he was outside of his comfort zone and unsure how to make the next move.
“So, uh, hows ya night been?” Dwight asked, his voice warbling slightly.
“Good.”
On closer inspection this lad was younger than he originally thought, more likely in his late teens than early twenties. “How old are you?” Dwight asked in a stern tone.
“Old enough,” came the reply, steadfast and sure.
“Old enough for what?”
“Whatever it is you had in mind.”
“Is that so.”
The boy didn’t respond; instead, he bit down on his bottom lip, extending his hand out and placing it on Dwight’s crotch, grabbing him firmly.
Dwight coughed out a quiet gasp. The boy had his balls in his hands, seizing control of the interaction. This was not how Dwight wanted things to go.
The boy kept hold, gripping Dwight tightly in his hand, staring into his dark eyes which were torn between pleasure and fright. His cock twitched and grew firm between the boy’s furled fingers.
The boy breathed heavily, releasing his grip on Dwight’s dick and asked, “How old are you?”
“How old do you think I am?”
He looked Dwight up and down, scanning his face. “I reckon you’re about Twenty-eight or twenty-nine?”
Dwight’s ego began to swell just like his cock, scaring off his jitters and injecting him with enough confidence to wrestle back control of the moment. “Close enough.”
“Was I right?”
“You’ll have to count the rings around my cock to find out, won’t ya?”
The boy sniggered. “Is that before or after you count mine.”
“I won’t be counting yours, sunshine.”
“And why not?”
“Cos I ain’t a cock-slobbering homo.”
“You might change your mind when you see it.” He grabbed Dwight’s wrist roughly and pressed Dwight’s hand to the hard ridge behind his zipper. “What do you think?”
Dwight kept his hand pressed against the boy’s rock-hard dick, adding a small amount of friction, wishing like hell those jeans weren’t in the way. He could tell the boy wasn’t huge but he would be a good mouthful. Not that he had any intention of wrapping his lips around it.
Dwight Stephenson sucked no man’s cock.
“Unzip me. I know you want it,” the boy said, all breathy-like. “My dick.”
“I might like to have a play with it,” Dwight admitted. “But not out here.”
“Fair enough.” The boy looked around the courtyard, his eyes seeking secret spots. “But where then?”
“The women’s toilets.”
“The women’s toilets,” the boy echoed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”
“There’s only one bitch here tonight—aside from you of course—so we shouldn’t get interrupted.”
“Oi. I’m not a bitch, bro.”
“You are whatever I want you to be.” Dwight stared back with unflinching dominance.
The boy’s face began to crinkle with doubt. He appeared to be in a war with his inner pride and self-respect, trying to decide if he should just walk away. He finally gave a begrudging nod of the head, agreeing to the submissive role he was being assigned.
Dwight suppressed a smile and instructed, “Now, I want you to go back inside, lock yourself in one of the ladies cubicles, strip naked, and bend over the toilet and wait for me to come fuck you.”
Hesitation stifled the air.
“Would it be alright if we just jacked off together? I’m not much of a bottom,” the boy said.
“If you want to hook up with me then you gonna be a bottom, son.”
The boy scratched at his neck. “Oh, man. I am keen but…”
“But what?”
“But I don’t have a condom or any lube with me.”
“Just as well for you I have a rubber in my wallet.”
“And lube?”
“Your mouth will be our lube.” Dwight gave the boy a salacious wink.
This didn’t help remove the stress etched on the boy’s face. He looked like he may just walk away.
Dwight was too damn close to miss out now, so he resorted to desperate measures. He looked behind him to make sure no one was coming then reached down and pushed his jeans off his hips, freeing his cock. “You think you can handle that?” He wasn’t fully-erect but he was hard enough for the boy to appreciate his imminent size.
The boy’s eyes glowed with horny intrigue. “Whoa, that’s a beautiful cock you got there.”
“I know.”
The boy reached over and gripped it, squeezing his warm digits around Dwight’s shaft, exploring his length. “Fuck that’s nice.”
“Okay. That’s enough.” He pushed the boy’s hand away and put his dick back in his pants.
“Is it nice enough for you to do what I want?”
“What do I get out of it?”
“The honour of being fucked by me.” Dwight was serious. “And if you’re lucky I might let you give me your phone number.”
“You’re a cocky one. Anybody ever tell you that?”
“Maybe… but it’s hard to tell what they’re saying ‘cos they’re usually choking on my dick.”
The boy laughed.
“So, are we doing this or what?” Dwight stared at him blankly.
“Yeah, why the hell not.”
“That’s the spirit, blondie.”
“My name ain’t blondie. It’s—”
Dwight put a finger to the boy’s lips, hushing him. “I don’t need your name, son. Just your arse. Now go to the toilets and wait for me.”
“How long will you be?”
“As long as I fucking want.”
“You’re a bit of an arsehole, bro.” The boy chuckled. “But it’s kinda hot.”
Of course it is.
Dwight suddenly stepped back, his eyes raking over the boy’s chest, lower, then back to his lips that would soon be sucking dick. “Hurry the fuck up and get in there. And when I say I expect you naked, I do mean naked. None of this leaving your t-shirt and socks on bullshit.”
“Yes, Sir.” The boy grinned, giving a mock salute before disappearing inside.
Dwight pressed down on his cock which throbbed impatiently as he watched the boy walk away. The blond lad may not have been Levi-Candy-gorgeous but he would do.
When he was done with taking his sweet time puffing his way through a cigarette, Dwight made his way inside where he slipped discreetly into the ladies toilets and had his way with the piece of teen meat, wrecking the boy’s arsehole with a ruthless fuck.
Yep. I’m the man.
Buy your copy now or read for free with Kindle Unlimited!
About Zane Menzy:
Zane lives along the wild west coast of New Zealand in an old seaside cottage with his gaming-obsessed flatmate. He is a fan of ghost stories, road trips, dark-haired men, and nights out that usually lead to his head hanging in a bucket the next morning.
He enjoys creating characters who have flaws, crazy thoughts, and a tendency to make bad decisions. His stories are emotionally-charged and don’t shy away from some of love and life’s darker themes.
October 11, 2018
Body Language by Tim Bartholomew
Greetings book lovers!
Today I’ve got Body Language by Tim Bartholomew — this is a book we published through Deep Desires Press (my company) and I love this story so much! I really think you’ll love it too!
The sequel, Getting to Grips, comes out early next year, so this is the perfect time to read Body Language.
Keep reading for the blurb, cover, excerpt, and more!
Blurb:
How long can a man escape his past with his virtue intact?
Naïve yet irresistible Andrew Billingham is a private French tutor working in London’s bohemian Pimlico area. When out jogging one day, he collides with the heart-stoppingly gorgeous Bryony. Falling head over heels on top of her, it is love at first sight.
However, Andrew’s life of adventurous love-making is overturned when Bryony’s employers send her abroad for six months. To add to Andrew’s woes, his winsome good looks and trusting nature make him an easy target for sexually unscrupulous foes just waiting for the opportunity to seduce and ambush him.
Ensnared by two predatory and vengeful women—one twenty-five years his senior—Andrew is plunged into a nightmare of unseemly passion, intrigue, and sexual enslavement. Can he come through this ordeal unscathed without losing the love of his life and the erotic bliss he enjoys with her?
Body Language is a 58,000 word erotic comedy, the first in the Slave to Beauty trilogy. If you like your books erotically-charged and fast-paced, then you’ll love Tim Bartholomew’s tender treatment of love and his devastating indictment of lust.
Buy your ebook copy at Amazon now!
Click here for other stores or for paperback!
Excerpt:
Scene: lovemaking in Fortnum and Mason’s third floor Gentlemen’s lavatory:
“Sorry I can’t run to a bedroom at The Ritz, my darling,” I pant, “but this is the nearest available love-nest on a chilly Sunday afternoon in spring.”
She seizes my jacket collar, pulls my face down, and kisses me again. “I’m not worried, Andrew.” She begins to unfasten the belt of her raincoat. “Go in and see if the coast’s clear.”
I push open the door and peer inside. High, frosted windows, an Art Deco tiled floor, urinals, and two cubicles; nobody in residence. “Come in quick,” I giggle. Bryony’s hands are flitting over her coat buttons. I lock the cubicle door behind us, my whole body tingling with anticipation. “This is very naughty,” I whisper, fumbling with my own belt.
“Take everything off,” she commands, wide-eyed. “I dare you!”
“Don’t be daft!” My heart is pounding. “What if somebody comes in?”
“We’ll just have to be perfectly still until they go again.” She untucks me and thrusts both hands inside my shirt. “Besides, a typical Fortnum’s customer will be too up his arse to notice! Strip or I’ll whistle for that leather dog!” She pushes my jacket off and tosses it into the corner while I slip kisses under her jaw. Her hand is suddenly back inside my boxers. I gasp as she squeezes me, fingers moving expertly and with exquisite sensitivity amongst my bits and pieces.
Breathless, hardly daring to move, I take her face in both hands. “Kiss me, Andrew,” she sighs, her brown eyes sparkling. “All over. And if you’re good, if you’re very good, I’ll take you––”
“Oh, Bryony—”
“For a Fortnum’s cream tea.” I suppress a delicious bubble of laughter, breathe her in. My lips explore her cheeks, linger over her mouth and finally seek out that favorite spot of hers behind her left ear. She quivers a little, the scent of her short hair intoxicating me. Her lips find mine once more and, as we kiss, I undo her jeans and reach between her thighs, pressing my hand against the front of her knickers and tilting her hips against me. She is warm with anticipation.
Ignoring the rest of my shirt buttons, I rip the garment over my head while she undoes my trousers. My shoes kicked off, blue chinos dropped to the floor, she crouches at my feet, holding down the front of my boxers and deftly taking the end of my dick between her lips. Her head rocking gently backwards and forwards, she pulls down my underwear and — this is a surreal touch, but she is a girl with standards — helps me off with my socks, one by one. Opening her glorious mouth again, my lover leans back on her haunches and looks me up down, appraising my naked body.
“Mmm, not bad, Andrew. Not bad at all.”
“Why thank you, beautiful. I do my best to give satisfaction.” Oscar Wilde is deeply embedded in my psyche; I feel he would have approved of our passion in so public a place.
Supporting herself on the stiffest thing she can find to hand, she pulls off her own blouse. Extending her arms, she braces herself between the cubicle walls, her long legs bare, hips at a seductive angle, her enticing burgundy lingerie perfectly toning with her pale skin. Such sensuous, perfumed beauty leaves me spellbound, even in a gents’ lavatory at Fortnum’s. At my approach, her body heaves and undulates with excitement. Gently, I let my fingertips glide outwards across her creamy cleavage and under her arms, reaching behind her to release the bra. Free of all constraints, her perfect breasts fall into my hands, warm and heavy. I cup them together, making her sigh by rubbing my thumbs gently across the nipples. “Well, hello again, you two,” I grin. “It’s been too long.”
“It’s been five hours, Andrew.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Sorry. Should’ve known better than to interrupt such a happy reunion.”
“Quite.” I pass my tongue slowly across first one nipple then the other. “Excuse me while I assume the position.” There is just enough room for me to kneel in front of Bryony. I push my nose once more into her cleavage, submerging myself for a delicious moment in her softness, rolling my face from side to side, kissing and licking between her breasts. The magically smooth warmth of her skin sends tingles of longing down to my toes.
She leans back now against the door and groans faintly as I travel downwards across her abdomen, my tongue tracing a damp line towards her navel. It’s my turn to hook thumbs into knickers, and I pull them firmly down so that she can step out. We are both naked. As each leg lifts, I stroke under her thigh with both hands, molding and massaging as if to memorize this exquisite form, this moment, forever. Unable to resist any longer, I slide my hands slowly around her hips until my little fingers meet under her buttocks. Closing my eyes, I push forward between her legs, tease her with the tip of my tongue. I feel her arcing her back, pressing her pelvic bone into me.
“Stand up,” she whispers. “Let me look at you.” A sudden hint of sadness flickers momentarily behind her eyes. I pause for a second, a dull dread invading me.
“What is it, Bryony?”
“Later, my love,” she smiles, a little too chirpily. “It’ll keep.” She kisses me, her teeth lingering on my lower lip. “Now, what have we here?” With a sudden movement, she cups my balls in one hand and pushes me gently backwards towards the lavatory seat.
“Sit down, gorgeous. It’s time.”
….. two pages later
“No, please!” I can hardly speak. “Thank you! You’re an absolute angel and––”
I never finish whatever platitude I am about to utter because at this point the gents’ door opens and someone comes bustling in, leather-soled shoes clattering on the tiled floor. Our door is rattled (as am I) before the visitor enters the adjacent cubicle. Coitus interruptus, we hear him slam over the bolt and unzip. A pause, and then the sounds of copious peeing. One shiny brown brogue visible under the partition; we shuffle our feet towards the wall.
“Thank God he’s not settling in for the long haul,” I mouth into Bryony’s slightly pointed, pixie-like ear. She is beginning to giggle, her body jiggling up and down with tiny movements.
“Keep still, you bad girl, or he’ll hear you!”
To my alarm, such concentration on our new neighbor is causing wilt. Although I am pushing myself into her as hard as I can, I take the precaution of pulling out some sheets of paper. My lover is now sniggering uncontrollably and, to cover any audible snorts, I cough twice and hum a snatch of “Oh, What a Wonderful World” which only makes matters worse. I am sweating with embarrassment. Our neighbor has finished peeing and is evidently involved with tucking the oldest member away again. “In your own time, old boy,” I mutter, glaring at the wall. “Off you fuck.”
“Be patient, my handsome,” whispers Bryony. “He’ll bugger off in a minute.” Her tongue slithers eagerly into my ear and begins to trace the internal contours. With a spare hand, she reaches down to fondle my balls again, making the curly black hairs in my loins tingle. A wet finger passes tantalizingly back and forth across my bottom and I feel myself starting to expand and tighten inside her again. “There’s a good boy.” She is smiling with satisfaction. “We didn’t want a disappointing mess, did we?”
We kiss again, half-listening to the man’s final preparations for departure. As his toilet flushes, we slip to the floor and there, crouched upon me, Bryony starts slowly, inexorably to move up and down again, digging her nails into my shoulders. Then, as the door adjacent to us bangs open, she comes in for a third orgasm, this time more vociferously. She is convulsed with laughter and I clap my hand over her mouth. “Bryony! Ssshhhh!”
There’s a sharp rap on the door. Our door. “Who’s in there?” demands an elderly, aristocratic voice. “What the devil’s going on?”
I have no suitable answer ready, but Bryony is undaunted: “Your turn next, old fruit,” she announces in a deep, camp voice. “Pop a pair of crisp fifties by the basin and then hop along outside and wait patiently like a good boy. I’ll be with you directly, just as soon as I’ve satisfied this most demanding of young customers.” She emphasizes her expertise by suddenly poking a finger into my bottom. I emit a yelp.
“Do you mind?” shouts our unseen guest. “You blasted perverts! I’ve a good mind to report you.” We hear him washing his hands and pulling out an extravagant sheaf of paper towels. (There was a time when Fortnum’s supplied neatly folded white flannels.) “Bloody pooftahs. Unbelievable! Should be horse-whipped, the both of you.” He utters a final growl of disapproval before banging the main door behind him. We both burst into snorts of laughter.
“Are we done here, mademoiselle?” I enquire eventually. “Or are you in the market for another couple?”
“Andrew, my handsomest of sex slaves, your work here is done. Except I need to use that loo. And then we might think about dressing again.”
Buy your ebook copy at Amazon now!
Click here for other stores or for paperback!
About the Author:
Tim Bartholomew (www.timbartholomew.co.uk) is both a writer and actor, appearing most famously in TV commercials as Santa Claus for Marks & Spencer (2016) and the benign old Grandpa for Asda in their 2017 Christmas campaign.
Writing under the name Timothy Edward, his first comedy novel with “rude” bits, Lessons in Humiliation, received the following accolade from his old Dad: “Well, you’ve either had an unusual sex life or a very vivid imagination.” In point of fact, the reviewer was right on both counts.
Tim has also recorded the book for Amazon/Audible. At 10 hours 38 minutes, it makes ideal listening for long car journeys or flights. He is looking forward to recording Body Language too.
As they say in theatre programme credits, Tim has appeared on stage and screen for nearly twenty-five years, being cast normally as a benign old buffer, Captain Hook, a drag queen or a mad professor. According to one casting director, “it’s all about your rolling eyeballs, darling.” These days, however, Tim is aware that it’s all about his wrinkles: that lived-in face that earns him money for having fun in exotic locations.
In a varied career, Tim has also been an academic publisher, illustrator, music teacher, a payroll clerk and, in recent decades, a voice coach and Head of Drama at a mad school in Southern England. He draws material for his books from both his professional life, his own improbable experiences and, of course, family holidays.
Under his real name of Tim Baker, the author lives with his wife in Kent, the Garden of England. He is father to three boys and wicked stepfather to another boy and two girls, none of whom is inclined to read his erotic novels. He is an avid amateur photographer of birds—especially those of Trinidad and Tobago where his wife was born and upon whose glorious, secluded beaches Body Language opens and closes.
Twitter: @TimBartholomew5
Facebook: @TimBaker444
Instagram: @timbakerbartholomew
October 9, 2018
From the Ashes by CM Valencourt
Greetings book lovers! Today I’ve got From The Ashes by CM Valencourt! Read on for the blurb, cover, excerpt, and more!
Blurb:
Hunter and Derek are at a fork in the road…
At their friend Justin’s funeral, once-best-friends Derek and Hunter meet again almost four years after their monumental falling out. Hunter kissed Derek, and Derek freaked out and chose a college on the other side of the country.
If they had a choice, both of them would walk away and never see the other again. Except Justin has given them a mission: an epic road trip to scatter his ashes all over the Midwest, complete with cryptic notes, new friends, and a whole lot of sexual tension. Can Derek and Hunter finish Justin’s road trip without ripping each other’s heads—or clothes—off?
This is a stand-alone 65,000-word novel with an HEA ending.
Buy your copy of From The Ashes at Amazon!
Excerpt:
“Why are you suddenly okay with having a gay friend now?”
“What?”
“I mean, you obviously didn’t feel comfortable being best friends with someone who was gay. So what changed?”
Derek’s heart hurt. Of course that’s what Hunter thought, that he ran away because the thought of two guys kissing made him angry or grossed him out. Derek himself had thought that was the case for a while, had even tried to convince himself of it for years. It wasn’t the truth, but Hunter had no way to know that.
No wonder he had hated him.
“I never had a problem with you being gay, Hunter. Fuck, I’m sorry it seemed like that. I’m such an idiot.”
Hunter squinted at him. “You didn’t care that I was gay?”
“I don’t think so. Not in the way you think.”
“So I could have brought a boy to prom, had him in all of our prom pictures, told you about how I sucked his dick in the bathroom, and you would have been…?”
Derek could barely breathe. He imagined wearing a black tux to prom while Hunter wore some crazy colored suit, Derek’s tie and pocket square matching his suit so everyone would know they were together. He imagined his mom and dad taking pictures of the two of them on their front staircase, his father giving Hunter a talk about keeping Derek safe. And he imagined Hunter’s hands around his waist, not caring that the whole thing was a little lame, kissing lightly under cheap party lighting.
But that wasn’t the scenario Hunter was proposing. “I would have been…I don’t know.” Hunter raised one eyebrow, and Derek was stumbling. “I just- it was so confusing. I didn’t tell you everything.”
“So tell me now.” Hunter pulled his feet away.
Derek knew he was digging himself further and further in. If he didn’t just explain to Hunter, he was going to lose him again.
“I was upset about the kiss because…” But he couldn’t say it. There was no way it was coming out after all this time.
“You can tell me anything, Dere.”
There it was, the tipping point, everything falling over the edge. “Because I think I might have liked it.”
Derek could tell that, out of everything, that wasn’t what Hunter was expecting him to say. His eyes widened. “Wait, what?”
Derek couldn’t say it again. He shrugged, a weak smile on his face.
“Okay. That’s…new information. So do you think you’re-”
“I don’t know.” Derek tried to control his breathing like he always told Hunter to do, gripped onto the bed sheets to keep himself from running out of the room.
“Have you experimented, then? You’re at an arts school; I have to imagine there’s some guy who’d be down.”
“No.” Derek blushed. “Only the once.”
Hunter’s voice was strong, but Derek noticed his fingers slightly shaking.
“Then what we have here is a hypothesis: Derek Knight might like kissing boys.”
One boy, specifically, Derek thought. His palms were sweating.
“So a hypothesis needs to be falsifiable. How do you feel about kissing girls?”
“It’s…fine.”
Hunter chuckled. “That’s what you said about the beer.”
Derek elbowed him lightly in the ribs.
“But a hypothesis also has to be repeatable,” Hunter continued. It took Derek a few moments to catch up.
“You’d really kiss me again? After all that?”
Hunter smiled. “After everything, I promised myself I wouldn’t kiss any straight boys. But I think you’re currently falling under the LGBTQ umbrella under Questioning.”
His head was buzzing. If Hunter was actually willing to kiss him again, he knew he had to try.
“Okay,” Derek said, barely a whisper.
Hunter seemed to remember the camera, still on in his hand. He turned it off and got up to put it on his bed. When he came back, he was closer, facing Derek. “But only if you want to,” Hunter told him.
In that moment, Derek wanted to be the one to lean in, wanted to crash into Hunter like the lake into the sand. But it was too hard, the chasm between them too dangerous for him to cross.
He couldn’t make himself say it, so instead he nodded. He closed his eyes, waiting for it to come.
Hunter’s lips met his, and instantly it was like they were back in that day in Hunter’s parents’ basement, the continuation of something. Hunter moved slowly at first, letting Derek get a taste of what was happening.
Buy your copy of From The Ashes at Amazon!
About the Author:
C.M. Valencourt is a new m/m romance author. They started devouring queer fiction when they still had to smuggle it into their parents’ Catholic household, and dreamed of writing books about queer people finding love ever since. They like figure skating, ghost hunting shows, and Carly Rae Jepsen. You can find out more about their books and learn about upcoming releases at cmvalencourt.com.
September 18, 2018
Yakuza by Lilia Blanc
Greetings book lovers!
Today I want to share with you Yakuza by Lilia Blanc! This book was published by my company, Deep Desires Press. I loooove this book, but because of its sad ending, it’s been getting some rough love.
Take a look below, and keep in mind the sad ending (which is redeemed in the forthcoming sequel), and then click on through to get your copy!
Blurb:
The people of Tawano are used to the yakuza. They know to avoid them, to get off the streets when fights are brewing. At least, most of them do.
When college student Hiroshi makes a fatal mistake, and finds himself held at knifepoint, there’s only one person who can help him: Kazuo, the yakuza who controls Tawano, and the one who started the fight in the first place.
They’re completely different, and as their paths keep crossing, neither of them can understand the other—but it’s clear they’ll have to, or the dangers that follow Kazuo could claim more than just the lives of a few city-folk.
Excerpt:
“Anything?”
My right-hand man shook his head. Masao looked over at me from where he stood leaning against the wall of my elaborate office, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He was disappointed, and most likely in himself. Masao always prided himself in getting the things I asked for without delay or hassle. But, I suppose there were some things that even the ex-assassin couldn’t do. I frowned as I looked away from his piercing hazel stare to the dark wood of my desk.
“Bastards,” I hissed to myself. I leaned back in the large leather chair and eyed the room we were in while I listened. A bookshelf to my right held odds and ends from my father, an old collection I dare not part with. To my left a printer was set up on a separate desk. My computer was to the left on my desk and a black jar holding a handful of pens sat next to it.
“They hide well,” Masao commented. He shoved off the wall and stepped further into the room. He still wore the full black clothing he’d gone out in the night before. I could see the handles of many knives clinging to the vest he wore. Masao sat down, the leather chair he’d chosen creaking as he sank in it and crossed one leg over the other. He tilted his head and gave a heavy sigh. The sway of the single earring in his right ear marked him as my right hand. “Too well and it reminds me of a certain someone we used to know a long time ago,” he added with an irritated groan.
I was afraid of that. I hadn’t wanted to hear it, yet it was being spoken in my private office in Kiyto. “No, that can’t be. I shot him. Watched the ocean wash that bastard away.”
“Ghosts don’t always disappear, Kazuo. Sometimes they have accomplices.”
“Then find this ‘accomplice’!” I snapped at him and he stiffened in the chair briefly. I sighed, regretting losing my temper with him. Masao was the best of my men, I knew he was doing everything in his power to accomplish the order I’d given him.
“I’m doing what I can to do that for you. We’ll find him. Soon.” The sharp edge to his voice added to the determination painted on his face.
“I hope you’re right about that. If I begin to lose too much money, Tawano is going to fall into a depression. Much like the one I fought so hard to bring it out of,” I answered him in a softer tone, hoping to make up for yelling at him.
“We know that. It’s why we’re doing everything we can to figure it out. Trust us, Kazuo. If not your men, then trust me in the least.”
“I do trust you.”
Masao sighed and leaned forward. “Sometimes I wonder if you really do.”
I frowned at him. “Of everyone here who I know would put their life in danger for me, I trust you the most. I know you’ll find this person, whoever they are. And when you do, we’ll deal with them as we’ve dealt with others before.”
Masao nodded and stood up. He gave me a deep bow before he turned to leave the private office. “I’ll give you their head on a silver platter if you wish.”
“I know.”
The door closed, leaving me to brew over my thoughts in silence. Masao would undoubtedly find them; the source of the leak. The one who was channeling a fair amount of money out of Tawano and into an unknown account. I’d been watching the money filter its way toward a number I didn’t recognize for a week now and we weren’t any closer to finding the culprit than we had been at the beginning of the investigation. Not even the police who worked for me could find the source. It was driving me mad.
• • •
Despite having told Masao that I trusted him, it was difficult to sit and just wait. I had to do something, anything. So I left Kiyto and took the hour drive into Tawano city. The downtown area was rather nice to cruise around once I got there. Bustling with people, clean streets, and holding the lowest crime rate; I was proud of my city. And I was determined to keep things the way they were in Tawano. I drove with no particular destination in mind. As I took turn after turn, watching the shops and the people who went about their daily lives, my mind wandered. It had been a handful of years since the streets had seen any dark horrors. In the clutches of a man who was bound and determined to run it to the ground, Tawano had once been the center of all kinds of crime. The death toll was one of the highest in the world and, in addition to that, the city had also been labeled the worst to even dare visit.
It took everything I had to overthrow the asshole who had nearly destroyed it all. Including me. If not for certain events, I was certain I’d have had a hand in the destruction too. If only … Izuya.I clenched the wheel a little too tightly, my knuckles turning white as I waited for the light ahead of me to switch to green. How long had it been? Six … seven years? I couldn’t recall. It wasn’t as if that part of my life was the most vibrant either. The only light that had been in my life at the time was Izuya.
When he found me in the dark alley, rain was pouring down on me. Three men dead because of the hit ordered on them and their blood soaking my clothes. Izuya had come out of nowhere. Instead of being afraid of me, he held his umbrella out over me, covering my body from the rain. Damn his light. His pretty smile. The overly large sweatshirt he wore that his slender fingers barely peeked out of.
Izuya.
A horn blared behind me and I started in the seat. The light was green and for how long I didn’t know because I had been daydreaming. I gunned it, tearing through the intersection while I frowned and glared in my rearview mirror. As if it were the man’s fault I hadn’t been paying attention. After a moment, I sighed and relaxed, slowing down as I cruised the streets. I couldn’t let myself get lost in old times. It wasn’t good for me, or any of the men that worked for me either.
They needed someone strong and unwavering. If I showed any of the opposite, I would be killed. Even Masao wouldn’t be able to stop it. We had far too many enemies. Tawano was a port city, perfect for trade. The ideal hot spot for any yakuza to take control of. And one that I had no intention of giving up. Some might have called me yakuza as well, but I wasn’t the kind of businessman who would destroy his place of operations. I was smarter than that.
And as my thoughts wandered yet again, I passed by another busy section of town. The university was blooming with ripe students. The wealth of the area was easy to see, as was the entirety of my city. Yet here, as I slowly rolled past the park, coffee shop, and library, my heart clenched so hard that I came to a hard stop without realizing it.
“Izuya…” I whispered his name, yet even as I did so I knew it couldn’t be right. It wasn’t right because I knew better. There was no possible way it was him. Yet, the young brunette looked exactly like him. Even his smile. I trembled as I watched the college student talk with his friend as they passed the university, either on their way home or to whatever part time job they held. It took everything I had not to get out of the car and call to him.
I wrenched my gaze away and glared at the street ahead of me. I forced myself to hit the gas and keep moving. Where had that young man come from? I scolded myself for even considering the things that ran through my head. Izuya wasn’t with me anymore and there was nothing I could do about it. I shouldn’t shove off my old affections onto someone else, let alone a complete stranger who had no idea to begin with.
I drove through the streets a little faster that time. It was already well into the late afternoon hours. Instead of heading to the office, I went out of the city and took the long hour drive back to Kiyto. There, at the very least, I could relax somewhat. Without the temptations of the city, or the brunette. I ground my teeth as I drove a little too fast through the streets to get to the highway. I hoped to hell that Masao would have something for me soon. Something else to focus on since I’d thoroughly managed to screw myself over.
Kiyto was a beautiful place — an ancient temple that was built in the wayo style — that I had inherited some years ago. Of course my father would be more than disappointed in how I was utilizing the grounds now. It hadn’t been a place for worship in many decades, even during his time. After overcoming the tyrant who held Tawano in his clutches those years ago, I found Kiyto to be the only sanctuary for myself and those that followed me. It was massive, housing the entirety of my men if they so chose. Currently it only held a small portion of the group, seeing as many had families to go to at the end of their workday.
I pulled into the gravel yard after passing the massive pitch-black gates at the front of the estate. Almost all of the vehicles in the yard were black SUVs large enough to hold a small army of men and powerful enough to rush through the city should it be needed. The only one that was different belonged to Masao. The sharp silver color was a stark contrast to the rest of the fleet of vehicles. And it wasn’t meant for a large group of men to go rolling around in either. Four was its max seating, and with it being only a two door, even that was pushing it.
The supra was his pride and joy. And I was happy to see it sitting in the yard. It told me that he was in Kiyto and probably long before I’d decided to return. I parked my car and got out. Gravel crunched under my shoes as I crossed the massive yard to follow the old bridge that crossed over into the sacred grounds. The rock gardens were immaculately kept, designs woven through the sands in intricate displays that immediately calmed my chaotic mind.
The small creek that flowed beneath the bridge gurgled softly as I passed, the wood creaking under foot. The rails were red and the sides that held it up were black, reflecting the temple that lay ahead of me. The old design recalled a time long past when Japan was still fighting over territories. Red pillars rose up high to hold the curving roof. Black walls gave off a sense of formidable elegance. I followed the path up to the steps of the place I called home.
I passed through the double doors, which were carved with dragons on either side, their jaws coming down as if to engulf the handles. Once inside, I was greeted by a good many voices as the men passed through the halls, busy with their own agendas. I replied as I saw them, not bothering to stop for too long. Masao was there and I had to see if he’d come up with anything for me. We had been dealing with the problem we’d spoken about that morning for weeks now. Masao was good, but I couldn’t help losing hope over the matter.
“I was just about to call you,” Masao said as he exited a room down the hall and caught sight of me.
“I decided to finish early.” I kept walking and he fell into step next to me. “Do you have anything?”
“I do. It’s small, but it might lead to something bigger. You’re not going to like it though.”
I frowned. “I think at this point, anything you tell me is something I’m not going to like.”
“It’s Gin.”
“Gin?”
“He’s the one siphoning the money to that strange account. I don’t know why I didn’t catch it before.”
“Because we weren’t looking on the inside,” I replied, rage starting to seethe as I thought it through. Of course it was Gin, how could I have missed that. As of late he’d been offering a lot of opposition to our decisions. He was the only one to argue with me during meetings on where the group was headed next, what direction we were going to take. I’d ignored him, his reasonings weren’t sound enough to be of any worth. I was seeing my mistake now.
“I got him to agree to a meeting tonight. I didn’t say for what or why. He’d have bolted otherwise.”
“Good. He still might run, but at least we have a start. We’ll interrogate him and get to the bottom of this. He’s been a pain in the ass lately. I wonder who’s bought him out.”
Masao snorted. “Probably some half-wit who thinks they can waltz into Tawano and intimidate us with stealing money. And not even that much.”
“No, just an annoyance really.”
“An annoyance that’s got our attention,” he sighed. “I don’t know. I guess it feels odd. In any case, we’ll deal with Gin and get our hands on the asshole who’s pulling the strings.”
I nodded. “Tonight you said? What time?”
“Around eight. I figured he’d feel better if we met in the city. More witnesses for him.”
I shook my head as I gave Masao a small smirk. “Unfortunately, all of those witnesses are mine and no one will say a damn word should he end up with a bullet through his skull.”
“Well. They might say something, but it’s not a big deal. The cops here know about everything. They won’t listen to a story about the yakuza leader who disposed of a leak.”
“Get ready. We’ll see how it goes tonight. No doubt someone is going to end up with a hole in their body. And it’s not going to be me.”
September 14, 2018
Bloodspell by Lily Luchesi
Greetings, book lovers! I’m excited to share an excerpt with you from Bloodspell, written by USA Today bestselling author Lily Luchesi! Read on for the blurb, cover, and excerpt — and be sure to get your copy today!
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Blurb:
Bound by an ancient prophecy, freed by love.
Mages have lived by a prophecy that states that once there are two mage houses left, one must kill the other to maintain a magical balance. But the prophecy is disrupted when a new mage is revealed and begins killing everyone in his path.
Simon Moonspell and Tobias Bloodworth, the last two mages of the ancient houses, must put their animosity aside in order to stop this new mage and fulfill the prophecy. However, when their hatred slowly turns to love, can they remain impartial or will they be forced to battle to the death?
AVAILABLE NOW FOR 99c! OR FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED!
Excerpt:
Tobias scoffed, but he was smirking. “Well, there is a first time for everything, isn’t there?”
“Git.”
“Yes, I am, and I own it.” He stood up and stretched his legs. His coat was discarded, and he wore only a pair of black trousers and a white shirt. Simon noticed his nails were polished matte black. It was a nice touch … as was that gorgeous body.
“Once we find the prophecy and see if there is a way to circumvent it, we need to figure out where Thornhill is hiding and eradicate the bastard from existence,” he said with more vehemence than Simon had ever heard from him. “We have spent hundreds of years fulfilling this prophecy, upholding the names of our houses and the standards at which mages have always been held and he — he — ” Tobias trailed off in a huff. “Damn it,” he muttered. “Control, control.”
Simon stood up and walked behind Tobias. He placed a hand on his bony shoulder and said, “Hey, it’s okay. We’re going to kill him; we’ll make him pay for his crimes. I promise.”
Tobias’ skin was warm beneath his shirt and Simon wanted to melt right into him, to hold him from behind and —
Stop it, he scolded himself. For once my brain makes more sense than my body!
Tobias stood straighter and turned, dislodging Simon’s hand from his shoulder and breaking the moment. “Forgive me. I am not often like this.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. This is a lot of pressure, mate,” Simon said. “We never really discussed it but … if there is no way to change the prophecy…”
“Then one of us must kill the other. Yes, I am familiar with it,” Tobias snapped.
“You don’t want to kill me?” Simon asked, confused. He always assumed that Tobias would relish the chance to kill him and make it hurt after how he’d treated him when they were children.
“No, despite my sour disposition, I am not a particular fan of murder,” he said. “And you? Were you relishing the idea of finally getting rid of the pesky little brat you used to knock over on the playground?”
Simon felt sick. Had he really hurt Tobias so much that those beautiful black eyes were filling with moisture? “No… I — I’m sorry,” he said, head hanging. “I was a stupid kid. I never wanted to hurt you, not really. And I don’t want to kill you.”
“Then let’s do what mages do best, shall we? Create a solution to a magical problem.”
Tobias acted as though he hadn’t just been on the verge of some sort of breakdown as he gave Simon a translator and they began looking for the prophecy again.
It wasn’t until late that night as Simon was starting to fall asleep that he heard Tobias exclaim, “I’ve got it!”
Simon nearly fell out of his chair from the shock. He had never heard the reserved man shout so loudly. “W-what?”
“The prophecy, you imbecile! I found it! And it’s already translated for us.”
“Well? What’s it say?” Simon asked, going to stand at his side. He could feel the heat from his skin, smell an earthy shampoo that was just so … Tobias. It was enough to send his libido into overdrive as if he was a teenager again.
“Here.” Tobias angled the book so that Simon could see.
* * *
“Here we stand with mages uncountable, in the age where magic is new. They will create and make the future, spells all shall use. But one by one the houses must fall; as magic expands, they must recede. Until one day only one house name shall remain of the mighty mages, lasting for eternity in history. On the day that two remain, one must make the deciding blow and concede their name. Only one name can remain. The balance of magic must be maintained, and so it has been said, so shall it be.”
AVAILABLE NOW FOR 99c! OR FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED!
About the Author:
Lily Luchesi is the USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of the Paranormal Detectives Series, published by Vamptasy Publishing. She also has short stories included in multiple bestselling anthologies, and a successful dark erotica retelling of Dracula. She is also the editor, curator and contributing author of Vamptasy Publishing’s Damsels of Distress anthology, which celebrates strong female characters in horror and paranormal fiction. She was born in Chicago, Illinois, and now resides in Los Angeles, California. Ever since she was a toddler her mother noticed her tendency for being interested in all things “dark”. At two she became infatuated with vampires and ghosts, and that infatuation turned into a lifestyle. She is also an out member of the LGBT+ community. When she’s not writing, she’s going to rock concerts, getting tattooed, watching the CW, or reading manga. And drinking copious amounts of coffee.
http://lilyluchesibooks.wix.com/lilyluchesi
http://amazon.com/author/lilyluchesi
https://www.facebook.com/groups/1000888509953193/
(street team)
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7369101.Lily_Luchesi
https://www.authorgraph.com/authors/LilyLuchesi (have
your e-books autographed!)
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September 11, 2018
My new young adult novel is out!
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Gay Love and Other Fairy Tales
Dylan James
Jordan Ortiz decides he can no longer hide who he truly is. He’s gay. He comes out to his family, then he comes out to everyone, and it goes well. Like, way better than he thought possible. But that’s about where it ends. There aren’t enough out gay kids at school for him to build a queer social life or even consider the possibility of dating. For now, he’s happy to be the gay bestie for his BFF, Hannah.
Benjamin Cooper is the captain of the football team and has known Jordan for almost his whole life. And he has a secret. When they won an award at the science fair in grade nine, Jordan hugged him—and that’s when Ben realized he had feelings for Jordan. As he watches Jordan come out and flower into who he is, he can’t help but feel ashamed—ashamed at what a coward he is compared to Jordan.
When a broken leg and fair-weather friends leave Ben feeling lonely on Christmas break, he spends New Year’s Eve with Jordan, just hanging out in his basement like they used to years ago. But as the countdown to midnight happens and the ball is about to drop, Ben has something else in mind. At the stroke of midnight, he kisses Jordan.
What starts with a surprise kiss leads to a year of shared secrets, hidden love, relationship troubles, and broken hearts. Through it all, one fact holds true—Jordan loves Benjamin and Benjamin loves Jordan. But is that enough to carry them through when Ben wants to stay firmly in the closet, to the very point that this might destroy what hope they have of true love?
Gay Love and Other Fairy Tales is a sweet young adult romance published by Deep Hearts YA.
Purchase your ebook copy:
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Purchase your paperback copy:
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