Saturday, December 4, 2010

Chamber of Secrets

Chamber of Secrets
Noel Kasey
Demanding Romance
Gay, Time travel, Historical
(past life, Interracial)
$1.50
Chamber of Secrets

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Andrew Moore is sharing the moment of a lifetime with Khalid, a friend but also the man filling his erotic dreams. However, in the ancient Egyptian burial chamber, he unearths more than the secrets of the past. Will the discovery of a lover in a past life change his future with Khalid?

----------------------------------------------

Andrew ran his fingertips over the servant drawn to the right of the main image. A flash of heat surged up his arm. Andrew gasped and jerked his hand back, but the heat intensified. Energy sizzled over his flesh. Muscles cramped and his body convulsed. His cock hardened and his blood seemed to boil within him. Euphoric numbness dizzied his mind. Unable to pull away, he touched the solid stone, yet his fingers faded, sinking into the hieroglyph.

“Andrew!” Khalid’s voice drifted into the distance. Andrew tried to reach for him, tried to grasp on and hold him, but Khalid spun, morphing into oblivion. His image had nearly disappeared. Panic crashed over Andrew.

“Khalid!” He cried out, but words floated unheard into the encroaching darkness. Darker. The lantern blew out and then Andrew was gone.

Andrew spiraled into nothingness. The world was gone…Khalid was gone. He choked, unable to breathe under the crushing weight of the darkness.

* * * * *

“Enter.” The harsh order weaved through the fog of his thoughts. Andrew tried to focus, but his head swam in confusion. He tried to take a step but his legs were weak and trembled under his weight. “Is this insolence?” The words were spoken in Old Egyptian—2500 BC.

“Kneel before your master, slave.” The rough order grated over Andrew. A hard jab to his back sent him to his knees. His palms hit the marble flooring. Pain knifed through his bones. He gasped for breath. Where the fuck was he? Last he remembered he’d been with Khalid, about to enter the burial chamber. Khalid! He jolted upright. Another blow to the back sent him to the floor again.

“You need a lesson in respect.” The lash of a whip snapped in the air a split second before the stinging spines lashed across his bare flesh. Andrew flinched, his muscles quivering with searing pain.

“No!” the other man bellowed. “Enough.”

Andrew drew in slow breaths and tried to wrap his mind around the hallucination. What other explanation was there? Except the thrash of the whip had felt real enough. The bloom of heat continued to pulse beneath his skin. And all he wore was a loincloth made of linen. His fantasy would include Khalid in a loincloth, or better yet, nothing at all.

Andrew stared at his hands. He wasn’t Egyptian, yet his skin was bronzed and scarred. His nails were short and his fingertips calloused. He remained in the submissive pose. Two men were on his right and several more were on his left. He couldn’t see beyond a few feet in front of him. The room was shrouded in shadows. Andrew listened. That he understood the words was just as strange.

“Leave us.” The men surrounding Andrew shuffled from the room. No one spoke and the room grew quiet. “Guard the door,” the commanding voice told the last man. “No one is to enter.”

Should he fight…flee? How far would he get? Andrew’s heart thundered. Wait, this was his fantasy. Whipping had never been a fetish of his. Maybe it was since he’d already been thrashed once…and the burn aroused. His cock prodded against the thin material barely concealing his erection.

“Anum.”

The whispered word sent a shiver over his flesh. “Yes.” His name. Somehow two worlds began to blend. He was Anum, a servant. A lover.

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Rough Rider

Rough Rider
Taylor McKay
Demanding Romance
Gay Cowboy Contemporary BDSM
$2.00

Rough Rider

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Only the climax of sex rivals the climax of bull riding. But Rand Mata isn’t interested in buckle bunnies. He’d rather rope and tie up a cowboy. Rand won’t be satisfied with anyone less than a sub, one that likes to fight back before he gives in.

Fallon O’Shea has a soft voice and a beautiful face. He wants a wild cowboy to rein him in—a rough rider. But Rand isn’t sure Fallon knows what he’s asking for. Rand wants to dominate Fallon, wants to give him more than an eight second ride, but sometimes wanting can be dangerous.

Excerpt:

Damn, Rand was primed and his cock was bucking against the fly of his jeans. Bull riding and sex. Sex and bull riding. He couldn’t enjoy one without the other. For months all he’d wanted was his hand. Fallon wasn’t the typical rough cowboy Rand went for. He was clean-cut, fit…and pretty. His skin was smooth and his lips had looked so damn soft.

But where the fuck was he? Rand hadn’t mistaken the invitation. They weren’t having drinks. They were going to fuck. No expectations, just rough and wild sex.

Rand wandered about for ten minutes. But he couldn’t stay. Once he finished his go rounds, he bailed. He wasn’t about to jinx a championship buckle or risk a run of bad luck for a one-night stand. Shit. Once again his fist would have to do.

His anticipation of riding Tornado had rivaled his anticipation of fucking Fallon. For as amazing as his short go had been, he couldn’t help feeling disappointed with the night.

Rand loaded his gear into the bed of his old Ford truck and headed south on the highway to the motel where he and a few other riders were staying. The V in the vacancy flickered in the neon sign. A few trucks littered the parking lot and horse trailers were lined up at the truckstop next door. Rand stopped off for a six pack then drove to the motel, parked, grabbed his rigging bag and headed into his room. His last night in Oklahoma and he was having a drink alone then going to bed alone.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Rand jerked open the fly of his jeans and fisted his cock. The shaft was hot, hard and pulsing beneath his fingertips. He yanked his jeans past his hips, leaned against the door and widened his thighs. “Ah, fuck.” He closed his eyes and squeezed his dick at the base. Warmth pooled in his balls. He cupped them in his palm as he thrust into the tightness of his fisted fingers. Slippery cream seeped from the slit. He squeezed harder, milking the shaft until pearly cream trickled from his cock head.

Fuck, he loved the sensation of his dick hardening and pre-cum coating the head. But nothing compared to the salty sweet scent of cum. Rand gathered his spunk on his thumb, then sucked the taste from his finger. He wanted Fallon on his knees, that tempting tongue licking his bottom lip as he opened for Rand’s cock.

Rand pumped harder, wanted to feel the burn of friction on his cock, wanted to shoot his load so that he could start all over again. By morning he’d rub his dick raw with images of Fallon and lost opportunity.

Bending over, he tugged off one boot then the other. Then he tossed his hat onto the bed. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, he stripped off his socks and jeans. He shrugged out of his shirt and dropped it to the floor.

Rand stood before the mirror. His long thick cock jutted out from a thatch of black hair. The months of riding had bruised and beaten his body. Maybe he was more twisted than most. His gut tightened and his dick twitched when he looked at the dark purple and blue patterns over his ribs and hips. He stroked his cock harder…faster. He stared at his body, the hard lines and ripped muscles. His ass clenched as he thrust into his fist. Without lubrication, his strokes were rough and aggressive. The heated friction burned into his taut flesh, scorching a path from root to tip.

His thighs burned as he bent his knees and fought the urge to let go. A little more. Oh god. Faster. Pressure tightened his chest. The muscles in his arms bunched and a shiver crawled along his spine. Almost there, yet holding on because it felt so fucking good.

Knock. Knock.



Friday, October 15, 2010

Trix

Trix
Julian Dane
AJ Hardcourt
Demanding Romance
Gay Contemporary
$2.50

Trix_AJDR09-100x150.jpg picture by DemandingRomance

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Trix is tall, beautiful…and a man. But tonight that doesn’t seem to matter to Eli Harris. But what will happen in the morning when Eli must face the truth? Was it Trix…or the man beneath the dress and makeup that made Eli’s cock hard and his heart pound?

Excerpt:

“Can someone please explain to me how Trix can walk in five inch heels? He has better legs than I do.” Mandy rested a hand on her popped hip and glared at Trigg—Trix in full drag.

“Honey, he’s a better woman than most of the women in this room.” Sheela’s deep sultry voice contradicted his feminine appearance. Red hair piled high on his head and heavy makeup morphed him from a powerbroker into a buxom black diva. Rhinestone bling dripped from his ears, neck and wrists. A red dress, slit high on the thigh, molded to his big beautiful ass.

“Not Mandy. She’s all woman.” Trigg wrapped an arm around Mandy. She was petite, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder when he was in high heels.

“Thanks, Trix.” She smiled up at him. “But you still have a better figure than I do. God, it makes me sick.” Her nose pinched. “If you steel my date, I’m going to kick your ass.”

“She might be tiny,” Sheela said and smirked. “But she has bigger balls than most of the men in this room.”

Trigg chuckled. “I’ve seen what you have,” he said to Sheela. “You don’t have anything to worry about.” He swatted Mandy on her playboy bunny cottontail. “And Indiana Jones is hot, but I’m not interested in your date. His whip scares me.”

“Jeeze, who is that?” Sheela indicated the pirate standing near the door. A patch covered one eye, but Trigg instantly recognized the piercing blue of his eye and the dark shadow on his angular jaw.

Eli wore a billowing white shirt unbuttoned to the navel. Trigg had seen Eli’s bronzed torso before and just as now, his mouth went dry.

“Damn, and I thought Jack Sparrow was hot and dirty.” Mandy clucked her tongue and glanced at Trigg. “You after some pirate’s booty, Trix?”

“That would be Captain Eli Harris.” Tight dark gray breeches molded to his hips, groin and thick thighs. A cutlass hung from a burgundy sash tied at his waist and black knee-high boots hugged his calves.

Sheela laughed. “The neighbor you’ve been after?” Sheela whistled. “Now I know why you’ve been keeping him all to yourself. You’ve been holding out on us.”

Yes, but not for the reasons Sheela assumed. “He’s straight.”

“Yay.” Mandy clapped her hands.

“Back off,” Trigg snapped. “Or I’ll tell Indiana and let him whip you for being naughty.”

Trigg walked away from Sheela and Mandy. A tremble in his gut dropped to his knees. How would Eli react to seeing him in drag?

* * *

Eli glanced around the room. What the fuck was he doing here? He knew before he arrived that the partiers would be predominantly gay. That didn’t bother him. What bothered him was his growing fascination to a certain neighbor.

Holy shit. A svelte woman strode across the room, her long silk-covered legs and stilettos eating up the distance between them like Gisele B√ľndchen on the catwalk. A smile parted her luscious glossed lips. Long lashes, glittering porcelain skin, and a fucking hot body. Her shape wasn’t an hourglass, but she had slender curves. Narrow hips, trim tummy and small breasts. Her shoulders curved into nicely muscled arms. She had lines and contours to tempt a man. Kohl lined her intense emerald eyes and a sheet of black hair fell to her waist. Her gaze never waved as she approached. And her mouth, with a seductive tilt, hinted at wicked delights.

Eli’s heart pounded and awareness—sexual awareness—skittered over his flesh. Pressure tightened his balls and his cock warmed. Fuck. He was getting hard…for Trigg!

“I’m glad you came.”

Eli swallowed hard. The voice of his neighbor didn’t match the feminine glamour of the women standing in front of him. Trigg was tall and the heels made him a statuesque giant. The shimmering white bodice of the dress molded to his chest, skimmed over his hips like a second skin and only reached to his toned thighs. Wrapping his mind around Trigg’s transformation was difficult. Somewhere beneath the hot dress was Trigg’s dick.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

In His Bed

In His Bed
AJ Hardcourt
Demanding Romance
Gay Contemporary
$2.00

In His Bed

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Jude Park has everything he’s worked hard to achieve. But something is still missing. He can’t move forward with his life without finding out if there is something more for him in Salt Lake City. Maybe he’s chasing a dream--a wet dream--but he has to see Rob Aspen.

Rob isn’t misreading the signals. But Jude is a temptation he shouldn’t want. Tell that to his body. Jude is hot, hard and hungry for cock. His tight ass and ripped body have Rob thinking reckless thoughts. How could he contemplating sex with his best friend’s son?

Excerpt:

Rob laughed. “So you want to hook me up?” What in the hell was he doing? Sweat trickled along Rob’s back and his nuts were pulsing beneath his swelling erection. Jude had changed from twink to hot college grad and Rob was more interested than he should be on just what Jude’s education included.

Damn, he did know. He’d been dancing around an unwelcomed attraction. Karen had noticed Jude’s crush a few years ago. Rob hadn’t been concerned. Jude was just discovering and accepting his sexuality. Naturally, he’d gravitate toward a man secure in his orientation. Hell, Rob sort of got off on Jude. The kid had been Rob’s shadow from the day he came out to Karen until he’d left for the university.

Jude wasn’t a kid anymore…and Rob wasn’t misreading the signals. Rob could see the maturity in Jude’s confident posture and hot fucking body. Jude’s sandy blond hair was cut close on the sides and left a bit longer on top. A faux hawk Rob wanted to fist his hands in as he ate Jude’s luscious lips. However, teasing…wanting…even thinking thoughts of Jude was playing with fire. Temptation he couldn’t touch, yet he hadn’t heeded his own good sense. He’d cracked the door with emails and late night phone calls.

“Rob?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He shook his head, shaking off thoughts of hard, hungry-for-cock college boys—Jude—with tight asses and ripped bodies. “I don’t think any of your friends are going to be interested.”

Jude clamped his teeth into his bottom lip. His intense blue-eyed gaze raked down Rob, leaving a sizzling awareness in its wake. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

Heat simmered in Rob’s chest. In a slow stretch, his cock hardened and his balls tightened. But he couldn’t want this, couldn’t risk destroying the two people who meant the most to him. “I’m flattered—”

“I was thinking we could hit the bars.”

Rob nearly choked on his breath. “The bars?”

“Yeah, this week. I’m home, need to hookup with old friends, and wouldn’t mind meeting a few new ones.” He set his beer on the counter. “I don’t know about you, but I need to get laid. Celibacy is for religious and ugly people.” He started out of the kitchen, leaving Rob speechless. “So are you still set up in the spare bedroom or are you in my room?”

Every fucking word out of Jude’s mouth had his dick jumping and his heart racing. “Your room?” Rob nearly swallowed his tongue. “No, not your room. I’m across the hall in the spare.”

“Great, then I’ll know where to find you if I have an emergency.”

“Huh?” Rob’s brain had short-circuited with talk of Jude’s room. He couldn’t squash the image of Jude in his bed.

“Resuscitation,” Jude said as he grabbed his duffel. “If you head to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.” He started up the stairs to the bedrooms.

Rob raked his fingers through his hair. Shit. Shit. Shit. Bars, hook-ups, and getting laid? What the fuck had happened to Jude? They weren’t pals, and didn’t party together. They weren’t like that. Sure, some of the emails lately had changed in tone, become…stimulating. Now Jude had all but asked for mouth to mouth. Christ that thought had him hot and aching all over.

He glanced at the now vacant stairs. Jude had changed, but so had he. His feelings weren’t easy. They were complicated and intense and considering doing anything with Jude was impossible. Light spilled out from his open bedroom door. Rob kept the room across the hall. He lived an hour south and worked five minutes from Karen’s house. When he was on call, staying here was more convenient.

But not with Jude home. Not with the forbidden sensations rioting through his body. Rob could admit, deep down, where only he knew, he wanted Jude, wanted to top him, cramming him full of cock. Not always. There was a time when Jude was simply Karen’s boy and he’d been blessed to have a hand in watching him mature into an intelligent handsome young man. Then he’d gone away to school. When he returned on that first break, Rob’s saw the man—not the boy. Horrified, he’d buried his needs, swallowed the lust and focused on friendship. Not that it helped. He’d still wanted to fuck his best friend’s kid. He’d felt like a fucking perv. A growl rolled from his chest. Now, in a few hours, Jude had uncovered that dirty little secret. It was a game. And Jude was playing. Question was, would Rob?

A few minutes later, Rob checked the doors, shut off the lights and headed upstairs. The door to Jude’s room was ajar. Only a dim light filtered from within. He paused, wanting to turn away, but desperate for a glimpse. A shiver of apprehension crawled over his flesh. His breathing grew shallow. His bare feet froze to the floor.

In the reflection of the mirror, he watched Jude strip out of his shirt. Hard lines carved his corded abdominals. Saliva flooded Rob’s mouth and his dick jerked. Simmering heat in his balls boiled over and his cock head began to leak within his jeans. Jude had filled out. Gone was the twenty-ish twink replaced by strong shoulders and a dusting of hair across the contoured planes of his pectorals. More slightly curled hair trailed down his flat tempting stomach and swirled around his navel. Rob would dampen those hairs with his kisses and dip the tip of his tongue into the small recesses as he tasted lower on course to Jude’s cock. His belt was unbuckled and the black band of Jude’s underwear peeked out from the undone button of his jeans.

Rob quietly shifted his stance, cupped his dick and pressed into his palm to ease the ache. But the heat in his groin smoldered. His hands trembled. Rampant beats of his heart droned out the voice in his head that should be telling him to turn away rather than feed into the fantasy. But lust controlled him, claimed him and his eyes slid closed.

Rob’s mind filled with the image of Jude dropping to his knees and parting those full wide lips. Rob could almost feel the head of his cock pillowed against Jude’s hot, wet tongue. A shudder ripped through him and his breathing grew heavy. Suddenly he realized he was stroking his shaft through the denim of his jeans. His eyes snapped open. His gaze darted into the room…and locked with Jude’s.

“Fuck.”

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Into The Flames

Into The Flames
Morgan Lee
Demanding Romance
Gay Contemporary
$1.50

Into the Flames

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Gabe Moretti is reckless and daring. But Captain John De Luca isn't interested in hot as hell firefighters who charge into flames…regardless that it was to save his sorry ass. Only Gabe isn't as rash as John believes. His motivation for risking his life is personal…sexual. He's fallen for the captain and sets out to convince John that some chances are worth taking.

Excerpt:

The rig rocked to one side and four tired firemen braced for the last corner before their destination. Station 116 came into view and Captain John De Luca risked a glance across the rear of the cab. Gabe Moretti grinned from ear to ear, adrenaline still pumping through his veins as he leaned toward the others and shouted to be heard above the traffic and the roar of the engine. The high of saving a life took a while to wear off, sometimes days or weeks.

Gut churning, John turned away as Peterson swung Big Red into the station. John didn’t wait for the truck to slow, but jumped off and headed for his office. He slammed the door and chucked his helmet on the couch where he’d spent most of his time sleeping since Gabe transferred from unit 211 three months ago.

He took two steps into the room, stopped then turned and wrenched the door opened again to bellow, “Moretti, get your ass in here.”

Shucking his coat, John sent it the way of his helmet and waited on the other side of his desk. He’d take care of his equipment later, after the paperwork was done.

“You wanted to see me, Captain?” Gabe sauntered through the door and flopped into one of the two chairs opposite John as if he owned it and the rest of the world. The grin hadn’t left Gabe’s face, and the dimple in his left cheek made him look younger than his twenty-six years.

Taller than John by several inches, slender yet built with the strength of two men, Gabe had curly black hair and blacker eyes that held a perpetual twinkle of mischief. His skin, smooth and golden, glistened with the fine sheen of sweat that John wanted to lick. A black smudge streaked his cheek, and John’s thumb itched to wipe the soot from Gabe’s face. To trace the fullness of his lower lip. To dip his tongue past it and into Gabe’s mouth for a taste.

But John had bigger problems than the lust he’d been denying. Would go on denying. Lust led to other feelings that John refused to feel. He settled into his chair and hardened himself against emotion. I won’t lose another man on my watch.

He lifted his gaze to Gabe’s. “I’m writing you up for failure to follow procedure.”

The smile melted from Gabe’s face and the sparkle in his eyes dulled. The leg draped over the arm of the chair dropped to the floor, and he sat up straight. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

“You know better than to go charging into a three alarm fire without clearance.”

Gabe shot out of his chair and planted both hands on the desktop, towering over John. “You bastard. I saved your fucking life.”

“And you could have gotten yourself killed doing it. There are reasons for procedure and while you’re in this unit, you’ll damn well follow them.” John slowly rose to his feet and leaned forward until he was nearly nose to nose with Gabe, close enough to smell his cologne under the acrid scent of smoke. John ignored the tightening of his balls and the slow stretch of his cock. “Pull another bonehead rookie mistake like you did today and you’re gone.”

The tick in Gabe’s jaw spoke of the barely contained control simmering inside him, and John wondered if the passion Gabe exhibited on the job and in his interaction with the other men spilled into his bed. His gaze fell to Gabe’s mouth again. All he had to do was eliminate the few inches of space between them to find out.

John straightened and grabbed a folder from his inbox. “Now go get cleaned up.”

Pushing off the desk, Gabe snorted. “Fine, write me up.” He strode to the door and paused, his hand on the knob, eyes narrowed. “But just so you know. I’d do it again.”

With that, he walked out and slammed the door behind him.

John slumped into his chair and rubbed his hands over his face. He felt like a total dickhead. Gabe had saved his life and he was reprimanding him for not following procedure. How fucked up was that?

Everyone had cleared the building but John. He’d been trapped on the third floor unable to get to a window or the door to the stairwell open. He’d radioed his position and the chief was putting together a squad, but Gabe had rushed in alone and without clearance. The whole thing happened so fast, no one knew he’d even entered the building until he cleared the blockage and pulled John out. Damn fool could have been killed en route and no one would have known he was even missing until it was too late.

John was grateful. Hell, he didn’t want to die. But Gabe’s actions were the same careless and irresponsible kind that had gotten Adam killed. Losing Adam had just about done John in. They’d been friends since the academy and later lovers. But Adam was reckless, impulsive. He never thought before he plunged headfirst into danger.

In that regard, Gabe reminded John of Adam. Fuck. Why did he fall for the wannabe heroes?


Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Broken

Broken
AJ Hardcourt
Demanding Romance
Gay Contemporary
Broken
$1.50

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A fatal car accident leaves one young man dead…and another suffering.

Officer Steve Pax learns the family of the deceased refuses to give information to the man waiting for word on their son’s condition—shut out because they are unwilling to accept Mario was gay.

Finn won’t leave the hospital until he knows if Mario will survive. Steve is torn between duty and his personal feelings. But Finn deserves to know his friend and former lover is dead.

Steve discovers there is more to Finn than a hot rocker exterior. He carries guilt over Mario’s substance abuse and his role in Mario’s death. Steve wants to help. But he’s crushing on the kid and is considering acting on his sexual attraction. Moreover, he's the last person who should be offering comfort. Can Steve show Finn he wasn’t responsible or will he leave Finn broken?

Excerpt:

The man stiffened as Steve approached. The uniform could be intimidating because of the gun, handcuffs, and badge. The man shifted from one foot to the other, then ran his fingers through his long blond bangs and pushed his hair from his face. He lifted his chin and met Steve’s stare. He had to give the kid credit for having balls. He also had incredibly blue piercing eyes, long feathery lashes and a straight nose. His full lips hardened into a tight line and a muscle ticked in his jaw. He obviously was digging in and prepared to argue. Steve didn’t have any intention of increasing the stress on the Rubino family. That meant getting this kid out of the hospital.

“I’m Officer Steve Pax. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Not unless you can get me into Mario Rubino’s room.”

“Visiting hours are over.” Steve paused directly in front of him.

“I’m aware of the time.” He glanced away from Steve and stared down the corridor.

Steve stepped into his line of sight and crossed his arms over his chest. “You aren’t going to find out anything tonight so you might as well head on home.” He indicated the door with a tilt of his head.

“I’m not leaving.” The kid nodded toward the nurse’s station. “They won’t tell me shit.”

“They can’t.” Damn, the kid’s eyes glazed over. He stuffed his trembling hands into his pockets. Steve understood the frustration, but he wasn’t at liberty to say much. “Come back tomorrow.”

“Will I be able to see Mario?”

Fuck, he couldn’t give him that sort of false hope. “No.”

The kid shook his head. “It’s fucking bullshit,” he said under his breath. “The only reason they won’t let me see him is because they can’t stand that their son is gay. Doesn’t matter that we lived together for over a year. Doesn’t matter that we aren’t seeing each other anymore. Nothing matters.” He glared at Steve. “Nothing matters but seeing Mario.”

Shit. He knew the story well. Hell, he’d practically lived it. The kid deserved to know the truth. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“I told you I’m not leaving.”

“Yes, you are.” He grabbed him by the backpack and tugged him toward the door. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Finn, and I’m old enough to make my own decisions, Officer. You want ID?” He fished his wallet from his back pocket. “Because I’m not going to let a bunch of homophobic fucks intimidate me.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And yeah, that means you.”

Steve closed the space between them. Finn’s warm breath fanned against his face. His eyes sparked with fire and his determined leer sent a frisson of awareness streaking along Steve’s spine…and into his groin. What the fuck! This was the last place he expected a flash of arousal. He tamped down the sensations unfurling in his loins and exerted control over his libido. Fuck, he was a cop because he excelled at control.

“I’m not asking,” Steve said with a stern tone. He wasn’t having a conversation with Finn in the middle of a hospital emergency waiting room. “Make a fucking scene and I’ll bust your ass.”

“Is that a gay joke?”

“No, I don’t have a sense of humor and I don’t tell jokes. That was an order.”


Sunday, August 15, 2010

The Best Man

The Best Man
Morgan Lee
Demanding Romance
Gay Contemporary
$1.50

The Best ManCheck Spelling
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Four years ago, Justin Carlson walked in on NFL hopeful Rhys Mathers in a compromising position with his trainer. Since that day, Justin has wanted to be compromised in the same erotic way. Back in town for a wedding, Justin would like nothing more than to get reacquainted with his old college teammate and discover for himself if Rhys really is The Best Man.

Excerpt:

“So, where are we going?”

The engine roared to life and Rhys looked pointedly at Justin. “My place.”

Justin’s balls tingled but it had nothing to do with the vibration of the car. “I thought you wanted to get a drink.”

Resting an elbow on the console between the seats, Rhys leaned toward Justin. His hand landed on Justin’s chest as his mouth closed the distance between them. “Only drink I want is you.”

Rhys’s lips slanted over his, lightly at first then with more aggression. Rhys lapped at his lower lip, and Justin clasped the back of Rhys’s neck, drawing him closer. Rhys groaned as he angled his head and slipped his tongue into Justin’s mouth. The hand on his chest slid down his ribs, over his abs, and cupped his straining cock.

Air hissed from Justin’s lungs as Rhys curled his fingers around his throbbing shaft and squeezed. He pulled back. “I’ve wanted to do that since last night.” A sultry smile tugged at his lips. “Not the kind of thoughts one should be having in church.”

Justin chuckled. “You don’t even want to know what went through my mind while we were on our knees.”

Lust flickered in those baby blues. He pressed a quick kiss to Justin’s lips then let go of his cock, leaned back and threw the car into gear. “You can show me when we get home.”

Friday, July 30, 2010

Dark Submission

Dark Submission
AJ Hardcourt
M/M BDSM Menage (erotic)
$2.00
Dark Submission

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Excerpt:

Kyler Paxton jackknifed into a sitting position. His pulse raced, instantly burning off the sleepiness. The sheet dropped to his groin. Fear chilled his flesh. Anxiety sent adrenaline to his heart. The frantic pounding had blood whooshing through his ears. He listened, trying to keep his breathing slow and shallow—and failing. The door handle turned. No time to get out. No time to call for help. His cell was downstairs. If he could gasp a deep breath, he would scream. Or he could feign sleep. He shifted back to lying prone the bed. Every muscle tensed. His palms bunched into fists…waiting…listening. Sweat trickled along his hairline.

The door opened. Kyler's eyes had adjusted to the darkness. There were two men at the threshold to his room. One carried a Duffel at his side. He was larger, more intimidating than the shorter man on his left. The men would need to turn on a light or strain to see into the darkened room. If Kyler held still, whoever they were might not notice him on the bed and move on. If not, he'd fight like hell.

The floor creaked as the intruders stepped closer. Another creak. Kyler could fight one. He was six three and one-seventy-five. But taking on two would be a challenge. He waited, poised to throw down because whoever was in the room wasn't turning around…they stood at the foot of the bed.

He could feel their eyes boring into his back. Pressure weighted his chest and a lump lodged in his throat. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. They moved closer. Their clothing rustled, clueing him on their location.

Fight or flee? No way in hell was he getting away if they took the advantage.

Kyler mentally started to count to three. He made it to one, lunged from the bed and swung at the first shadow on the right. Duffel. Kyler's fist cracked against the man's jaw. Pain shot up his arm, vibrating through him.

"Fuck!" The man grunted and lunged for Kyler. "You want to make this fun." They scrapped, fighting for position, but he easily pinned Kyler to the bed, knocking the breath from Kyler's lungs. "I know you want it rough," he whispered. They were chest to chest. The soft cotton of the man's T-shirt rubbed against Kyler's nipples. The denim of his jeans chafed against Kyler's groin as he pinned Kyler with his heavy thigh. His warm breath fanned Kyler's face.

Kyler gasped, his chest heaving as he struggled against the man's grip. But fuck, he was huge, solid and strong. "Fuck you! Get the fuck out of my house before I call the cops."

The man standing at the foot of the bed chuckled. The sound an eerie premonition. "We are law enforcement."

The big man glared into his face. "Come on, Kyler. Break a rule." He whistled low and menacing. "I would love to punish you."

Kyler couldn't breathe. Fear snaked along his spine and coiled in his gut. This was bad. Really bad. Duffel knew his name.

"Hold him," the other man commanded.

Hands roughly grasped his arms, the meaty fingers digging into his biceps.

Kyler thrashed. "You've made a mistake." He bucked, causing the sheet to slip from his bed. He was naked…and exposed. And this was a nightmare.

"No mistake, pleaser9966."

The other man, Short, knew his chat room profile. "Oh, god. Who are you?"

"God works," the brute man said as he flipped Kyler to his stomach. He straddled Kyler's hips, the bulge behind the fly of his jeans riding Kyler's asscrack. Duffel yanked Kyler's wrists together behind his back. Rope rasped against his flesh, tightly twisting around his wrists and weaving up his forearms. Then Duffel leveraged off and rolled Kyler over.

Kyler glimpsed the spark of lust and power in the man's eyes. Duffel grasped his jaw. A ball gag wedged into his mouth, a strap tightened to hold the gag in place. A black slave hood was forced over his head, plunging him into blackness. As the ties along the back of the mask were cinched against his skull, the sweet scent of leather assailed his senses. Finally the wide slit in the leather for his mouth was zipped closed. Spit pooled in the back of his throat. He tried to swallow, tried to breathe. Flaring his nostrils, he sucked in air through the only opening in the leather binding.

Without ability to see or speak, and with his arms pinned beneath him, there was little chance for escape.

Monday, July 19, 2010

The Business of Pleasure

The Business of Pleasure
Morgan Lee
Gay Contemporary
Demanding Romance
The Business of Pleasure
$2.00

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Kyle Beckett has just broken the first rule at Pendleton International. He contradicted his boss, financial mogul Drake Pendleton, during a meeting and in front of his colleagues. Afterward, Kyle is certain he’s about to be fired, but Drake has other business on his mind—the business of pleasure.

Excerpt:
COPYRIGHT Morgan Lee/2010

“Drink?”

Lifting his gaze from Drake’s Armani-covered ass, Kyle stared at the glossy black curls that brushed the edge of Drake’s collar. “No thanks. If I’m getting fired, I’ll need a clear head to negotiate a severance package.”

Drake paused, tongs hovering over the ice bucket at the end of the bar, and twisted at the waist to look at Kyle. His crisp white shirt pulled taut across broad shoulders. “Fired?”

“Isn’t that why I’m still here?”

“What makes you think I’m going to fire you?” Drake turned back, grabbed a decanter of bourbon and poured his drink. “You’re the only one with the balls to tell me I’d overlooked a problem that could potentially cost me millions over the next five years.”

“You don’t usually welcome opposing opinions.”

“That’s only when the opinion is wrong.” He topped the bottle, and leaned back against the bar. “I can’t abide stupid people.”

Kyle breathed in deep and exhaled slowly, feeling the tension drain from his muscles. Finding another job wouldn’t have been difficult, not with his credentials, but he liked this job, loved a challenge. Liked his boss...and the weekly meetings when Drake was in town.

Don’t go there.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “So, why am I here?”

Dark piercing eyes met his over the tumbler resting on full firm lips. “Sex.”



Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Pumping Iron

Pumping Iron
AJ Hardcourt
Gay Contemporary
$1.50
Demanding Romance

Pumping Iron

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Ren Vale has a thing for bodybuilders. Thick thighs, tight asses, corded abs and tapered torsos. Men with broad shoulders have total sex appeal. So when an afternoon in the gym becomes an erotic encounter in the steam room between Ren and the object of his obsession, Ren discovers Geoff Cage is more than a buff body…But is Geoff’s determination for muscle mass risking too much.

----------------------------------------------

Ren Vale had watched him for weeks, noted the hour he arrived at the gym, how long he stayed and what he drove when he left. Ren had even scheduled his workouts so that he could be a voyeur from across the room. He had to have his fix of sweat, flesh, muscle and man.

Did that make him a stalker?

Ren wasn’t a threat. They weren’t even in the same class of athletes. The man of his obsession was power, raw and primal. Ren was strong, cut and driven, but didn’t lift weights as the walking wet dream did. Cycling, swimming and running kept Ren primed for the next triathlon. Ren couldn’t come close to benching two-fifty or squatting four-hundred, but he could run twenty-six miles and just be reaching his stride.

But bodybuilders were his weakness. His compulsion. His obsession. Bulging biceps, rippled backs, thick and heavy thighs and corded abdominals weakened his knees and hardened his cock. The object of his attention laughed with his training partner. A wide smile broke his face and Ren melted. Ren tried to look away, but the draw was too great, the need to feed his lust too intense.

A weighted barbell rested on the floor in front of the man. Ren ran on a treadmill behind him, a perfect position to see the sculpted, masculine perfection of Mr. Olympia’s face in the mirror and still ogle his ass. An ass Ren wanted. The hard curves of his rounded glutes were encased in tight black shorts. Saliva moistened Ren’s mouth. That ass was so fucking fuckable. His cock tensed, like a slow stretch, swelling within his running shorts.

Always the same reaction. The same lust, but the fantasy changed with the days. Sometimes he imagined himself on the receiving end, held immobile by those bulging ripped muscles. His ass clenched with an unquenched ache. Oh yeah, he wanted to be held down and fucked.

Raking his gaze higher, he memorized every detail. A weight belt circled the man’s thick, but solid muscled waist and a clingy sweat-soaked tank top hugged his torso. He bent forward, wrapped his gloved hands around the metal barbell—Ren nearly groaned at the way he rubbed the bar, stroking it, caressing as he might hold Ren’s cock. Then he braced for the pressure of the dead lift.

With a growl that seeped straight into Ren’s balls, the man heaved the weight to his chest and bent his knees into a deep squat. Ren nearly lost his balance on the treadmill. With super strength, the man stood with the weight. Veins bulged in high relief on his arms, legs, and his reddening forehead. Lips pulled back in a snarl and his jaw clenched.

And in the mirror’s reflection, his eyes locked on Ren. Heat rushed into Ren’s face and into his groin. Sweat dripped from his brow and stung his eyes. Yeah, he’d been running hard, but the fire in his body had more to do with the fantasy playing out in his head.

Shit. For the second day in a row, Ren had been caught staring. Hell, his mouth was probably hanging open and drool dribbling from his chin. The man was sex, a fucking walking wet dream…and probably had Barbie blondes waiting on their knees.

I’m blond.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Beg For More

Beg For More
AJ Hardcourt
M/M Contemporary
copyright AJ Hardcourt
Demanding Romance
$1.50
Beg For More

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It's late, he's hungry, but Ash Kellen has more on his mind than food. His name is Levi Selvin.
After hours, alone in the office, Ash realizes there is more than lust for work simmering between them.
Once Levi gives him a taste, Ash wants more--even if he has to beg for it.

Excerpt:

Ash's gaze lingered on where Levi's fingers blazed against his skin. His heart pounded. A rush of heat burned through his body and surged into his cock. The moment was still with the exception of Ash's heavy breaths. He slowly lifted his gaze.

"I don't want to make assumptions." Levi's voice quavered.

"I assumed you were married."

"I'm not and never will be." He shifted, sliding his palm onto Ash's thigh.

Ash's cock jumped and swelled. "If you're wondering if I'll lodge a complaint..." A smile tilted his lips. "I'll have to tell you after you kiss me."

Levi groaned, sliding his hand onto Ash's crotch. "I want more than a kiss."

"Your secret is safe with me."

Levi laughed, low and dirty. "I don't think my sexual orientation was much of a secret to anyone but you."

"If I'd known, I'd have thought differently about working after hours."

"Then you're interested?"

Ash chuckled. "Fuck, I've had a hard-on for you for months." Ash closed the space between them. "Kiss me."

Levi groaned and slanted his mouth over Ash's. His lips were soft, but the fierceness of his kiss took the breath from Ash's lungs. Light stubble around Levi's mouth rasped against Ash's lips. Ash braced one hand on Levi's hard muscled chest and with his other he cupped Levi's jaw. He opened his mouth and invited Levi in.

He didn't think about the consequences to their working relationship, didn't think about the regrets he might feel in the morning, all that matter was this moment. They shared experiences of how easy life slipped away and how powerful sliding into desire could feel. Ash wanted Levi, wanted to ease the stress in Levi's life and he wanted to remind him to live. The same way Ash needed reminded.

Tongue slithered along tongue. Ash submitted to the hungry assault of Levi's demanding mouth. He kissed deeper, moaned and shifted his head again. The frenzied mating of tongues intensified. Ash wedged his hands between them and worked at slipping the buttons open on his shirt. Levi growled, ripped the fabric and banded his arms around Ash's naked torso.

Fuck, Levi's was everywhere, thrusting his tongue into Ash's mouth as his hands roamed over Ash's body. He pulled him close, claiming him from mouth to groin. Hard cocks pressed against each other.

"I want more." Levi rested his forehead against Ash's and gasped a breath. "Tell me you want more."

"I want more." Ash kissed him again, desperate for more of the drugging taste of Levi's soft lips yet firm insistent mouth. He was breathless yet surging with energy. Heat radiated from his core and sweat trickled along his spine.

Cold Steel

Cold Steel
Morgan Lee
M/M BDSM
copyright Morgan Lee - June 2010
Demanding Romance

Cold Steel
$2.00

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Undercover, under arrest and under a hot cop...

To DEA Agent Parker Tate, being cuffed and frisked during a drug bust is part of the job. But when fellow agent, Garret Lamont, does the frisking, his thoughts are more on blowing his partner than his cover.

Excerpt:

Cold steel enclosed his wrists and with a raspy click bound his hands behind his back. He should have been afraid, but this position came with his profession. Large, firm hands slid from his booted ankle to his knee, slowing on the trip up his thigh and stalling at the edge of his ass.

Parker Tate lifted his head from the cool hood of the squad car he was bent over. Chaos reigned fifty feet away. Beams of white light bounced off a barn and nearby trees in competition with the flashing red and yellow ones in the pre-dawn darkness as DEA agents and local police gathered the meth dealers he'd been living with for nearly a month.

"Don't move." The deep voice vibrated against his hip as those hands followed the same pattern along his left leg. They splayed under the curve of his buttocks, thumbs tracing the seam of his crack through his jeans.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Parker straightened, only to be shoved back against the hood. "I said not to fucking move, scumbag."

The hard slam nearly knocked the air from his lungs. Then again, he could barely breathe for the tension building in his chest.

Hot breath ruffled the hair near his ear, and there was no mistaking the solid length riding the same spot the cop's thumbs had been. "I'm trying to make this look good."

Between being mashed against the metal beneath him and the bite of his zipper, Parker's cock throbbed. He pushed backward, grinding his ass into Agent Garret Lamont's groin. "It's not going to look good if I fucking come in my jeans."

"Since the night you left, I've thought of nothing but fucking you." Garret hissed, steam visibly clouding the frigid air with every word. "Hard, fast, and without mercy." In a louder voice, he said, "You have the right to remain silent..."

Blood whooshing through his ears, Parker only half listened as his partner read him his rights. It had been a long four weeks, and all the time he'd been worried about how he left Garret. Fuck, if he'd known Garret liked a little kink in his play, he might not have waited so long to come clean.

They hadn't been partners but a couple months when Parker began to suspect the new boy liked cock as much as he did. He'd wanted to act on his suspicions, ached to prove them right. He'd fantasized about how easy it would be to lean across the front seat of their cruiser and plant his mouth over Garret's. How good it would feel to slide his tongue past those full and beckoning lips, to taste the peppermint Garret perpetually sucked. And oh god, to be that peppermint.

Unfortunately, that would have meant revealing his own secrets, and in the good ole boy world of law enforcement, a gay cop wouldn't last long, much less advance. And he'd worked hard to make DEA agent. Parker loved his job. Was damn good at it, too.

But the night he'd left to infiltrate the meth ring, something--maybe the thought of never seeing Garret again--prompted Parker to confront him and he hadn't had time to be subtle. His contact had given him twenty minutes to make a connection--Parker had spilled his guts in five. He'd issued Garret an invitation to become not only his partner in the unit, but in bed. Then he'd jumped out of the car and walked away.

Cyber Lies

Cyber Lies
AJ Hardcourt
Demanding Romance
m/m erotic romance
Cyber Lies

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Blurb: I can be anyone on the Internet. I can lie to get what I want--get who I want. I want Tom, my roommate. As long as he never discovers I'm the one on the other side of the chat, my secrets are safe.

Excerpt:

Meet?

IRL?

Yes.

No.

Why?


How could I answer? I play on the Internet because I don't trust myself IRL--in real life. I'm not trustworthy. If I were, I'd be honest and tell Tom that I'm not really the stranger he believes he met in a chat room two weeks ago. I wasn't truthful--not the way he was. He told me he was divorced, had a little girl in kindergarten, and wasn't looking to get hurt. I told him I wouldn't hurt him, but when he discovers the truth...it's going to hurt.

I didn't lie about everything. I'm twenty-five, have my own business, a tattoo shop, and we live in the same city. And I'm gay. I never sent a photo. I couldn't. Not if I wanted to continue to lie to him, continue to feed my secret desire for him, continue to stroke my cock to his dirty little words while I stared at his online profile. I didn't really need the photo Tom sent me. I know what he looks like. I know how seductive his voice is when he begs me, online of course, in a chat, to suck his cock. I imagine the taste, the hardness, the velvety texture filling my mouth. He wants to fuck me--almost as much as I want him to. And then after our chats, our cyber sex and cyber lies, I pretend I don't know anything when I see him. You see, Tom is my roommate.

Are you there?

Yes.
And my cock is hard, my palms sweaty and my heart pounding.

So?

I can't.

Why? Somewhere in public. You might not like what you see.

Oh, I know I'd like. But...


I stare at the text box, the blinking cursor taunting me to tell Tom who I really am. But with my betrayal I'll lose the only intimate connection I have to Tom. I'm a selfish bastard, a selfish lying bastard.

Syd?

Even though he wrote Syd in the text box, my chat name--another lie--I hear the way my real name rolls off his tongue. Charlie isn't sexy, unless Tom is saying it.

Mutton Hollow Road

Mutton Hollow Road
AJ Hardcourt
m/m BDSM paranormal (vampire)
Mutton Hollow Road
$1.50

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Jack is lost. Halloween night, in the middle of nowhere, he finds himself at the mercy of the mysterious William. Literally. Dressed in leather and ready to play, Jack submits to William. The BDSM encounter is hot, but William is interested in more than a play. William's pleasure comes with bite.

Excerpt:

William Vladimir paused in his pacing. For the past few hours, he'd toyed with the idea of going out. He needed a distraction, but tonight would be dangerous. Hunting on Halloween presented unpredictable circumstances. Namely children and pranksters. Granted, he hadn't had a trick or treater come to the house in years...thank God.

His keen sense of hearing detected a vehicle stopping on the street then slowly coming up the drive. William stood at the window, cloaked in shadow, and waited. The car stopped. The door opened and a man stepped out.

William swore and a growl rolled from his chest. Black leather chaps with laced sides clung to long, strong thighs. A studded codpiece cloaked the man's cock and scrotum. Defined pectoral muscles sculpted his wide, tanned torso and were caged in a stretched leather and chain upper body harness. Abs bunched and rippled in the cool autumn air. William stared at the steel rings pierced through each flat, beaded nipple and he smiled.

William's normally cold skin heated. The man was fucking incredible. The stranger turned around to glance back at the street. William sucked in sharply. Long chocolate brown hair was slicked back and pulled into a tight ponytail at the base of his neck. Leather bands wrapped the hair every two inches, making a thick cord to the middle of his back. Beyond that, the man's ass was bare.

The man knocked. If he called out trick or treat, William definitely wanted the treat. There was plenty of time for tricks. The night was still young. William opened the door and met with a brilliant smile.

"I'm sorry to bother you," he said. "I seem to be lost and I can't get a cellular signal. You wouldn't happen to have a landline, would you?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't." Electronic pulses caused William headaches. There wasn't a signal tower for a twenty-mile radius. William opened the door wider. "Please come in, there's a chill in the air tonight. You must be cold." After all, the man wasn't covering much of his delicious body with clothing.

"Thank you." He held out his hand. "Jack Alder."

"William Vladimir."

"I'm on my way to a costume party. You wouldn't happen to know where to find 713 Mutton Hollow?" Jack nervously crossed his arms over his chest, causing his biceps to flex. His lips tilted to a half smile. "I'm really not dangerous."

"Perhaps I am," William quietly said, closing the door and silently turned the lock.

Extreme Meet

Extreme Meet
AJ Hardcourt
M/M contemporary
$1.50
Extreme Meet

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Heavy snow is falling and Chris is stuck in Salt Lake City. The airport hotels are booked with stranded travelers. Extreme skier, Kevin Angel, is a local boy who has just won gold. He can get anything he wants--and he wants Chris. Scoring with Chris could be more thrilling than when he scored the gold.

Excerpt:

Kevin returned a few minutes later. "All set." He put on his parka. Standing in front of Chris, their eyes locked. "So did you want to share my room?"

Wrong words to come out of that totally fuckable mouth. It would've been hard -- hard being the perfect word -- enough sitting next to him in uncomfortable airport chair. "Thank you for the offer, but it's okay. I'll endure with the masses."

"Are you sure?" Kevin looked at the clock hanging in the center of the concourse. "There's a football game on tonight. We can pick up a six pack of beer and watch the game and the snow continue to fall in comfort." He sat down in the chair. "You won't find a hotel room and there's speculation the blizzard isn't going to let up anytime soon. We might be stranded for a while."

Chris desperately wanted to take Kevin up on his offer, but didn't feel comfortable accepting. He leaned toward Kevin and lowered his voice. "I'm gay."

Kevin smiled. "I'm glad." His gaze went to Chris' crotch. "It would've sucked if we'd gotten to the hotel and you didn't want to fuck. I'm assuming your hard-on is for me."

Chris heart rate spiked. He swallowed and found his voice. "It is."

"Then let's get out of here."

Chris stood and grabbed hold of his carry-on's handle. He walked beside Kevin to the front of the airport. "Where's your coat?"

"My flight is to LA. I checked it in my luggage. By now, I should be in seventy degree weather, sitting on my back porch, watching the sun set, and sipping a Mojito."

"Where in LA do you live?"

"Hermosa Beach."

Kevin smiled. "We're neighbors. I'm in Manhattan Beach. When I'm not skiing, I'm surfing."

The paper had claimed him as a local celebrity. "I guess I assumed you were on your way out of town, not going home."

"I grew up here, but LA is home."

They walked outside. Strong winds blew the falling snow. The cold pierced Chris' skin like sharp knives, slicing to the core. Thankfully, shuttles to the various hotels lined the curbside.

"We're at the Hilton." Kevin preceded him to the shuttle. Several people already filled the seats. They had to move to the rear.

Chris grabbed an overhead handle and leaned his back against the window. Kevin took off his parka, grabbed the next handle, and stood in front of him. When the shuttle lurched forward, Kevin's ass bumped against Chris' groin. Rather than pulling away, Kevin pressed intimately closer. In the crowded bus it was easy to hide the subtle grind of Chris' cock into the crevice of Kevin's hard, tight glutes. Standing this close, Kevin's cologne drifted to his nose. The smell of mountain air clung to his sweater and his hair. Chris drank in the pleasant combination.

Kevin dropped his arms so that his parka positioned in front of him. Chris heard the unlinking of the metal zipper of Kevin's jeans. His body angled and turned to Chris. "Touch me."

Kevin had to be crazy. The bus was packed with people and Kevin had his tool in his hand beneath the draped parka.

Chris whispered to Kevin. "It's dangerous." There were people standing a foot away.

"Is your heart pounding?"

Chris nodded.

"And you're scared of getting caught?"

"Yes," he hissed.

Kevin altered the position of the parka to now barely conceal Chris' hand. "But you can't help yourself."

Chris' hand inched higher. "No, damn it, I can't." His voice turned husky with the licentious activities. They were in a public vehicle.

"You have to touch me."