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

To Purchase at Digi Books Cafe
To Purchase at Amazon Kindle
To Purchase at All Romance eBooks
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To Purchase at Trapezium Books

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.