Kory Steed

Welcome, Beth. Your new novel, Recover Me, sounds intriguing.

All authors have their own reasons for writing a book. What are yours?

I came up with this story about two years ago based off an old Olivia Newton-John song called Recovery (Physical album 1981). The song is about a woman who has decided to live in her mind, her fantasy world, to avoid all the pain in the real world.  The chorus goes like this: “Don’t worry about my recovery, ‘Cause lover, you won’t recover me, I’m not too low, I’m not too high, I’ll get by makin’ my recovery”

If you listen to the lyrics they are really amazing and speak on a level most songs don’t touch upon…mental illness.  I love the song and obviously I got the title from the chorus.

What would you like readers to take away from your story? Does it contain a message? 

I touch upon a few things in this story…addiction, mental illness, past lives, hope and despair. My heroes and heroines aren’t perfect, but then none of us are, and if I hope if anyone finds a message in this story it’s that you should never give up.

Where did you find your inspiration for the story? Was it a person, a current event, something you witnessed, or something else?

The past life aspect of this story came about early on, obviously with the title of Recover Me, but then I had to ask questions like how does Evie reveal this past life? How does she keep connecting to it? When she’s in a coma, does she really experience this or is it just a drug induces hallucination? I wanted to find the right voice her for because I was dealing with some serious issues. My good friend CR Moss let me bounce ideas off her for about two years and she was a great cheerleader for me to finally write this story.

Did you face any obstacles or challenges while writing the story and if so, what were they?

I had to do a lot of research about sleeping pills, their addiction rate, and how they operated on the brain. I wanted to stay as authentic to what Evie was feeling as possible.

What have you learned from the main characters in your story?

To never give up! LOL! Like I said, it took me two years to write this and I couldn’t be more proud of it.  And Jay Aheer gave me an amazing cover to present to the world.

How much emphasis do you put on supporting characters to move the plot of your stories along? Have any of your supporting characters ever gotten their own story?

I have a lot of Easter Eggs in my books.  The mob boss, Sherman Groto, first made an appearance in my time travel book “When Lightning Strikes”. In that book, the hero Micah John goes to the underground fight because he gets a “tip” who’s going to win. It’s the same fight where Evie and Bishop meet.

Every secondary character I write I do it with the idea in the back of my head that I may or may not expand him or her.  In my MC series The Forbidden Rebels, I’m nursing a thought that hitman Masterson (who was in book 3 and will be in book 4) may get his own story at some point.

Do you write in other genres and if so, what are they? What genres would you like to try that you haven’t already?

I write MF and Menage stories, but I do have a pen name who writes MM paranormal romances. So if you think I’m not putting out much content, it’s probably because I’m going back and forth with what I’m writing.

What or who influences your writing?

Music is my biggest influence.  I love lyrics that really hit home, that have a powerful meaning behind them. My favorite band is/was Linkin Park because the lyrics to their music were so emotional. Chester Bennington’s suicide hit me hard and if you listen to their last album, One More Light, you come to realize it was either one big cry for help or the most elegant of suicide notes.

What is your writing process? Are you a patnser or a plotter, or a little of both?

I’m a little of both.  Mostly a pantser, though. I’ll go through and give a few sentences to outline what needs to go into the chapter, but for the most part I have an idea in my head of where the story needs to go and what I have to do get there.

Do you have any author idols and if so, how would you like to meet them?

I would love to sit down with Judith Tarr and pick her brain. Likewise with Lynn Flewelling, JK Rowland, and Cassandra Clare. Sometimes I’m in awe when I realize I’m Facebook friends with Sam Cresent, Laurann Dohner and Phoebe Conn. I’d love to meet them in a one on one setting so I can just ask them questions, get their autographs and fangirl out.

What are your three favorite books by other authors and why? You don’t have to limit this to three. (I know I can’t.)

1. Transcendence by Shay Savage (OMG…seriously. This is a must read book!)
2. The Reluctant Dom by Timber Dalton (If you don’t like crying don’t read this book. It’s so heartfelt and emotional, but such a beautiful love story of starting over)
3. Avaryan Rising by Judith Tarr (This book really made me want to be the best writer I could be.)

What do you do in your down time to feed your soul?

I have the most romantic bestest partner in life. Saturday is our day. We try to do something amazing, like hiking through the mountains or panning for gold or curling up together to binge watch Netflix.  I’ve always believed in soul mates but hadn’t found mine until the day he walked into my life. He’s my best friend, my lover, my everything.

What’s next on your literary horizon?

One of my publishers are going out of business so I’ve regained my rights to those books. Since most of them were published early in career, they’re obviously horrible.  LOL! I go through and read some of what I wrote and I shudder. I’ve learned so much since their publication so many years ago that I am reworking the stories, adding to them, making them better in hopes of republishing them.

As for new material, there are two books I have to write in 2018: Book 4 in my Forgotten Rebels MC series, which is Church’s story. I’ve started on it and have some big revelations coming out. The second story is another anthology story for Beachwalk Press.  This is one is called Love at the End of the World, and I’m excited to be working again with Ashlynn Monroe, Imogene Nix, and Jaye Shields.

What is important in your life and why?

My son. My boyfriend. I absolutely love my life. I’m blessed with the ability to write and have the platform to perfect my craft, and I’m so honored to be in such wonder company with all the other authors I can talk to and get support from.

Blurb:

Evie Duncan’s dreams are slowly taking over her life. Every night she falls in love with the man invading her subconscious, playing out scenes from a past life.  It becomes harder and harder to wake and leave her dream man behind.

Bishop Kain has devoted his life to protecting crime boss Sherman Groto, but when he spots Evie at an underground fight, all he can think about is her.  He tries to keep his distance, but like a moth to a flame, she’s a siren he can’t resist.

Danger is coming for Evie and her salvation lies somewhere in the truth of her past life.  If Bishop can save her, he may be the one man who can bring her into the light…and for once, she might be willing to stay there.

Excerpt:

“Who are you?” he asked.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she reached up with her free hand and her fingertips lightly traced over his cheek. Fire shot through him from the innocent, delicate exploration and he couldn’t help himself from backing her up until she hit the wall. It was much the same position he’d rescued her from not more than a few minutes earlier, but this time her body language was completely different. Her lips parted, her nipples beaded, and she arched her back toward him. Bishop fitted himself against her, sliding his thigh between her legs to hold her firmly against his body. Every bit of him thrummed to life and he’d never ached so desperately to possess a woman. He wanted to sink his hard cock into her womanly depths and ride her until she screamed his name. The arena, the fight, his job … all of it faded as he stared into her dark, fathomless eyes.

He let go of her arm to sink his fingers into her hair. He tilted her face up to his so he could study her face in an effort to determine why she felt so familiar.

“I didn’t think you were real,” she whispered. “I thought you were only a fantasy.”

“Who are you?” he demanded once more.

“Don’t you remember me?”

Slowly, he shook his head. The urge to kiss her was an overwhelming battle he lost. He bent his head. Her hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders.

“John,” she breathed.

The name jolted him out of whatever euphoria the girl had cast around him. He pulled back from her and grabbed her forearms to prevent her from hugging him.

“My name isn’t John,” he said harshly. Hearing another man’s name drop from her lips had twisted a spike in his gut, and damned if he wanted to analyze that too closely. “It’s Bishop Kain. Now come on. Mr. Groto wants to see you.”

Buy Links:

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/recover-me-by-beth-d-carter/

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B078YM357R/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1515770201&sr=8-1&keywords=beth+d.+carter

Social Media Links:

https://twitter.com/BethDCarter
https://www.facebook.com/bethdcarterauthor

www.bethdcarter.com

http://bethdcarter.blogspot.com/

Amazon author page:

http://www.amazon.com/BethD.Carter/e/B00EOTD1T0/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1385417145&sr=8-1

 

 

 

Don’t miss the giveaway below!

Second Go-Round

Elite Escorts #2

Contemporary Erotic Romance, Suspense

Publisher: Evernight Publishing

Cover Art: Jay Aheer/Simply Defined Art

Blurb:

Christine Gemberling doesn’t enjoy breaking hearts, but she has yet to find a man who knows how to handle the package between his legs well enough to satisfy her needs. No man has held her interest beyond a second date—much less her love. Until one sultry night with an Elite Escort rocks her world like never before.

Professional escort Jarod Zimmerman has a strict code when working with clients—no emotional attachments. But the beer-drinking, football loving Christine and her curves push beyond his control, until the guarded playboy finds himself craving another go-round with the only woman intriguing enough to make him break his own code.

With her defenses stronger than his favorite football team, it will take more than Jarod’s talents in bed to change her stance on relationships. He’ll have to sacrifice his heart when the unexpected circumstance thrown their way threatens to rip them apart forever.

*Warning: Exhibition, spanking, anal sex, sex toys

Purchase Links:

Evernight Publishing: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/second-go-round-by-lynn-burke/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077ZMFSD8

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B077ZMFSD8

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/765647

Excerpt:

Jarod lowered onto the limo seat beside me and pressed close, his large hand grasping the top of my thigh.

“Where to?” Ricky asked as he settled behind the wheel a moment later.

I spouted off my address quite a ways up Route 1, and with a nod, he shut the window between us, encasing Jarod and I in complete privacy. Soft music came to life, and seconds later, the limo pulled out into Boston’s nighttime traffic.

“For the first go-round, I’m going to fuck you against the front door of your house, but right now,” Jarod said, lowering to his knees in front of me, “I’m going to bury my nose between these thighs and lick your cunt until you squirm.”

“I like the way you think,” I said, my voice breathless, betraying my body’s need.

His hands slid up my thighs, pushing my skirt into a bunch. I wiggled, assisting in his plan, and he yanked me to the seat’s edge.

“Comfy?” he asked, trailing a fingertip against the soaked silk covering me.

“Comfy enough.”

Jarod hooked his fingers under the sides of my panties and pulled them down my legs, releasing my heeled feet one at a time. He tossed the panties aside, and grasping my knees, spread me wide.

“Bare.” He stared at the smooth skin between my thighs as he moved close. “I like that.” Palming my ass, he lifted me and buried his face in my pussy as promised, my moan and his groan colliding in the air between us.

My eyelids fluttered shut and head tipped back as he ate me out like a starving man. Tongue, nose, and teeth, he didn’t pussyfoot around, but tortured me with his need to taste every inch, fuck me deep with his long tongue, nibble my swollen lips … flick and suck my throbbing clit.

My fingers found purchase in his hair, and I ground myself against his face, chasing my orgasm. Bastard let off and dipped low to lick my ass and tongue me every time I neared the crest. I tried to force his head back up to my clit, but he held steady, denying me what I wanted.

“Goddamn it, Jarod!” I yanked on his hair as my clit popped from his mouth’s suction again and he roamed southward to my ass.

He snickered and caught my gaze as his tongue rimmed my puckered hole.

My hold tightened on his hair, my heart thundered in my chest. “Please. I need to come.”

Finally—finally—he pressed two fingers deep into my sopping wet core. “Is this what you need, Christine? My fingers fucking your cunt and my mouth on your clit?”

“Oh, fuck.” My head tipped back again as he latched onto my clit. “Don’t stop. Please … Christ, don’t stop!” You’d think I hadn’t climaxed in months the way my orgasm ripped through me.

Jarod’s fingers and tongue drew out every clench of my pussy, every shudder rippling down through me as I gasped for breath. He lapped up every trace of my cum and sucked his fingers clean, the noises in his throat barely reaching through the ringing in my ears.

I sagged into the leather seat, sucking wind. “Holy shit. It’s no wonder you get paid to please a woman.”

Giveaway:

$25 Amazon Gift Card and Author Lynn Burke mug

Taking place Dec 8^th – 22^nd

Rafflecopter Link:

https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/fe3b506769/

About Lynn Burke:

Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

Links:

Website: https://www.authorlynnburke.com

Blog: http://authorlynnburke.blogspot.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author-Lynn-Burke-555282497937461

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorLynnBurke

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorlynnburke/

 

 

 

 

 

Gorgeous, powerful warlock, Indigo Vaughn, sells his magic spells to people looking to make a dream come true. One night, as he gazes down on the city below from his sky barge The Dreamboat, he wonders why, in centuries, his own wish for a man to love hasn’t materialized.

Beautiful, sexy, Darian O’Harr has suffered his fair share of misery. He’s a musician and learned long ago to sing for his supper. New to the city, he comes to Indigo seeking a spell that will bring him the love of a handsome man.

As soon as he sets eyes on Indigo, his heart races and his body betrays his pent up needs.

Here is the man of his dreams. What can Darian do as the warlock gathers his magic to cast a spell that will bring him another man?

BUY Links:

On launch special discount price at Evernight Publishing 

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/the-dreamboat-by-e-d-parr/

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077TB36FS

Global Amazon link http://a-fwd.com/asin-com=B077TB36FS

http://www.bookstrand.com/the-dreamboat-mm

Coming soon to, KOBO and NOOK

Read an excerpt 18+ 

Indigo didn’t sleep well for three nights after meeting Darian. On the fourth night he didn’t sleep at all. His sexual needs beat at him, until he couldn’t think straight. His desire burned until all he could think about was fucking. He pushed his breakfast around on his plate the next morning. That day he stalked the corridors of The Dreamboat eschewing meetings and focused only on the security arrangements for the queen’s celebrations. At sixteen hundred hours he called Milan to his side.

“Will you make an appointment at Temptations for me? Twenty-three hundred hours will be good.”

Milan’s gentle smile comforted him. “One, Two, or Three, sir?”

Indigo shook his head slowly. His desire threatened to overwhelm him. Nearly crazed with sexual need, Indigo needed to deal with it or be incomplete for weeks to come. “All of them. Thank you.”

Moments later, Milan returned. “You’re expected at Temptations, twenty-three hundred hours as you requested. Permit me to take you there and wait to bring you home?”

“Yes, of course.”

****

Temptations buzzed with chatter and thumped with music in the main downstairs room. People danced, some grinding their bodies against each other’s.

A host met Indigo. “It’s been a while, sir. I trust you are well. Your requested companions are ready.”

Indigo nodded. He silently followed the host to the upstairs room where beautiful men he knew only by a number would slake his desires that night.

The host left him.

Indigo wore only a belted kilt and ankle length hooded cloak over his naked body. He stepped out of his soft suede ankle boots, and waited, his cock already half-erect with anticipation.

Gorgeous men entered the room, their naked bodies muscled, their eyes dark with desire, they came to Indigo silently.

Indigo savored their looks, big cocks already filling out into erections. His admiring gaze raked over the men, their lush dark hair, soft and well-cut, blue eyes, gray eyes, smooth skin free of body hair, and his cock jerked as his stomach tightened. He loved men. These men were the best of Temptations male brothel, and they’d serviced him once before a year ago. He sighed recalling the satisfaction. The night sparkled with promise. He watched with growing sexual hunger.

One carried a tray and placed it on the table away from the huge low bed. On the tray—a carafe of water so cold it misted the glass, sachets of lube, condoms, sex toys, tissues, and a wine glass.

One unclipped Indigo’s cloak and after grazing his lips on Indigo’s, he brought the cloak to a freestanding rail and hung it.

A low murmur of appreciation fell from Indigo’s mouth as he savored the fleeting kiss from One’s perfect lips.

Two knelt and traced his fingertips up and down Indigo’s legs, reaching his balls and circling feather light touches there that made Indigo’s cock fill out in a delicious slow sensation.

Indigo closed his eyes with lust as his stomach tightened and jerked his cock when Two stroked the backs of his thighs.

Three took the belt from Indigo’s kilt as One slid his hands around Indigo’s face and held him fast kissing him hungrily. The kiss seared desire through Indigo and he slid his palms along the satiny skin of One’s muscled chest with a groan.

Copyright E.D.Parr 2017, Evernight Publishing

 

 

 

Erotic Romance, Gay Romance, May/Dec, Lawless, Suspense

Word Count: 44,900

Heat Level 4

Published By: Evernight Publishing

ISBN: 9781773394954

ASIN: B077TZDBF4

pages: 127

Buy links: Evernight – Amazon – BookStrand – Smashwords – Kobo 

Contract killer Felix Zamaro isn’t looking for love—at his age, all he wants to do is retire. When he interrupts a robbery-in-progress, he stumbles into a mess: Nick Banner is in town to help his sister kick her loser boyfriend to the curb.

Nick never thought he’d meet a hot-as-hell assassin in the middle of a random coffee run, but watching Felix take down a couple of thieves in a crappy gas station has him questioning his rule against playing with straight guys.

When Felix’s next mark turns out to be none other than the boyfriend of Nick’s sister, all hell breaks loose. When Nick moves into the house next door to Felix, both men think fate is messing with them. However, it’s Nick’s unexpected career choice that really throws Felix off his game, and for a killer, that could be a fatal mistake.

Author Details:

Erin M. Leaf is a romance novel devotee, the steamier the better, with a specialty in edgy erotic tension. She also writes romance as Marie E. Blossom.

Website: http://erinmleaf.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EdgyAuthorErin/

Twitter: @erinmleaf

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/erin.m.leaf/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4355929.Erin_M_Leaf

Evernight: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/erin-m-leaf/

Excerpt:

“Can’t sleep?” Nick murmured, rolling over.

Felix grunted. What the fuck was wrong with him? Just the sound of Nick’s low, sleepy voice sparked another surge of heat.

“Still trying to convince yourself that you’re straight?” Nick asked, sounding more awake.

Felix frowned, head turning towards Nick. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Nick sighed, pushing the covers down to his waist. “I’ve seen you looking at me.”

Felix sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m going out to walk the perimeter.”

Before he could stand up, Nick’s hand landed on his shoulder. “No, you’re not.” His voice was low and soft. Unthreatening.

Felix’s muscles tightened anyway. Nick’s hand was warm and heavy. His training told him that he could grab Nick’s wrist and break his elbow, or twist him around and rip out his throat, but the strange tension flaring through his body wouldn’t let him move. “You don’t want to do this, Nick,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“Do what?” Nick pulled him back down to the mattress. “Touch you? Make you feel good?” He pressed Felix’s wrists down, hard.

Felix flexed his biceps. In the dark, Nick was a dark shape looming over him. Instead of fear, or anger, Felix’s emotions jumped wildly from arousal to confusion. “I could break your neck.”

“That knowledge just makes it sweeter,” Nick murmured.

“Makes what sweeter?” Felix asked, voice raspy. He couldn’t seem to breathe right. Is this a panic attack? he asked himself. He’d never experienced anything like this. His entire life had been a systematic observation of facts and rational decisions. Nothing much bothered him—not killing, not violence, not sex. Boredom was a problem, but he certainly wasn’t fucking bored at the moment. I’m screwed, he thought, still not throwing Nick’s ass to the floor.

“This,” Nick said, leaning down and kissing the side of Felix’s jaw. “Jesus, you smell good.”

Felix flexed his arms, pushing up against Nick. “Stop. You know I’m straight.”

“Make me.” Nick moved his lips down Felix’s shoulder and pressed his lips to the crook of his elbow.

Felix froze. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

“You’re not straight, and you don’t want me to stop, Felix,” Nick said, and then he bit the soft skin of his arm.

Felix groaned. Just that one sharp touch brought him right to the edge. “Fuck.” His hips strained upwards as his balls drew into his body. His cock hurt.

“No, no fucking yet. Tonight, I’m going to blow you.” Nick shoved down Felix’s sweatpants and took his cock in his hand. “I can’t wait to suck you off. I bet you’ll try and keep quiet. I bet I can make you come so hard you won’t know where you are anymore.”

“Jesus Christ.” Felix gripped the sheets. He’d never wanted a mouth on his dick so bad before. Nick’s voice had him shaking. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

Nick chuckled. “I’m not doing anything yet.” He leaned in and blew along Felix’s erection. “This isn’t just about me, straight boy. This is about you. You’ve suppressed your sexuality for so long that you don’t have a damn clue about what you like and don’t like. You’ve been fucking the wrong gender your whole life.”

“Screw you. I’ve been straight for decades. I’ve fucked plenty of women,” Felix ground out, not wanting to admit how hot Nick’s touch made him. You’re going to eat your words, a small voice in the back of his head told him.

Nick slid his thumb over the top of Felix’s erection and rubbed the pre-cum welling from the tip in a tight circle. “And every one of those women left you empty. Missing something. I bet you haven’t even bothered to pick someone up for the past few years. You haven’t hooked up with anyone lately, have you?”

Felix shuddered, but didn’t reply. Nick was right. He hadn’t even attempted to get laid recently. Why bother? The women always wanted more from him than he was willing to give, and the rote mechanics of sex bored him lately. “Just get on with it,” he grated out, not in the mood for a psychoanalytical mind-fuck at the moment.

Nick laughed. “Oh no, my friend. My blowjobs are works of art. I am going to go slow, and I am going to drive you out of your fucking mind.”

 

Welcome, Doris. Your new novel, Her Best Friend’s Husband, certainly turned me on my ear once I realized the best friend and husband were a gay couple! Even as a gay man, my thought process has been so indoctrinated into the “norms” of an historically heterosexual society, I never considered that possibility. Kudos to you on that!

All authors have their own reasons for writing a book. What are yours?

I simply listen to the voices in my head, when they demand I tell their story.

What would you like readers to take away from your story? Does it contain a message? 

That love conquers everything.

Where did you find your inspiration for the story? Was it a person, a current event, something you witnessed, or something else?

Like so many of my stories the idea for this one was first sparked by a picture and the resulting tease on my blog.

The picture was a naked guy in bed, holding a wedding cake. How did I arrive from that to this story? Well, my muse works in mysterious ways, lol. The story slowly evolved and it was stuck in limbo for a long time, until I got the urge one day to pick up that manuscript, and the rest is history, as they say. ☺ 

Did you face any obstacles or challenges while writing the story and if so, what were they?

Like I said above, it stayed in limbo for a while, over a year in fact, until the characters started talking to me again, and then my fingers flew.

What have you learned from the main characters in your story?

How much emphasis do you put on supporting characters to move the plot of your stories along? Have any of your supporting characters ever gotten their own story?

Oh, most of my series never started out as such. As I write a side character would pop up and demand I write theirs and before you know it, I have a series on my hands, lol.

Do you write in other genres and if so, what are they? What genres would you like to try that you haven’t already?

I have a very unpredictable muse, so I write across several genres and subgenres. So far, I’ve written contemporary, paranormal, Sci-fi, Interracial, and suspense erotic romance with varying degrees of kink. M/F, M/M, F/F, MMF, MFM.

I would love to write a YA romance one day, but I can’t ever see that happening in reality, as my characters simply cannot keep their hands off each other. Never say never though, right?

What or who influences your writing?

Literally everything I see, read, and watch. My writing is constantly evolving and that’s the way it should be. There’s always room for improvement, after all.

What is your writing process? Are you a patnser or a plotter, or a little of both?

Utter and complete pantster here.

Do you have any author idols and if so, how would you like to meet them?

I was fortunate to meet one of my favourite authors—Heidi Rice—at the start of my writing journey and I found her workshop to be invaluable. Not least because she’s a panster like me. Such a revelation that was.

Since then I’ve become friends with many of the authors I used to read in awe, and it still gives me such a thrill, when we communicate. Albeit via e-mail or Social Media only, as I have yet to make it across the big pond. One day I will.

What do you do in your down time to feed your soul?

I spend time with my family, binge watch fav series (Grey’s Anatomy, Outlander, Vikings, to name but a few), I read, walk the dogs, etc.

What’s next on your literary horizon?

Well, my muse currently has me writing four different stories at the same time. She seems incapable of making up her mind and settling down to just one.

glares at said muse

I’m also planning on adding to The Projects, The Warriors and The Cleaners next year.

What is important in your life and why?

My family, they always come first. Hubby and I have been blessed with nine children and various fur babies. While several of our kids are now adults, and two don’t live with us anymore but their respective partners, they will always be our priority.

Our youngest is only six, so I’m a mummy and wife before anything else.

Blurb:

Your best friend’s wedding is not the time to realize how much you love him…

Wedding organizer Naomi Young is not only head-over-heels in love with her best friend, she lusts after his husband.

Which is all kinds of wrong—isn’t it? Maybe not. Especially when she discovers the attraction is not as one-sided as she thought.

Dom Dawson Monroe has never had a problem going after what he wants. Both he and his new husband Josh Garrison enjoy a woman’s soft touch, so who better to satisfy that need than the one woman Josh is madly in love with? Time to claim them both as his submissives.

Convention be damned. Happiness is to be found in the soft curves of Naomi’s body, as long as they can convince her that this is forever. Only time will tell if the loving twosome can become an even more loving threesome.

Be Warned: BDSM, m/m sex, menage sex (MMF), double penetration

Excerpt:

“Perhaps the boy’s timing was unfortunate, but he would only owe you an apology if you hadn’t enjoyed that kiss. And we all know you did. I’d wager you’re getting wet just remembering those kisses. I know I got hard witnessing it. You two look hot together.”

Naomi gasped and opened her mouth as though to protest, but one knowing smirk from Dawson meant she simply shook her head.

“Nothing to say to that, little one?”

That question, delivered in that deep, dark, gravelly voice—his Dom voice, as Josh called it—appeared to have the same effect on Naomi, as it always did on him. Her breathing sped up, and she tensed. While he couldn’t see them from his position in his back seat, Josh bet his next orgasm that her nipples were hard little beacons signaling her arousal as clearly as the moan she swallowed. It made him wish this infernal journey was over already. He couldn’t wait to see his life-long friend squirm in pleasure under his and Dawson’s hands.

His Master’s gaze dropped down to Naomi’s cleavage and Dawson’s grin turned positively sinful.

“Never mind words, your body gives you away. If I touched you now, I’d find you sopping wet for us, wouldn’t I? In fact…”

Dawson reached across and placed his large hand on Naomi’s knee. She jumped but didn’t stop him as he proceeded to pull up the hem of her dress, exposing acres of dark skin.  The contrast of Dawson’s much lighter hand on Naomi’s thighs was startling. Josh groaned, and Naomi crunched the gear again as the traffic started moving.

“Please, I … don’t.” She flung an imploring look at Master and gasped when his hand briefly disappeared between her ample thighs. Josh balled his hands into fists to stop himself from grasping his dick, because seeing Master’s hand reappear seconds later, his digits glistening with the unmistakable evidence of Naomi’s arousal … fuck, that was hot.

Dawson grinned, licked one digit, and then held his hand out for Josh.

“Here, have a taste.”

His amber eyes darkened when Josh grasped Master’s hand. Naomi’s sweet, addictive taste exploded on his taste buds, made ten times more potent because it was mixed in with the familiar scent of the man he loved to distraction. Josh’s balls drew up in response, and he grunted as his dick jerked inside his pants.

“No coming without my say-so, boy. Besides, you make a mess in our girl’s car you’ll be cleaning it up.”

“Oh my God, you two are too much. I’m sitting right here, you know. Are either one of you going to actually ask me what I think?”

Naomi’s voice had risen to a shrill screech in her agitation. It served as an ice-cold dampener to Josh’s arousal, and he hastily released Dawson’s hand.

“Of course, we do.” He threw an imploring glance at his husband, and Dawson gave a sharp nod. Relief flooded through Josh, at that non-verbal confirmation that his Master was more than willing to step in.

“None of this will work without your consent, and communication is vital. I just don’t appreciate you lying to yourself, or us, girl,” Dawson said.

Naomi tensed further, and Josh could almost see the steam coming out of her ears. Any minute now she would explode in anger.

“Look, Naomi, what Dawson is trying to say—”

“Spare me, Josh.” Naomi glared at him through the rearview mirror, and in a move that wouldn’t have been amiss in a Bond movie, she pulled into the fast lane and put her foot down, as the traffic cleared. Dawson’s hand braced on the dashboard again, and when he looked all set to say something, Josh put his hand on his Master’s shoulder. Dawson glanced back at him, and his brows drew together in a frown at Josh’s shake of the head. He heeded his request, however, and didn’t say anything, as Naomi broke every speed limit in the land in her haste to seemingly get away from them all.

An awkward silence fell between them all, only broken by Naomi’s soft curses when she had to slow down for the inevitable traffic, interspersed by Dawson’s sighs.

Oh, Master was pissed and getting more annoyed by the minute. One of Dawson’s unbreakable rules was the need for his submissives to stay safe. Unwittingly Naomi was breaking that rule, and Josh knew he had to say something to calm this situation down.

“Slow down, sweet cheeks. Getting us killed will not get us there any faster. I’m sorry okay.”

Naomi gasped and glanced at him through the mirror. The sheen of tears in her eyes was like a punch to the gut, and he put his hand on her shoulder. He took the fact that she didn’t immediately shrug him off as a good sign. “I’m sorry I sprung this on you, but I’m not sorry I kissed you. I’m not sorry this is out in the open. We should have probably had this conversation before I got married, but there never seemed a right time, and I’m a fucking coward, okay? I was too afraid to lose our friendship, but we could be so good together. All of us.”

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“Where to begin? Katherine is a smart, strong, sexy heroine, but she’s also vulnerable in ways that make her an extremely compelling MC! I loved her perspective, and her relationships with the other characters, including but not limited to her love interest, were so well-developed that I really felt immersed in her world. The bond between Katherine and her family, especially her mother, added a lot of depth to the overall story and raised the stakes in the more suspenseful moments.

Then there’s Quinn… His chemistry with Katherine was sizzling, and he was just the right combo of sweet and mysterious! The author really took the time to develop their relationship, and it was anything but predictable. There’s a perfect blend of edge-of-your-seat action and steamy romance that kept my attention the whole way through, and I can’t wait to read the sequel and see how this story continues to develop! Blood of Eden easily makes my list of top favorite werewolf stories and laid the foundation for a world I didn’t want to leave.” ~ Amazon reviewer

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Welcome, Lea. Your new novel, Torn Avenger, is brimming with action and what a stunning cover!

All authors have their own reasons for writing a book. What are yours?

I love putting my fantasies to paper, always have, and I’m more comfortable and skilled with the written word than the spoken. Then, the more books I publish and reader feedback I get, the more I understand this really is what I’m supposed to do. It’s a part of me!

What would you like readers to take away from your story? Does it contain a message? 

Torn Avenger is a story of impossible love (of course, lol) so I’m doing my best to prove that concept wrong and tell my readers if you want something bad enough, you can get it. It’s not going to be easy and you must prepare to make sacrifices – sometimes you have to be so brave to turn your life upside down, say a few goodbyes, and start everything anew – but if your mind is set to it, you can definitely succeed.

Where did you find your inspiration for the story? Was it a person, a current event, something you witnessed, or something else?

It was the cover! When I saw this premade last year, it immediately spoke to me and I had to have it. I knew it would be a historical romance, but not what period the story would be set in or which type of characters should be featured. It took almost a year of my looking at it every now and then and thinking, “dammit, it deserves a story!” before an idea came to mind in April, and suddenly I couldn’t write fast enough.

Did you face any obstacles or challenges while writing the story and if so, what were they?

Yes, historical accuracy bothered me from start to finish. I wanted to set the story in a real period and not be arrested for having my facts wrong. One character was to represent the last of the Norwegian raiders and Roeland the first of European merchants to settle in Norway, so I had to conduct quite the research to make sure these two civilizations actually met!

Also, I wondered whether they co-lived in peace or bloody confrontations occurred. I couldn’t find any information, but thought it quite probable that some Vikings, tempted by the precious, imported goods and the wealth of their merchants, raided the trading post the same way they were reputed to in the rest of the world. Why wouldn’t they? In this case, I allowed myself some artistic freedom 🙂

How much emphasis do you put on supporting characters to move the plot of your stories along? Have any of your supporting characters ever gotten their own story?

I usually give great importance to supporting characters. In Torn Avenger, Alv’s mother is practically the driving force, scheming and manipulating, forcing him to make decisions that aren’t really his, and thus sparking his need to rebel. As for giving her her own story? Ha, she’s such an irritating and disturbing element in the book, I almost want to strangle her!

I was delighted, though, to hear a reviewer say she hoped I would write a companion novella for one of the other couples that was formed in Torn Avenger. Well, who knows, maybe someday I’ll be tempted to dive into the turbulent Viking world again and write another romance.

Do you write in other genres and if so, what are they? What genres would you like to try that you haven’t already?

I write many genres, but my favorite is dark thriller/suspense. That’s where my corrupted heart thrives, where my dirty soul roams and finds what to feed on. I’ll leave it at that, ha ha!

What is your writing process? Are you a patnser or a plotter, or a little of both?

I’m mostly a plotter. Just an example – last week, I spent two days painstakingly outlining my next project, which has 70 short chapters/scenes told from 5 different POVs (three conflicted protagonists and two bad, bad antagonists), one in 1^st person present and the others in 3^rd past. I had to punch everything into a spreadsheet, with a strict timeline, expected word count per scene, etc.

I guess by now, you are yawning and thinking I’ve completely lost it. But wait, I’m not always that crazy! There have also been times when a special scene flashed in my mind and I liked it so much, I proceeded to build a story around it, little by little adding layers and meat to the bone.

Do you have any author idols and if so, how would you like to meet them?

I’m a mega super huge fan of psychological thriller authors Mo Hayder, Cody McFadyen, and Lisa Gardner. James Patterson is awesome, too. Oh, and many others, of course. Their influence is evident in my darkest books, and I would sit down with them in a bar any time of the day to pick their brains and toast to their literary genius.

What are your three favorite books by other authors and why? You don’t have to limit this to three. (I know I can’t.)

“Shadow Man” by Cody McFadyen is a must, hands down. Then, I’d recommend the equally brilliant “Birdman” by Mo Hayder and “Hide” by Lisa Gardner. Why? I thirst for dark, hold-your-breath, high-tempo stories that blend the strongest of human emotions, graphic violence, and nauseating gore with the sickest forms of mental deviance. Lol, it probably says something about me…

What do you do in your down time to feed your soul?

I read (not often enough, these days, sadly) or watch gangster/western movies, cuddled up to my man with a nice drink in hand 😊

What’s next on your literary horizon?

I mentioned earlier that I’ve started work on a new project: it’s the sequel to my debut novel Wild Hearted, a gritty inner-city crime drama that came out in 2013, and I’m very excited about bringing my two favorite characters Tomor, an imprisoned gang leader, and Luz, his long-lost love, back to life in a new psychological thriller!

Blurb:

Murder. Passion. Two worlds colliding. 

As the second son of a Viking earl, Alv Gunnulfsen wasn’t meant to inherit a throne or avenge a murder. But when his brother is slain during a raid and their father dies of grief, Alv is expected to take command and claim the killer’s death. In a world of ruthless retaliation and strict social codes, he must also maneuver cleverly to protect a troublesome secret: his attraction for men.

Roeland van Dijk, a wealthy Dutch merchant settled in Norway, has done the unthinkable to protect his family — hacked off the head of a Viking rapist. The wrath of the blond savages will cost him his freedom, and possibly his own head… Unless he’s willing to accept the love of another man.

Excerpt:

After a moment, Alv looked up again and almost gasped from the erotic vision in front of him. While shaving Roeland, he’d only seen his wet, hairy chest and stomach, but the handsome man moved to a kneeling position in the basin and washed his lower body. His stunning maleness made Alv hot and bothered. They had discussed, argued, shared personal details, and apologized to each other, but now, the seriousness of their conversation faded. The sight of Roeland’s cock bathing in white foam between his legs had Alv’s own cock jolt and press painfully against his pants.

Oh, Roeland attracted him on several levels—mental, emotional, and physical—and Alv longed to discover and develop more of everything with him. Hedin was an exciting lover, but nothing like what Roeland had the potential to be.

Speaking of Hedin, it’d been a surprise to see him again this morning, right after Elke left. He’d arrived in a terrible mood and refused to excuse his disappearance act. It was outrageous of a slave to come and go like that, but Alv had too much on his mind to think of punishing him.

For one, he worried about Roeland’s future. He’d inherited part of Father’s wealth, but not his title. After returning to Eðni, he’d claimed to be the only one who could decide of what to do with his brother’s murderer, but it wasn’t true. He had no standing, no support from his fellow citizens. They could choose to kill Roeland if they wanted to—all it took was a word from Mother. It made her idea to have Alv marry Elke and adopt the community’s natural heir that much more important to push through.

“There’s something we need to talk about,” he said, hoping Roeland wouldn’t oppose to the plan.

“What?”

“Normally, I would ask you, but since you’re not in a position to make decisions, I’m just going to tell you.”

“About what?” Roeland frowned.

“I’m marrying your sister.”

Roeland stood so fast in the basin, water splashed to all sides. He stepped out and leaned into Alv’s face. “Don’t you dare to touch her!”

“But I’m not…”

“Hasn’t she suffered enough?” Roeland bellowed, his dark eyes slit with anger.

By Thor, he was insanely sexy, standing naked and wet, so near Alv could feel his damp bodily heat, water drippling from his hair and rolling alongside his tanned, chiseled cheeks. Alv couldn’t help hardening more, and needed to focus on the words that came out of Roeland’s luscious mouth to be able to answer. “She has already accepted.”

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Welcome, Aletta. Your new novel, The Chef and the Ghost of Bartholomew Addison Jenkins, sounds intriguing.

All authors have their own reasons for writing a book. What are yours?

Reason number one?  I like ghosts.  I live in a house that has some.  For real—we’ve been investigated and written up and everything. One of our ghosts knocked down a heavy brass floor lamp one afternoon while I was at work in my study.  That is not fiction!  Our ghost hasn’t done anything that dramatic in a while, but often, the chandelier over our dining table swings back and forth when we have guests. I knew I had to write a ghost story soon.

What would you like readers to take away from your story? Does it contain a message?

Mostly, I’d like my readers to have an excellent time!  My book is set in 1982, and that was a fun era.  My characters who aren’t ghosts are chefs and people who work with food, and doing that in the 80’s (I was a chef myself, then) was really fun.  As for a takeaway … hmmm.  I guess my message is to not be afraid of anything—even having a one-nighter with a ghost!  Although a ghost with a broken heart—that you might want to be careful with!

Did you face any obstacles or challenges while writing the story and if so, what were they?

This was my first “grownup” romance.  I have written under another name for young people, and I have written a lot of poetry.  Romance offers you the chance to tell the whole truth about a relationship.  You don’t have to cut away to waves crashing on the beach when things heat up.  I needed to keep a paper fan by my computer at first—you know, for when I was getting a little red-cheeked … but that challenge turned into a wild ride indeed.  Plus, I’ve never had my husband so interested in what I’ve been writing—ever!

What have you learned from the main characters in your story?

I’m in a long and happy marriage.  My characters reminded me how lucky I am to have that—and also how exciting the beginning of a relationship can be, and how we sometimes trust the wrong people but manage to end of with the right ones.

How much emphasis do you put on supporting characters to move the plot of your stories along? Have any of your supporting characters ever gotten their own story?

There is a supporting ghost character in this book named Geoff.  He’s not the romantic lead, but he was tons of fun to write.  He’s a trickster, a tease.  And he’s really important in the plot.  I think a good sidekick is important.  My main character is named Alma (after Alfred Hitchcock’s wife).  Her best buddy, Mary, a fellow chef, is living an open life as a gay women in 1982. I’d love to star her in something somewhere down the road.

What or who influences your writing?

 Everything influences my writing.  I read my colleagues on Evernight—but I also read poetry and literary fiction.  The “serious” book that won the big literary award this year was essentially a ghost story!  And the new romance I’m working on right now takes place in a tiny house because I’m morbidly fascinated with them.

What is your writing process? Are you a patnser or a plotter, or a little of both?

I’m a pantser!  I do keep notes, but not extensive ones.  I usually know more or less where I want a book to go, but sometimes my own plots surprise me.  I had no idea the major plot twist in The Chef and The Ghost of Bartholomew Addison Jenkins was going to happen…until it did!

Do you have any author idols and if so, how would you like to meet them?

I don’t have true idols.  The authors who I think have written real masterpieces aren’t around anymore anyway.  I was a chef in the 80’s, but I’ve spent most of my life teaching high school English, so my big writing heroes are folks like Nathaniel Hawthorne and Mark Twain.  By the way, have you ever seen a picture of Hawthorne as a young man?  He was seriously hot.  Maybe time travel…

What are your three favorite books by other authors and why? You don’t have to limit this to three. (I know I can’t.)

Oh, Lord.

Cider House Rules by John Irving.  Anything at all by the British novelist Sarah Waters (okay, she may be a bit of an idol, but I’d be scared to meet her.  She is so, so good.)  A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle (I do write YA, too).  That book is now and always my North Star. I tend to fall in love with whatever I am reading at the time.

What do you do in your down time to feed your soul?

I DJ on an internet radio station I run with my friends, and I sing choral music.  I listen to huge amounts of music—classical and rock and roll both.  I read about making classic cocktails, make classic cocktails, and sometimes drink them!  And I’m still a very passionate cook with damn good knife skills if I do say so.

What’s next on your literary horizon?

I have publications coming soon in the poetry and young adult world.  My alter ego has been busy!  And there’s that tiny house romance I’ve started.

What is important in your life and why?

My patient and loving husband and my family.  My mom’s 93 (she doesn’t know about the ghost romance!).  My sister, who has done some amazing Op-Ed and humor writing.  My two spoiled kitties.  And getting to write every day.

Blurb:

Halloween, 1982. MTV is new, poodle perms are the rage, and life just might be getting better for Alma Kobel.  Her ugly divorce is final at last. Her new job as chef at Bright Day School’s gorgeous old estate is actually fun.  But the place is haunted—and so is Alma’s apartment. Bartholomew Addison Jenkins’ ghost has been invisibly watching Alma for months.  When he materializes one night, Alma discovers Bart—as he likes to be called–has talents she couldn’t have imagined…and a horrifying past. Can you have a one-nighter with a ghost?  And what happens if you decide one night is all you want—and end up ghosting him?  Some spirits don’t like taking “no” for an answer.

Excerpt:

A ghost is watching me eat an omelet. “What’s your name?”

“Bartholomew Addison Jenkins,” he said. “These days, I just use Bart.”

“These days. But you’ve been here since you…”

“Since 1784,” he said.

“Which was when you died, I guess.”

“I must tell you, dear lady, saying that to one of us is considered rude. In better ghostly circles, that is. Some of us are not aware we are dead. Some of us do not like to be reminded of it.”

“But you called yourself my dead…”

Bart threw his head back and laughed. “No, no, no. I’m not sensitive about it. Geoff Brussy is, though, terribly but he always was a hothead. I swear he acted as if he was ignorant of his own passing for at least a century. Forgive me, Alma. Finish your supper.”

“But you know my name. Oh. Because you live here. So I guess you see and hear…” Everything. He’d have seen me do everything I’ve ever done in this apartment…

“I try not to spy,” Bart said. “And I’m often asleep. Daytimes almost always. Some evenings, too. Ghosts are capable of sleeping for years. Depending on what we’ve been up to, of course. We’re made of energy and sometimes, our energy … just dissipates. So our acquaintances tend to … vanish. It’s quite upsetting. I’ve lost a number of friends that way. Other ghosts, I mean. Dissipation is hard on our … um, relationships.”

“Your relationships?” said Alma.

“Isn’t that what you call it, these days? Or do you still say ‘having lovers?’ People said that for quite a while. You’ll forgive me. I slept through half of the nineteen sixties. The residents of this apartment in the 70s were—what do you call it again? Pot heads. Boring.”

“Ghosts have … relationships?” Alma remembered her metaphysical poetry class from New Paltz. “The grave’s a fine and private place, but none, I think, do there embrace,” she said.

“Oops. Guess I mentioned death again. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Bart chuckled. “Oh, that’s fine. Andrew Marvel. Good. Very good. ‘To His Coy Mistress.’ He was utterly wrong, of course. About embracing. Of course, it’s a bit … challenging for us, but hardly impossible.”

Alma shook her head. She’d finished her omelet, and put her plate in the sink.

“Please,” said Bart. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for months and months. Why don’t you finish your wine in the living room? I’ll turn over the record. I’ve been enjoying the music. Both sides of that album are really very good. I like ‘The Fountains of Rome’ too. We couldn’t have imagined Respighi during my days in the flesh.”

“You’ll turn over the record. Oh, because you…”

“I do like to keep up. Who poured you wine from the … refrigerator? Although, I don’t understand why people of your age prefer it so icy.”

Alma followed Bart into the living room, still wondering why things didn’t seem odder than they were. She remembered the Casper the Friendly Ghost cartoons she’d seen as a little girl. This ghost was acting—well, perhaps a bit more flirty than friendly. He only glowed a bit as they walked through the dim hallway that connected her rooms. You can hardly even tell he’s translucent. What had he seen of her, though? She was glad her frustrating night with Sid had been at his place.

As Bart bent over the turntable and flipped the record, the reading lamp by her couch highlighted the silver buttons of his coat. She curled up on the couch and put her wine glass on the glass-covered orange crate she’d turned into a coffee table.

Bart sat beside her, suspiciously close. He put an arm over the back of the couch, and Alma shook her head again. That’s the old sneaky-arm trick—like a high school kid. It’s kind of cute. She pulled her legs up under herself, and they quietly listened to the music.

“You’re right,” she said after a few minutes. “‘Fountains’ is really good, too. I almost never listen to that side.”

Bart made a quiet harrumphing noise.

Do ghosts clear their throats? Apparently so.

“Dear lady,” he said. “Although I do try not to snoop, as you would say, I have indeed observed your solitude. Let me assure you, your life will soon be happier.” He slid even closer to her.

Okay. Now the ghost is absolutely coming on to me. This is really happening. Oh, hell—why not? He’s not bad—for a dead guy.

“Um, Bart?” she said. His eyes really were a startling color—almost bronze… “You can’t actually be…”

Bart set his fingertips on her cheeks, looked into her eyes, and sighed. Then he smiled. “You think this is a ridiculous situation. It’s not ridiculous,” he said. “Not at all. Allow me to demonstrate … with your permission, m’lady.”

Somehow, that was funny, and Alma giggled. “Granted.”

Bart’s hands were impossibly soft and gentle—and his touch had some of the same fire-and-ice buzz that she’d felt before in the kitchen when he’d tried to get her attention. He guided her lips to his, and gave her what would have been a tiny peck—from anyone else. It shot a bolt of fire straight through her.

“Oh,” she said. It took a minute to get her breath. “Wow. That was… Do ghosts usually have relationships with—I don’t know how to say this without getting into it all again … people who are still alive?”

“No, actually. In fact, I’ve never heard of it. Ever.” His hands were in her hair now, and urgent.

Buy Links:

Evernight Publishing: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/the-chef-and-the-ghost-of-bartholomew-addison-jenkins/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B076WJK63L/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1509121154&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Chef+and+the+Ghost+of+Bartholomew+Addison+Jenkins

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What would you think if the guy you were dating raced off every night before midnight and would never say why? Would you succumb to the urge to follow him one night?

Liam Hale can’t believe his luck when he meets the man of his dreams, Karl Oberon.

Hunky Karl is the sexiest man Liam has ever met, but his mysterious disappearances start to tease.

Gorgeous Liam is the only man Karl has ever loved.

Together they spark and sizzle with passion, but Karl doesn’t know how to tell Liam why he races away. Maybe keeping Liam’s mind off the question with mind-blowing erotic encounters will work.

Warning this book contains:

MM sex, MM anal sex in various positions, MM oral sex, MM sex in restrooms of gay bar, MM partner masturbation, and anal play.

Excerpt (age 18+):

Karl rested his face on Liam’s. He whispered on Liam’s mouth. “You’re hot as hell. I’m fuckin’ desperate to feel your hard cock in my hand.” Then he kissed Liam.

The passion that traveled over Liam as Karl’s lips merged with his in a slow, soft, lingering kiss, weakened his thighs. The skin between his legs under his balls throbbed. His cock jerked in his pants. He returned the kiss grabbing Karl’s head and thrusting his cock in upward strokes on the hard column in Karl’s pants. He kissed Karl until every fiber of his being screamed to come. He murmured between kisses. “The restroom here is a good place for desperados.”

Karl smiled against his mouth. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He crushed Liam close in a final hug as the song ended and then he broke away.

Liam followed Karl across the dance floor and through the door that led to a short corridor and the restrooms. These weren’t like the toilets in some gay bars that Liam disliked for their barren and sometimes grubby surrounds. The restrooms in this bar were sparkling clean and spacious. Two of the stalls at the end of the row had benches and wash basins. Liam had laughed at them when he’d first seen them, but now he walked past Karl and showed him into one.

Karl flicked the catch along on the door lock. He pushed Liam against the wall with one hand, and as his tongue forced Liam’s lips open, with the other hand he dragged Liam’s jeans zipper down.

Liam moaned, overwhelmed with the need to feel Karl’s hands on his cock. He grabbed his jeans to help, and jerked them down his ass to his thighs as he sucked Karl’s tongue into his mouth. His cock sprang free, but not for long.

Karl grasped the shaft. He drew away from Liam’s lips and gazed into his eyes. “You’re leaking. You look ready to be fucked. Do you want that? To be fucked? To have my hard dick ram into your ass until your cum spurts up your chest?”

Liam’s entire body went into meltdown. His cock throbbed and his balls lifted so tight he instinctively reached his hand down to stroke them. His fingers met Karl’s wrapped around his dick. Liam’s stomach tightened inwards and he groaned. “I need to come so bad I’m about to fall down.”

Karl knelt and pushed his fingers between Liam’s legs. He stroked Liam’s balls with his thumb and clamped his other hand around Liam’s cock tight. The helmet head poked out of his fist and Karl lapped at the slit then circled his tongue around and around until Liam was gasping and thrusting.

Karl pumped Liam’s dick fast and hard. He teased at Liam’s ass with his fingertips and his palm cradled Liam’s aching balls.

Liam orgasmed with such intensity he grabbed Karl’s shoulders bending his head, and groaned open mouthed against the white linen shirt Karl wore. He thrust up into Karl’s fist and only stopped as the waves of delicious pleasure waned and left him drowning in satisfaction and gratitude.

Karl pushed Liam’s shirt up with strong hands and licked up his stomach.

The trail of exquisite sensation he left made Liam wince and sigh. He grasped Karl’s head, his fingers slipping through Karl’s soft, abundant hair, trying to bring Karl’s face to his for a kiss. “Kiss me, please…”

Copyright E.D.Parr Evernight Publishing 2017

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