Because everything was easier when there was someone to share your burdens with you. And it was a hell of a lot more fun.
Greg stood, straightening his shirt and adjusting himself inside his jeans. He pushed his chair under his desk and turned his monitor off. Waving at all the work covering his desk, he said, “It can wait.” He closed the space between himself and Marsh, setting eager hands on Marsh’s hips. With their lips just inches apart, Greg intoned, “And even if it couldn’t. I hear we have something worth celebrating.”
Marsh curled his arms around Greg’s neck, pulling him in. “Yeah, we do. A lot of things.”
All thoughts of graphs and data left Greg’s mind as Marsh pressed their bodies together, kissing him nice and deep and slow.
A handful of weeks ago, his work had been all he needed. All the other things he wanted—they hadn’t been meant for someone like him.
But that had been before. Greg opened his mouth to Marsh’s kiss and threaded his fingers through his hair. He was still the same man he had always been. Still a nerd and still decidedly uncool. But Marsh loved him anyway.
By opening himself up to it, Greg had gotten so much more than just what he needed. He’d gotten everything he wanted.
And he was never, ever going to let it go.
About the Author
Jeanette Grey started out with degrees in physics and painting, which she dutifully applied to stunted careers in teaching, technical support and advertising. When none of that panned out, she started writing.
In her spare time, Jeanette enjoys making pottery, playing board games and spending time with her husband and her pet frog. She lives, loves and writes in upstate New York. You can find Jeanette online at
www.jeanettegrey.com
, on Twitter at
@jeanettelgrey
,
or on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/jeanettelgrey
. She is also a regular blogger at
www.badgirlzwrite.com
.
Look for these titles by Jeanette Grey
Now Available:
Unacceptable Risk
Take What You Want
When It’s Right
Sometimes good boys do bad things.
Nothing but Smoke
© 2014 Daisy Harris
Fire and Rain, Book 3
Michael Larson considers himself one of the good guys. He recycles, eats mostly vegan, and volunteers. But one night, while on a jog through a Seattle park, he encounters a sexy man on a motorcycle he wants to be bad with.
Firefighter Nicky O’Brian barely has time to even think about a sex life. Between his job and caring for his critically ill mother, his only pleasures involve a few racy videos and occasional nighttime forays to find men willing to help him forget his troubles.
It was supposed to be a one-time, anonymous hookup—until fate intervenes and their mutual attraction blossoms into a furtive affair. Michael doesn’t date closeted guys, but for the haunted, lonely Nicky he makes an exception.
When Nicky’s mother takes a turn for the worse, Michael is forced to make a choice between idealism and compassion. And as Nicky’s needs spiral out of control, Michael realizes that a new set of ideals could be exactly what he needs to keep love in his life—for good.
Warning:
Contains sex in the trees, sex in parked cars and sex in other uncomfortable places. Tissues are required, because the ending will make you cry—and maybe make you want to call your mom.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Nothing but Smoke:
Nicky’s chest ached, though he wasn’t sure why.
Maybe because this whole thing was depressing—coming to the park hoping strawberry-haired guy had been serious. But Nicky couldn’t ride home to his empty room in his mother’s dark house. He needed this tonight. To feel like another human being understood him, if only for a few minutes.
“Hey.” Strawberry walked up. His green fleece jacket looked good with his eyes—made them more aqua than blue. His jeans and hiking sandals were low-key enough that if they weren’t at a park in a gay neighborhood, Nicky wouldn’t have necessarily thought there was anything off about him.
“Yeah. Hi.” Nicky had no idea what to say, but any chance Strawberry would believe Nicky had only hooked up with a man that one time went up in smoke. Strawberry would know. Fuck, he knew already. Nicky was an idiot. “Um…nice seeing you this afternoon.”
Strawberry cocked his head to the side, a smile spreading slowly across his face. “Yeah. So, you’re a firefighter, huh?”
Nicky swallowed against a lump in his throat. “Yeah. And you?”
“I’m in school. At the U. Finished undergrad in May and starting a masters in sociology in September. My area is Stratification, Race and Ethnicity.”
Nicky licked his lips nervously. He hardly knew what sociology was, and had nothing interesting to say about it. Instead, he settled for the basics. “Cool. I’m Nicky.”
“Michael.” Strawberry crossed his arms.
Tongue-tied, Nicky tried to figure out what came next. The night they’d hooked up before had been easier. Nicky just followed where Michael had led. This—was it seduction? A date? Nicky didn’t even know what to call it, but his mouth refused to move.
An SUV pulled into the lot, and on reflex Nicky spun away so the driver wouldn’t be able to make out his face.
“Nice.” Michael’s eyes narrowed. That sneer made Nicky feel ten times worse than the stupid SUV full of strangers. “So, are we going to do this or what?” Michael crossed to the path around the reservoir.
“Sorry,” Nicky mumbled as he fell into step behind.
“Whatever.” Michael kept up his quick-paced walk until he got to approximately the same spot where they’d made out a few weeks ago. “There?” Michael jerked his head toward the trees. He caught Nicky’s hand.
Something that felt like joy coursed through Nicky, tinged with enough adrenaline to make him want to sprint away from their spot. His attention landed on their clasped hands, and how—although they were still on the path around the reservoir—Michael didn’t let go.
Michael stepped closer. Close enough there was only a half foot of space between them.
“I can’t do this out here,” Nicky murmured.
The way Michael’s eyes sparkled, he must have known Nicky was uncomfortable. Worse, Michael nibbled his bottom lip like he thought it was funny. “Okay. But what do you want to do in there?”
Nicky tried to regain his footing. The challenge in Michael’s eyes made his chest flare with heat. With a pass of his fingertip, he touched Michael’s lips. “This?”
Michael tipped his head back, smirking. “No thanks.”
Nicky’s mind raced. “I’d be up for a hand job instead.”
“Hmm.” Michael’s smile spread like he’d just scored a point. “I could use one myself. How about we trade?”
“Uh…I guess.” Nicky’s mind blanked out, all his blood rushing to the solid pike in his pants as Michael led him between the trees.
Michael got a hand on the bark next to Nicky’s head, backing Nicky into a large cedar. Michael stared into Nicky’s eyes like he could dig out every last one of Nicky’s secrets with a dull machete and leave Nicky bleeding on the ground.
“Get away from me,” Nicky said, not as forcefully as he meant it, especially since his dick was stiff and Michael probably felt it against his hip.
“Thought you said you wanted a hand job.” Michael’s lips were so close, wet and pink. He roamed his fingers down Nicky’s arm and dragged Nicky’s hand to his crotch. Oh my Lord. Michael was hard under there.
Nicky grabbed Michael by the front of his jacket, meaning to push Michael away. Instead, Nicky yanked Michael closer.
Michael smelled woodsy and clean but with the sharp edge of some kind of cologne. Funny he wore it. Polar-fleece-wearing guy like him seemed like the kind to hate perfume.
“I’m not unzipping anything until you do,” Michael breathed in his ear. His lips teased Nicky’s neck, and he toyed with Nicky’s fly. As promised, Michael didn’t pull it down.
Nicky fumbled his way along denim, searching for the sharp metal of a zipper and finding only buttons. Sparse belly hairs tickled his fingertips.
“Yeah,” Michael whispered, his lips tracing the shell of Nicky’s ear, his breath roaming into Nicky’s hair. “Like that.”
Nicky popped open the buttons. Right there, demanding attention, was Michael’s cock. It was narrow, but longer than Nicky’s, as evidenced by the cap threatening to push right past Michael’s waistband.
He maneuvered his way into Michael’s underwear, feeling warm and humid skin and crinkly hair. Then there was nothing but a heated shaft, seemingly made for Nicky’s grip.
Michael was going to kiss him. Nicky jerked his head back, but only managed to scrape his scalp on the tree.
With a slant of his head, Michael’s lips were on him—hard and rough with stubble around the edges. When Michael pressed his tongue inside, Nicky wanted to growl, but he wasn’t sure whether he’d be doing it in anger or pleasure.
In a rush, Michael got Nicky’s cock out. For a second, Michael’s prick brushed against Nicky’s like a wet, hot, lick. Then Michael took them both in his long-fingered fist.
For the space of a dozen strokes, Nicky closed his eyes and went with it, his attention laser focused on the too-good feeling of them crushed together, but then Michael reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of something, and Nicky grabbed Michael’s wrist. “What the hell is that?”
“For fuck’s sake.” Michael bit open the perforated top. “I’m just getting my hand wet.” He squeezed jelly into his palm, chuckling a little at Nicky. “You gonna let go?” Michael cocked his eyebrows.
“Fine.” Nicky leaned back against the tree, his dick sticking straight forward. Fuck it. He was doing this. Wherever it led. Nicky needed Michael’s hand on him worse than he’d needed anything in a long time.
He closed his eyes. “Yeah, sounds good.”
Love doesn’t come with a syllabus.
Love Lessons
© 2013 Heidi Cullinan
Kelly Davidson has waited what seems like forever to graduate high school and get out of his small-minded, small town. But when he arrives at Hope University, he quickly realizes finding his Prince Charming isn’t so easy. Everyone here is already out. In fact, Kelly could be the only virgin on campus.
Worst of all, he’s landed the charming, handsome, gay campus Casanova as a roommate, whose bed might as well be equipped with a revolving door.
Walter Lucas doesn’t believe in storybook love. Everyone is better off having as much fun as possible with as many people as possible…except his shy, sad little sack of a roommate is seriously screwing up his world view.
As Walter sets out to lure Kelly out of his shell, staying just friends is harder than he anticipated. He discovers love is a crash course in determination. To make the grade, he’ll have to finally show up for class…and overcome his own private fear that love was never meant to last.
Warning: This story contains lingering glances, milder than usual sexual content for this author, and a steamy dance-floor kiss. Story has no dairy or egg content, but may contain almonds.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Love Lessons:
Walter filled a glass and handed it to Kelly. “Drink this and stop looking so nervous.”
“It’s just weird. We’re the only guys here.”
“Oh, more will show up. Trust me. Not our kind, though.” He linked Kelly’s arm through his. “Let’s go find the music. I like dancing with lesbians.”
Kelly thought at first that was either a joke or a euphemism for something, but it turned out Walter meant that comment literally. No sooner did he have Kelly set up with a trio of not-that-drunk (and not making out, thank God) girls on a sofa, he disappeared into the middle of the room, where he began dancing with an abandon Kelly hadn’t ever seen him exhibit, not at Moe’s, not anywhere. Kelly watched Walter move, transfixed.
“He’s so cute.” The girl next to Kelly—Tricia, Kelly thought her name was—leaned her head on Kelly’s shoulder and smiled as Walter shimmied behind a laughing girl who moved in sync with him. “Except he’s gay, dammit.”
“And you’re a lesbian,” the girl on her other side said, and they all laughed.
Kelly felt dazed. God, Walter just…
moved
. For a long time Walter danced and Kelly watched him, sometimes talking to the girls who sat next to him—they kept getting up and new ones sat in their places—and then after about a half hour, as a song ended, Walter came over, sweat-soaked, and collapsed next to Kelly.
“Shit.” He laughed, relaxed and happy, and he glanced at Kelly’s glass. “You need another?”
Kelly peered into his cup. It was empty. Huh. That would explain why he felt buzzy.
Walter popped back to his feet with a wink. “Be right back,” he said, and he was, with a new glass for Kelly and another bottle of water for himself. He was about to sit down when a girl grabbed him and hauled him back onto the floor.