Blurb: Ian has had his eye on David for a long time, but it’s never a good idea to make moves on a neurotic boss’s plaything. David, undecided if he’s a rugby player or a twink, sees Ian as a way out of a game he’s tired of playing.
When Richard Cornwall senses he’s on the losing end, tempers flare and it’s anyone’s guess who will come out on top.
Excerpt: The man who’d spoken smiled at me, and I just managed to stifle a moan. I did lean back so my arse rested on the edge of the wobbly counter, one I had been trying to make look like something from an Irish pub from the fifties. The position let me disguise the growing bulge in my pants.
“Just a bored hanger on. Want some help?”
“Union job.”
He nodded and climbed up onto the sound stage. His short shorts drifted up his muscled thigh, the fringes of the cut-off denim mingling with his own dark hair. I swallowed. Hard. “Everything’s a union job. Everything is also behind schedule, and Ricky’s freakin’ out a bit.”
“Ricky.” The reminder that the guy was fucking my boss, or, more likely, knowing Richard Cornwall, being fucked by him, settled my erection in a hurry. “Did he send you to check up on me?”
“No. He sent me to find something. And get out of his way.”
A slight frown marred his expression and curled full lips down into a pout I felt the sudden urge to suck away. His body heat clung to me—and the scent of sex mingled with sawdust and set paint. It shouldn’t have been a turn-on. I was so far gone. If I held my breath any longer, I thought I might pass out.
“‘Scuse me.” I backed off, jumped from the stage, and hurried toward Richard’s office. Maybe if I knew what David was supposed to be looking for, I could help him find it. Some twisted logic told me that would get him far away from me and my weak ability to resist temptation. And at the same time, I hoped it would keep him close by while we searched. Normally, I didn’t let my cock do my thinking for me. Normally, I wasn’t confronted with eager, completely fuckable men with bodies like David’s just looking for an excuse to piss off their current, cranky lovers. I wasn’t under any delusion he wanted me specifically. I was just open, gay, and single. Convenient.
Ian’s budding relationship with David seems to focus on the one thing David is both fantastic at, and loves; sex. Ian’s not sure he can keep up. When David’s past comes calling, and David goes running, Ian is not sure what to think. He has no idea where he stands with his new lover, only that he’s sure he doesn’t want to share.
Excerpt: He was already getting out of the bed, wading through the dust floating in the sunbeams. The morning light shimmered through the hair on his legs and brightened his skin to a warm glow. Two weeks of watching him parade around my flat nearly naked most of the time and he was still the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Or had the dubious privilege to piss off like that. I hopped out of bed after him.
“David! Wait.”
He stopped, turned, hand on hip, and glared at me. “What?” He eyed my aching erection, but his expression didn’t change.
“I’m sorry.”
“Do ye even know what for?”
I swallowed hard again but said nothing. So much for my erection.
“That’s what I thought.”
For a long minute, we both just stood there, watching each other. The sun dimmed. The room’s temperature seemed to drop along with my hard-on. Finally, he shook his head and snatched up a shirt from his chair by the window.
I blinked. When had it become his chair? I guess since he sat in it every evening with a beer and a book, or a sketch pad, his feet tucked up, hair falling in his face, and just looked comfortable. And he’d only been doing it for two weeks. How fast had that happened?
“You can drive me home, yeah?” He disappeared inside his shirt for a moment, then yanked it down, stretching the tight fabric over hard muscle.
“What?”
“Home. I do have a place of me own.” He stood gazing about the room, bare arsed and sexy as hell, but clearly pissed. “Where the fuck are me trousers?”
“Here.” I picked them up from where they were jammed half under the bed and handed them over. It was odd how my hand shook that much.
Just when Ian and David think nothing else can touch them, David’s father, Dale, sticks his hand back into studio business. He’s not saying why he needs to interfere, and David is livid when Dale assigns street brat Robbie with his pixie good looks and insatiable libido to be Ian’s new assistant.
Ian does his best not to rock the boat, but David has a temper, and a jealous side, that take Ian by surprise.
It takes disaster to show them all that life is too short to screw around; a lesson that might come far too late for Ian and David.
Excerpt: A slow trickle of water, beaded and glistening, rolled down between his shoulder blades as I watched. I shifted to press my lips to the small of his back, ready to lick it away as it descended to meet me. I knew what he’d say even before he said it.
“Give a bloke a break, Davey.”
I grinned at the fact I no longer cringed at the nickname. Not when he said it, anyway.
“You don’t want to make love to me again, Ian?” I murmured, my lips never quite leaving his skin, because the way he shivered under the goose bumps was delicious. I pried at the top edge of the towel wrapped around his waist until the crisp red outline of a heart appeared, and I kissed the new tattoo. The placement matched exactly that of my shamrock, and had a miniscule green “D.M.” at the center, which you had to be very close to see. While tragically romantic, never would he hear from my lips how much that small, completely geeky gesture set my heart thumping and my palms sweating.
He loved me that much.
His hips shifted, and he shivered as I licked at the spot.
“Dave.”
There’s something his body does when he sighs. All the tension just drains down and out, and he turns pliable as putty. Nobody ever gave that to me before. Bloody difficult to not want it any time I could get it. Another light kiss just above the crack of his arse would encourage that much anticipated sigh.
“Work,” he muttered, as his body flowed right into my hands.
I glanced up to see him in the mirror, face partially covered in shaving cream and his eyes closed. His razor plopped into the sink and sent a small jet of foamy white water up and back down onto the floor.
“Fuck first,” I suggested, expecting him to turn me down.
I manoeuvred a hand up under the towel to find him already erect and began to stroke. I took it slow. His bout with Robbie’s ex-pimp still made him ache a bit, though the bruises had faded. His ribs bothered him a bit, and no matter how many times he told me not to, I couldn’t help getting flaming angry at Robbie Kelly for putting my Ian in jeopardy, no matter if he meant to or not.
His groan lured me back from thoughts of Robbie’s foolishness, and I tightened my grip, wanting to hear it again.
“Ah, David. Can’t.” Regret etched the frown lines around his mouth a little deeper, and he opened his eyes.
Disappointed? Aye. But not surprised. And certainly not dissuaded.
I stood and pulled him back against me so we could both watch in the mirror. The towel fell and my hands roved over his body. I watched his eyes slowly drift closed. My lips near his ear startled him, and he moaned, tilting his head slightly when I whispered in his ear. “Watch me stroke your cock, Ian.”
“Fuck. So not fair,” he murmured, letting his head drop back onto my shoulder. His chest heaved out into my palm roaming across his nipples.
“All’s fair, Ian.” I hitched my shoulder up, lifting his head. “Watch.”
“What about…oh! Fuck.”
His cheeks flushed. I couldn’t tell if it embarrassed him, or if lust flushed him like that, but not even half a face of shaving foam could disguise the need in his eyes.
His gaze fixed on my hand working his cock, his hips moved with my strokes, and his arse wiggled until my own cock slipped between his cheeks. His breath caught at the bump of my cock against his entrance.
“Ever been fucked, Ian?”
A long, low moan and all-over body shudder preceded his come splattering the vanity. He didn’t waste a moment between coming and shoving me back enough to turn and drop to his knees in front of me. He swiped most of the foam away before wrapping his lips around me.
I groaned myself. The feel of his hot mouth sliding down my cock was relatively new for me. I’d established a pattern a long time ago. My mouth, my arse, and they could like it or lump it. The intimacy of letting anyone suck me off was too much. They paid me to get them off. That’s how it worked. But Ian had my initials tattooed practically on his arse. He’d earned the right to break a few rules.
