They’re Coming Soon!

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Oh, Pervy reader! I can’t wait for you to meet Liam and Cooper. I had so much fun with these two and I’m hoping you’ll enjoy them as much as I did. They’re almost ready and should be available on Amazon soon.

I’ll take a few weeks to relax and “enjoy” my kids and family while everyone’s off for the summer but I wanted to leave something fun for your reading list. Here’s a mostly edited peek at my new guys and what I think is a fun nod to two classics- The Shop Around The Corner and You’ve Got Mail. I loved the idea of taking something we all know so well and making it modern and recasting it with two of my guys. I decided we needed a snarky, blunt shop owner and a cocky and delightfully mischievous writer then let them torment each other.

For your reading pleasure, I thought I’d share the first chapter:


All authors are egotistical. Some more than others. Nothing made Liam roll his eyes harder than hearing a fellow author say they were in it for the sake of the writing and they just wanted their words to be read. Not that he didn’t get an incredible rush when he learned another million words of his books had been read electronically. But even the most modest author would be lying if they said they didn’t love seeing their books on a store’s shelves or their name high on a list of bestsellers.

The small shop tucked on a side street along the newly rejuvenated plaza district that was part of Southport’s urban revival efforts caught Liam’s attention and he whistled casually as he pushed open the door. His upbeat mood dimmed as he squinted into the dark interior. The relaxed, inclusive hipster vibe he was expecting was absent. It was literally just books. And a good amount of dust. He wandered around the shelves on the right half of the store and frowned as he scanned. So far, he couldn’t decipher any logical arrangement. The shelves were stuffed with books and there were piles on the floor. He peeked around a shelf, hoping to find an employee and his brow rose as he watched a petite waif with dreads in a shapeless dress hug a book against her chest as she followed a tall, slender, handsome yet pale man as he made his way toward a desk at the back of the shop. His dark hair stood in wild tufts as if he was constantly pulling at it as he did his best to avoid her.

“If you had a few chairs and at least one of those Keurig things, it would do a lot for the store,” she suggested and he gave her a flat look as he reached for an open book among the numerous stacks on the desk.

“Would that make you want to stay longer?” He asked and she nodded. He snorted as he looked down at the book and began to read.

“Those machines make shit coffee and why in the world would I want people lingering in my store? You’re not likely to buy the book if you’ve loitered about reading it all day. Which would make paying the rent on this dump even more difficult,” he muttered and Liam bit his lip to keep from laughing. He couldn’t argue with his cranky observations and it was clear this man did not believe the customer was always right.

“Don’t expect to see me in here again,” she said loudly as she slammed the book on the desk before she turned on her heel and stalked out.

“Don’t expect me to give a shit,” he mumbled as he flipped a page and Liam had to smother another laugh. There was a soft buzzing and the guy with the book sighed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “What do you want, Jared?” He asked wearily and Liam stepped back behind the shelf before he could be noticed. “I don’t need to think about it. Just get all of your clothes and shit out of my apartment,” he said then snorted again. “You wouldn’t have suggested an open relationship if you loved me…” He said and Liam winced as he pretended to study the books in front of his nose. “Saying you just want to have sex with other people doesn’t make it better,” he added and Liam found himself nodding in agreement. “I don’t know. Move in with your parents or one of the other guys you want to have sex with,” he said before Liam heard the phone drop on the desk.

Awkward. Did he pretend he hadn’t overheard the conversation and wait a few minutes before approaching him or quietly slip out of the store? Liam decided it might lighten the mood and get the unfortunate man’s mind off the phone call if he approached him. Liam cleared his throat gently as he turned the corner and he looked up from his book. Liam flashed his brightest smile as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

“Do you carry any Thorn Majors books?” he asked. Casually asking if someone read or if they’d heard of Thorn Majors was usually a good opening move for Liam. The other person would gush about how much they loved the last Majors’ book and Liam would lean in close and confess he was actually Thorn Majors. Which often resulted in a quick fuck in a bathroom or a date followed by a quick fuck in a hotel room. He looked at the other guy expectantly and he rolled his eyes.

“His books are complete garbage. You could try one of the chain stores downtown,” he grumbled and Liam’s head pulled back.

“They’re pretty popular and I was hoping to give one as a gift,” he lied and the other guy shrugged.

“If you actually cared about them, you’d buy them something decent,” he said and Liam crossed his arms over his chest.

“Such as…?” He asked and the other guy shrugged again.

“I don’t know, maybe Wilde. Or if you’re looking for something more modern, Brent Shore is a good choice,” he mumbled and Liam’s eyes went to a stack prominently displayed on a table in the center of the store and his nose wrinkled.

“Brent Shore is wildly overrated. His books could only be more interesting if they were tossed in a dumpster fire,” he said and the other guy shut his book and set it on the desk.

“As I said before, the chain stores are full of inane, worthless books. Feel free to visit any one of them,” he said as he waved toward the door and Liam’s tongue pressed against his cheek as he considered. There were about a million unlikable things but for some reason, Liam was drawn to him.

People are also very shallow. They might fight the shallowness within themselves but inside each of us is at least a kernel of shallowness. Liam was willing to admit it was a great deal larger than a kernel within him as he stared back at the shop owner. He was possibly the biggest ass Liam had ever met, which was saying a lot because Liam was considered by many to be an unbearable ass. But this cranky, judgmental and impatient man was also really hot. He was a bit on the lanky side and his hair, wrinkled t-shirt and black jeans made him look more like a rock star who’d fallen on hard times. He had several days worth of stubble and deep green eyes that seemed far softer than the face carrying them.

“Despite your very obvious bad taste, I find myself a bit curious. Would you like to go out for drinks?” He asked and the other guy groaned as he pushed his hand through his hair.

“No, I wouldn’t but I suppose I should,” he said and Liam laughed.

“I’m not twisting your arm and I’m used to a little more enthusiasm,” he said and there was yet another shrug.

“I’m going through a break up and it’s a serious pain in the ass. Going on a date now is only going to complicate things. But, I’d have to be out of my mind to say no. So, we’ll go for drinks,” he stated and Liam knew that was as close to a compliment as he might ever get.

“I’m new in town. I think it would be best if you suggested a place,” Liam said as he pulled a card from his wallet and drew a large X on the front of it, discarding the original content and wrote his name and number on the back. “Sorry, I haven’t had a chance to have new cards made,” he murmured as he held it in front of him.

“I’m Cooper,” the store owner murmured as he read then held out his hand. Liam took it and smiled.

“It’s nice to meet you, Cooper,” he said then winked before he looked around. “I won’t keep you, I can see you’re busy. Text me a time and a place,” he said and Cooper shook his head as he pushed the card into his pocket.

“It’ll just be the wanna be pub around the corner but I’ll send a text in case you get lost,” he said and Liam waved as he turned and exited the shop.



That’s all I got. Kidding. I’ve got a whole book and I’ll be posting a link to Amazon as soon as it’s live and ready for you. While you wait, I’ve got so many lovely guys for you to meet, if you haven’t already.


They’re Coming Soon!

Look, Perverts!

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It’s been a while, my lovely Pervy Readers! I’ve been so busy. Thank you so much for keeping Spark And Flame #1 on Amazon for almost two weeks. Writing about Aiden and Lane is such a joy and it makes me so happy to see how much you enjoy reading about them. They’re a special pair, those two. But I have so many adorable men waiting to be shared and I have to let Aiden and Lane catch their breath.

I think you’re going to love Noah and Jackson. Noah is charismatic and fun and Jackson is cautious and quiet. But they’re not really opposites. They’re more like different pieces that make something beautifully balanced when they’re together. And they have a delightful chemistry when the clothes fall off. You can read all about them in Under The Stars but I thought I’d give you a peek here.


“I brought wine,” Noah sang as he hopped to his feet and Jackson groaned as he fell back on the sofa and covered his face with his hands.

“It’s going to taste like dirty vinegar,” he complained and Noah snorted.

“You need to learn to appreciate good wine,” he said as he went into the kitchen and Jackson’s nose wrinkled at the sound of a cork being pulled from a bottle. Noah shook his head in disbelief. If he did anything before he left Waterloo Falls, he would teach Jackson to love wine. “Don’t worry. I brought a very strong, sweet white,” he announced and hunted for glasses as Jackson peeled himself off the sofa and stumbled into the kitchen. There were no wine glasses so Noah settled for two mugs. “You’ll like this,” he promised as he handed a mug to Jackson. He watched as Jackson sniffed cautiously then took a tiny sip. His head pulled back and he looked surprised before he took a longer drink then nodded.

“That’s good,” he declared and Noah grinned as he filled Jackson’s mug.

“Congratulations, you have the pallet of a Midwestern housewife,” he teased and Jackson shrugged.

“I’m drinking wine, aren’t I?” He asked and Noah nodded.

“Yes, you are,” he said and raised his mug of moscato in salute before taking a drink. He was glad Jackson was enjoying the wine. He wanted him as relaxed as possible his first time. He studied Jackson over his mug as he drank. “Can I ask you a question?” He asked and Jackson shrugged again.

“You can ask me two,” he said and Noah pointed and grinned back at him.

“I’ll ask you three,” Noah said. “Why do you pretend you aren’t clever?” He asked and Jackson’s eyes went to the ceiling.

“I’m not really,” he said and Noah’s tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he pointed at the bookshelf.

“Half of those books are in Latin,” he said and Jackson stared into his mug.

“Men have been learning Latin for thousands of years,” he murmured. “Plenty of people know Latin,” Jackson argued and Noah rolled his eyes.

“I struggled with it through school and almost steered away from medicine because of it,” he admitted and Jackson chuckled.

“Maybe you shouldn’t act like you’re so clever,” he teased and Noah nodded in agreement.

“Oh, I’m not the least bit clever,” he said and waved around him. “This is all my idea of clever,” he said and Jackson looked doubtful and Noah nodded. “It is! You built two lovely homes and furnished them almost completely with things you crafted with your hands. And it’s all so beautifully done. You’re very precise but at the same time quite artistic,” he said and Jackson’s cheeks turned pink as he raised his mug and drained it.

“Men have been building things with wood longer than they’ve been speaking languages,” he said and Noah raised a brow. It was the most he’d heard Jackson talk and it was all very astute and honest.

“Very well, that’s two. Why haven’t you hooked up with Joshua?” He asked and Jackson shook his head as he reached for the bottle and refilled his mug.

“Even if I had the nerve to be out like that, he wouldn’t be interested,” he said as he passed Noah the bottle and he snorted.

“I’d wager he would be,” Noah said as he poured and Jackson looked even more dubious than before.

“Most people aren’t into shy oafs who like to read,” he said and Noah raised his glass.

“Latin,” he added. “That’s incredibly sexy,” he said and Jackson shook his head in disbelief. “Then there’s the whole lumberjack thing,” Noah said and Jackson looked confused. “That’s borderline fetish and nearly universal,” he said and Jackson’s head cocked forward.

“What are you talking about?” He said and Noah’s jaw fell.

“You’re very much the ideal lumberjack,” he said as he gestured down Jackson’s body. Actually, a delightfully exposed, gorgeously fit and semi-aroused lumberjack, Noah decided. Jackson neglected to tie his robe when he got up and Noah wasn’t about to remind him.

“I don’t now if that’s even a thing but I wouldn’t be it,” he said and Noah looked at him as if he was speaking Latin.

“Of course it’s a thing!” He argued and Jackson looked at him expectantly. “It’s like cowboys,” he explained and Jackson’s lips twisted.

“There isn’t one type of cowboy,” he said and Noah laughed as he drank.

“Oh, mate…” He murmured. “For a boy from London, there was one very particular type of cowboy,” he said and Jackson blinked back at him and Noah thew up his hand in disbelief. “The Marlboro Man!” He said and Jackson grinned.

“Right. He is a very iconic cowboy but not the only cowboy,” he said and Noah rolled his eyes.

“My first erection was due to The Marlboro Man, thank you,” he admitted then waved airily. “But if you did an internet search for “Cowboy” you’d see just about the same thing over and over again,” he said and Jackson didn’t look convinced.

“You’d see John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, Yosemite Sam, John Travolta…” He said and Noah shook his head.

“You’d see a lot of tan men, most with hats pulled low over their faces, tight jeans, boots, maybe a rope around their shoulder, a gun and holster…” He said and Jackson shrugged.

“But any type of man can wear that,” he argued. “I could wear that and it would make me as much as a cowboy as the next guy,” he added and Noah exhaled loudly.

“Ohhhh… Please, do!” He begged and Jackson’s head pulled back.

“You’d like it if I dressed up as a cowboy?” He asked and Noah felt dizzy.

“You’d make a very convincing cowboy,” he said. “But not nearly as convincing as a lumberjack,” Noah said and Jackson shook his head as he drank.

“I get that I do a lot with wood but aside from that…” He stopped when Noah hugged his middle and roared.

“You can’t be serious!” He cried. “Look at you! You’re the lumberjack and you’re ridiculously gorgeous,” Noah said and Jackson looked totally stunned and Noah was even more flabbergasted.

“Is it the beard?” He asked almost timidly and Noah gasped.

“The beard, the dark, tousled hair, the fact that you’re as big as a tree and look like you toss them about in your spare time,” he said and went ahead and pointed at Jackson’s exposed chest and stomach. “You might as well be carved from wood and you’ve got just the right amount of body hair,” he added and Jackson finally realized his robe was gaping and turned away for some odd reason as he tied it. Noah laughed as he grabbed the second bottle he’d brought and quickly dispatched the cork.

“I didn’t realize there was a body hair requirement for lumberjacks,” Jackson grumbled and Noah’s head tilted from side to side as he considered.

“You definitely have to have some but not too much,” he said and Jackson grabbed the bottle and poured. At the rate they were going, he’d be too relaxed for Noah’s purposes.

“I think you’ve given this way too much thought,” he said. “I doubt there’s any actual science behind this,” Jackson declared and Noah nodded.

“Oh, there is!” He said. “Right around Burt Reynolds on the bear skinned rug,” he said then hummed happily as he pictured it. “You’re like a cross between him and Magnum P.I. Tom Selleck but bigger and with the beard.” He watched as Jackson turned a brighter pink and shook his head.

“You’re out of your mind,” he pointed out and Noah thought there was a good chance he would be soon if they didn’t stop talking about cowboys and lumberjacks and he didn’t get to finally have sex with his very own lumberjack.

“Superman!” He said as he pointed at Jackson and his hand stretched across his brow as he shook his head.

“Superman was definitely not a lumberjack,” he said as he frowned at the bottles on the counter. “We’re drinking the same thing, right?” He asked and Noah giggled.

“Hear me out!” He insisted. “The new Superman, when he’s got the beard!” Noah said and Jackson grinned dreamily.

“Yeah, he was a hot lumberjack,” he agreed and Noah waved at Jackson triumphantly and he frowned back at him.

“That’s you!” He said and nodded quickly. “You look very much like him and you’re both very classic lumberjacks,” Noah said and Jackson was baffled as he stared back. “How do you not see it?” Noah asked as he pointed and Jackson shook his head. “All you need is some red flannel,” he said and Jackson’s eyes subconsciously flicked in the direction of his bedroom closet. “Oh, God, you’ve got some,” Noah whispered and Jackson shrugged.

“I do,” he answered hesitantly and Noah’s mug slammed on the counter before he snatched Jackson’s then grabbed his wrist.

“Go!” He commanded as he rushed Jackson from the kitchen.
“What?” He asked as he looked over his shoulder as Noah pushed him toward the stairs.

“We’re going to need you to put on that flannel,” Noah said. “For scientific purposes,” he added as he dashed to the coffee table and grabbed the condoms and lube then practically hurled Jackson up the stairs.

“Jesus, calm down!” He said and Noah shook his head as he waved for Jackson to hurry down the hall.

“I’m afraid this is a sex emergency,” he declared as he followed Jackson into his bedroom. His eyes went to the bed and he laughed at the green plaid bedspread. “That’s a lumberjack’s bed!” He declared and Jackson’s hand dragged down his face.

“That’s hideous. The dry cleaner destroyed my favorite comforter,” he said. “I keep that for when it gets cold,” Jackson complained and Noah nodded.

“I’m so relieved. That thing is rather sad,” he said then pointed at Jackson’s closet. “Flannel, now!” He ordered and Jackson looked slightly irritated but mostly skeptical. “You’ll see,” Noah said as he crossed his arms and leaned against the closet door and watched as Jackson chose between three red flannel shirts. Perhaps he wasn’t as astute and Noah thought. He shrugged into one and Noah didn’t even wait for him to button it before he grabbed his wrist again and drug him from the closet and pushed him in front of the dresser mirror. “Come on!” Noah demanded as he waved toward Jackson’s reflection and his head tilted as he stared and Noah held his breath.

“I’m pretty sure a lumberjack would be wearing pants,” he mumbled and Noah covered his mouth to keep from yelling as his patience finally evaporated then fisted his hand in Jackson’s hair as he stood behind him at the dresser.

“Look at you!” He gasped in Jackson’s ear as his free hand wrapped around Jackson’s beard. “You’ve got the beard,” he said as his hand slid down Jackson’s neck and his fingers trailed through his chest hair. “Body hair,” he added to the list as his hand spread and glided across his chest. “You’re clearly as big as a tree,” Noah panted as his hand swept lower and closed around Jackson’s very thick erection and he grunted and his eyelids fell.

“Are you about to make a wood pun?” He asked and Noah shook his head as he grabbed Jackson’s hips and locked his ass against his groin and ground hard so Jackson could feel what he was doing to him. Jackson’s eyes were dark as they met Noah’s in the mirror and his hands pressed against Jacksons chest as he panted into his ear.

“Every inch of you is so hard,” Noah groaned as he rocked against the cleft of Jackson’s ass. “You even taste like the forest,” he said as his tongue slid up Jackson’s neck and he hissed as he arched against Noah.

“Fine!” He said and licked his lips. “I’m a lumberjack,” Jackson ground out as he pushed back against Noah’s hard-on. “If that’s what you want,” he added and Noah shook his head as he pushed Jackson forward and he braced his hands on the dresser.

“I want you,” he breathed. “And I want this,” he said as his fingers curved around Jackson’s arse and he shivered as he looked back at Noah.


I told you they were delightful. You can have more of Noah and Jackson if you use this link:

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Look, Perverts!

Love And Fucking Clint Falin

**WARNING!!! Very Graphic Excerpt Below Containing Awesome Adult Sex And Vulgar Language. Yay!!!**

Happy February, my Perverts!

You might find it surprising that I don’t go out of my way to celebrate Valentine’s Day. I was always the girl that was left out and not that I’m bitter, but it always seemed like a lot of fuss for nothing. What’s the point of a romantic gesture if you’re doing it because you’re supposed to? Like a dummy, I married my husband two days after Valentine’s. So, every year we give each other awkward looks and try to figure out if the other person’s going to attempt a romantic maneuver or if it’s ok to stay home and binge on chimichangas and cheap wine in our sweatpants. Because it’s been 14 years and we’ve blessed ourselves with three kids and two dogs our observance of both days is usually combined and set aside for a date that’s more convenient. This year, Valentine’s and our anniversary were tragically on Sunday and Tuesday. I’ll wait until Saturday to shave and masochistically suffocate myself in layers of soul crushing Spanx, thank you very much.

Not that I don’t love romance. I do. Especially when it’s honest and doesn’t have unrealistic expectations. I never held out hope for a flash mob proposal (they didn’t even have those in the early 2000’s) or a ring in my dessert (you know I’d eat it before he had a chance to ask me). He simply rolled over one morning and snuggled into the corner of my neck and said “I want to marry you.” and it was precious and felt like honest-to-goodness love. That’s the sort of romance I get excited about.

As it’s February and we’re all celebrating love in our own way, I thought it fitting to share one of my other loves with you. And it’s extra appropriate because it ties in neatly with my current WIP. If you follow me on Twitter or read my blog, you’ll know I have my Twitter Loves. Gay Twitter gives me life. It’s where I say things I wouldn’t on Facebook because family members and ex coworkers are there. You know those assholes don’t have a sense of humor. And I like so many more of the people on Twitter. Those are my people. I have a very special Twitter Love, his name is Clint. Clint drives all the boys wild. The Thirst is strong with his followers. He’s yummy and funny and smart and understands that self deprecation can be uber sexy. Most importantly, he has the most adorable dog ever. And his dog has his own Twitter account and he can throw some serious shade at his owner. It’s not like the Facebook profile your mother-in-law started for her cat. No one’s mad that Barkley’s on Twitter. Anyways, Clint’s a hot piece of ass and I decided early on that he would be my Twitter husband and he was just going to have to live with it. He was wise and didn’t put up much of a fight.

One of the things that became very clear to me as I got to know him was that Clint is kind. It seems like a bland term as far as descriptions go but I put a hell of a lot of value on kindness. Twitter is very useful as a microscope. You see people in their naked, uninhibited forms. Especially if they’re anonymous. For a writer, that’s fascinating and priceless. So, I watch how people present themselves and interact with others. Clint is minimal. He skillfully employs witty, snarky memes to poke fun at himself and life in general. Every now and then he will share a glimpse of his personal life and his followers will trip all over themselves in their rabid adoration. Clint is always graceful and mature in his response. Actually, he’s subtle in that he rarely responds unless it benefits someone else positively. He’s very concerned with being supportive of all types of people, especially the less confident and often abused among Gay Twitter. That’s fucking sexy, right there.

A while back I was teasing Clint because his house and dog are impossibly perfect and I’d jokingly call him a dog groomer or an interior designer. He jokingly said he invented lasers. Then I told him I was going to write a tawdry series of books about him and in each book he’d have an affair with a man named Clint and each would have a different profession. Sort of like the Emmanuelle movies. I quickly wrote a cheeky little scene and giggled about it for days. Clint took it very well.

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About two months ago Clint and I were chatting and he asked if I was going to write him into one of my books. I snorted because I assumed he was joking and told him not to dare me because I’d totally do it. He said he thought it would be fun and I told him to think very carefully. All of my gays are versatile and he would see a version of himself doing things he might not be comfortable with. Clint wasn’t phased and told me he was in. His only stipulation was that he had to have a best friend named Barkley. Come on, now. How could I not?

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He agreed to let me poke around in his head and his life and invited me to ask him anything, like a fucking boss. I’ll send him random questions at 1 a.m. and he’ll send me little facts, observations and photos. Every few days I’ll warn him that he’s eating ass like cupcakes and hitching a ride to Pound Town regardless of his actual preferences because I want everyone to be happy. And honestly, if you’re like me, you’ve trolled Tumblr hoping to find Clint in a porn or a skeevy sex tape. I’ve yet to have any luck so I’m making my own dreams come true. Through it all, Clint has been lovely and patient and insists he doesn’t care what I do with him.

The problem with writing about someone you actually know is that other people are going to read it. There’s that bravery that comes from sitting behind a computer in the comfort of your own home that can turn people into serious dickbags. Add to that the ability to review something and they’re suddenly Dostoevsky and their opinion matters and has to be shared. There will be people that hate the book and people that don’t like Clint. That’s going to be awkward. I also had to decide how much of Clint was going to go into Clint. It didn’t seem right to exploit too much of his past for what is pretty much porn so I took a lot of liberties with his profession and upbringing. There are bits of his real life here and there but Book Clint’s backstory is mostly a product of my imagination. I asked him what he keeps in his fridge and what sort of underwear he wears because things like that give a character shape. Other things aren’t appropriate for public consumption.

Writing is wrapping up and I’m very pleased with what Clint and I have come up with. I haven’t begun editing but I think you should take a peek:

**WARNING!!! Very Adult Sexual Content About Hot As Fuck Grown-Ass Men Doing Awesome Dirty Things To Each Other!**

Clint has brunch with a guy that’s definitely not his type…


(Not actually Ryder, just a hot as fuck man I found online)


“There’s a really cool record shop a few blocks away from here,” he said and Clint nodded.

“I stop in now and then, I’m always looking for something different to sample,” he said and Ryder looked impressed.

“That’s awesome,” he said as he stepped aside to let a couple pass. When he stepped closer, his head was tilted as he studied Clint.

“What?” Clint asked and Ryder’s lips curved before his head jerked toward the front of an antique shop. “You want to go in there?” He asked and Ryder shook his head then pointed at the doors. They were opened wide and a long, narrow red, white and blue flag hung vertically from the side of the building.

“Here,” Ryder declared before he ducked behind the flag and Clint frowned as he looked around. No one was paying attention so he quickly followed. Ryder was leaning against the brick wall and red and blue light slanted across his face as the sun bled through the flag. They were completely shielded from the street and Clint felt like they were miles away from humanity as he stepped closer. “What are you doing?” He asked softly as he braced his hand on the wall next to Ryder’s shoulder.

“Seeing if it was my game or a fluke,” Ryder murmured as his hand slid around Clint’s neck. Clint hummed in agreement as he lowered his head and Ryder’s hand fisted in his shirt as their lips brushed. It was like kissing a flame. Heat fanned across Clint’s face and seeped into his skin. He gasped into Ryder’s mouth and their tongues fluttered against each other tentatively. A golden current of warm need rolled through Clint and he heard Ryder moan as their tongues swirled and flicked urgently. Clint angled his head and felt dizzy as his hand slid around Ryder’s waist. He pulled him against his chest and the smell of soap and clean clothes wreathed around Clint and he wanted to wrap himself in Ryder. He pulled his head back and they were both breathless and stunned. Ryder licked his lips and his cheeks puffed out as he blinked at Clint. “Wow,” he huffed and Clint nodded jerkily. “Definitely my game,” Ryder panted and Clint rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” he muttered as he pushed his hand into Ryder’s hair. He pinned him to the wall as he claimed his lips and Ryder growled softly as he gripped and pulled at Clint’s body, trying to get closer. Clint rolled his hips and silently cursed. They were both really hard and really ready. He didn’t know what to do. If this was a guy he’d flirted with at a club, he would have pulled him into an office or storage room. Or, he would have planned it better and they would have met at a bar close to a decent hotel because Clint had a feeling this was one of those times when he’d need a bed and a lot more time. But he knew that Ryder wasn’t that sort of guy. You didn’t bend super sweet elementary school teachers over a sticky desk or push them onto their knees between cases of beer. You strolled with them on sunny Saturday afternoons and made out on quilts under apple trees or next to a river or some other stupid cliche.

“We should fuck,” Ryder murmured. Or not… Clint thought as Ryder’s lips slid along Clint’s cheek. “Like, really soon,” he added before he pulled Clint’s ear lobe between his lips and sucked. Apparently, his ear lobe was connected to his cock and it throbbed painfully in response. Clint bit his lip to keep from moaning too loud and struggled to think and his eyes rolled as Ryder’s teeth grazed his neck. His game was definitely improving.

“I don’t live very far from here,” Clint whispered and immediately regretted it. He rarely invited anyone to his home. He never brought one night stands over. Ryder’s hand slid down the front of Clint’s jeans and cupped his hard-on. “We could go there now,” Clint said quickly and Ryder nodded as he sucked on the corner of Clint’s neck. Holy Fuck. Who knew school teachers could be so aggressive?

“Let’s go,” Ryder ordered as he pushed against Clint’s chest and he stumbled back. 

“Are you sure? You don’t seem like the type…” Clint frowned as Ryder pushed away from the wall and laughed.

“You’re hung, I’m hung, it’s going to be like clash of the fucking titans,” he said and Clint’s eyes flared as Ryder stepped from between the buildings and waved down a cab then opened the door. “I love quiet dinners and snuggling on the couch when it’s raining. But I also love fucking and there’s a time and a place for everything,” Ryder explained before he dropped onto the seat and scooted over.




“This is your house?” Ryder asked as the cab stopped in the driveway and Clint elbowed him when Ryder reached for his wallet. Ryder shrugged then pushed the door open as Clint paid the driver. The drive was blessedly short and the tension between them was still intense. Ryder set it aside as he scanned the front of a perfectly maintained two story Victorian.

“Yeah. Why?” Clint asked as he stood next to Ryder. He pulled out his phone and entered his passcode and there was a soft click at door and the house lit up. Ryder shook his head and followed Clint.

“It’s just really big and traditional,” he mumbled for lack of anything better to say as Clint pushed the door open and waited for Ryder to pass.

“And?” He asked and Ryder shook his head as he scanned. He had no idea what it was called but it was very nice. The furniture and upholstery was very traditional but modern.

“You live here by yourself?” Ryder asked as he surveyed wide expanses of gleaming stone countertops.

“Not really,” Clint said as he set his phone on the counter and Ryder swung to toward him. Clint whistled and Ryder turned and waited. Two pointy ears and a pair of black eyes peeked over the back of the couch and Ryder gasped.

“Who is that?” He demanded as he rushed into the living room and went around the couch. Ryder’s jaw dropped and he was done. The dapperest little dog Ryder had ever seen stared up at him as his nub of a tail twitched back and forth. “Oh, my God! I love… him?” It had to be a him.

“That’s Barkley,” Clint said as he went to the fridge and Ryder stopped paying attention.

“Well, yes, you are!” He said as he dropped onto the couch and patted his lap. Barkley raised one of his brows but didn’t move. Ryder grinned as he scratched behind the silver schnauzer’s ears and Barkley shut his eyes in approval. “You’re awesome!” Ryder whispered loudly and Barkley yawned then stretched and promptly jumped off the couch and scurried into the kitchen. Ryder turned and stared over the back of the couch as Clint tossed Barkley a strawberry. He caught it and chewed happily as his tail wiggled swiftly. Clint held up a bottle of water and Ryder shook his head.

“It’s just me and Barkley,” Clint said as he came around the counter and Ryder decided Clint was way sexier than he was five minutes earlier. Not that he wasn’t really hot before.

“And the extra bedrooms are his,” Ryder joked as Clint sat next to him.

“I like having a few guest bedrooms for family and friends,” he said as he reached for Ryder.

“Good. I’m moving in. Barkley and I are soul mates,” he murmured as he let Clint pull his lips to his.

“I think we could work something out,” Clint whispered as his lips slid back and forth across Ryder’s. It was miraculous. Everywhere they touched a tingling warmth flared and Ryder’s heartbeat became heavy and slow. He felt like he was high and he was unbelievably turned on. He was so aware of his skin and something inside of him was straining to get closer to something inside of Clint. And he really wanted to run his tongue over every inch of him. He smelled like the beach. There was coconut, lime and maybe rum and Ryder wanted to crawl inside of his clothes and rub his face all over Clint’s body.

“Oh, fuck…” Ryder groaned as he threw his leg over Clint’s thighs. “Take your shirt off,” he begged and Clint nodded and pulled his shirt free as Ryder attacked the buttons. Clint’s arms stretched around Ryder as he sucked on Clint’s lower lip and he felt Clint’s hands working behind him. A moment later there was a soft clink as Clint dropped a pair of cuff links on the table. Who wears cuff links? On purpose? He wondered then dismissed the thought as Clint pulled his shirt over his head. Jesus, he smelled amazing. Ryder gasped as he pushed Clint on his back and dove for the corner of his neck.

“Here?” Clint asked as his hands pushed at Ryder’s shirt and he nodded as he pulled an arm free then shook and flung his shirt over the back of the couch.

“For now,” he murmured against Clint’s chest. He licked and Clint hissed. “You taste so good,” Ryder purred then let his tongue drag all over Clint’s skin in slow swirls as he worked his way down Clint’s body. He quickly unbuckled Clint’s belt and had the fly open a moment later. He tugged and Clint lifted his hips and Ryder snorted and had to smother a giggle. “You’re a fancy gay,” he teased as he traced the waistband of the sheer black jock strap and Clint raised his head and frowned at Ryder.

“It’s comfortable,” he protested and Ryder shrugged.

“It’s going,” he stated as he pushed Clint’s jeans down his legs. Clint skillfully toed off his shoes and jeans and Ryder bit his lip as he traced Clint’s hard-on through the thin fabric. “This is gonna hurt,” Ryder sang and Clint’s brows pulled together.

“You don’t have to,” he said as he rose on his elbows. “You can fuck me,” Clint whispered as he stretched toward Ryder’s lips.

“Really?” Ryder asked as he lowered his head and nipped at Clint’s lower lip. “You seem like the masc for masc type so I assumed you were strictly a top,” he said and Clint shook his head.

“That’s usually how it works out but I’m vers,” he mumbled and Ryder grinned.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” he said as he moved down Clint’s body.

“I wouldn’t make you do that if you didn’t want to,” he said and Ryder chuckled as he gently bit Clint’s erection then sucked on the head through the fabric and Clint jumped.

“Oh, no. I’m about to ride this dick,” he announced and Clint’s cock twitched and a dark spot spread around the head and Ryder hummed in approval as he curled his fingers beneath the elastic waistband. “I wasn’t complaining,” Ryder said softly as it slid lower and Clint groaned. Ryder nodded in agreement as inch after inch of Clint’s throbbing length was revealed. “I like when it hurts.” He winked up at Clint as his tongue stretched past his lips and he moaned softly as he collected a drop of pre-cum. It was crisp and sweet and the tip of Ryder’s tongue teased the slit as he wrapped his lips around the head and sucked greedily.

“Holy shit!” Clint hissed as his head fell back. “What do you teach?” He asked as he fisted his hands in his hair and Ryder laughed as he slid his tongue down Clint’s length.

“Second grade,” he murmured as rubbed his lips all over Clint’s sack. “But in my spare time I teach singing lessons.”



I like it so far. I can’t wait to show you the rest. If you’re looking for something to keep you distracted while you wait, I have so many lovely men doing super naughty things for you to enjoy.


Find them here:

Mood Music Selection Of The Day


Love And Fucking Clint Falin