7/28/2014

Story Orgy Presents: Heart of Clay Part 11 #mmromance #storyorgy

Good morning Story Orgy readers! Welcome back to Monday!

Today is a brilliant day! The sun is shining, but its not too hot, there's a lovely breeze, and the coffee is particularly fine.

This week I"ll be publishing the latest of the Pulp Friction books, Out in the Cold. Cannon and Finn are reaching a crisis point in their relationship, and its about time they started figuring things out, don't you think?

Same goes for these two. I can't believe its part ten of this story already and they're still behaving like this.


Heart of Clay 
Part 11


(c) June 2014 @Lee Brazil


July 28 –He'd have to hitch a ride home.

Steam rose from the hood of the truck, seeping out in tendrils and thick coils wherever there were cracks or seams in the construction of the old rust-bucket. His grandfather swore the 1970 Chevy was a king among trucks, built to last and do heavy duty. But if it couldn't stand up to a collision with one cow on a windy back country road, then he might as well be driving his Mercedes.
Clay glared at the red and white vehicle in frustration. He'd been driving along, minding his own business…
Well, if daydreaming about Brad Jorgenson could be considered his business.
The damned cow…he scowled off into the unfenced field on the left, where a large, brown and white spotted bovine stood, chewing her cud and eying him balefully. The cow had wandered into the road in front of him, and even though he'd thrown on the brakes as hard as he could, and the road boasted the melting skidmarks to prove it, he'd grazed her.
The damage to the cow had been minimal. She had a scrape on her side where the fender tagged her, and he'd written down her information from her ear tag so he could notify her owner. Odds were she belonged to the Mortons. Monica and Clive had been farming his father's land since high school graduation, and their land abutted the highway on the right, which was where the cow had ambled into the road from.
Mostly it had changed her attitude from placid to belligerent.
But he'd also managed to do something to Pip's old truck that rendered it useless. And as luck would have it, out here in the middle of nowhere, he had no cell service to call for help from Triple A or even home to get a ride from Nan. He checked his watch. She was probably deep in dinner preparations right now anyway. Dinner time was fast approaching, and he was already in Nan's black books for sins real and imagined. He didn't dare be late.
He'd have to hitch a ride home.
Sighing, Clay reached into the cab of the truck and grabbed Pip's old baseball cap, a grease stained blue Yankees cap that had to be as old as he was, from under the visor. He tugged it on with a grimace. Hats had never been his style, mostly because he had the misfortune to have the sort of hair that went limp at first contact with a cap and didn't come back to life until it had been vigorously shampooed and blow dried. His lips twisted in a wry grimace. Right now, walking into the sun, he had to be more concerned about sunburn than hat head. The bill of the cap would provide some protection; vanity none.
He pushed down the peg lock and slammed the truck door with more force than necessary. Making a point to any deity listening? Locking the door was probably silly, after all they didn’t even lock the farmhouse when they left it, but city survival instincts were hard to stifle.
He was miles from the farm, and on a road seldom traveled by anyone except those heading to the farm. Too late for the mail man, he could only hope the UPS truck would be coming by to deliver something either up at his grandparents' place or over to Brad, who was the only person to live further out than they did.
Clay started walking, letting the late afternoon sun beat down on him. Sweat beaded along the hat brim trickling into his eyes, making them sting and burn. He blinked back tears and licked salty drops from his lips. He could have gone to Jamaica.
Jamaica was a nice place for a vacation. Rum drinks, hot guys, fine dining, taxis…
A particularly vicious pebble dug into this foot through the sole of his shoe and Clay winced, stumbling a bit.His shoes weren't meant for this. They were perfectly nice running shoes, great for doing laps on a treadmill at the gym. Even better for grocery shopping and walking from bar to bar or shop to shop on his days and nights off in the city.
Like the princess whose delicate body felt the pea through thirty mattresses, it didn't seem to matter that his shoes had high tech soles made of the latest in synthetic sports enhancing rubber. Every pebble in the black top of the road seemed determined to make its presence known. Biting back a curse, he shoved his hands in his pockets and let his mind drift as he put one foot in front of the other. One foot, two foot, ouch. Left foot, right foot, fuckitall.
He'd talked to Bobby's ghost.
Honest to god for real, a spirit from another realm.
It should have been a life altering moment, a sort of Dickensian coming to awareness of his sins, shouldn't it? Instead, though he'd come to accept that it really had been Bobby who'd addressed him in the orchard, he couldn't focus on Bobby and his otherworldly connection. No… every time he closed his eyes, everytime he lost focus on the moment at hand, it was Brad who occupied his thoughts.
Not just the sex either. Though that had been pretty fucking awesome after all his fantasies. How could he have been both so right about sex with Brad, in that it was life alteringly good, and wrong at the same time? He'd imagined it many ways, but never quite like that.
But that lush, dark pleasure…the heat and scent and very hardness of Brad werent' what stole his thoughts.
No. He kept thinking about Brad's eyes, so deep and kind, his lips, the achingly sad way he'd held himself in the garden. A myriad of little details kept flitting through his mind, sparking thoughts, and feelings and to be honest, the least of them was lust.
He wanted to talk Brad, like he'd talked to Bobby, to tell him all the things he should have said so long ago.
More than that, because that would be for him, to clear his conscience and his heart. He wanted to know what Brad had been doing all these years, how he'd coped with being gay in a small town, with college, and teaching and coming back home instead of living somewhere where he could have a degree of anonymity to pursue his interests.
A rumble in the distance and a vibration under foot shook him from wondering about Brad's sex life. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw the faintest cloud of dust in the distance, signaling an approaching vehicle.
Hoping for a miracle, Clay pulled his hand from his pocket and stuck out his thumb. The engine's noise grew louder, and he turned, walking backward, squinting so he could hopefully make eye contact with the driver. Maybe whoever it was would be more likely to stop and pick him up if …
Oh hell no.
What were the odds?








TO BE CONTINUED



If you enjoyed my post, click on over to the rest of the Orgiasts and read more! 

7/24/2014

Crawling Into Bed With Rebecca Cohen

Crawling Into Bed Rebecca Cohen And a Good Book

Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Cotton…cool against the skin and prevent things sliding around.

What are you wearing?
Super-soft pajamas, in a midnight blue.

What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
Finest Swiss chocolate – a selection of Sprüngli’s best pralines, and we’re sipping a very fine Dôle des Valais pinot noir. Cheers!

If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
Alas now my son is a toddler, the only toys in easily accessible drawers are those of cuddly or chewable nature. A square plastic penguin or an abandoned teddy are lying in wait.

Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
I like to snuggle down under the blankets, but prefer to have my feet out of the bed, even if it’s cold.

Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
Feel free… as long as I can reciprocate. Always good to share body heat.

What are we reading? 

Forever Hold His Peace, Book Three of the Crofton Chronicles. The final installment of my historical series set in Elizabethan England.

In this excerpt Anthony (the Earl of Crofton) has some explaining to do to Sebastian (an actor playing the role of his twin sister, Bronwyn, Lady Crofton) about a certain guest at Crofton Hall. Anthony hasn’t exactly been open with his past dealing with Lady Florin….

“Do I hear my name being taken in vain?” Anthony joined them, a goblet of wine in hand.
“No more than usual, Crofton,” said Lord Ashton. “Wives are prone to make their husbands the devil.”
“Some wives do not need much help in doing so.” Sebastian glanced at Anthony, who looked a little surprised at what Sebastian had said.
“Then let this devil lead you to dinner, my lady.”
Sebastian let Anthony lead him and the rest of his guests to the dining table. Lady Florin was a few seats away, and she was engrossed in conversation with Roland Parson, the local sheriff, and a man who was the son of a local noble. Sebastian made no move to sit anywhere other than next to Anthony, which caused another troubled look.
Anthony leaned in and asked quietly, “What is wrong?”
“Why should there be anything wrong?” he whispered back, taking a sip of wine to cover his words.
“My lady?”
“I understand I have been misled about the true nature of the seriousness of my husband’s dalliance with a particular guest.”
Anthony knocked back the remainder of his wine with one swallow. “I would say that you have been misinformed. Although, given the way you would act in the face of such a revelation, it would hardly be surprising if your husband chose to not mention any imaginary association.”
Sebastian scowled at Anthony, and if they weren’t surrounded by guests, he’d have thrown his wine over him. “If I be waspish, best beware my sting.”
Anthony’s eye sparkled with amusement. “I know I’m in trouble when you quote Shakespeare at me, but remember, Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.”

Buy links:

Please include purchase links and web links where readers can find you.
Author Bio:
Rebecca Cohen is a Brit abroad. Having swapped the Thames for the Rhine, she has left London behind and now lives with her husband and baby son in Basel, Switzerland. She can often be found with a pen in one hand and a cup of Darjeeling in the other.


7/21/2014

Story Orgy Presents: Heart of Clay Part 10 #mmromance #serial #Storyorgy

Good morning Story Orgy readers! Welcome back to Monday at the rock pile!

Spent the last week getting the latest Pulp Friction book all finished up and ready to send off to the editor, and Out in the Cold should be ready for all of you on August 1st.

Now I just need to figure out what to do next!
Meanwhile, Brad and Clay are in quite a state...


Heart of Clay 
Part 10


(c) June 2014 @Lee Brazil

He'd never noticed a door there before.
Good sense. That's what made him speed on up past the turn off to Clay's place. Clay was home on vacation, and he'd brought a date. Brad owed him at least a phone call before he headed over to clear the air again.
At least that's what he told himself.
The truth was, he was shaken to the core. His fingers were damp on the truck's steering wheel, his t-shirt clung to his back despite the air-conditioning, and his mouth was dry.
He couldn’t believe he was really contemplating telling Clay how he felt, how he'd felt all those years ago. It was the image of himself, looking half crazy and stinking of sweat and nerves bursting into Nan's drawing room and blurting out feelings that he should have gotten over a long time ago that made him keep driving.
At home, he showered put on clean cotton pajama pants and a soft tee, then picked up the phone to make the call.
Nan answered, her voice as warm and welcoming as ever. "Brad! Why how are you? Are you coming to dinner tonight?"
He flinched. "Aren't you…don't you have company?" The idea of sitting across from Clay's boyfriend, the man he'd fought with after fucking Brad the other night…Despite the fact that he was used to eating with Nan and Pip once a week and cutting their grass, he couldn’t do it.
"Clay's friend went back home today, dear. That's where Clay is now. Taking him to the bus station in town."
His heart leapt, and foolish hope joined it. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Well I'm not." Nan said tartly. "Clay had no business bringing that boy out here."
"He's entitled to a boyfriend, Nan."
"If he'd just open his eyes…I told him a long time ago…" She muttered unintelligibly for a moment then, "Come to dinner, Brad. Pip and I enjoy your company and Clay needs to grow up."
"I'll…" He swallowed the lump in his throat and heard himself agreeing to be at the Merk place at six. "Can I bring anything?"
"Just yourself. Now, I've got to go. I have fifteen minutes to get the roast in the pot before the Contessa comes on."
The line went silent and Brad laughed softly, a little raggedly as he was dismissed. Nan and her shows. She loved her cooking channels, even though she was the best cook in the county and as far as he knew, never made a thing that she'd seen on television.
At loose ends, and unable to contemplate tackling any of the myriad chores that never seemed to be done in the house and on the farm, Brad set his phone on the table and laid down on the couch. A nap, and then he'd take the tractor on over and get started on the grass up at the Merk place, pay for his dinner.
His eyelids fell and he breathed with slow intent, forcing himself to relax and clear his mind of the chaotic thoughts Clay's presence had resurrected. The mantle clock ticked away, one tick, two tick, exhale. One tick, two tick inhale for a count of two.
One tick, two tick, three tick exhale.
He was upstairs… in the attic where the old steamer trunks and dusty cardboard boxes held the stories of his people, of their trek from St. Joseph across miles of wilderness, to pan for gold in the California streams. There were the diaries and the trinkets of Jorgensons who'd taken ship from Scandinavia with hope in their hearts of finding something more…
And there, far at the back…
There was a door he'd never seen before.
He was compelled forward, unable to stop his steps from speeding, unable to wake as dread grew. That door didn't belong there, and whatever was on the other side…
He stiffened his legs but the distance stretched out before him, speeding past in a rush of blurred artifacts, Great grandfather's ski's from the great war, the war to end all wars, the painting done by some obscure plein air painter of his great-greats on their wedding day…
He stretched out his arms to catch hold of something, anything sturdy enough to slow his progress, but still he rushed motionlessly toward that door, unable to shout, or even to speak.
Then the blur stilled, and the air seemed to rush in to fill the space around him, warm and cold currents teasing at his pajamas, cold droplets of sweat? Snow? Rain? Tickling his toes.
But there shouldn’t be any…because he was inside, in the attic, wasn't he?
He looked up, and saw open sky above his head with a sense of relief. Dreams are like that…they have a way of changing. He swallowed a few times, let the cool rain wash his face. Then looked back, and nearly choked.
The door was still there, and this time?
It was cracked open, a thin sliver of yellow light glowing behind it.
He took an involuntary step forward.
Faint voices, laughter and conversation seeped through the opening.
He took another step forward.
The door creaked open another inch or so. The noise grew slightly louder, a white hand appeared, gripping the door.
Brad's left foot rose, landed again a foot or so closer to the door. His body followed.
The hand pushed the door farther open. A thick wrist dotted with golden hair appeared, poking out of a blue chambray work shirt.
His throat tightened again, his eyes stung. Jesus. No…He'd lived through all these nightmares he could handle.
"Buh…" Forcing out the single sound felt like someone had raked his throat with sandpaper.
"Brad!" The door vanished, and in its place stood a very familiar figure.






TO BE CONTINUED



If you enjoyed my post, click on over to the rest of the Orgiasts and read more! 

7/17/2014

Crawl in Bed with SJ Thomas #mmromance #crawlinbed


Crawling Into Bed With SJ THOMAS
And a Good Book

Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Well, I'd love to say silk, but in reality they would be cotton.

What are you wearing?
Hmm, I wish I was draped in some clingy sheer negligee that hugs my curves in all the right places, but my favorite pair of Disney pj's are much more likely.

What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
Peanut butter M&M's

If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
Spare inhalers, assorted hairbands, nail files and make up, and stashed at the back paperback copy's of Anne Rice's Sleeping Beauty trilogy!

Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
Definitely roll up, as I feel the cold and I have to hug a pillow to be comfortable.

Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
Well, only if I can put mine on yours too as I always have cold feet! We'll have to take turns.

What are we reading?

My Business, Your Pleasure, which is my first paranormal MM published as part of Evernight's Romance on the Go line.
If you cast your mind back you very kindly beta read an earlier version for me. The version we are reading tonight is slightly different as the original was aimed at another line.
I have had some really lovely reviews for this one and I just love my two smoking hot heroes, especially my deliciously wicked sex demon Elliot.
Blurb:
Justin has one rule: never get involved with immortals. It's bad for business and dangerous. Trouble is his business partner Elliot—an immortal being with undeniable sex appeal—makes him want to break that rule.
Hoping a night with an immortal will get this infatuation out of his system, Justin visits a rival club looking for a one-night stand. Elliot has wanted Justin for ages, but despite his best efforts has gotten nowhere. So when he learns about Justin's plans, he turns up at the club, hoping one night will turn into many more.
Will Justin let down his guard and let Elliot become his partner in more than just business?
Excerpt
"Looks like you've got this all planned out."
Elliot ignored the bitter accusation in Justin's voice, shrugging out of his jacket before he closed the curtains. When Elliot faced him, Justin stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his tousled dark blond hair falling across his brow, his usually calm, almost delicate features brimming with anger. Elliot suddenly found his courage failing him.
When he didn't speak, Justin narrowed his eyes. "Well? You wanted to talk, so talk. How did you find out about this tonight?"
As he looked at the man he wanted, Elliot knew he needed to be honest with him. "Kara helped me."
"Kara."
"Yeah, she figured out your plans and clued me in."
"She what? I can't believe this. She is so fired." Justin paced back and forth for a few seconds, and then stopped, his head jerking toward Elliot. "How did she know what I was up to?
"Kara's smart and she knows you too well. Plus she worries about you. She thinks you work to hard and worries that you're lonely."
Justin's brow furrowed as he shook his head. "But why did she tell you?"
"She's a good friend, and she knows how I feel about you."
A sharp intake of air was Justin's only reaction, and Elliot forced himself to carry on. "I've wanted you for ages, Justin, but I knew you'd never go out with me. Your damn rules about not getting involved with immortals would stop you. She thought if I got you away from work, then you might admit your feelings for me. If I could get you to see me as something other than your business partner." He gestured down at himself.
Justin followed the movement, his gaze sweeping over Elliot. His full lips parted, eyes darkening with obvious lust and Elliot's cock swelled in reaction, body growing hard with desire. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Elliot stifled a groan.
Justin spoke in a husky voice. "I'd have never thought you could pull that look off."
Elliot shrugged. "I've had many different looks in my life." He offered a cocky smiled. "And I've rocked them all."
Justin's mouth twitched and hope flared within Elliot, until Justin shook his head. "This," Justin gestured to the champagne, "and you," he nodded toward Elliot, "doesn't change anything. Why would you think it would?"
"I know you are attracted to me, but you've never acted on it. I tried so many times to take our relationship further, but you always shut me down."
Justin's brow furrowed, his expression turning pained. "You know why I have my rules. The club runs better if we don't get involved with the clients—"
"I'm not a client." Elliot's voice was harsh in the snug confines of the booth.
"No, but you are an immortal. How can I tell our staff to keep their distance if I can't myself?"
"So, what is this all about then?" Elliot tilted his head toward the club. "You came here for a one-night stand with an immortal, a stranger. Is that keeping your distance?" Anger and frustration flowed through Elliot. The thought of Justin fucking some random immortal who'd do God knows what to him, filled Elliot with rage. Vampires bit, werewolves clawed, and some breeds of demons tasted their lover's souls. Image after image of immortal creatures hurting Justin flitted through Elliot's mind.
"I was doing it to get over you!" Justin shouted, and that nasty little creature called hope once again flared inside Elliot.
"You do want me then." Elliot spoke it as a statement, not a question.
Justin ran his fingers through his hair. "Maybe I do, but I'll never act on it. I am not going to risk our relationship for one night of sex. And I couldn't face myself if I was such a hypocrite." Justin shook his head. "This isn't what I wanted tonight."
Despair and frustration fueled Elliot's next words. "No, I know what you wanted. A night of make-believe with some random guy. Well, get this straight, if you aren't going to be with me then you're not going to be with anyone else, mortal or immortal. I'm not letting any other creature get his hands on you."
Justin's lips parted, his eyes going wide. "Tell me you didn't just say that?"
Elliot didn't answer. He just lifted his chin and set his lips in a stubborn line.
Justin laughed bitterly. "You immortals, thinking you own the world. This is exactly why I don't want to get involved with your kind. I see the possessiveness, the control you want over your lovers." He stomped over, getting right up in Elliot's face, sexy as hell in his anger. "No man, mortal or immortal, owns me. No man will control me, got that?"
He'd never seen Justin so angry, so forceful. All Elliot wanted to do was take Justin in his arms and crush their lips together. "You're sexy when you're angry, you know that?"
Justin's lips parted and he gave a sharp exhale. "You are unbelievable. And I am not going to do this."
He went to step away, but Elliot gripped his arm, stopping him. The look Justin gave his hand would have sent an enraged demon running, but Elliot refused to be frightened off that easily. "Justin, please. Don't walk away from this. You have no idea how good this could be."
Justin’s gaze flicked up to Elliot's face, and for the briefest second Elliot saw indecision in those hazel depths. Then Justin's jaw tightened, and with a methodical movement he took Elliot's hand and forced it away from his arm. "I can't do this with you." Justin's voice was strained, full of anguish, and as he yanked aside the curtains and walked away, pain speared through Elliot's chest.
Elliot let out a ragged breath, his gaze tracking Justin as he weaved his way across the dance floor. Shit, that couldn't have gone any worse. He stood for a moment, unsure whether to follow or just let Justin go.
No. This might be his only chance to have Justin, and even if all he got was a single night, Elliot wanted it too much to give up without a fight. Elliot squared his shoulders and stalked across the dance floor.
Please include purchase links and web links where readers can find you.
Links:
http://www.amazon.com/My-Business-Your-Pleasure-Romance-ebook/dp/B00GH0PX9A/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1384456371&sr=8-1&keywords=my+business+your+pleasure+by+sj+thomas
I can be found here:

Twitter @SJThomas25

Crawl in Bed With JJ Black #mmromance #authorinterview


Crawling Into Bed JJ Black And a Good Book July 17

Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Always cotton. I love the way it feels against my skin.
What are you wearing?
Just panties. Gotta keep the downstairs covered but I like to let the twins be free J
What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
I’m not a big fan of snacking in bed but I will always make an exception for dark chocolate. **licks lips hungrily**
If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
Pens, a television remote, army guys, a handful of change, AA batteries (hey, I was looking for those the other night!), a notebook, a Barbie shoe, wait…is that the Holy Grail?!?!
Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
A little of both. I always have to have at least a sheet on, pulled up to the chin, but I like to have one leg sticking out. I like to be able to wiggle my toes J
Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
You can try but I’m pretty sure my own cold feet and legs will scare you away. Can we say, icicles?
What are we reading?
Our Omega (Great Lakes Wolves #2)

Excerpt: 
Dax cleared his throat, his feet nervously shuffling side to side. “I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Dax Marshall, Kellan’s cousin. I was there the night Carl—well—the night we got you back. I’ve been meaning to come by and see you. I just wanted to check in and see how things were going. I wanted to stop by sooner, but I’ve been out of town a lot lately.” Dax’s gaze dropped to his feet as an enticing blush stained his cheeks.

Noah had to fight the strong desire to brush his fingers along that faint line of pink. He knew if he allowed even that small touch, he’d lose his resolve and take his mate where he stood. From the bits and pieces of information he’d managed to glean about the other man over the last few months, Noah was confident that Dax was a good-hearted, kind man. He deserved the best mate the gods could give him, which was why Noah knew he couldn’t allow himself to touch the stunning Beta. He wasn’t worthy.

Noah straightened his shoulders. He tried for his best impression of cold indifference and prayed it was believable. “Thanks for the concern, but, as you can see, I am fine. Please save your worry for someone who needs it.”

Turning his back on Dax’s open-mouthed shock, Noah scanned the room for an alternate exit but came up empty. He resigned himself to the fact that the only way out was behind his mate. When he tried to push his way past, Dax grabbed his wrist, halting his progress.

Noah quirked his brow and gave him an imperious glare. “Excuse me?”

Dax looked down at his hand, realized it was still wrapped tightly around Noah’s wrist then immediately let go, like the appendage was on fire. He drew in a sharp breath, remorse forefront on his face.

“Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I had…” His voice trailed off as he stared at Noah, like he was seeing him for the first time and Noah was the most amazing thing in the entire world.

“Do you smell—?” Dax muttered, his voice filled with a warring mix of wonder and confusion.

“I don’t smell anything,” Noah replied, panicked. With the scent of his own arousal perfuming the air, it was just a matter of time before Dax picked up on it. He needed to get away—fast. “If you don’t mind, I need to get past you. I have things to do.”

A large hand shot out and grabbed the front of his shirt as he made to go around the big Beta. “Will you just wait a minute? You know, you’re kind of being an ass right now.”

Dax flashed Noah a devastating smile that should have been illegal and did ridiculous things to his libido. It took every ounce of control Noah had not to respond to it.

“From what my brothers tell me, being an ass is one of my major talents. Now that you’ve confirmed the rumor, I really do need to get going.”

Noah tried to pull away, but Dax held firm. He wasn’t going anywhere unless he jerked away hard enough to rip the shirt from his body. While it might get him his freedom, it would be pretty suspicious and was sure to garner him way more attention than he wanted.

Dax took another step toward him, bringing their bodies flush. There was no way Dax could miss the state of his arousal. The answering bulge that prodded his thigh just served to make his own cock that much harder. He held his breath when Dax leaned in, burying his face in the curve of Noah’s neck, drawing in a breath then releasing it on a sigh. At that moment, Noah knew all his work to distance himself from Dax had been wasted. The mate was out of the bag. He expected questions, but they never came. Dax leaned more fully into Noah, nosing his way behind his ear where he drew in deep lungfuls of Noah’s scent.

“You smell so good,” Dax practically purred.

They stood frozen there for what could have been hours. Noah knew he should pull away, but with the man he’d longed for finally in his arms, he couldn’t fight the instinctive need to keep him close. He allowed Dax to settle against him, his weight a comforting presence after so much time spent in his self-imposed seclusion.

When Dax finally lifted his head, his eyes were wide, brimming with a combination of need, confusion and such overwhelming happiness that it nearly stole Noah’s breath. To be on the receiving end of a look like that was both humbling and terrifying. Dax scanned Noah’s face, his focus alternating between Noah’s eyes and mouth, before lowering his head back into the curve of Noah’s shoulder.

There was hot, moist breath on Noah’s neck then the press of soft lips skimming up the side of his throat. A guttural moan tore free of Noah’s chest as Dax’s wet tongue traced up the cord of his neck before nipping a path back down. What was left of his control snapped, leaving him powerless to fight his building lust. Grabbing Dax’s hips in a punishing grip, Noah ground his swollen cock against Dax’s equally hard shaft. They settled into a grueling pace, Noah could feel himself getting closer to release with every thrust of his hips.

Pulling away from Noah’s throat, Dax tilted his head and brought his mouth down on Noah’s in a brutal meeting of teeth and tongues. There was no gentleness in the kiss, and that was just fine with Noah. For months, he had imagined what it would be like to kiss this man. Now he knew and it was more than he’d ever imagined. It was mind blowing. It was amazing how something so simple could shake his world so completely. The kiss was bruising and rough but also full of care and passion. Noah had never experienced anything like it and was loving every second.

It took them a moment to get in sync, both men struggling for control, but they soon found a rhythm that allowed them to share the dominant role seamlessly. Give and take took on a new meaning when describing their intimacy. Noah lost himself in the pleasure of their coupling, too far gone for the outside world to even register. The need for oxygen finally became too great. He jerked away, heaving and gasping for breath as he tried to drag air back into his depleted lungs.
Noah was at a loss for what to say. He couldn’t believe he had allowed himself to lose control so completely. His plan to give Dax the freedom to find a more deserving life partner was becoming less and less likely by the minute. It would have been difficult to let the man go before. Now that he knew what his hard body felt like, pressed tight against his own, Noah wasn’t sure it was even still possible to walk away.

Daring a glance in his mate’s direction, Noah took in his wide eyes and lust-blown pupils. A smug sense of satisfaction filled him as he realized that he’d been the one to cause such a reaction in the powerful Beta. A smile quirked the side of Noah’s mouth as he licked his kiss-swollen lips, savoring the sweet flavor of his mate on his tongue. Dax, on the other hand, looked shell-shocked.

Quirking a brow, Noah met his mate’s eyes. “Dax?”

Dax swallowed, eyes wide with confusion. His quietly murmured answer barely reached Noah’s ears.

“Mate?”

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Be Yourself

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. ~e.e. cummings, 1955