I am pleased to announce that the second edition of Loving Jacob is now complete and available!
It's got gorgeous, shiny new cover art by Laura Harner
A polished, updated blurb:
When Malcolm Jenner’s
sex-on-the-side turns into more,
he isn’t above begging for a second chance.
High profile attorney Malcolm Jenner is looking for a bit
of fun, nothing serious. He's got duties and responsibilities, after all. Though
he's not one to choose his lovers from the office, Jacob Renault is an
attraction too compelling to resist.
However, Jacob isn't interested in temporary. He wants it
all—Prince Charming, the castle, the happily ever after. There's no rule that
says the younger man can't have fun while he's searching for his prince,
At first neither is willing to compromise on their stance,
but an agreement is reached, with each man planning to do his best to subvert
the other to his viewpoint. Lust turns to love, and what’s impossible becomes
merely improbable, but is it going to be enough?
stood in the hallway, gritting his teeth and reminded himself that an office
fling with a man who had to be at least ten years his junior was out of the
question. He and Penny had long since relinquished any pretense of monogamy in
their marriage and reached an amicable agreement to conduct their affairs
discreetly out of respect for their son and their friendship. Fucking purple-eyed
twinks in the elevator at work? Not discreet.
kept his gaze focused on the gleaming silver metal of the doors as the elevator
made its excruciatingly slow way up to the third floor. His glance flicked to
the reflection beside his. The younger man stood casually, shoulders propped
against the wall, licking pink lips. His purple gaze in the hazy reflection was
focused…fuck…on Malcolm's obvious erection beneath his dark dress pants. Discretion. Discretion, he snarled at
his libido. There will be no casual
hookups with people from the office, he warned his eager cock. He shifted
to the side slightly, hoping to hide the evidence of his arousal from the other
man. Damn it. That kid had the sexiest eyes he'd ever seen. He wanted like hell
to see them glaze over as he fucked the tight ass hinted at by the khaki pants he
wore. He didn't go much for the intimacy of face-to-face encounters, but for
the sight of those eyes and that mouth in the throes of orgasm, he'd make an
exception. His tendency toward quick casual encounters disguised his preference
for male partners and kept word of his homosexuality from getting back to his
parents, his partners in the firm, and out to the public.
law office, like any other place of business, was a microcosm of the world at
large. Malcolm knew from being on the receiving end of gossip from his
secretary, Marge, that every action and interaction between employees was
fodder for the gossip mill. Being the subject of water cooler gossip lacked
appeal and offended his sense of dignity, as did the knowledge that he
apparently couldn't control his urges around the tech guy.
threw in the towel and gave up the fight against his attraction to the young man
from the technology department when he caught that sultry purple gaze on his
cock for what must have been the hundredth time as the slight young man brushed
against him in an intentional teasing slide while he tried to exit the elevator
on the second floor.
Malcolm grabbed Jacob's hand and pulled him back inside the otherwise-empty
space. He kept that small, soft hand locked in his own as he allowed the heavy
metal doors to slam shut and the elevator to rise to his own floor. There he
slapped his palm against the button that prevented the doors from opening. He'd
had all the titillation he could stand. Malcolm swept the young man into his
embrace. He tilted Jacob's head upward with one hand and dropped his mouth
passionately, almost brutally, to kiss the other man. His other hand tangled in
the black curls that had taunted his senses over the past weeks. He forced the
soft pink lips apart, then swept his tongue inside. Instantly he was absorbed
in the heated, slick haven of Jacob's mouth. The honeyed sweetness drew him
further in and his tongue eagerly sought the textures and flavors that had been
hidden there. Fuck. He could drown in
the wet heat he found behind those soft lips. It was addictive. Jacob didn't even
try to escape the kiss; he seemed to be doing his best to encourage it. He
brushed his tongue against Malcolm's, sweeping it gently along the roof of his
mouth, seeking and finding the sweetest spots. Both men were panting heavily
when their lips parted.
pulled back and spoke harshly. "Is that what you're after, little boy? You
want a quick fuck in the elevator to start the week off right?"
gasped and tried to pull away, but Malcolm wouldn't let him. "No! Well,
yeah, but that's not all I want." The young man seemed a bit dazed and
shook his head as though to clear it. His shaking hand rose to push through the
tangled black curls that Malcolm could picture so easily coiling around his
cock while Jacob knelt on the dull gray carpet sucking him, as he had every
intention would happen very shortly.
that's all I'm offering. Take it or leave it." Malcolm drew his hand down
the length of his cock, which had pulsed to aching life during that elevator
trip. Jacob wore light spicy citrus cologne that seemed to linger in Malcolm's
nostrils long after any encounter between them had ended, and being in the
elevator with the sexy younger man had a predictable effect on his dick.
I'm very busy. I have a few minutes for you now, but…" He let his arousal-roughened
voice trail off, waiting to see if Jacob took the bait. Jacob's purple eyes locked
on his hand gliding up and down, pressing against his throbbing cock behind the
zipper of the black dress pants he wore. That gaze was an added caress that
fired his blood even hotter, and he swore softly. "Fuck. You want it. I
can see it in your eyes, feel it in you every time you come near me."
Former college roommates Matt and Sam
have a history.
Will a chance encounter in the street
lead to a second chance at love?
Years ago, art student Matt Gilray's world
turned on its axis when his lover Sam rejected him at their favorite hangout.
He's spent the years since learning to be a businessman and an artist, letting
go, forgetting a love affair that brought him more pain than joy in the end.
Sam Balantyne’s last minute realization
that his college fuck buddy had turned into a lover wasn’t enough to stop the
headstrong business student from chasing his dreams. When his ambitions
flounder, Sam returns home and buys the derelict soda shop where they used to
hang out. He isn't looking for a second chance; he just wants to enjoy a
In the process of “freeing himself to
pursue his dreams”, has Sam tarnished them beyond recovery?
Sam Balantyne trudged down the slushy
sidewalk of the historic district of Greely, Colorado, gazing unseeing into the
falling slush. The gray sky suited his mood. Very few people were foolish
enough to be out walking in this mess. Most people had the sense to be at home
or somewhere warm. Not Sam. No, thanks to his flaky, thoughtless sexy roommate,
he walked down an icy street in a part of town where even bikes were frowned
upon just off campus. It was safe enough not to look. No random cars would
splash murky water on unwary pedestrians. No cars were permitted on the brick
work streets of Old Town.
Sam knew where he was going and exactly
how many steps in the icy slush it would take to get there. An hour ago, he’d
been contentedly lounging on his bed, studying for midterms next week, when his
flighty roommate called. He curled his hands into fists inside the deep pockets
of his navy wool pea coat. Fucking Matt. Such a goddamn pie-in-the-sky dreamer.
How did I end up with an art student for a roommate in the first place? Every
month turned into a damn race against the clock to see if Matt would be able to
pull together his share of the rent, or the cable, or whatever. Bad enough that
Sam perpetually fed the man, now this.
Apparently Matt had gotten the rent money
but couldn’t be bothered to come home and give it to Sam. No. Sam had to meet
him at the soda shop off Fifth Street because Matt had other things to do.
Ordinarily, Sam loved the soda shop. He and Matt had spent many great sunny
afternoons there, sitting on the patio, guy watching and laughing, even
occasionally sharing a lemon Italian Cream Soda.
The bitter cold wind cut through the thick
wool of his coat, and Sam caught himself wondering if Matt had had the sense to
wear a jacket when he left the apartment that morning. Probably not. The sun
had been shining then, and Matt never could see beyond the moment.
Someone, possibly even Matt himself, had
put a colorful knitted ski cap on the head of the old stone lion that guarded
the occult book shop next door to the soda shop. The lilting notes of a sexy
little jazz number drifted from the tiny bar on the other side of the soda
shop. The music and the light from the window created a perfect backdrop for
the vision that met Sam’s eyes when he looked up. In the golden glow from the
soda shop window, he saw Matt sitting at a tiny table for two on the front
patio of the shop. He wore a thin leather jacket and Sam’s navy blue wool
beanie tugged down low over his ears as he sat on the tiny black iron chair.
His booted feet rested on the other seat. Matt puffed on one of the little
clove cigarettes he favored and cupped hands covered in fingerless gloves
around the tiny source of heat. The little table in front of him held an ashtray
and two steaming mugs of hot chocolate into which the slushy snow fell.
Sam shook his head. Smoking cloves was bad
enough, better than tobacco scent-wise by a small margin, but who the hell sat
on the patio in this freaking weather? Airheaded art majors, that was who. “God
damn it, Matt! How many times have I told you to dress warmly when you leave
the house? You’re going to get sick! And…” The words spilled from his mouth
before he could stop them, a ludicrous tirade that his own mother would have
cringed to hear. He snatched the cigarette out of his roommate’s hand. “Smoking
this shit will kill you!”
Matt turned to look at him, and Sam nearly
groaned. The heavy feeling in his heart, the anger at Matt’s foolishness,
seemed to melt away as he caught the expression in those bright blue eyes. He
wasn’t surprised to find his own heart beating faster, stirring with desire
despite the cold. He was surprised by the lilt of happiness that brightened the
gray of the late winter day. Fuck. He didn’t want to feel this way, to let
anyone have the ability to create sunshine in his day with a crooked little
smile. Especially not Matt. Matt drifted along perfectly content, dreaming and
painting and starving for his art. Sam dreamed of bigger things. He wanted success,
the bright lights of a big city, and by big he didn’t mean Denver! He wanted
all the luxuries life could afford. And that look in Matt’s eyes… had he always
looked at him that way?
Matt removed his boots from the seat with
“No, thanks. I’ll pass. Look. I’m going
home this weekend.” He hadn’t planned to, but a weekend in Denver with his mom
and dad, siblings running all over, would screw his head back on straight. “You
keep the rent money. Use it to find another place to stay, okay? I can’t keep
doing this every month.”
Matt protested instantly, the shock on his
face heart-wrenching. “Sam, I promise. It won’t happen again. I got a job.
That’s why I couldn’t come to the apartment.”
Sam shook his head, schooling his features
to hide his feelings. “No. It’s just not working out for us.” But it could, his
heart argued. He shut it down instantly. Not taking that chance. Better to end
things now, before either of them got any more involved and while they both
still had the chance to make their dreams come true.
“Sam, I love you. I don’t want to move
out. Just, please, give me one more month to prove I can do this?” Matt’s voice
cracked on the words he forced out. Sam couldn’t tell if tears or melting
snowflakes caused the dampness on his pale cheeks.
Hardening his heart, Sam continued,
“That’s just it, Matt. I don’t want to be loved. I don’t want to love anyone. I
just wanted to get laid a little. I need freedom to pursue my dreams, and
taking care of you, it’s a burden I don’t want. I thought it was all just fun.
You’re taking things way too seriously. So, please, do us both a favor and
leave before I get back Monday afternoon?” His dad would lend him the money for
the rent this month.
Unable to meet those blue eyes without
throwing his arms around Matt’s slim shoulders and hugging him tight, without
promising that they could try again, without swearing he would never be such an
ass again, Sam turned and stumbled against the stone lion, knocking the knit
cap into the slush, where eddies of muddy liquid blurred its bright colors. He
whirled and tromped back up the street he’d just come down, ignoring Matt
calling his name behind him as he went.
Good morning Story Orgy Readers! Sorry to be absent so long, but I am back, and I've brought a new story with me. Are you ready to meet someone new? Here's Lester Bergman...
URBEX: City Secrets
Copyright Dec 2015 @ Lee Brazil
Dec 1st - He kept very still
while he waited.
He should have been working, that’s why he’d brought this pile of
folders home from the office in the first place. There were plea bargains to be
drafted, motions to be organized, a belligerent boss to be mollified with reams
of paper to prove that Lester was doing his job, earning his paycheck from the
city. Such as it was.
That was the story of his life, wasn’t it? Not quite good enough,
no matter how hard he tried, moving up the career ladder too slow, not earning
the big bucks like his brother in law who had his own practice, not achieving
the early success that had marked his father’s career in the prosecutor’s
He should have followed his first inclination and ignored the
route his father had laid out for him. A career as a chef sounded so good right
now. He could have been a fabulous cook, creating dishes that melted in your
mouth, succulent and flavorful.
Instead, he was here with a full message box and the beginnings of
indigestion. All because he’d been too cowardly to say what he wanted, pursue
his own dreams. Now here he was at thirty-six, following someone else’s dreams,
drowning in paperwork and tedious, nauseating wickedness. He didn’t even get
the really interesting cases. No robbery, homicide or rape cases for Lester.
No. He got speeding tickets, jaywalking, shoplifting and all sorts of bull shit
to remind him just how petty the justice system...and people in general were.
Tipping his chair back, Les closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
Clearing his mind wasn’t easy, not when he had messages from his family on his
voicemail. One from Lionel, six from Lisa, one from Aunt Izzy and one from
He had to drag out the heavy guns...the moon, bright and clear
like a newly minted shiny silver dime in a field of dark obsidian, the air
crisp and cold, a pristine blanket of snow, and the dark shadows of a battered
Holding within its shaky walls the secrets of the past, the hopes,
dreams, and lives of people who’d long since left the earthly plane. The image
calmed him, reminded him that at its core humanity was worth so much more than
he saw in his everyday life. More than moral corruption, petty villainy and
Deliberately, he added himself into the picture, a small figure
standing on the front porch of the old farmhouse. Pictured himself
walking inside, looking up the staircase, through a caved in roof, at a
Lester opened his eyes and picked up the phone. He’d call Lionel
first, see if he knew what had Lisa’s panties in a bunch. Del and Aunt Izzy he’d
save for after Lisa… sandwiching his call to his annoying sister in between
calls to people he loved might just make it easy to take her condescending bull
Rising from his favorite recliner, Les crossed to the sliding
glass doors of his balcony and stepped out. It wasn’t fresh, clean air, and the
night outside was filled with the noise of city life...car horns and voices
raised in anger, an irrepressible, ever-present annoying hum of life that
he couldn’t escape, even here on the third floor.
Staring down at the brilliant neon lights, he thumbed his phone
and waited for his brother to pick up. Fumes reached his nose, and he wrinkled
it in disgust.
Lionel picked up on the fourth ring, slightly out of breath, voice
ragged and husky. “”Yeah?”
“Is this a bad time?” A faint smile chased Les’s gloom away. It
sounded like Lionel had had a very good night… “You got company?”
A short laugh, good humored, a just the slightest bit self-mocking
came back at him. “Yeah, no. I wish. I haven’t had that kind of company since…
I don’t even want to think about it.”
A sympathetic sigh lifted Les’s chest. “Tell me about it. Rather,
don’t because I am living it right there with you. Except… It’s not just not
having time to hit up the bars and find someone for a night.”
“There’s nothing satisfying in a hook up anymore.” Lionel
continued for him. “I know. I don’t know when it happened, but somehow…”
“Sex just isn’t enough anymore.” Les finished. They were silent for
a minute. “So I end up working too much and you… You’re what? Working out?”
“Bite your tongue. I just carried in the groceries and the
elevator is out, again.”
“I’d think that was a complaint, but I know how much you love that
old building.” Unlike Les, who lived in a modern, soulless complex, Lionel had
scored a terrific apartment in a century old building with fabulous original
architectural findings, intricate hand carved wood work, built in cabinetry,
and a not so reliable old elevator.
“No, no complaints. What can I do for you?”
“Returning your call, actually, but do you happen to know why Lisa
called six times today?”
Muffled noises, doors slamming and a faint humming came over the
wire. “My gut instinct is parking tickets. You know how she thinks that BMW
gives her a license to park where she wants. But...Can’t say for sure, because
I haven’t heard from her. But…”
Lionel drew the last word out teasingly, and Les felt a stirring
of interest. He recognized that tone… the excitement in his brother’s voice.
“Yes?” He kept very still while he waited.
“I’ve got the perfect place for Friday night.”
“Tell me.” The disappointment of the bar scene, the stress of a
job he hated, the annoyance of a sibling who refused to deal with her own shit
“It’s too small for a whole crew…”
“We don’t need them.” Les muttered.
“Only about thirty miles
from here. Closer to you…”
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