Thursday, October 9, 2014

My Autumnal Delights

As sure as the nights get colder and the shadows lengthen, autumn is upon us. You can hear an urgency to the sound of the crickets and cries of the birds in the morning, just a little louder, faster as winter approaches. Living in Ohio, we enjoy every season, and I adore all of them for their own unique charm. As much as I love tending my vegetable garden, cultivating and harvesting, autumn marks an end to the busy late summer canning I do. If you are a follower of mine on Facebook, then you know how much canning I do to preserve food for my family all year. I still have produce growing, but with the shorter days and cooler nights it is looking a little paltry. We aren’t expecting frost for a couple of weeks and the sun is shining bright during the day so my tomatoes are still holding on strong. I find myself scouring the green bean bushes (the ones my cocker spaniels haven't eaten) hoping to find one more green bean and being excited when I find three. The corn the farmer planted behind my house has turned golden and papery, fluttering in the crisp breeze, it’s color matching the fur of my two little dogs as they run the fence line, smelling and searching for something. Who only knows what that might be?
Fall is a magical time of year. It provides a reason for me to get out one of my cute hats or cardigans, and pull out a pair of boots that hasn’t seen light of day in six months. Maybe get out some new lipstick, oranges or autumnal browns. And I get to use my favorite word “autumnal”—my customers in the salon know that they're not allowed to ask for a “fallish” nail polish LOL.
While many people fixate on the spookiness of the season, for me, autumn is more than the days centered on Halloween. It's a beautiful three months of the world getting ready for bed. And right now it's still twilight, and winter is a long way off. My vegetables are still growing, albeit slowly, and I can still get away with the flip-flops. Though now when I go out into the garden in the morning, the ground stays damp longer and the dew is icy and wet between my toes—I kinda love it. The coffee taste better too, don't you think? It's warmer, sweeter and so much more satisfying with a dash of pumpkin spice cream and a cool nip in the air. Autumn beckons you to cuddle up in the morning with a good book, to pick apples or just to go for one more long walk as the leaves fall around you.
What is your favorite thing about autumn? 
Maybe curling up with a good book?
How about a sexy version of THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW?  
Right now you can get a copy of my retelling and two other erotic fairy tales of mine on Amazon for only .99.
My Sleepy Hollow is sexy twist on the old classic tale. A perfect autumn story, complete with lots of autumnal pastimes, just a little spook, and of course hot sex—this is me we're talking about LOL

Ichabod Crane, town schoolmaster and self-proclaimed supernatural expert, wants to better his situation by marrying the wealthy Katrina Van Tassel. But, there is a rival for her attentions.
Local hero, Brom Bones.
Brom lives to torment and tease Ichabod, leaving the schoolmaster wondering if he is more interested in besting his rival than winning Katrina’s hand. Especially when each time Ichabod goes into the backroom of his favorite tavern – a place men can be men –his imagination conjures Brom's face on every lover.
Late one night, Ichabod is chased by the legendary Headless Horseman. Terrified the ghost wants his head, he tries to outrun the specter. To his horror, he is taken captive by the evil spirit.
Ichabod awakens, naked and tied to a bed, only to discover the Headless Horseman is none other than his rival Brom Bones! Brom confesses that Ichabod has been haunting his own fantasies and he vows to make Ichabod Crane his in every way.
Ichabod wants to believe the pleasure Brom offers comes from his heart, but he is afraid it is another one of Brom’s tricks.
Though surely an enemy's touch has never felt like this...


Squinting into the dark room, Ichabod’s vision began to cooperate and he soon could make out shapes in the dark. He was not alone. With him was a tall figure in a long black cape the proportions of which were surely made for a giant. A choked whimper escaped him.
The Headless Horseman had taken him prisoner!
“What is it that you want with me?” Ichabod demanded, unable to disguise the tremor in his voice.
There was no answer. However the air crackled with the menace of what might come. Or perhaps the threat was insinuated by the fact Ichabod was tied naked to a bed. Such was not a customary welcome in these parts, nor did it bode well for the intent of his captor.
The ghost stirred on the other side of the room and the hairs on Ichabod’s scalp and neck rose to sharp attention when he heard the scraping sound of a knife. His eyes, still accustomed to the dark, struggled to work in the sudden glittering orange light which now filled the room. Surely that glow must have come from the pits of Hell itself!
Ichabod thrashed against his restraints, convinced beyond a shadow of doubt that the Hessian was sharpening a butcher knife over a flame to ease with the task of removing Ichabod’s head from his body. But, struggle as he might, he could not loosen the ropes. Collapsing in defeat, he fought to swallow his rising alarm. Dread coiled like a scaly constrictor around his insides and tears began to pour down his face. He could not stop them nor could he contain the trembling of his body.
Seeing no means of escape, he began to plead, “Do not take my head, Hessian, please.”
There was an answering chuckle that registered somewhere in the lucid recesses of Ichabod’s mind. “What use would I have for your head when I have my own?”
Racing along with the sheer panic and dismay, a spark of familiarity ignited in Ichabod and he ceased to cry. He repeated the sound of that voice in his mind, wondering if his ears had deceived him, like his eyes. His altered perception was not unexpected, what with being naked and bound to a bed. Yet, now that he looked more closely he saw that the monstrous being before him was in full possession of its own head and, therefore, did not have a use for Ichabod’s own cranium. Nor was the masked specter honing a blade with Hellfire. His captor had simply lit a lone candle and that sharp sound had been the match striking the wall.
When the specter turned and pulled off its mask, black corkscrew curls stretched, then sprang back into shape. Ichabod gasped in surprise.
Why, the head atop the Horseman’s neck belonged to none other than Brom Bones!
His fright and terror were replaced with new emotions at the speed of an advancing legion of demons. Anger and rage filled the mild mannered schoolteacher. He fought the bindings furiously. “What is the meaning of this, Brom Bones?”
The man said nothing as he unclasped his long cloak and draped it across the chair. He tossed the mask aside, too. Ichabod now realized the black mask was how this dastardly man had camouflaged the existence of his head as he chased him through the black night. He must have known Ichabod's wild imagination would allow the shadows to render his cranium invisible and turn that blasted pumpkin on the pommel of the horse into the Hessian’s missing head!
Thoughts raged in Ichabod’s mind like a swarm of molested bees and he tried to gather them up and make sense of them. For everything there was a likely explanation and he could think of only one reason Brom Bones had taken him captive.
“You believe doing this to me will help you win Katrina Van Tassel?” Ichabod cried, his muscles bulging as he strained to break the ropes once more. “Is it not bad enough you have broken into my schoolhouse with your gang and left the place in complete disrepair? Is it not enough that you mock me for being tall and thin? Now you should tie me naked to this bed in order to humiliate me? Is there no honor in you at all?”
Ichabod had worked himself into a hysterical state of agitation and Brom Bones did not seem surprised as he calmly took a seat on the chair. “It is for none of these reasons you speak of that I do this.”
His pulse roared in his ears and he wrestled with the restraints, hating that his nudity was laid bare to his enemy and that he was so utterly helplessness. “Release me!”
“No, not until I have my way.”

You can find me here: Facebook  Twitter Blog goodreads
Buy my’s books at Dreamspinner Press, Decadent Publishing or any reputable eBook seller

Friday, October 3, 2014

Cocktails & Cock Tales with Eva Lefoy

Deanna: Today we have Eva Lefoy at the cyber bar. Eva writes and reads all kinds of romance, and is a certified Trekkie. She’s also terribly addicted to chocolate, tea, and hiking. One of these days, she’ll figure out the meaning of life, quit her job, and go travel the galaxy. Until then, she’s writing down all her dirty thoughts for the sake of future explorers.

What we are Drinking
A very nice Syrah, or perhaps a Merlot, with bubbly water. Yes, I’m afraid I dilute. If you’ve ever drank with people from the British Isles, and more than once, you soon discovered your lips were quite numb at the end of the evening. That is because they drink like fish. Or support enforcement workers, who just might be able to drink an Englishman under the table! Anyway, I learned to dilute and though it is wrong – so wrong! – I have never unlearned the new habit!
But I have to admit that on Saturday and Sunday mornings, I like it best to drink right from the bottle standing in the kitchen naked after a rousing bout of sex!

Deanna: First things first. Where are you and what are you wearing?

Eva: I’m sitting on the couch wearing an old purple tee-shirt and yoga pants.

Deanna: What’s your poison? Vodka? Gin? Beer?

Eva: Is it wet? I’ll take it! But to be honest, straight vodka is not a favourite. I do like gin with cucumber dry soda, that’s a very nice drink. If you’re serving beer, make it Irish Death! *looks longingly at my empty beer bottle and sighs* I guess I’ll have to go get some wine!

Deanna: (((pours them both a round))) Cheers! Now that we’re comfy, tell me about your new book? (((sips on her cocktail)))

Eva: ((swigs from the bottle)) My latest is Dom of Destruction, book III in the Love Hurts series with MLR Press. In this story, the main character acts impulsively and gets himself into a bad situation. Little does he know that the experience will set changes in motion for the man he wants as his Dom.

Deanna: Where did the idea for this story come from?

Eva: ((hiccups)) Books I and II! In book I, Brian was a jerk. In book II, he got his comeuppance! (Well, Gar hung him from the ceiling and showed him how to submit in style, wink wink). But in book III, I decided to give him a bit of newfound happiness – after I really socked it to him, of course! ((evil author cackle))
Deanna: What was the hardest part of writing this story for you?

Eva: ((puts bottle down with a thunk)) Knowing that writing a bad BDSM might make me seem like I’m an anti-BDSMer when I’m not. I don’t believe BDSM is bad when done safely and consensually, it’s just that I know that are bad people out there. Heck, there are bad people in line at the grocery store. You don’t have to go far to find one! Throw a rock and you might hit one. So, what I mean to say is I’m not anti-BDSM at all. I’m anti-bad-people. ((hic))

Deanna: (((pours them another round))) Boy, these things are tasty!! Now, what’s the easiest thing about writing your book?

Eva: The sex LOL. I like guys and two are even better than one IMO. Especially if they’re nekkid. ((brings out the hidden bottle of 14 Hands Merlot – here, try this one!))

Deanna: Are you a plotter or a panster?

Eva: Total pantster. I mean, I know what’s going to happen and how the story ends, but I let things evolve as they go. Sometimes characters surprise me. They don’t fit well on a plotting matrix for me. If I even try to put them on a character sheet, my muse gives me the finger. Seriously! ((guzzles last of the 14 Hands. Yummy!))

Deanna: How long have you been writing?

Eva: Forever! Well, not quite that long. I used to write bad poetry in high school. Later, I worked as a reporter for three years and then started writing more seriously.

Deanna: Do you ever have writers block? On those occasions that I do, I usually have a cocktail … or three…LOL But that’s just me.

Eva: Hey, I like your style. Can I come over to your house and party? Otherwise, if you come over here we’ll end up on a hike. Hiking cures all funks, and so does watching Pirates of the Caribbean twice in a row. Honestly. Try it. It once cured me of a cold! My English friends swear by whiskey, of course. ((digs around for another bottle)) We usually compare wine prices. He buys by the case and so we do!

Deanna: Niiiiice!!! (((holds up a glass))) But lemme finish the Qs before I forget what I was saying LOL Most of my stories have a theme song, do you do that for your characters?? If so what is it?

Eva: Nope. Never. I listen to the Top 40 radio all fucking day at work. I listen to music as I exercise. By the time I get home I’ve had enough music for the day. It’s time for quiet. Shhhh! ((loses balance, tips over))

Deanna: (((catches her))) Hold on there's only a few more questions. Quick, tell us about a scene that you have written then afterwards, when you read it, you shocked yourself? You know I want a dirty answer (((hint hint)))

Eva: LOL I did write one scene that one of my fellow writing friends really liked. It’s about a sexual gladiator and he has three penises…. He’s up on stage and puts two of them into the only orifice where two will fit and the other in the woman’s much smaller one. Let’s just say it’s a crowd pleaser!

Deanna: Whoot! I like the way you think!
Eva: (((laughs))) The other one I really liked was a long, slow bath in a humid jungle. I hope to see that one come true some day. In the meantime, thanks for having me here today! I send you much wine and chocolate for your pantry and hope you have many thirsty visitors!
Dom of Destruction is book III of Love Hurts, but have you read book one? 
Sex, Ties and Videotape tells the story of Geoffrey and Paul and how they got together. I’d be happy to do a giveaway for this site of an ebook copy of book one to celebrate the new release. 

Deanna: A contest? Awesome!

Eva: Yes, leave a comment about what kind of wine you prefer and I’ll enter you into the contest to win Sex, Ties and Videotape. Here’s an excerpt:
The blurb for Sex, Ties and Videotape is:
Geoffrey begged his ex boyfriend, Brian, for some bondage, not public humiliation on YouTube. On Valentine’s Day, he runs into Brian's best friend Paul, who seems intent on righting Brian's wrongs. But trusting Paul means Geoffrey has to come clean with his needs … and his feelings.
Paul sees Geoffrey in the bar and knows this is his chance to convince him he’s nothing like Brian. He starts slow and safe, setting strict ground rules. But when Geoffrey insists on a reenactment of the same dom-play Brian used to hurt him, is a safeword enough to protect their fledgling love?

Super smexy little ‘ol Excerpt:
Geoffrey crossed his arms and didn’t pick it up. The suspicion in his eyes was clearer than a rare Seattle sunny day. “So, what are you saying?”
Good old-fashioned fear of rejection had butterflies flying furiously inside him. Did he tell Geoffrey about his feelings, or would it scare him off? To hell with the insecurity. I’ve waited too long for this moment. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”
From Geoffrey’s shocked expression, he hadn’t ever thought it possible. The new-found knowledge  had Paul’s hands tightening into fists and tears stinging his eyes. I swear I’m killing Brian. He did this to him. I can’t fucking believe it.
“Me? Right. Paul, you’ve known me for how long?”
Good. A math problem. He could do that. “Ten years.”
Geoffrey nodded. “Uh-huh, and in all that time, you never once indicated you wanted to bone me. So what’s changed?”
“Hell, Geoff.” Paul ran his hand over his hair. “What was I supposed to do? You’ve been with Brian the last two years.” Saying it out loud pissed him off anew, so he hurried to the next subject. “Before that, you were with Andrew,” he ticked the names off on his fingers, “before that, Carl, and then some Asian guy, I can’t remember his name…”
Geoffrey’s demeanor softened, his shoulders relaxing. “Myung.”
“Yeah, and then before him there was …well, it doesn’t matter who else. But it’s not like you’ve been available.” He took the opportunity to close some of the space between them. Getting the upper hand in this conversation helped his confidence.
“Neither have you.”
He nodded and took another step. “I know. It’s true. I’ve been with a string of guys, too. So no, I’ve never had the opportunity to tell you how much I’ve wanted you.” Now he stood mere inches from the man he desired. He tried desperately not to drool.

“Why would you want me?”
“How would you know what kind of guy I really want?” Paul placed a hand on Geoffrey’s lower back and tugged him closer. “If it’s unclear, I’d be happy to show you.” When Geoff didn’t resist, he cupped the back of his head and pressed their bodies together. His cock rubbed against Geoffrey’s thigh, and Geoff’s against his. The perfect bliss of the moment had him eager to spill right in his pants, but convincing Geoffrey he was serious came first. He angled Geoffrey’s head and planted greedy lips over his.

Sex, Ties and Videotape is available from:
MLR Press 
All Romance Ebooks

Friday, September 26, 2014

The Morning After

***this blog first appeared Here on Decadent Publishing;s 1Night Stand Blog 8/14/14***
Readers always want to know what happens the day after a 1Night Stand. Well, in my bestselling book, The Best Ever, young Jason Lewis is more than a little happy to wake up in the arms of his high school crush, superstar baseball pitcher Blake Huntington. #surreal  
And Blake is more than happy to set aside his position and play catcher for Jason. #whowouldathunkit?
But these boys know how to switch it up in order to hit a homerun! Their two days in Vegas were filled with stolen moments of pleasure, and nights of exploring newfound delights. #xrated
So does what happens in Vegas stay in Vegas?
Not with these two!
For both Jason and Blake, they have found the love they have been looking for since the first time they met in high school. #dreamcometrue
Upon their return to Michigan, Blake was true to his word and the guys have been busy creating an online scholastic program and app that uses sports analogies to help kids understand math. So far, it is going well and should be live within the month. As you can read in the book, For Me, by Wendy Burke, the story of Jason’s sister, Abby, Jason and Blake are planning on moving in together.
With Blake’s sports career, however, their relationship still needs to remain on the down-low. As far as everyone else is concerned, Jason rents the pool house at Blake’s West Bloomfield home. Blake is working with his publicist and agent on if and when he decides to make their relationship public, but unfortunately that might be some time in the future.
Jason isn’t bothered by their need for discretion nearly as much as Blake, because he has never been one for social situations or public attention. #nothankyou!
It’s plenty awkward for him when Blake gets him box seats or ones behind the dugout, then takes him to functions as his “best friend and business partner.” He’d much rather blend into the crowd and watch his lover from the jumbotron, holding their love close to his heart and not sharing it with anyone. Surrounded by adoring fans and the electricity of the crowd, and knowing that Blake loves him? #thebestever
What lies ahead for these boys is unclear, as a sequel to their story is dancing around in my head, so that’s all the update you will for now. Maybe in the near future, we will hear what is even better than the best ever. #sequel?
The Best Ever—A 1Night Stand Story
Jason Lewis is a self-proclaimed nerdy guy who hates his red hair. Bullied most of his life, at 22 social situations still make him awkward. On a trip to the World Video Game Expo in Las Vegas, Jason decides to enlist the help of Madame Eve in his failed romantic endeavors. While at the con, he runs into sexy, professional baseball pitcher Blake Huntington, the guy he tutored in high school. Blake invites him to a party and after hanging out with his high school crush, Jason begins to regret booking his 1NS "encounter" later that night. But Madame Eve may have planned the best night ever.


Thursday, September 25, 2014

Cocktails & Cock Tales with Amanda Young

Today we have Amanda Young at the cyber bar. Amanda has a vivid imagination and a passion for all the things that go bump in the night. She writes provocative stories that push boundaries and dare readers to expand their comfort zones.

What we are Drinking
Today we're having kinky orgasms. Who doesn't like those, right?
A Kinky Orgasm Recipe
2 cl Bailey's® Irish cream
2 cl amaretto almond liqueur
2 cl Kahlua® coffee liqueur

Pour bailey's, amaretto and kahlua into a highball glass. Fill with milk, add strawberries or vanilla ice-cream if desired, and serve.

Deanna: First things first. Where are you and what are you wearing?

Amanda: Hi Deanna. Thanks so much for chatting with me today. At the moment, I am wearing my sexiest little black pajamas behind the desk in my home office, which is surrounded by books and horror movie paraphernalia. (((kicks her feet up on aforementioned desk)))

Deanna: What’s your poison? Vodka? Gin? Beer?

Amanda: I'm in the mood for some kahlua today, so I chose a sweet treat for our refreshment. They're pretty tasty.

Deanna: (((pours them both a round))) Cheers! Now that we’re comfy, tell me about your new book? (((sips on her cocktail)))
Amanda: (((takes a drink))) Yum. Thanks! My newest release is titled Recession. It's the second book in my Chicken Ranch series, which revolves around the men employed at a gay brothel in rural Virginia.

Deanna: Where did the idea for this story come from?

Amanda: Recession's plot came from a simple round of what if. I was brainstorming reasons for why a man might get involved in prostitution and Garrett's story popped into my head. Garrett was a small town boy working in the construction industry, living from paycheck to paycheck, and doing the best he could to support his younger brother.  When the economy tanked, he lost his job and started turning tricks to make ends meet. From there, the rest of Recession practically wrote itself. 

Deanna: What was the hardest part of writing this story for you?

Amanda: The hardest part of writing Recession was maintaining a good balance of sympathy and revulsion of prostitution for Miller, Garrett's love interest. I wanted him to empathize with Garrett's  financial plight and the lengths Garrett had gone to in order to keep a roof over his brother's head, but, at the same time, I wanted Miller to despise the job itself.

Deanna: (((pours them another round))) Boy, these things are tasty!! Now, what’s the easiest thing about writing your book?

Amanda: Mmm...They are good aren't they? (((takes a big drink))) The easiest parts of Recession to write were the sex scenes. I love writing about the passionate happenings between two people in love.

Deanna: Are you a plotter or a panster?

Amanda: I'm a little of both. I do minor plotting beforehand and then let the characters guide me where they want to go. Sometimes it works well and sometimes it doesn't. The system works best for me. I've found that I get bored when I overly map out a story and there's no mystery left.

Deanna: How long have you been writing?

Amanda: I've been writing for around fifteen years. I didn't start writing with the intent to publish until 2005 though. Submitting that first story was the best decision I ever made.

Deanna: Do you ever have writers block? On those occasions that I do, I usually have a cocktail … or three…LOL But that’s just me.

Amanda: I have definitely had a lack of enthusiasm for writing from time to time, but I've found that it's usually more project related than any kind of block. When I get stuck, really stuck, it's usually time to scrap my work in progress and move on to something else.

Deanna: Most of my stories have a theme song, do you do that for your characters?? If so what is it?

Amanda: Recession didn't really get a soundtrack. I started writing it when my daughter was about six months old and silence was golden.

Deanna: Tell us about a scene that you have written then afterwards, when you read it, you shocked yourself? You know I want a dirty answer (((hint hint)))

Amanda: I wrote my first orgy scene for Recession. I wasn't exactly shocked; that would take quite a lot these days. (((laughs))) It's definitely a scene outside of my usual norm though. How about I share a peek?

Garrett has fallen on tough times. Once a construction worker, he now depends on the desires of others to feed his little brother and keep a roof over their heads. As one of the many rent boys at Chicken Ranch, Garrett lives in constant fear, torn between making enough money to survive and getting busted for doing something illegal and immoral to pay the bills.
Miller is a workaholic with a chip on his shoulder. It isn't until his beloved Grandma passes away that Miller dares to temporarily return home to the town he despises. Once there, he faces a surprise inheritance that causes more problems than solutions and the man he left behind to pursue his dreams.

Their reunion comes with an abundance of complications and old feelings. Bitterness and anger swiftly turn into desire and a rekindled love that threatens more than their hearts. Things take a turn for the worst when Miller provokes a threat to Garrett's custody of his little brother. Having already lost Garrett to familial obligations once, Miller fears they're doomed to repeat the past, only this time Garrett will be the one who'll walk away.

Chicken Ranch: Recession
by Amanda Young

After a short chat about recompense and a fast pass by the cashier’s office, the boring accountant on Garrett’s arm turned into a handsy octopus. Garrett held onto his sense of humor as he was pushed against one wall and then another, licked from sternum to belly button, and groped everywhere the short man could reach. Garrett didn’t feel out of his element until he found himself being dragged toward the back of the house and the VIP room that had been given a quick and dirty remodel earlier that morning. Joining what was sure to be an orgy by now wasn’t something he’d normally participate in, but an assignment was an assignment, and he’d already been paid for his services. There was no backing out. The only thing that kept him moving was the knowledge that he only had to perform for one man. That alone went a long way toward soothing his worries. Private parties or even the occasional threesome was tolerable, but group events gave him the heebie-jeebies. He was not a pincushion and had no interest in numerous cocks poking all his various holes. Sometimes more was not better.
Garrett followed Terry—or was it Jerry?—into the VIP room. Garrett thought he knew what to expect. After all, he’d helped move the three king-size mattresses and box springs into the room and arranged them on plain frames set against the rear wall. He’d seen the matching red sheets go on the mattresses to make it appear as if there was one big-ass bed spanning the length of the room. He’d carried in floor pillows and body pillows in all shapes and sizes and clustered them around low-lying tables topped with erotic party favors and the standard necessities for a long night of excess. What he hadn’t counted on was how different the area would look after so many people crowded inside. His eyes felt as big as saucers as his gaze bounced from one copulating couple to another and another and another. The scene was like something out of a porno, only it was all happening right in front of him. Sweat and sex permeated every inhalation, and someone must have cranked up the thermostat because heat rolled through the room in waves.
Terry groaned, one of his grabby hands rubbing over the crotch of his pleated slacks. “Oh God. This is hot. We have to get naked. You need to fuck me. Like now. Right now.”
“Your wish is my command.” Garrett swallowed an amused laugh, not wanting to offend the man at his side, and took charge of the situation. He scouted the room and spotted a clear section off to one side. “This way.”
He led his client to an unoccupied section of the floor off to the right. He dropped down to his knees on one of the plush, bloodred pillows and set to work removing Terry’s pants. He eased the slacks and the black briefs beneath down firm thighs dusted with nearly colorless blond hair. Terry rid himself of the light blue shirt while Garrett was busy appreciating what he’d uncovered. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the soft flesh under Terry’s cute little outie belly button. The gentle touch earned a shiver, making Garrett wonder just how little this man must have been touched if something so light provoked such a response. Not that it was any of his business really. He was hired to provide a certain service, not to act as an armchair therapist.
Garrett set to work earning his pay. In short order, he had his john naked and crouching on all fours atop a long, wide pillow. He grabbed the lube and condoms off the table and used the slick substance and his fingers to stretch and prepare while his mind roamed. His body was in the game, each move calculated and performed by rote, though he thought about everything from the men fucking around them to the errands he needed to run when he returned home. Only when his john was sufficiently stretched and pushing into every plunge of his fingers did Garrett ease back and get himself ready for action. He grabbed a rubber and suited up. Once he was protected, he slicked his shaft with some extra lube, aimed for the shiny brown starfish winking at him, and slid home with little fanfare.
A guttural moan spilled from the john, and he bucked backward against Garrett. “Oh, fuck yes. Throw it to me. That’s what I need.”
Garrett fought not to roll his eyes. Apparently the staid little accountant liked dirty talk. “Consider it thrown. I’m going to tear your ass up.”
A litany of filth spewed from the john’s mouth as Garrett rammed into him over and over again, giving his client exactly what he wanted. The hot, tight clenching around his shaft and the force of his thrusts would have made him shoot way too soon if he hadn’t already gotten off with a couple of his johns earlier in the night.
As he continued to power into his john, he glanced around him, his gaze moving from one scene to the next. He stopped on the trio on the bed and watched as the couple who were spit roasting Ethan between them leaned in and kissed over his back. A pang of longing shot through Garrett. It wasn’t so much the sex—although that was pretty damn hot—but it was the way the couple stretched to reach each other and kiss as though their happiness depended on it that got to Garrett.
He couldn’t remember the last time someone had reached out to him with that much need. Men came to him to get laid. Before he’d started working at Chicken Ranch, he’d hooked up at the club on the rare occasion he had the night to himself and the energy to bother. There had never been time or money for serious dating. Not that there had been anyone who’d sparked his interest. Not since high school and Miller Jacobs. They might have been young, but they’d had something real for a while. Life had just gotten in the way.
Garrett tightened his grip on his john’s hips and used them as leverage to power forward, repeatedly burying his hard length as roughly as he dared without risking his load. He was hoping to get his client off without having to shoot himself. He didn’t think he had much more in him, and it was too damn early in the night to be out of the game. There was more money and more sex to be had before the night was through. Oh hell, who was he kidding? It was mainly the money he was interested in. Even though he’d only been at this job for a few months, fucking on command was already becoming tedious. It wasn’t that all the men he’d tricked with were hideous. Far from it. Some were attractive enough to make him wonder what the hell they were doing in a whorehouse when they could clearly snap their fingers and get a piece of ass from whomever they wanted for free. However, even if being paid to get naked stroked his confidence in the beginning, the ego boost had faded after being pawed and slobbered all over like a prime side of beef for a few weekends in a row.
Getting off felt damn good—there was no denying that—but an orgasm was cold comfort. His physical needs were met, usually exceeded if truth be told, but his soul was as untouched and barren as the Sahara.
Garrett altered his aim, putting a little more pressure on the upthrust in the hopes of an extra long ping to his partner’s sweet spot. “Like that?”
A ragged groan was the john’s only reply, but it was enough. At least Garrett was doing something right. He kept up the pace and forged ahead, determined to ignore the slick grip around his shaft.
His thoughts turned back to his high school sweetheart. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about Miller in a while, but Garrett sometimes wondered what he was doing now. Was he single? Did he have someone to come home to after a long day? The last he’d heard, Miller was working for some fancy ad agency in Washington, DC. The man’s grandma had bragged about his accomplishments when Garrett had gone over to her place to do a little handyman work earlier in the year. At the time, he’d listened with half an ear, silently begging her to stop talking. Part of him wished he’d asked for more details, while the rest of him felt the information was the emotional equivalent of pouring salt on a slug.
A vivid recollection of the last night he’d spent with Miller before everything blew up in their faces played through Garrett’s mind like a 3-D movie. Without conscious thought, his thrusts picked up speed. He swiveled his hips, grinding his dick into the man beneath him, and squeezed his eyes shut, picturing Miller’s face, those clear blue eyes staring up at him in rapture, and felt a bone-deep ache reverberate inside him.
He reopened his eyes, glanced at the debauchery around him, and then returned his attention to where it belonged—to the man under him, the man who was paying for the pleasure of his company. All thoughts of the past and future would have to be put on hold until his present obligations were met.

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