Ian and David just want to settle into their life, but David's father has tempers flaring and Robbie fans the flames of jealousy just by existing. Happily ever after is a lot harder than it looks.
Just when Ian and David think nothing else can touch them, David's father, Dale, sticks his hand back into studio business. He's not saying why he needs to interfere, and David is livid when Dale assigns street brat Robbie with his pixie good looks and insatiable libido to be Ian's new assistant.
Ian does his best not to rock the boat, but David has a temper, and a jealous side, that take Ian by surprise.
It takes disaster to show them all that life is too short to screw around; a lesson that might come far too late for Ian and David.
Jaime has been writing her stories between men long enough to know better, but not nearly long enough to have told all the tales she has to tell. She splits her time between a day job that pays the bills and her writing that feeds her soul. She's also a mom, with a saint of a husband who keeps the kids fed and clothed and home schooled, and herself on a schedule that keeps her sane. She also reviews stories between men for the Dark Diva Reviews, and Yaoi novels for Kuriousity. The three cats in residence seem to approve of this arrangement enough to warm her toes at night and keep up a supply of mice from the backyard they think the family needs for survival. Who are we to argue?
You can find plenty of free reading as well as links to more published works on her website: www.jaime-samms.net . You can read a bit about her writing process when she remembers to blog at the Fictional World of Jaime Samms, and a bit about what she does in all that non-existent spare time on her live journal: http://dontkickmycane.livejournal.com/
A slow trickle of water, beaded and glistening, rolled down between his shoulder blades as I watched. I shifted to press my lips to the small of his back, ready to lick it away as it descended to meet me. I knew what he'd say even before he said it.
"Give a bloke a break, Davey."
I grinned at the fact I no longer cringed at the nickname. Not when he said it, anyway.
"You don't want to make love to me again, Ian?" I murmured, my lips never quite leaving his skin, because the way he shivered under the goose bumps was delicious. I pried at the top edge of the towel wrapped around his waist until the crisp red outline of a heart appeared, and I kissed the new tattoo. The placement matched exactly that of my shamrock, and had a miniscule green "D.M." at the center, which you had to be very close to see. While tragically romantic, never would he hear from my lips how much that small, completely geeky gesture set my heart thumping and my palms sweating.
He loved me that much.
His hips shifted, and he shivered as I licked at the spot. "Dave."
There's something his body does when he sighs. All the tension just drains down and out, and he turns pliable as putty. Nobody ever gave that to me before. Bloody difficult to not want it any time I could get it. Another light kiss just above the crack of his arse would encourage that much anticipated sigh.
"Work," he muttered, as his body flowed right into my hands.
I glanced up to see him in the mirror, face partially covered in shaving cream and his eyes closed. His razor plopped into the sink and sent a small jet of foamy white water up and back down onto the floor.
"Fuck first," I suggested, expecting him to turn me down.
I maneuvered a hand up under the towel to find him already erect and began to stroke. I took it slow. His bout with Robbie's ex-pimp still made him ache a bit, though the bruises had faded. His ribs bothered him a bit, and no matter how many times he told me not to, I couldn't help getting flaming angry at Robbie Kelly for putting my Ian in jeopardy, no matter if he meant to or not.
His groan lured me back from thoughts of Robbie's foolishness, and I tightened my grip, wanting to hear it again.
"Ah, David. Can't." Regret etched the frown lines around his mouth a little deeper, and he opened his eyes.
Disappointed? Aye. But not surprised. And certainly not dissuaded.
I stood and pulled him back against me so we could both watch in the mirror. The towel fell and my hands roved over his body. I watched his eyes slowly drift closed. My lips near his ear startled him, and he moaned, tilting his head slightly when I whispered in his ear. "Watch me stroke your cock, Ian."
"Fuck. So not fair," he murmured, letting his head drop back onto my shoulder. His chest heaved out into my palm roaming across his nipples.
"All's fair, Ian." I hitched my shoulder up, lifting his head. "Watch."
"What about...oh! Fuck."
His cheeks flushed. I couldn't tell if it embarrassed him, or if lust flushed him like that, but not even half a face of shaving foam could disguise the need in his eyes.
His gaze fixed on my hand working his cock, his hips moved with my strokes, and his arse wiggled until my own cock slipped between his cheeks. His breath caught at the bump of my cock against his entrance.
"Ever been fucked, Ian?"
A long, low moan and all-over body shudder preceded his come splattering the vanity. He didn't waste a moment between coming and shoving me back enough to turn and drop to his knees in front of me. He swiped most of the foam away before wrapping his lips around me.
I groaned myself. The feel of his hot mouth sliding down my cock was relatively new for me. I'd established a pattern a long time ago. My mouth, my arse, and they could like it or lump it. The intimacy of letting anyone suck me off was too much. They paid me to get them off. That's how it worked. But Ian had my initials tattooed practically on his arse. He'd earned the right to break a few rules.
He hummed and took me deeper, almost into his throat.
No, Ian didn't follow rules. Instead, he patted my thighs, encouraging my legs apart a bit, then my cheeks, and his fingers, slippery with shaving foam, found my hole.
Some soap just doesn't belong anywhere near a man's arse-hole. It's a mistake you only make once. Soap was soap. I shied away from his slick fingers.
He popped his mouth off my cock long enough to grin up at me and wipe a bit more foam off his face with his fingers, which he wiggled up at me. "Trust me."
I'd hardly nodded when his fingers slid in, to the accompaniment of the most interesting tingle against my skin.
He slithered his fingers in deep and curled them forward, wrapped his lips around me and swallowed hard. Anything else I might have said got lost in the orgasm rocketing through me. I was still quivering with reaction as he rose, arms going around my waist and long, lean body melding against mine.
"Now," he pecked the tip of my nose, "it's fair."
He laughed, a sound that made me feel on the inside the way he could make my body feel. Sadly, he also turned back to the mirror and picked up the shaving foam.
I stole the bit of white foam left on the side of his neck and rubbed it over his arse. "You didn't answer my question." Maybe it was an underhanded attempt to get my equilibrium back. The way he pushed my boundaries...
Yer too much fer me, Ian McVeigh.
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-60054-537-5
lyd Category: His and His Kisses
Length: 14000 words
Formats Available: pdf, prc, lit, zipped html, lrf, epub,
Cover Price: $3.00