When it comes to emotional entanglements, Hunter Dixon is a runner. Someone would be out the door the minute the ‘LOVE’ word was spoken. ‘Don’t go building a dream castle for the two of us, and don’t go putting me on a pedestal; I’m not that much of a paragon of virtue,’ he would say. A killer in the world of high dollar real estate, his looks and personality keep his bank account full and his bed frequently populated. When he meets billionaire entrepreneur, Beauregard Medar, and his gorgeous limo driver, Patrick, Hunter’s world is turned upside down. Never before has he been the object of a loving male, and he rather enjoys the attention, but the truth is stranger than fiction, or so they say, and Hunter’s truth may prove to be his biggest obstacle.
Thursdays were Hunter’s night at the gym. That was where he met Jimmy, the picture of pure eroticism with short blond hair, blue eyes, unblemished complexion, untied white sneaks, white socks, white chest protector properly fastened to protect the heart area but leaving the young man’s right nipple exposed, and pants and jock on the floor by his feet. Hunter was the only one in the locker room drying off from his after-workout shower when Jimmy entered. “One strange thing about sneakers. They feel so good on the feet when you first put them on and tie them up tight and they feel so good when you sit down and untie them later,” he said as he straddled the bench removing them.
Not one to be rude, Hunter replied, “That’s for sure.”
“Yep, and the same thing can be said for the jock. Feels real good when you first put it on and snug things up. Feels even better to me, though, when I take it off and let things hang loose.”
Hunter again agreed. “You can say that again.” He quickly wrapped the towel around his waist.
Jimmy noticed the effect he was having on Hunter and decided to play the cruising game to the hilt. He picked up his epee and began stroking it. “The one thing about fencing,” he continued, “is you have to be sure your weapon is protected with a good rubber tip. Don’t you agree?”
Hunter said “yes” wondering if this was leading somewhere or just idle bantering.
“Always got to protect the tips of weapons or you could kill someone or have someone kill you unwittingly. Me – I always protect my tip.” He licked his lips. “What about you? You protect your weapon?”
“Always, when I’m using it.”
“How about right now? It looks to me like you want to use it.”
Jimmy was right. Hunter did want to use it, and at the right time he would worship the man in his own erotic way, but for now he was following Jimmy’s lead, even though he was secretly managing his own seduction.
As Hunter sat in his cubicle tweaking sales descriptions for the umpteenth time, the door to the office opened, letting in the muggy August heat. “Anybody here gay,” bellowed a voice from a tall, white-goateed man with a balding head and a walking stick.
“I am,” said Hunter rising from his desk. “My name is Hunter Dixon. How may I help you?”
“You’re man enough to admit it. Glad to see it. No one in any other agency I’ve visited today would openly admit it. My name is Beauregard Medar. My friends call me Beau. You may call me Mr. Medar.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Medar. How can I be of assistance?”
“I need a new home in the area.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Something fashionable, with well-landscaped gardens, fifteen to twenty rooms for overnight business guests and parties, an indoor pool, perhaps a ballroom or a huge dining room, maybe a portico, lots of parking, and under two million.”
“Only one property comes to mind. There’s a circular driveway, a former carriage house with an upstairs apartment, a pond, a stone gazebo, and a barn. The place has eighteen rooms, including a garden room, nearly all glass on three sides, and there are three separate fireplaces for cozy winter nights.”
On the way to the property, Hunter immediately noticed the limo driver. There was something about the man in his uniform that he found alluring. He had no exact idea why. He had made it before with people in uniforms – servicemen, medics, school crossing guards, dollar store clerks, a nurse in the hospital supply closet, and a rent-a-cop. But Patrick in his uniform excited Hunter unlike the others. Patrick looked hot, and Hunter, trying to imagine the two of them together, was coming up with numerous scenarios. He had found that closeted men were often the hottest of bedfellows. They really got into it because it happened so rarely. Scanning Patrick more closely, Hunter detected underneath the taut white shirt a well-muscled chest and abdomen, and biceps that stretched the material to the utmost. It was so form-fitting that he could see through the material that the main vein in each upper arm was popped. That vein, for some unknown reason, was a major turn-on for Hunter. He was willing to bet that Patrick had grown up on a farm doing chores.
“The Epiphany of Hunter Dixon”, an erotic romance novel by Duncan More, is available from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, Google, All Romance ebooks, Kobo, Apple, and Coffeetime Romance. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
Young and idealistic, Jon and Dave meet by chance, their friendship growing stronger and leading them to a place neither has been before. Though theirs is a love forbidden, which few understand, they journey across the country together and settle in San Francisco, where they are finally free to be together as they were meant to be. When life takes an unexpected turn, however, the two young lovers are torn apart by a secret which, if unveiled, threatens to bring great shame to the family of one determined to keep them on the straight and narrow.
We were lying in bed, deep beneath the blankets, cuddling and watching the secondhand TV with the bent rabbit ears we had rescued from the trash.
He kissed me deeply and passionately as we held each other tightly.
We were a part of each other. Somewhere along the way we had become one.
“Have you ever felt this way before?” I asked.
“No. I’ve been in love before, but never like this.”
“Me either,” I said.
“Not even with Karen?” he asked.
“No, never like this. This is different.”
He lay there next to me, staring into my eyes. We fell asleep in each other’s arms. They were the happiest days of my life, being so young and alive and free, and helplessly in love with Jon.
“I hear there are a lot of weirdoes in San Francisco. That’s where your apartment was, right?”
“Right off of Haight, near Ashbury. That’s where all the hippies used to hang out,” he chuckled.
“Aren’t there a lot of, you know, queers there too?”
Jon became uneasy, “I suppose.”
“Jon, just what are you two doing?”
“What do you mean, Mrs. Sharp?” The uneasiness was turning to dread.
“C’mon Jon, I saw you two in the van.”
“We were just playing around.”
“Kissing each other? Is that what you call playing around?” she continued. “Is that what you did all summer?” she said beginning to cry, “You were…like that? Is that what you want, everyone calling you a queer, a faggot?”
“It’s not like that, Mrs. Sharp…we love each other.”
“You can’t love each other like that, Jon. It’s sick. You’ll both burn in hell. You know his father will disown him. It will kill him to think he has a son like that. It will destroy both of you, and it will ruin your lives forever.” She continued, “If you really love him Jon, you won’t do this. You can still be friends, just not like that.”
“But I don’t have anyone left. I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“The Cove”, a romance novel by D.T. Peterson, is available from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, All Romance, Kobo, Google, Apple, and Coffeetime Romance. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
NASTIES – it gives the hint of something horrible and yet they really are something quite beautiful. At the same time, the inverse is just as real. What is quite beautiful can end up being horrible.
The death of a parent is hard on the soul, but it is an expected grief. The death of a child is ten times harder. The ashes I carried were the child to whom I gave the gift of life. Mature children should bury old parents and not the reverse. It goes against the laws of natural order. It makes no difference whether the child is two months old or thirty-four years. The pain and sorrow that burden my spirit are unfathomable, and having buried four parents and two children, I know there is no comparison on the depth of sorrow. My thoughts on the ride home from the cemetery dealt mainly with whether I should have known it would happen. What could I have done differently that would have changed this outcome? In my mind, I traced his entire life or at least the part where I was most involved with it.
Blaise always identified more strongly with males from as early as he could recall. His teen idols were the singers Fabian, Dion, Frankie Avalon, and Paul Anka. Connie Francis did nothing for him. Neither did Annette, even when she was a Mouseketeer. As a child, the only Mouseketeers that drew his attention were Bobby and Tommy.
In college, Blaise was assigned to off-campus housing with two other guys. Each had his own bedroom, and pretty much went their separate ways. Blaise’s way was finding and making friends with the swishiest guys he could find and getting them into bed. That was how he met Doug. He was as well built as Blaise, pretty straight acting, with a chest covered in sand-colored hair that Blaise loved to caress. It didn’t take long for some of the guys to figure out that they were more than roommates, though, and the hassling began, but this time Blaise fought back. Judo classes paid off and the warning went out not to mess with him, at least not one on one. Of course, there were religious student groups that were anti-homosexual and they had rallies and posted signs on bulletin boards advising that homosexuals should be shunned by God-fearing souls.
Doug and Blaise were together for over four years, and then Blaise came home early one day and there was Doug, in bed with a blond beach bum-type hitchhiker. Well, that blond was dressed and out the door in under five minutes, and Doug was out the next day. You don’t tug on Superman’s cape, you don’t spit into the wind, and you don’t pull Blaise’s chain. After the breakup, Blaise learned that Doug had cheated on him from day two and deceived him about his fidelity from day three. He was a regular denizen of adult bookstores and the bus terminal men’s room. If there was a tearoom within twenty-five miles, he knew about it from personal visits. The only thing amazing about the relationship was that he never contracted or gave Blaise a sexual disease.
It was evident that Blaise was not destined to be single. In a span of a few years, Scotty, then Marty, then Damian, and then Dan became a part of the family get-togethers. We liked all of them except Marty. He seemed to be a domineering personality, and we were rather relieved when the two of them split up. With Damian, both men seemed happy. They were even planning to build a house together. It probably would have been a lasting relationship if Damian’s job had not transferred him to the West Coast.
But life goes on, and Blaise met Dan Stone, a fellow teacher. Dan appeared the first day dressed to do the dirty work of arranging the room, lugging textbooks from storage, and creating initial day bulletin boards. He was wearing filthy Reeboks, old faded blue jeans and a sweatshirt, and he had no wedding band, not that Blaise checked for that on every male he met – only the hot ones.
From the moment they met, Blaise was truly happy again. The two educators enjoyed going to art galleries, theatre, and concerts together. When Blaise directed the high school play, Dan pitched in building the set and helping with the specialized make-up. They were a team, a true partnership in everything, total cooperation and commitment to each other.
It was just after the beginning of the following year when Dan began to complain about severe headaches and that he was getting tired easily. That was the beginning of something no one expected.
“Life Among the Nasties”, a heartfelt story of love, bullying and forgiveness, by Duncan More, is available from Apple, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Google, All Romance ebooks, Kobo, and Coffeetime Romance.
With green eyes peering out from beneath brunette hair, muscular arms from hours in the swimming pool, broad powerful shoulders, a well-defined muscled chest tapering to a narrow waist accentuated by ribbed abdominal muscles, and long powerful thighs, Kerry has the good looks and body to attract any man or woman. Hanging out in the hot San Diego sun one day, it isn’t long before a man offers him a ride to the beach, and his life is changed forever.
It was almost 9:00 when they arrived at John’s apartment. The setting sun and the brilliant red sky were being completely engulfed in darkness as they mounted the staircase that led down the outside walkway to Apartment 3C. John unlocked the door and motioned Kerry inside.
Kerry’s eyes quickly wandered over everything. It was a spacious apartment, spartanly decorated. The living room had a two-piece sectional sofa with a glass-topped coffee table in front of it, a 25-gallon fish tank and a La-Z Boy recliner in the far corner, and topping it off were a few pictures of an erotic nature hung on the walls. Off to the left was a small walk-in kitchen with an eating island and three stools thrusting out in the center like a phallic symbol.
A small doorway led to what obviously was the bathroom, and straight ahead was the bedroom. Matching drab brown curtains covered the windows, and the place reeked of simple unadorned masculinity. No frills, no quasi-artistic decorations, just the basics.
“Planning on staying the night?” asked John.
“If you’ll have me.”
“I think that can be arranged.”
Kerry suddenly realized that he knew very little about John. “I don’t mean to be nosy or anything, but I don’t know very much about you. What do you do?”
“I own a small company that does remodeling and home repairs. Keeps me pretty busy year round, but every so often I take a mental health day. Today was one of those days. I’ve lived here for the last two years since I split up with a lover. I hate the gay bar scene, and I prefer to do what I want to do. Is there anything else you would like to know?”
“You got anything to drink?”
“There’s Coke in the refrigerator. Help yourself. Glasses are in the cupboard to the right.”
John walked into the bedroom, stripped off his tank top and threw it into the corner. He turned on the stereo and sat down on the bed to untie his sneakers when Kerry came into the room.
Kerry set the drinks down on the nightstand and awkwardly sat down on the bed. He was unaccustomed to having sex in a bed. He was used to automobile backseats and unlit grassy spots. Beds were foreign. He was even more shocked to discover that he was seated on a waterbed as a wave swayed his body. He had never been on one before and he liked the feeling of it.
John dimmed the lights in the bedroom and crossed around to the other side of the bed. “Don’t worry. As I said, I promise to make this last all night.”
“Lucky Strokes”, a new erotic romance novel by Duncan More, is available from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, All Romance ebooks, Kobo ebooks, and the Apple iBookstores. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
Following an over-the-top all gay tour of Europe, Paul settles into his career where he is given free rein to turn rundown properties into gold mines. Thinking outside of the box, he deviates from the norm a little and transforms a desolate place far from the beaten path into a gay resort. With a staff that includes two French hustlers he met in Rome, a blond haired blue eyed Nordic god as a bartender who knows all the right moves, as well as additional staff ready to serve in any capacity, a website where reservations are made at the simple click of a pine tree icon, not to mention the all important lover that Paul met in Europe, NEVADA PINES is born. The premier resort for a romantic weekend, a brief getaway for a night to enjoy the amenities, a discreet hook-up, or a menage with many possibilities, but always classy, NEVADA PINES welcomes you!!
I was approached by two men who asked if I would be so kind as to take their picture. They were both very good looking and while neither would ever be considered as a model for the cover of a physical fitness magazine, they had the most penetrating brown eyes and the longest eyelashes I had ever noticed. When I agreed, they handed me a camera and wrapped their arms around each other’s waist. I snapped but the flash didn’t fire. They quickly fixed the problem and resumed their pose. This time everything worked perfectly. We chatted briefly and I told them I was from California and here having a good time before starting work.
Evidently the term “having a good time” triggered something because they asked if they could be part of a good time.
“What do you mean?” I naively asked.
“Un ménage a trios,” said the one. I checked them out for a few minutes and felt that I would be totally safe, as I was much stronger than they, but I decided against it. Then I saw them pull the same camera routine on three other guys with no success. They were quite good at hustling. It was a unique ploy. As I sat there sipping my coffee, I got to thinking how erotic it would be having two guys at the same time.
Mustering up the rest of my forgotten French, I hollered, “Garcon, ici!”
They ignored me at first, until I pulled out my wallet. They sauntered over slowly, knowing the fish was on their hook. “Hotel Central,” I said.
“Wow” said the quiet one.
When we got to the hotel room, they wasted no time shedding their clothes, and then they began to undress me. It was like a synchronized water ballet the way they moved. When we were done and showered, and the finances taken care of, Philippe seemed eager to depart, but the quiet one refused to get dressed. He flopped back on the bed. “I want more,” Pierre responded in English for my benefit. I obliged. Philippe stood watching for a few minutes and then he came over, climbed on the bed and simply said, “No charge this time.”
Wednesday was the day. Bill was coming. I put clean sheets on the bed, knowing full well they would be destroyed by the next morning. I tidied up everything. I dusted, I vacuumed, I washed, I wiped, I scrubbed. And then it was off to the airport. We were at the terminal by 7:00 p.m. with an hour to wait, which turned into two hours since the plane was held up in Salt Lake City by a severe thunderstorm. I knew the travel gods were teasing me on purpose, increasing my frustration at waiting to see my beloved. But finally there he was – live and in person. I couldn’t wait to get my arms around him in a hug. Right there in the airport, he planted the biggest kiss he could on my lips, and it felt wonderful.
Bill might have been exhausted from eighteen hours of air travel, but he never showed it for a moment. He was as hot for me as I was for him. Barely was the hotel room door closed and a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging on the outside doorknob before the buttons on my shirt went flying across the room as he literally ripped my shirt open. It was pure animal lust between the two of us.
“Nevada Pines”, a new erotic romance novel by Duncan More, is available from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, All Romance ebooks, Kobo ebooks, and the Apple iBookstores. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
I love her, but I also love him.
She’s everything to me.
He sets my world on fire.
It’s our dirty little secret, and it’s about to blow our record deal sky high.
I’m Tommy Blade, the Prince of Punk Rock, and this is our story.
Warning: This book is for mature audiences only.
Tommy Blade is a man with a secret. It’s a secret he only shares with one person, Jessi Blade – and the men he surrenders to in the bedroom. Jessi’s only condition to their tumultuous sex life is that the men are one night stands. But when Angel Garcia enters their life, it’s like a match to gasoline.
Mega-talented punk rock singer Angel Garcia, with his smoldering ebony eyes, tight leather pants and unstoppable stage presence, is a man who is used to getting what he wants. He has his eyes set on Tommy Blade as his new lead guitarist, and as his life partner.
Jessi Blade, sympathetic to her husband’s bisexual needs, loves him enough to share him, but she never counted on Angel Garcia to test the threshold of her marriage. He makes her life hell . . . and heaven. He’s her damnation and her salvation. She wants to hate him. She wants to despise him. But his charm and raw sex appeal are impossible to resist. Without warning, she finds herself falling in love with her husband’s gay lover.
At the height of it all, their punk rock band catapults to stardom.
Their lives are marred by secrecy, deception and sacrifice. Feelings of betrayal, backlash from the sensationalistic media and threats of blackmail send them down a hard road filled with tough decisions.
They aren’t your ordinary rock stars. They’re radical rock stars. And they have a big story to tell.
The faces changed since the last time he was there, but the intention was still the same. It wasn’t a place to socialize or partake in camaraderie or drop in for a drink on your way home. It was a meeting place for men interested in casual sex. The back room served as a shanty for a quick encounter. You could stop in, get your rocks off and be on your way in half an hour. It was a smorgasbord of testosterone, a buffet of muscle and beefcake.
Men flocked around him as soon as he walked through the door. They always did. A guy once told him that it was the mixture of his rugged jaw and strong upper body, offset by the innocence of his big blue eyes that made him so attractive. The ladies always said it was his long blond hair and the guitar.
“The Prince of Punk Rock”, by Jenna Galicki, is available in the Apple iBookstores, from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, All Romance ebooks, Kobo ebooks, Google Books, and Coffeetime Romance. Also available in print. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
ASSIGNED TO KILL HIM; UNABLE TO RESIST HIM.
I still remember the day the world ended. The newspapers said the same thing. It’s remarkable how many times you hear something before it becomes completely indistinguishable from the truth. ‘The New England town of Tetra, New Hampshire and the Southern California city of Winchester Falls have been decimated due to a viral outbreak of an unidentified protean compound by a clandestine Thanatos terrorist cell known only as ‘The Agency’.’
I had come to Tetra in search of a man named Aristotle Lauder who may have been connected to the Winchester incident. It turns out I was wrong. Having been betrayed by the only man I thought I could trust, I managed to escape the horror.
No one could have imagined the series of events that would follow that horrible night.
Recent terrorist incidents are rumored to be the work of a clandestine group, and a human woman by the name of Eloise Huntington is trying desperately to learn the truth about them – the Thanatos.
A dark conspiracy begins this gripping novel as a powerful computer virus is uploaded to the GRID, the hub of the world’s electronic communications networks, virtually decimating communication across the globe. As the race begins to combat the powerful forces that conspired to bring human civilization to a standstill, Aristotle discovers a secret link to his past in the form of Byron Appleyard, who has been assigned to assassinate him. Falling for the enemy was not supposed to happen.
Isa Delcarmen walked out of the helicopter cabin into the dark stormy night, the cold air whipping at her narrow cheekbones. Behind her, Matthew Christopher was silent as he removed the seat-belt choked around his slim waist. It was almost dark here. The city below was bustling under an ocean of neon advertisements and shimmering street lights. Sports cars raced through the winding streets, their shrill honking only a quiet gasp all the way atop the towering skyscraper.
Three armed guards flanked them as the two visitors walked to the white door near the edge of the helipad. One of them shook Isa’s cool hand. She noticed he was shivering. It had been raining all day here, she heard the chopper pilot mumble. The scientists in front of them nervously typed in a code on a silver keypad to the right of the metallic door. A light on the panel turned green and the group was let inside, one at a time, as the door made an electronic whirring noise. Isa held her breath as the armed guard walked in front of her down the steps inside.
Matthew was silent behind her. His intense gaze peered around the bright white sterile walls of the corridor. He paid attention to everything, noting every detail, every crevice, and every scratch in the otherwise immaculate wall. He had on his fancy brand of aftershave–one that Isa had enjoyed for the duration of the flight despite its arguable toxicity and the even more dubious intention behind it. The smell had filled the tiny helicopter cabin. The morose man had been quiet though for almost the entire flight, which made her anxious. His variable unpredictability was a liability, and nothing could go wrong now. Nothing at all.
Aristotle was sitting erect in a chair as Byron walked in not five minutes after him. It was dark in the room. Byron didn’t make any noise. He watched Aristotle carefully. His feet were still on the hardwood floor beneath him. Dust gently blew across the creaking floorboards as he walked inside.
“Did you know me before?” Aristotle asked.
Byron was silent.
Aristotle continued in a wavering, drunk voice, “You knew who I was. I’ve seen you before. I’ve dreamed about you.” Aristotle spoke as he was putting the pieces together. His eyes flashed excitedly. “You knew I was one of them. You are too.” There were empty whiskey bottles at his feet. He walked over and leaned in to kiss Byron. Byron pushed him away.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Aristotle,” Byron murmured quietly.
“You’re-you’re a liar. You’ve known who I was since last year. You’ve been following me, stalking me!” Aristotle shouted. He stood up and walked towards Byron in the dark. The floorboards creaked below him. Dust kicked up below him. Byron’s features were illuminated by the new angle of the light. They were different somehow, twisted by some unseen malign presence in the room. “You did this to me,” Aristotle barked as he grabbed Byron’s face. His eyes were glowing. They were yellow like a reptile’s.
Aristotle stood over him and sneered at him. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. “Why am I like this? Why is this happening to me?”
“What?” Byron asked weakly.
“Becoming this! Becoming this–this thing!” he roared.
“Aristotle: FORTUNE”, science fiction by J.J. Dunford, is available from Apple, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, Google Play, All Romance ebooks, Kobo ebooks, and Coffeetime Romance. Also available in print. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
When the feared locomotive arrives in the small town, Jet waits at the rundown station to discover the truth about the old iron horse that has long been feared by the townspeople. Coming face to face with a mysterious man dressed all in black, he has a barrage of questions for the lone rider. The quick tempered man is somewhat amused by Jet’s juvenile inquiries but the inquisition does not deter him from his secret mission. Jet’s name is not on the list, but the man in black decides that he will be an amusing distraction. With a little coercion, a friendly dare, and the offer of a train ride to a place he will never forget, the sexy man lures Jet inside.
“So, it’s true. There really is a mystery man aboard this old thing. What’s your name…Jesse James?”
The taunting tone in the young man’s voice caused a familiar stir in the rider’s gut. “No, sir,” he answered. The manner in which the young man stepped back when the rider extended his hand caused a smirk to form on the rider’s lips. He was a fine young man with dark hair and dark eyes. He was fairly tall and well proportioned…not too skinny. The lone rider liked that in a man. He took his time studying the daring young man. He was young enough not to have known many of the pleasures that a man could give him, but he was too bold and cocky for his own good. This was one horse that would need to be broken.
A teasing smile was formed by the thick lips of the young man as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He stood facing the train’s traveler with his hands on his hips and announced proudly, “The name is Jackson, but my friends call me Jet.”
The pride evident in his proclamation made the dark mysterious man laugh, a deep throaty laugh that was clearly meant to be mocking in its tone. “Well, Jet, why are you here?”
“Curious, I guess. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about?”
“Yes, fuss. You should see this little town when this old piece of tin whines and moans its way along the tracks.” He kicked his foot out in a pretend kick to the old train to make his point. “Everyone is so scared of it. They stop in their tracks as if they were struck by lightning. It’s insane.”
The mysterious man rubbed his chin. “Is it?”
The darkly dressed man challenged the younger man. “Well, how about a ride on this old, what did you call it, piece of tin?”
Jet looked down at his feet, rolling the toe of his boot on the cement floor of the station. He couldn’t chicken out now, and the man was mysteriously sexy. He looked up and the dark eyes seemed almost black now as they peered into his own. “Sure, I’ll go.”
It was dark inside the old locomotive. The windows were blackened and Jet could not see a thing. “Make yourself at home. It’s going to be a long ride.”
Photographs of handsome men and beautiful women dressed in formal attire were mounted on the walls along with photographs of Dakta. The photos of Dakta were breathtaking and they captured the man perfectly in everything from formal dress to completely nude. Some of them showed a great deal of discretion, but others detailed everything. Arousal showed in every part of him. The dark brooding eyes were mesmerizing, but it was the body that was a work of art. Dakta’s chest was broad and thick, tapering down to a well toned torso, nearly perfect, as if sculpted. The long legs made Jet’s mouth water as he thought of them intertwined with his own. He returned to the eyes, the intensity so great they appeared to be seeing into him from the photograph.
“Do you own this place?”
“No. This ‘place’ belongs to Miles.”
“Pretty Boy Hunting”, erotic romance by B.J. Scott, is available in the Apple iBookstores, from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, Sony Reader Store, Google Play, All Romance ebooks, and Kobo ebooks. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
Daniel is young, confident, gay, and fascinated by the wolf, feeling that the animal is a reflection of himself. After losing his boyfriend, the alpha in their relationship, he craves a new alpha and finds Patrick, a handsome thirty year old, at club Trade. When Daniel begins working at the club, he meets a flirtatious blond who introduces him to his world, the unfamiliar world of the furry. Bringing Chad into his relationship with Patrick, Daniel carefully navigates the intricacies of an ongoing threesome while delving deeper into a world he fears, yet feels that he belongs.
Daniel looked into the mirror and liked what he saw: the short hair and angular all-American face as his lean muscles dripped water from the hot shower. The mirror never lied, and that night it told him by reflection that he was hot. Absently, he ran a finger across his smile to feel the teeth below it and stopped at a canine. Playfully, he growled at his image and ran the same hand down his lanky body. He brought his gaze back up to his dark short hair and dark eyes: an animal’s eyes. He wondered if he could have been a wolf in another life and he smiled at the idea of having run naked in the primordial woods. “This time will be different,” Daniel exhaled. He shut out the image of Dean before it overwhelmed him: handsome and blond, dominant and strong, leaving him here all alone for a ship at sea. A cool smile spread across Daniel’s lips. “I will find me a new Alpha.”
The man was a little taller than his own six feet, a little older by about ten years, and Daniel was caught by the man’s brown appraising eyes, barely visible from the long bangs parted to the side.
Intense desire emanated from the man. “What’s your name?”
“Daniel,” Daniel bit his lip, “and yours?”
Daniel curled his lip in an unconscious manner. “What are we doing after this?”
In pure confidence, Patrick moved closer. Daniel felt intimidated and he liked it.
“Taking you home.”
Patrick’s loft was a conversion of two separate apartments, neatly arranged and antiseptic. Daniel, regardless of his initial discomfort, strutted in and eyed the furniture, aware that he was being watched.
“Do I make you nervous?”
“Nah, I’m just…”
“Thinking about your boyfriend?”
Daniel laughed, “No. He went off and left me; not for somebody else, but for the Navy.”
Patrick’s eyes hardened, curious to figure out the guy he had picked up. “Are you really cool with this?”
“You’re the Alpha, you tell me.” Daniel stepped closer and felt the body heat pass between them.
“Alpha,” Patrick was perplexed.
Daniel continued, “I’ve always been fascinated by the wolf pack.”
“I can be your Alpha.”
Images of running naked through the night woods filled Daniel’s excited head. He wanted to say more but could not find the words. “I’m fine with that. I can be a good Beta.”
Dean had returned and was his alpha once again. His apartment was rigid and clean, Navy-neat in efficiency. Daniel cooked, cleaned, and serviced his man in every way possible. Nothing mattered except for his sailor. In a short time, Daniel had lost his connection to his wild side and was completely domesticated. All of his belongings had been left behind in a whim when he walked out on his old life. Nothing he used was his, from the game he played to the clothes he wore. He felt that he too was property of his alpha, and the idea comforted him. Dean had tamed him and he gladly took his place as a beta and settled into an isolated routine. Daniel briefly glanced at his blond master, catching his blue green eyes. They were so like the ocean and just as hypnotic with their pull. The one thing that haunted him was that the animals were still in his head waiting in the dark for the right moment to pounce.
Out of the blue, Dean said he had to go back out to sea, back to the boat where the Navy called him to service. The talk with Patrick on the phone shortly after had been terse. But with the change of events, it was Daniel’s only real option. So he had to tuck his tail between his legs and beg for a place to stay.
“The Trouble With Furries”, gay erotic romance menage by David Sharp, is available in the Apple iBookstores, Amazon, B&N, Sony, Kobo, Bookstrand, All Romance ebooks, and Coffeetime Romance. Available in print from Amazon and B&N. For the iBookstore U.S. link, click on the Cover Above. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
Fletcher Jones can chirp like a bird, grunt like a monkey, sing in nearly every key, and disguise his voice to sound like a woman, but he isn’t dangerous as so many believe. He’s a circus performer who lured a couple of hot studs into his trailer one night. When the men’s wives caught them in the act, they made sure that Fletcher was sent to the infamous Manninger Institute. When he escapes, the quirky carnie eludes the authorities with his many ploys, until the institute’s founder stumbles upon clues as to his whereabouts.
Well hidden by rows upon rows of massive trees stood a residence grand in scale, surrounded by lush green grass, and boasted every amenity any gay man could ever desire. No dress code restricted freedom of spirit, no menu subdued the most delicate of palates, and well, pretty much anything went. There were wedding ceremonies, coming out parties, masquerade balls, and an S&M club for the more adventurous types.
Dr. Mann reclined by the side of the pool and rubbed oil on his body that was not at all in bad shape for a middle aged man. He had inherited his tall lean build from generations of Mann men and the bronze color of his skin had taken years to achieve. He was well aware of the dangers of tanning and skin cancer, but looking good was important to him. Everyone knew that when Dr. Mann presented himself in this manner, with nothing on but his shorts that he wore high up his thighs, the doctor was waiting for someone and no man could resist the doctor. It was an unspoken rule that whoever noticed the doctor first was rewarded with the honor, but on occasion two men would be unable to determine who had been the first to have witnessed the doctor’s arrival, and on those occasions Dr. Mann received the royal treatment.
As he did every day, today Dr. Mann searched the web for some mention of a wayward carnie or a note of strange happenings at a traveling circus. Ah Fletcher, where art thee? The good doctor had nearly given up when he noticed a photograph of a man who had been caught urinating in a park. It had been late at night and ordinarily it wouldn’t have gotten the attention of anyone, but as luck would have it a policeman had caught the poor man in the act. A brief reprimand was all that he had planned until he noticed something very peculiar. After the man had finished, he turned to the officer and smiled. The bright red lipstick was the first clue that something was not quite right, the second clue was that the officer had not seen anything being ‘tucked away’, but the real kicker was the man’s voice. It was high pitched, feminine, and as sweet as a slice of pecan pie. “Excuse me,” the officer said. “Yessiree, officer. How can I help you?” The officer wanted to ask if he was truly a he, or if he was a she, but he was too stunned by the man’s appearance. The man smiled sweetly and turned on the charm, twirling his long hair with his fingers. The officer was certain that the man, or woman, was in need of psychiatric treatment, so he politely offered him a ride to the hospital.
“Renegade”, erotic fiction by B.J. Scott, is available from the Apple iBookstores, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, Sony, Google Play, All Romance ebooks, and Kobo. For the iBookstore U.S. link, click on the Cover Above. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.