Category Archives: writing
Hey, y’all! So for those of you who aren’t on Facebook or who missed the takeover Santino Hassell and I were part of yesterday, we wanted to share some info about the project we unveiled there! We recently started co-writing the first book of a planned erotic romance trilogy. The title is BISHOP’S MOVE, and if you want a sneak peek at the blurb and an excerpt from the first chapter, read on! 😉
(Note: the blurb and excerpt are unedited and subject to possible changes during revisions.)
BISHOP’S MOVE BLURB
In near-future Chicago, virtual reality is an escape from the grit and grime of everyday life.
Lucky Amonte will be paying off his VR gaming system forever, but it’s worth it to experience his dirtiest fantasies with anonymous strangers in the Drift. After work and in the game, he’s LuckyStrike—the androgynous, chubby fashionisto who fiercely rocks big hoop earrings and flashy ensembles. He also craves rough sex, a little humiliation and dominance, and he’s finally found the perfect virtual partner in sexy, mysterious Bishop.
Jamie Bishop spent most of his twenties incarcerated for protecting someone he loved. Now he’s stuck in a thankless job delivering pizzas and passing coded messages for his shady boss. Life isn’t kind to ex-felons, but in the Drift, he’s simply Bishop. Clean-cut and average. No prison tats. No brawny, intimidating physique. And there, he has Lucky, whose desires align perfectly with his own.
When their fantasy and real lives collide, Bishop is forced to decide—either play it safe and keep a low profile or make a move and find out whether their virtual chemistry is more than just a game. But drawing Lucky into his world could put both their lives on the line.
Trigger warnings: This book contains some breath control play and a scene portraying characters who consensually act out a fantasy of a nonconsensual situation.
Sliding into the Drift always felt like an electric shock—a sharp, sudden spark that left every nerve alight and every fine body hair briefly standing on end. By now, I expected the familiar, rough shiver and the accompanying mental rubber-band-snap of my brain and body syncing with the Virtual Drift gaming system.
I didn’t so much choose my avatar as sank into it, my mind absorbed into the entity I played within the game. When I Drifted, I literally became LuckyStrike. I saw, heard, felt, and spoke through my avatar. A sensory experience unlike any virtual reality system I’d ever used before, and so far, I was completely addicted.
Logging into Novo Society took only a slight motion of my glove-covered hand. In a blink, the real world vanished and I stood in the small studio apartment I’d purchased using in-game credits.
To call the place spartan was being generous, but I didn’t play the game for fancy digs. I used the system mainly for social interaction and sex, with the occasional first-person shooter thrown in. Tonight, as every Friday for the past two months, had been reserved for me and Bishop. Our requirements were simple: four walls and a lockable door. Anything else I needed, Bishop gave me. With just the right amount of roughness.
Goddamn, I needed him tonight. It’d taken every ounce of willpower not to sign into the game until a couple of minutes before our usual six p.m. meeting time. I knew myself. Knew logging in early would only increase my frustration. Even expecting Bishop’s knock at any second, I stalked the perimeter of my virtual studio like a caged animal, shaking out my limbs, the bangles at my wrists jangling with the agitated movements. Restless energy flowed over my skin, humming like power lines. It had been a bad week—the worst week—and now, with the promise of release so near, my anxiety threatened to shake me apart.
Half an hour passed.
Fuck fuck fuck.
Where was he?
I hadn’t needed Bishop this badly since the very first time. Eight weeks ago, I’d been so desperate, starved for someone to take control and use me like I needed to be used. I’d been wasting time playing with wannabe Doms, and then Bishop walked into The Forum. I brought him to this apartment, and he put me on my knees. And it was perfect.
So perfect I probably thought about it too much, and yet I knew tonight I’d be asking him if we could discuss our arrangement, find another gap somewhere in both our schedules. Some way to make this more than just a once-weekly thing.
I had no idea what Bishop did with his time outside of the game. We didn’t talk about those things. Ever. When we were together, I saved my breath for begging. And Bishop, he liked to hear me beg. But now that I’d had a taste of the sweet, heady relief only Bishop could provide, it was getting harder and harder to endure the seven-day stretches without him.
Surely he could find a way to free up another evening. He had to crave this as much as I did. He had to. Our virtual chemistry was far too intense to be one-sided.
I stopped in the middle of the room, the bangles clinking into place as I dropped my arms to my sides. Chandelier earrings hung from my lobes, and I felt them swaying and tinkling lightly in the wake of my abrupt stillness.
I liked the soft sound. I liked the way they made me feel. And here in the game, I could wear them. I didn’t have to be the buttoned up version of Lucky. The one who spent anywhere from forty to sixty hours a week in a thankless IT job where I felt like my soul was slowly being crushed beneath a white-collar facade and the weight of other people’s expectations.
LuckyStrike might have wild, lavender hair, pointed elf ears, and creeping vine and ivy tattoos, but other than those minor alterations, he was me in all my fierce, fat, thick-thighed glory. I was him. And Bishop accepted all of it. The makeup and nail polish, the jewelry, the mishmash of clothing styles.
I needed that. To be accepted for me, even if it was a slightly fanciful version of myself. I didn’t exactly lack for confidence, but I spent so much time maintaining a charade and wearing a stifling, colorless disguise. Just another cog in the big corporate machine being forced to blend, blend, blend. I only got to be the real Lucky after business hours, and only a handful of people knew that Lucky—including Bishop.
I needed him. Tonight more than ever. So where the hell was he?
And here’s a little peek at our fierce and fabulous Lucky inspiration. 😉
And Bishop’s awesome inspiration.
Hi, all! For anyone wondering, this is my list of upcoming releases and works-in-progress. All dates are tentative/subject to change, but this is how things stand right now. 😀
October 2017 – OFF THE ICE (Hat Trick #1) – with Avon Gale – Riptide – Contemporary romance. Sports. Age gap. Earnest Midwestern hockey player meets grumpy Puerto Rican sociology professor with a dash of kink.
May 2018 – GOALIE INTERFERENCE (Hat Trick #2) – with Avon Gale – Riptide – Contemporary romance. Sports. Rivals to lovers. Bisexual character. Interracial relationship. D/s elements. POC characters. Two ice hockey goalies competing for the starting slot on the same team. Tempers flare and things get hot. 😉
August 2018 – NECESSARY ART (Art & Soul #2) – with Avon Gale – Riptide – Contemporary romance. Graffiti artist/skater. Lawyer-turned-sculptor-turned-non-profit-organizer. Age gap. Opposites attract. Demisexual character.
November 2018 – TRADE DEADLINE (Hat Trick #3) – with Avon Gale – Riptide – Contemporary romance. Sports. Friends to lovers. Sweet and sexy. Bisexual character. A veteran hockey player is traded to his hometown team and reunites with his best friend/first crush from childhood. When I say sweet, I’m serious, y’all, there are DOLPHINS.
ANOTHER ROUND – In progress – First book in my texting trilogy. Contemporary romance. Opposites attract. Multicultural couple. Cute, nerdy number cruncher meets hot, bearded, tattooed gym owner/MMA fighter through rather unconventional circumstances.
Vloggers trilogy – In planning
Hard Hats #3 – Outlined
For the last 7+ months I’ve been fairly open about my struggles with writing and depression, and more recently, the mystery illness that landed me in the emergency room and countless doctors’ offices over the last month (and has yet to be identified). Those of you who follow this blog or are friends with me on social media have doubtless seen some of my posts. I decided to be open about the depression in particular for two reasons:
1) The stigma that surrounds depression/mental illness is seriously upsetting, and I feel the only way to change that is through open discussion and for the people who suffer from depression not to feel forced to hide it like it’s some shameful secret.
2) Out of respect for my readers. See, I do 100% believe I’m entitled to my privacy and I don’t blame any author who might be in a similar situation for keeping it quiet. This is a decision every individual has to make for themselves. But, for me personally, because my depression affects everything in my life, including my writing, I wanted to be upfront about it. I didn’t want my readers to think I’m just taking some extended vacation and hanging my unfinished series out to dry without a care that people are waiting for more books. Authors are human—we need breaks sometimes, it’s true—but the reality is I want to be writing, and the fact that my words have seemingly abandoned me is a pain I deal with every day. I’ve written since I was around eleven, since the time when the only people who saw my stories were my friends in junior high, and I didn’t even entertain the hope that I might be able to make what I loved a career someday. Writing has always been cathartic for me, and being unable to write for over half a year now makes me feel like I’m missing some critical part of myself, my soul. Believe me, I didn’t make the conscious choice to stop writing, and I’m fighting to get through this block every day.
The TL;DR version of what happened is that back in October I got hit by the worst bout of depression I’ve ever dealt with. I experienced suicidal ideation, nearly ended up in the hospital, scared my family and close friends, and had to seek the help of a therapist for the first time since childhood.
I am only now, nearly 8 months later, getting to the point where I’m started to feel excited about writing again and hopeful that I’ll be able to break through this block and start putting words on the page. Still, I’m taking things cautiously. When the words do start flowing, I want to allow myself to write without any pressure. I’ve realized lately that I can’t write on a strict schedule. I have to focus on the story that is calling to me most strongly, and yes, that does mean that sometimes it’s a long wait between books in my series. I apologize for that, but I just can’t force myself to work on a project simply because I know I should try to keep series releases consistent, not if in my heart of hearts, I’d rather be working on something else instead. Forcing myself to try to write what I should be writing only stresses me out and makes it feel like a job. And while, yes, this is what I do for a living, I started writing for love and for fun, and I don’t want to lose that feeling—the happiness I experience when I’m working on a project I’m truly excited and passionate about.
So, with all that being said, I’ve had to make a tough decision, and trust me, it’s not one I made lightly. Tears were shed. But being that I’ve received dozens of messages, tweets, and questions about the Portland Pack Chronicles, I know it’s a series that readers are eagerly awaiting more of. My coauthor, Kenzie Cade, is also eager to get back to our boys and continue writing. Unfortunately, due to my current circumstances, I’m the one holding things back—and I don’t think that’s fair, not to her, and not to the readers who’ve enjoyed the series so far, not when she could keep writing and get the stories to you faster than if I stayed involved. Because right now, with the lingering depression and the health issues that have plagued me over the last month or so, the only answer I can give about when I’ll be able to return to the Portland Pack Chronicles is “I don’t know.” So, sad as it makes me, I feel like this is the best decision for the future of the series. I’m sure Kenzie will more than do justice to the Portland Pack boys on her own. She’ll rock it—I’ve told her so—and I wish her much success!
As for my other in-progress series, fear not! The series I’ve started on my own will be completed eventually, even if it takes me much longer than I ever anticipated. I will break through this! I have so many stories I want to write and projects I’m excited about. I’m not giving up. Definitely not. Watch this space, because I’m sure, in time, I’ll have a much happier update to post.
In the meantime, thanks for your patience and understanding!
So I hesitated to post this because of how charged the atmosphere in M/M is right now. Hurt feelings abound on all sides over a book that was recently released (and no, I won’t be naming it here). The topic of racism is not one I take lightly, having dealt with it all my life, but I leave that discussion to people much more eloquent than myself. I do, however, have some thoughts about the subject of diversity in fiction and writing characters of color, specifically in M/M, and I want to share them here.
In the past, I’ve written blog posts calling for more diversity. I think it’s something we all recognize is needed at this point.
I’m Puerto Rican. I’m open about it. I write a lot of Hispanic characters because of it. And when I wrote a Mexican MC, I wrote with the awareness that Mexican culture and Puerto Rican culture are vastly different.
I reached out to Mexican readers and asked if anyone would proofread my story to make sure I was doing that character justice. Because being raised in a Mexican neighborhood doesn’t make me infallible or all-knowing or any kind of authority. I was still brought up in a Puerto Rican family and there are differences aplenty (just as there are differences between Mexicans and Spaniards or Colombians and Dominicans, etc).
I know a lot of authors hesitate to step out of their comfort zone and write a character of color. It can be intimidating, and in my opinion, it requires research and due diligence if you want to give an accurate, sensitive portrayal. If you’re nervous, yes, you’re probably right to be nervous. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes we have to do the things that make us uncomfortable, and if you are uncomfortable, I think you’ll be likelier to approach your writing with care and tact.
That being said, lately I’ve been getting the feeling that some authors think they have to start including characters of color in their books because the subject of diversity has been the focus of so many recent panels and discussions.
And my opinion is this: don’t do anything you feel you have to do.
If you’ve noticed the lack of POC (people of color) characters and you truly want to change that, awesome! Two very enthusiastic thumbs up from me! But if you’re not willing to be mindful, and if you don’t feel it’s worth the effort to research to avoid stereotypes or possibly offending or hurting your readership, it’s probably best not to do it.
In the long run, I think you’ll be happier and less stressed. And the POC readers will be happier too. We want representation, yes. We want to see characters that reflect our cultural backgrounds, but not if it only comes from a sense of obligation, not actual desire to change the (mostly white) landscape of M/M—or romance and fiction in general—to reflect the glorious, multi-colored reality we actually reside in. Not if you plan to portray us as caricatures. And definitely not if you can’t handle criticism if you wind up getting something wrong, which you very well might.
If you don’t feel comfortable writing a character of color, keep doing what you do. It’s all good. Sincerely. No judgment from this author/reader. But if you do want to try, there are people out there who are absolutely ready and willing to help you try to get it right, and believe me it is worth the effort!
We’re all human. Being a minority, a person of color myself doesn’t mean I’m above screwing up. Not by a long shot. All we can do is acknowledge mistakes when they happen (and they will happen). We can apologize and try to do better. And most importantly, we can listen when someone tells us they’re hurt or offended.
Don’t invalidate someone’s feelings. It’s not your (or my) right to tell someone if they should/shouldn’t be offended by something or to tone police or tell them to “speak more politely.” That only takes away from them and their experiences and turns the attention back to yourself and your own comfort. Sometimes it’s hard to be calm and polite when you’re angry and hurting. Sometimes people only hear you above the ruckus if you’re screaming—especially if you’re part of a community that has been dehumanized and marginalized for centuries.
If someone is yelling “This hurt me and here is why!”, maybe you should take a minute to listen and try to understand. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that empathy, compassion, and sincerity go a long way.
People of color… we’re just people. We only want to see stories about genuine characters like ourselves falling in love or saving the day or going on that epic adventure. Not stereotypes. Not for tokenism. Our personalities are varied, and we fall all over the spectrums of sexuality and gender. We’re rich and poor and everywhere in between. Educated and not. In other words—we’re just like everyone else. And yet we make up a mere fraction of the characters you find in books or films or on television.
Trust me, if you found it this difficult to find characters you could relate to, if you never saw characters who looked like you, or who reflected your reality, you’d yearn for more representation too. And when you thought you’d found it, you’d latch onto it fast.
Hey! This person. They’re like me! I can do that too! I can be the hero!
Sometimes there’s no better feeling than that.
Over the years I’ve occasionally mentioned that I’ve been depressive since childhood. I don’t tend to talk about it much because there’s a certain stigma attached to any kind of mental illness, including depression, which many people think you should just be able to snap out of and brush off your shoulder.
My depression tends to happen in cycles. For weeks, months, I’ll feel… mostly good. Mostly positive. Then my mood takes a sudden downturn, and for weeks, maybe months, I become mired under this dark, crushing weight. But then, usually, the upswing starts. I come out of it and I go back to my normal (for lack of a better term).
A few weeks ago I scared some people when I vanished from most of my social media accounts for a good week or so. I didn’t mean to cause anyone concern, but it was as if my brain suddenly said, “nope,” and I didn’t want anything to do with… well, anything. Apps got deleted from my phone. Emails fell by the wayside.
I’d had a moment not too long before. An “I am not okay” moment, when I realized this depressive cycle felt more like a rapid decline into nothingness. It seemed—and still does seem—impossible to imagine any kind of upswing. But when my thoughts went from dark to potentially dangerous (for myself), I knew I needed to do something.
I sought out a therapist, and after seeing one who sent up about a dozen red flags, I found a different one through GMLA (the Gay and Lesbian Medical Association), who is familiar with dealing with clients who fall on the GLBTQ spectrum. Let me tell you, when I walked into her office and saw rainbow flags, I nearly lost it. After meeting one therapist who was not only lacking in tact, clearly didn’t have a clue how to deal with a client like me, I was so afraid I might have to start making long drives into Chicago to find someone who fit my needs. So far I’ve seen this new lady twice, and it’s hard to say what kind of results this therapy will bring. But at the very least I feel hopeful that maybe with her help I’ll be able to dig myself out of this.
During our first visit, she said to me, “Sometimes I might say something you don’t agree with. I’m human, and I’m not always right. Feel free to tell me to fuck off. Go ahead and say, ‘M, get fucked.’ I promise it won’t offend me. The only way I can figure out what’s working for you is if you tell me when something isn’t.”
With snot and tears flowing, I nodded, and I thought to myself, We’re going to get along great.
So that’s what’s happening with me. To the people who already knew or who reached out to me when I disappeared, thank you for the support. It means more than I can say.
I can’t lie. This post was hard for me to make. In fact, I’m only discussing the situation because literally everything in my life is being affected, and that includes my writing. Even though I wish this wasn’t the case, all of my projects are currently on hiatus. Because, well… if there’s no me, there certainly won’t be any future books either. So I have to focus on getting myself better before the words will start flowing again. I’m hoping that any readers who might have to wait a little longer for the next book in the Portland Pack Chronicles or my other series will understand the delay.
Happy New Year, everyone! Aside from one last “Authors I’m Thankful For” post next week, this will be my last post of 2015. Here’s hoping I’ll be back with a vengeance in 2016. 😉
Hey, all! It’s been quuuite some time since I did a writing update, so I figured now would be good. 😉
What’s happening in the writing world of Piper Vaughn? Read on to find out. 😀
To save his bookstore from closing, Mark Werner realizes it’s going to take a miracle—like getting reclusive, best-selling author Shepherd Knight to agree to appear for a signing.
After their disastrous last encounter, Mark doesn’t hold up much hope Shepherd will agree. Shepherd’s never made a single public appearance. In fact, Mark wouldn’t even know what he looks like had he not accidentally discovered the sexy stranger he’d been flirting with for months, aka “Tall-Dark-and-Grumpy,” was also his fanboy obsession.
But desperate times call for desperate measures. If Mark can convince Shepherd, it’ll be a major coup in the book world, and might just save Bookmarked from sinking. Too bad Shepherd won’t reply to his e-mails. Yet Mark didn’t earn the reputation of having a “sunshine-and-rainbow-fart” personality for nothing. He’ll do whatever it takes to get his man… and hopefully not make a fool of himself in the process.
Expected release date: October 26, 2015 (potentially subject to change)
PRICKLY BY NATURE (PORTLAND PACK CHRONICLES #2)
In the four months since hedgehog shifter Avery Babineaux started investigating the disappearance of a young female werewolf from the Portland Pack, he’s discovered his life’s passion. Now he’s apprenticing under established PI Corbin Reid. Avery hopes his training with Reid will help him finally bring Lacey home, but detective work isn’t without its perils, and the potential dangers strain his relationship with his new mate, Dylan.
Dylan Green would be perfectly content with his mating and his motorcycle shop if it wasn’t for his constant worry about Avery’s safety and the fact that Avery’s never home. Proud as he might be of Avery’s determination to prove his worth and fulfill his promise to Lacey’s father, Dylan can’t stand the thought of Avery being hurt. Yet what right does he have to demand Avery give up his job when it’s clear Avery’s found his true purpose? Still, Dylan wishes he could, and the appearance of a new police detective who sets his sights on Avery only adds to the tension.
Something has to give, but stubbornness runs in both their veins, and it might take a catastrophe for them to find a compromise they can live with.
Expected release date: November 16, 2015
Cover reveals for these two are coming soon, so stay tuned!
Works in Progress
Currently I’m working on a contemporary fairytale retelling, which I’m co-writing with my friend, Rowan Speedwell. We intend it to be the first of three, if all goes according to plan. Keep your fingers crossed. 😉
Once I finish my project with Rowan, Kenzie Cade and I will be diving into the third book in the Portland Pack Chronicles series, the first of which is PRICKLY BUSINESS.
I will also be continuing with Gavin’s story, which I started but had to put on hold because of illness and other deadlines (it’s been a crappy couple of years for me health-wise, let me tell you). If you don’t know who Gavin is, he was a secondary character introduced in HOOK, LINE, & SINKER.
I also have plans for another novella in the same world as BOOKMARKED, which I hope to release sometime next summer.
Lots of other ideas and potentialities — an ace character, sport books, more shifters, a rap star — but I’ll share more details about those later. 😉
Happy Fall, y’all!
Birthday flash fic for Malachi and Aaron from “Wood, Screws, & Nails.” 🙂
Birthday Surprise by Piper Vaughn
Happy birthday month, Amber! Thanks for inviting me to contribute to your Birthday Bash. I had a birthday earlier this month too, so it’s extra special for me. 😀 This flash fic features Aaron and Malachi, characters from my co-written book, Wood, Screws, & Nails, which came out from Dreamspinner in April.
Hope you enjoy!
“Happy birthday, Mal.”
Despite being distracted by the sight in front of him, Malachi shivered at the whisper in his ear, the scrape of stubble on his skin, the warm, hard body against his back. He stood in the entryway to Aaron’s apartment—which typically exemplified the definition of “Spartan bachelor pad”—but tonight, it had been transformed into something magical. Candles of various sizes adorned every flat surface, casting a welcoming yellow glow. In the center of the living room lay a red and white tartan-patterned…
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Earlier today I posted on Facebook. This was my status update:
Sometimes I really want to write a story set in feudal Japan. Put all the research I did when I wrote fanfic and my years of Japanese classes to some kind of use. Then I think to myself, “Self, you know maybe only 3 people would read it,” and I deflate. Just randomly thought about it again this morning during a convo with the hubs.
I had some people comment to say they would read it, or to just write it anyway. One comment suggested I write a story set in modern-day Japan instead. And yet another asked whether I write for the joy of writing or for other people.
Honestly? I’ve been writing since I was 10 or 11 years old. For years, no one read my work but me. Then I got brave and started sharing my scribblings with friends from school. Then later, when the internet started getting more and more popular, with my online friends. Eventually I started writing fanfic and posting it on websites like FanFiction.net. Years after that, I discovered that m/m actually existed in a genre outside of what I was reading—and writing—online. Yes, I thought. I’ve found my people. Needless to say, if you’re reading this blog post, you’re probably aware what eventually came of that. 😉 I’ve been published professionally for almost 3 years now, and I still sometimes write things that will never see the light of day. Stuff that I needed to get out as a catharsis of sorts, and then I stuck it in a folder and moved on.
I’ve seen the “write to the market” versus “write for yourself” debates. I have two stories out presently that were written simply out of love, knowing they likely wouldn’t have a very broad audience. One was solely for myself. Zombie Wonderland, my zombie apocalypse Christmas novella. The other, Love Rising, was written both for me and one of my best friends. I knew when I started both of these they wouldn’t sell very well. I wrote them for the joy of it and because the ideas dug in and refused to let go.
But… since the beginning of time, when people started telling stories orally, there was always a point to the telling—to entertain, teach lessons, pass on traditions, etc, etc. Storytellers crave an audience, and I’m no different. We all—or perhaps I should say most of us—hope that people will read and enjoy our stories. Hopefully many people. But being that there are only so many hours in day, sometimes we have to make the tough call: write the story that you know full well very few people will read or write the story that has the potential to reach a much broader audience. I’ll be frank—I write for the love of writing, but I also do this for a living, to help supplement my husband’s income and put money into my son’s college fund. I’m fortunate in that I’m making a career by doing what I love and have always wanted to do. That being said, sometimes I allow myself to be fanciful, to write a story regardless of whether or not I think there will be an audience for it. And sometimes I make the practical choice. But even in that case, I’m writing what I want to write. I don’t write trying to take advantage of what may or may not be popular. Contemporary is my main genre because it’s what I primarily enjoy reading—and what most of my ideas happen to be when they pop into my head. I have plans for shifters and another merman and whatever else starts to scratch at my brain. I write what calls to me. But if I have a choice between two different ideas and I know that one will find a broader audience than the other, well, sometimes I go with the more marketable idea. Sometimes but not always.
So, do I write for joy or do I write for others? The answer is as simple and complex as this—both.
Hey, all! Yesterday I finished Hook, Line, & Sinker, which is a spin-off of Wood, Screws, & Nails featuring Aaron’s best friend, Blake, and his love interest, Castor. The members of my FB group, Piper’s Peeps, asked for me to share a smutty excerpt today. So here goes! But, first, the (tentative) blurb.
When they were teens, Castor McCormick was the bane of Blake Kowalski’s existence. Their mutual animosity led to summers filled with rivalry. Now, nearly two decades later, Blake learns Cas is moving back into the neighborhood to live in his grandmother’s old house. Blake tells himself he isn’t interested in seeing how snarky little Cas grew up, but when his mother dupes him into visiting Cas, he finds out “pretty” can evolve into “sexy as hell” on the right man.
Cas didn’t think he wanted to see Blake again. No one has ever pushed his buttons like the god of a boy he remembers from their youth. Turns out, the adult version of Blake still gets him hot under the collar—and everywhere else. With Blake on leave from work to nurse his injured leg, and Cas taking time to move and unpack, they form a tentative friendship revolving around fishing and baseball, which quickly turns in to a sexual affair neither man can resist. But when Cas’s job sends him out of state to deal with a difficult client, their new relationship will be tested, and Blake’s broken leg might not be the only thing to come out scarred.
Note: This is unedited, so please forgive any typos. To set the scene, Cas and Blake are on a camping trip, sharing a tent for the first time…
Cas shivered, his body warming at Blake’s tone, low and seductive in the dark. For a while, he simply lay there staring at the tent’s domed ceiling, listening to the rhythm of Blake’s breathing as it slowed and deepened. Usually, Cas jerked off before bed, just something to take the edge off the day and lull himself to sleep. He hesitated to do it now, but with the scent of Blake’s skin all around him, and the visual of that sculpted chest so fresh in his mind, his cock was hard as stone. Cas cursed silently and turned onto his side, facing away from Blake, and reached down to pinch his balls through his sweatpants. He hoped the flash of pain would wilt his erection. Instead, it forced a quiet moan from his throat. Cas shifted onto his back again, then onto his side in Blake’s direction, but that only reminded him of how little space actually separated them and how easily he could close it.
Cas grunted and flopped to his back once more. All he could focus on was the pulse of blood in his cock. Not the discomfort of the rocky ground beneath his sleeping bag, not the lingering heat in the air, not the buzz of insects from the grass and trees around them. Just that persistent, throbbing ache.
He’d never fall asleep this way. No choice but to take care of it. He could manage it quietly enough. Or so he hoped.
Cas lay unmoving for another minute or two, listening. The rhythmic pattern of Blake’s breaths remained deep and undisturbed. Slowly, Cas crept a hand beneath the waistband of his briefs. He traced the length of his cock with one finger, helpless to stop a quavering moan when he encountered sticky wetness at the tip. Cas froze, his ears straining, but if Blake had heard, he didn’t stir at the noise.
Sighing, Cas started up a leisurely stroke, working his cock with a firm grip. His hips began to rock, and the motion of his nylon sleeping bag seemed excessively loud in the small space. Cas couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. He played his fingertips over the slit, rubbing and slicking the head with the moisture he found there. Oh God. It felt so good, and knowing Blake rested only a few feet away, oblivious, only heightened the sensation.
Cas caught another moan midway out of his mouth, ending with a choked sound. His eyes were shut tight, but suddenly the colors behind his eyelids changed as light flashed across them. Cas stilled with his hand fisted around his cock. He swallowed thickly and noted that the soothing pattern of Blake’s breathing had changed, sped. Blake was awake, and if Cas wasn’t mistaken, watching him. With a light on.
For a long moment, Cas couldn’t move. Any typical guy would’ve ignored what he was doing, would’ve pretended not to hear the rustling and simply feigned sleep until it was over. They might’ve given him some shit about it in the morning, or more likely, never mentioned the incident at all. Not Blake. Cas could feel Blake’s eyes on him—and it embarrassed him as much as it turned him on.
A flush rolled up his chest and over his throat, settling in his face. The silence stretched. Finally, when he could stand it no more, Cas forced his eyes open and turned his head.
Blake lay on his side, observing him with a hooded gaze. His phone sat face-down in the space between them. The light Cas had noticed through his eyelids was the beam from the phone’s flashlight, now aimed at the ceiling. Not as intense as the miniature lantern, but it illuminated the area enough for them to see each other clearly.
Cas couldn’t find the words to speak. Couldn’t bring himself to release his cock either. Despite his humiliation, it jerked in his grasp like it had a mind of its own, seeking more touch.
“Show it to me.” Blake’s quiet voice held no inflection. He spoke the words as calmly as he might have said “pass the salt” across the dinner table. But Cas found himself obeying anyway.
He tossed aside the top of the sleeping bag, and with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around his dick, pushed the waistbands of both his sweatpants and briefs down so they rested around his upper thighs.
Blake’s gaze raked from Cas’s face to his fisted cock. “Finish,” he said.
Cas whimpered, a small sound that brought Blake’s eyes back up to his. He started to stroke again, moving more quickly now that he wasn’t trying to hide.
“Get it wet.”
Cas nearly came at the low order. With effort, he managed to fight his orgasm down and released his cock long enough to coat his palm with drenched licks. Then he fisted it again, jerking the shaft with hard, slick tugs.
Blake nodded his approval. “Faster. Let me see you beat that cum out.”
Cas grunted and pistoned his hips, pushing his cockhead through the clutching circle of his fingers. Sweat sheened his body. Pleasure blazed a path from his taint to his balls to his sensitive tip. His asshole clenched and released, craving the girth of a large, thrusting cock. Frantic pants burst from his throat, the rough sound overshadowing the wet squelch of his hand as he followed Blake’s order and yanked at his dick. Lost in a haze of lust and sex, he didn’t stop to consider what was happening or why; he simply gave himself into it.
One word, but said in that commanding tone, in Blake’s voice, it held power. It reached into Cas’s body and ripped the orgasm right out of him.
Cas arched off the sleeping bag, his vision graying at the edges. He gave an agonized moan as streaks of cum burst from his tip, coating his fingers, dripping down onto his sac, each spurt another shockwave of bliss along the length of his dick. And through it all, he sensed the weight of Blake’s gaze on him, the heat of that stare prolonging his ecstasy.
After what felt like ages, Cas finally came back to himself. He turned his head to see that Blake had shoved his own shorts and boxer-briefs down. His thick, veiny cock lay hard against his lower abdomen, the foreskin drawn back far enough to reveal the shiny, plum-colored head. Cas’s mouth watered.
“Come here. Jerk me off with your cum.”
Hi, all! It’s been a couple of months since the last writing update, so here goes. 😀
Nur eine Kleinigkeit – Release date: March 25. The German translation of One Small Thing. Now available for pre-order.
Moonlight Becomes You – Release date: April 7. This is the 2nd edition, approximately 60K/200 pages. (1st edition was 44K/139 pages.) Now available for pre-order in ebook and paperback. Cover by LC Chase.
Wood, Screws, & Nails – with Kade Boehme – Release date: April 23. Cover by Paul Richmond.
Works in Progress
HL&S – A spin-off of Wood, Screws, & Nails. – Outlined. Starting soon.
S&S – In planning. My story for the Love’s Landscapes event in the M/M Romance Group on Goodreads. If you’re a member, you can see the prompt here.
The Working Man’s Guide to Wooing a Blue Blood Prince (Clumsy Cupid Guidebooks #2) – with Xara X Xanakas – Plotted and started. Temporarily on hold. Hoping to have this one released in the late summer/early fall, if possible. We’ll see. Wish us luck!
Simon’s Story – This is the as-yet-untitled contemporary story I started for NaNoWriMo. It’s going to be a pretty angsty ride, and I had to put it on hold temporarily when one of my family members became hospitalized and the content started hitting a little too close to home. But I’ve been wanting to tell Simon’s story forever, so I certainly will be going back to it!
**Update on the One Thing Series**
I know I’d said this series would be continued, but, unfortunately, that plan has now changed. The “One Thing” series will stand completed with One Small Thing and One True Thing. I thought long and hard about this, and it wasn’t an easy decision, but I think I’m ready to move on to something new. I apologize to the fans who were hoping for books for Josh or Archer. But there will be new and hopefully exciting things to come from me, both alone and with co-authors, so be on the lookout for those! 🙂