(It’s a day early even. Yay!)
A little story inspired by events that really bear little resemblance to the story.
Bryce is the adorable young thing that Dustin knows he shouldn’t want. He should be looking for a man his own age. Someone with a future. Someone with a real job. But no matter how hard he tries, no matter how much he knows that it just won’t work, he can’t resist those big blue eyes.
Dusty is an adult. So unlike any of the party crowd that Bryce hangs around. But after just a brief taste of Dusty’s so-called boring, normal life, Bryce is more surprised than anyone to find out that that’s the life he wants.
No wonder they just Can’t Fight This Feeling.
©2013 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved
“I told you you’d like it here,” Danni proclaimed as she mounted the empty barstool beside him. It was after midnight and around them, the party was clearly dying down, the crowd about a third less than it had been only a half hour before. The music was still going and the bar was still open, though, so there was still some life left in this sucker.
Grinning, he grabbed her arm to help steady her. This, of course, was the other reason he was here. He had to drive since Danni was clearly three sheets to the wind. While she kept drinking with her friends, he’d switched to cola about an hour ago. “Yes, you were right, oh wise one.”
Scowling, she slapped his arm. Then she ruined the effect by breaking into a delighted laugh. “So,” she tried to contain herself and primly folded her hands in front of her on the high table. They were alone for the moment. “What are your plans for the evening?”
He frowned. “Other than getting you home safe?”
“Nothing that I know of. Why?”
Her predatory grin was frightening. “Have you, by chance, noticed the young man over there?” Continue reading
Nick and Marlowe aren’t like my other rockers. Not really. A little grittier. This series doesn’t gloss over the presence of drugs in the world of rock and roll.
Don’t let the mention of girls at the beginning of the excerpt fool you. Both Marlowe and Nick are bisexual — Marlowe knowingly, Nick is the gay-for-you — but all the sex in the book is m/m.
Sex. Drugs. Rock ‘n Roll. Nick Gorman’s got it all. He’s on top of the world, living his dream, playing guitar on stage in front of thousands of people with non-other than Marlowe. The famous singer could have had his choice of anyone to replace his former guitarist, but he picked Nick to tour with him. Now Nick’s star is on the rise, all thanks to Marlowe, who’s not only Nick’s idol but is fast becoming a terrific friend.
In the blink of an eye, it all turns upside down. A drug-hazed time in a bed alone with Marlowe forces Nick to be aware that the rock star’s interest in him is more than just friendly. Then, before he can even react to that, both singer and guitarist are in a near-fatal accident that could ruin both their careers.
What now? Marlowe’s in jail for two years and Nick is broken. Could they ever play together again, let alone explore the sizzling reverberations that still exist between them?
©2011 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved
Dance music filled Nick’s head, guiding the throb of his heart. His skin was alive, the merest brush of a breeze was like someone was licking his dick. Nick didn’t usually dance but the drugs in his system had him gyrating and twisting with dozens of other bodies underneath the streaks of a portable strobe light. Maybe he wasn’t so much dancing as just moving to the beat. That he could do. The very ground was pushing at the soles of his feet, making him move. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands but a few willing girls were happy to give him nice handholds. In turn, they ran soft hands and curious fingers over his bare back and arms, some taking a bit more advantage to cup his ass or slide around front to brush the bulge of his half hard cock through his jeans. Gloriously free, Nick closed his eyes, twisted, turned then buried his face in a fragrant neck as his senses expanded beyond any scope of reality. Continue reading
Much Ado is now available on its own as a stand alone ebook.
Rabin Squire is on top of the world. At long last, everything is going his way. He’s about to go into the studio with none other than Brent Rose to put together a new album for his band, the Indigo Knights. Okay, so there’re currently only two members of the band, but with Brent’s help, that’ll soon change. Things are looking up.
Then there’s Izzy, Brent’s cousin. Rabin’s never been interested in a guy before but he can sure tell when one is gorgeous, and Izzy is that. He’s also funny, and sweet and…sexy as hell.
Since he’s not gay, Rabin never expected to have a fling with Izzy. But Izzy says their having sex doesn’t make him gay. Rabin’s not so sure about that but if Izzy’s good with it, what harm can come of it? Izzy agrees; no one else needs to know.
Then an even bigger opportunity means that Rabin has to move away. So if the thing with Izzy was no big deal, why does it hurt when it comes to an end?
© 2010 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved
He followed Izzy up the porch and into the darkened house but felt oddly reluctant to head to his room. He’d been having a good time with Izzy.
“Want a snack?” Izzy stood, just a silhouette in the entrance to the kitchen, backlit by the moonlight from the bay window.
Given an excuse, Rabin decided it was just that. “Nah. I think I’m just going to head on up to bed.” Bed. The word had a charge to it that made him look away. Even if he was feeling attraction — and that’s probably what it was, strangely enough — he wasn’t going to do anything about it. It was a weird night. One that should end before anything happened. “’Night.”
“’Night.” Continue reading
Rynn made a mistake in taking the drug hextasy with his fiancée. It was supposed to be the ultimate sexual high, except that you have to sleep with the one you desire most. If you don’t, your body won’t be satisfied and you’ll die. Rynn lived, Lynnette didn’t, and now her parents want someone to pay. Either luck or Surseine, the god of justice Himself, takes pity on Rynn by putting his trial in front of one of His judges. Sursei are graced by the god they represent with the power to see truth and Sursei Shasertai finds Rynn innocent of murder.
But the drug is still out there and Shasertai and the people who travel with him are determined to root out the drug lord responsible for its existence. Shas invites Rynn to join them. He goes willingly, fascinated by the judge who gave him a second chance at life.
Rynn might be innocent and straight, but Shas isn’t. He’s gay, happily so, and very much drawn to the farm boy whose simple innocence is a balm to one who can hear through the lies. What he hears is that Rynn’s not gay, so he vows not to get involved. Until another drug, another time, gets in the way…and then he and Rynn will have to deal with the each other’s truths and their growing attraction.
Publisher’s Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, male/male sexual practices.
©2009 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved
Rynn followed Sheriff Trent into the lobby of a swank hotel in downtown Taft. It was located in the high-rent district, not far from the passenger train station. A farm boy like him had no business in a place with fine woven rugs over tightly tiled floors. Heck, there were even gaslights lining the sweeping staircase to the right, and an elevator was displayed prominently across the lobby from the double front doors. The sheriff led him right up to the elevator door and pushed the button. Rynn stared at the etched metal doors and the shiny copper decorations around the edges, slightly alarmed by the muted sound of machinery clanking behind them.
Rynn blinked at the older man, then looked down to find his blunt nails digging through the thick wool of his clean, borrowed trousers into the meat of his thigh. “Oh. Sorry.” Balling that hand into a fist, he tucked both hands behind his back. At least the sheriff had let him ditch the jacket and tie. Now he just had to concentrate on not getting the white shirt dirty.
“Don’t be nervous.” Continue reading