Dark Elves: Discovery is now available in print at Amazon

Click here for the Dark Elves V: Discovery link on this site

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Bravo! Brava! is available now

More information at MLR Press

Buy it in ebook at ARe

Buy it in print at Amazon

This is a cool anthology with the common themes being m/m, theatre and cross dressing. Kimberly Gardner and JP Bowie are the other authors.

My story is going to be about Shawn, a talented but flighty college actor–one of my “cute young things”–and Roscoe, the gorgeous, gay professor/director who pushes him to his limits.

ANTHOLOGY BLURB:

Lights, Makeup, Scripts, Costumes . . . Performances! Jet Mykles, J.P. Bowie and Kimberly Gardner entertain us with the magic and mystique of the theatre. From Shakespeare’s gender-bending comedies to the glamour of a Musical Revue, we’re whisked backstage for an intimate glimpse of the drama, romance and rumors (and maybe even a little mystery) behind the curtain. Find out what it takes for a man to carry off a skirt and heels. Follow the men who wait in the wings for those behind the fake breasts and makeup. BRAVO! BRAVA!

Read the excerpt

Released February 2009 from MLR Press

Pairing: m/m

<<<< Print anthology at MLR Press

Single ebook at MLR Press >>>>>

Available in ebook at ARe – anthology

Available in ebook at ARe – single story

Available in ebook at Fictionwise – anthology

Available in ebook at Fictionwise – single story

Available in print at Amazon – anthology

Available for Kindle at Amazon – anthology

Available for Kindle at Amazon – single story

Available in print at Barnes & Noble – anthology

Available in ebook at Barnes & Noble – anthology

This is a very cool anthology. Kimberly Gardner and JP Bowie are the other authors.

A little bit of cross dressing action. This excerpt isn’t exactly sexy maybe, but I think it gives a nice idea of the dynamic between Shawn and Roscoe before the true romance starts.

BTW, Shawn is in COLLEGE so he’s old enough to be in one of my stories.

BLURB:

Switch roles? Roscoe may be a brilliant director, but Sean wants no part of this crazy idea. But when Roscoe suggests that Sean and his leading lady swap Beatrice for Benedict in their college’s production of Much Ado About Nothing, everyone else thinks it’s a terrific idea. Trapped by peer pressure and the awareness that Roscoe usually knows what he’s doing, Sean accepts the challenge only to quickly discover that he likes wearing skirts, both on and off stage. Even more than that, he likes the director’s reaction when he flashes a little leg.

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©2009 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

Bonnie held Shawn’s upper arms, staring down into his eyes. “With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest / I love thee.”

Shawn clutched at her elbows, lowering his gaze and twisting his head to the side, facing the audience. “Why, then, God forgive me!”

Bonnie cupped Shawn’s jaw with her palm, urging his face upward. “What offence, sweet Beatrice?”

“You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about to / protest I loved you.” Shawn let his voice go breathy just before raising his eyes to meet Bonnie’s.

She put her arms around him, pulling him closer. “And do it with all thy heart.”

He put his arms around her, smiling. “I love you with so much of my heart that none is / left to protest.”

Bonnie leaned down, tilting her head for the kiss.

“Stop.”

They both froze at the sound of Roscoe’s voice.

Sighing, Shawn shared a suffering look with Bonnie, then stepped out of her embrace to face Roscoe.

He scowled over the table at them. “Do it again.”

Ted sat behind him but wasn’t paying much attention, his head bent over the student desk, probably doing his homework. No one else was present to witness the incessant tries of the two actors to attain the satisfaction of their director. They’d repeated this particular bit at least seven times so far by Shawn’s count. That was in addition to the emotion exercises Roscoe had put them through for the first hour of rehearsal. The scene was the emotional apex of the play, the moment when Beatrice and Benedick break through years of rivalry to take a chance and bare their souls. Both Bonnie and Shawn were putting their hearts into it, wanting to get it right. But that wasn’t enough for Roscoe.

Shawn grimaced, scrambling for the cool he’d lost about a half hour ago. “You gonna let us finish this time?”

“Are you going to put some feeling into it this time?”

He crushed handfuls of his long blue rehearsal skirt in his fists. “What the hell do you think I was doing?”

Roscoe crossed his arms, pique showing through his usual calm. “That’s a good question. Care to answer it?”

“Fuck you, man. I’m doing my best.”

“Bullshit. I’ve seen you do better when you’re jerking off in class.”

Shawn turned to face the blinded windows to the side of the room rather than face Roscoe. “What the hell am I doing wrong this time?” Because it seemed to be him. Roscoe had a few notes for Bonnie but not nearly the criticism he had for Shawn.

“You haven’t corrected anything so my answer would be the same.”

“I was softer,” Shawn growled around gritted teeth.

“That’s not what I asked for.”

“I didn’t bite her head off.”

“Slight improvement.”

“What do you want from me?”

Roscoe’s eyes narrowed. “Are you afraid of him?” He pointed to Bonnie.

Shawn sighed, a hand raised to cover his eyes. “Not this again.”

“Yes. This again.”

“Why would I be afraid?”

“You should be.”

Shawn spun, starting to pace. “What the hell for?”

Bonnie scooted to the back of the open area, watching.

Roscoe stood, rounding the table to stand beside it. “He’s a man.”

Since reason had deserted him an hour ago, Shawn blurted what he really thought. “He’s not much bigger than me. I’ll kick his ass.”

“That’s a man’s argument, not a woman’s.”

“This is Beatrice. She’d totally kick ass.”

“Beatrice talks a good game. Yes, she’d say she’d kick Benedick’s ass but he’s a veteran of wars. He hath done good service, lady, in these wars… a good soldier too… a lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuffed with all honorable virtues.” Words spilled out in that trained voice, impossible to ignore. “But she knows she’s not up to the task. O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart / in the market-place. She knows she can’t do what a man can.”

A chair at the side of the open area rattled away from him. He’d kicked it. He kind of realized that after it happened. “Yeah, I know, but Beatrice isn’t scared of him. He’s never hurt her. As much as he’s done, he’s never hurt her.”

“But he can. Beatrice would deny it, but she is a woman of her times. A woman. And a woman of her times, like it or not, rail against it or not, would be at least a little afraid of a veteran soldier.”  Roscoe took off his glasses and set them on the table then turned to approach Shawn. “She would have to respect that he had fought in wars. She would have to respect that he is a soldier and a lord.”

A frustrated cry burst from Shawn’s throat. “I don’t get it.” He kicked at another chair, frustration and confusion flaming behind his eyelids as his fists pulled at the sturdy fabric of his skirt. “You don’t want me to cower, do you?”

“No. I want you to use all that anger you’re feeling right now.”

“Fuck you!” Shawn whirled on him, dropping his handfuls of cloth to curl his fingers into claws. “You told me not to bite her head off.”

Roscoe’s eyes blazed as he faced Shawn from just a few paces away. When had he taken off the glasses? “You’re a woman and she’s a soldier.”

Shawn thumped his own chest. “This is Beatrice. She’s one of Shakespeare’s biggest bitches. Soldier or not, she’d kick him in the balls.”

“Not true.” Roscoe advanced, shoulders hunched slightly like a stalking predator. “She’d kick another man in the balls. She wouldn’t kick Benedick. She loves him. You’re about to say that.”

Shawn set his feet apart, skirt whirling as he snapped his hands up to his head and let out a loud, frustrated scream. “I don’t get what you want!” He tore at his hair. “First you tell me to be softer, then you tell me to be angry, what the fuck…?”

Strong hands gripped his arms. Instinctively, he reared back, lashing out, but Roscoe was a lot quicker than Shawn would have suspected. With humiliating ease, Roscoe spun Shawn around, pinning back to chest, steely arms banded around Shawn’s chest and arms, restraining him. Holy shit, he’d never realized just how big Roscoe was.

“I want you to feel helpless,” Roscoe hissed in his ear, pressing his weight against Shawn’s back, straining the smaller man’s knees.

Shawn froze, staring blindly at the dusty floor beneath his feet, overcome by Roscoe’s heat. The man stood more than a head taller and he was far more muscular than he looked.

“I want you to know deep in your heart that no matter what you do, no matter how hard you fight-” he gave Shawn a hard shake for emphasis, “-no matter how much you rant, you’re never going to win. You’re never going to overcome. You can’t. You’re helpless. You’re physically ineffectual. That’s Beatrice’s tragedy and that’s her burden to bear. She has the will of a lion in the body of a lamb.”

To his horror, Shawn realized he was shaking. He wasn’t scared. Not exactly. But Roscoe had him trapped. It was as exhilarating as it was frightening. He let his body sag a little, making himself heavy. Roscoe tightened his grip, fully supporting Shawn’s weight. Easily supporting him.

Roscoe spoke into his ear, tone harsh as a leather belt closing around Shawn’s neck. “She knows Benedick probably won’t hurt her, but they both know he can. And without much effort on his part. She knows that if he did, he’d probably get away with it.” Leaving one arm around Shawn’s torso to support him, Roscoe slid the other hand up and around to the back of Shawn’s head to grip a handful of hair. Ruthlessly, he tore at it, twisting Shawn’s head around so they were almost face-to-face. The muscles of Shawn’s neck strained. “You. Are. Helpless. And you hate it. You will rail against it. But it’s a fundamental fact that you must accept.”

Shawn swallowed, overwhelmed by Roscoe’s strength, his nearness. The man’s dark, spicy scent surrounded him, as tangible as his arms and grip. Roscoe was all around him, pressed against him.

Black eyes bore into his from underneath half-lowered lids. “You get it now?”

************************************

Click here for the site’s main page on About Something

Dark Elves: Salvation is now available. Contains books 3 and 4 of the ebook series.

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

• ISBN-10: 159632676X
• ISBN-13: 978-1596326767

Available in print at Amazon

Available in print at Barnes & Noble

Another fabulous cover by Anne Cain.

Please note that the print version doesn’t include the interior illustrations that are in the ebooks.

Blurb for Dark Elves III: Salvation:

Irin was raised among the raedjour–dark elves bred by their goddess for sexual pleasure. When Irin was a toddler, sorcerers cast a protective spell on her to quell the lustful urges of those around her. Under that spell and the watchful eyes of her protectors, Irin has a happy, if unique childhood as a human girl among all raedjour boys.

But she’s a woman now, and it’s time for the spell to be lifted. It’s time for her to find out what it means to be taken and mastered by the raedjour — and to find her truemate among them.

Savous and Radin. Apprentice and master. They’ve been a pair for centuries and have helped to watch over Irin her whole life. There’s no doubt in either of their minds that one of them will be the first to introduce Irin into the world of sexual pleasures.

But there’s more to Irin than anyone knew. Will her passion be the destruction of the lifelong bond between two men? Or the salvation of an entire race?

Read an excerpt

Blurb for Dark Elves IV: Dissent:

Marisol’s brother Geriman killed her husband, so now the two of them are on the run. Out of options, they take their chances on a trip through the Dark Forest, but they’re captured by the “dark denizens” that they’d been warned about. These beautifully cruel elves take them into the darkness and use them for selfish, sexual pleasure.

No human has ever been born who can withstand the full force of raedjour sexual pleasures for long. Jarak and his men are dispatched to rescue Marisol and her brother, but they come too late. They save them from death, but now there is a quandary. What to do with the traumatized humans?

Life among the raedjour is in upheaval and traditions of the last four thousand cycles of seasons may not apply. And Jarak’s and Marisol’s attraction isn’t going to make things any easier.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be pleasured nearly to death?

Read an excerpt

Buy it at Amazon

Pairing: m/m

Warning: blood sucking

MLR Press info here

Barnes & Noble link

Read an excerpt of Wolfe’s Recluse here

They’re almost here! I’ve got the cover for the print version of Taken and Mastered. I’ll post the buy link as soon as I’ve got it!

Thank you to the marvelous Anne Cain for the gorgeousness!

• ISBN-10: 1596326719
• ISBN-13: 978-1596326712

Available in print at Amazon

Available in print at Barnes & Noble

Fabulous cover by Anne Cain.

Please note that the print version doesn’t include the interior illustrations that are in the ebooks.

Blurb for Dark Elves I: Taken:

Diana is infuriated, humiliated… insanely aroused. Who do these black-skinned, white-haired, sex-oozing devils think they are making her into a broodmare and sex-slave? She won’t do it. Who cares if the damned elves were created as sex toys for a goddess? Or if each and every dark elf that visits her is a well-trained, exquisite lover. Or if Commander Salin makes her mind and body hum with desire and pleasure she’s never before experienced? She won’t submit. She won’t. Will she?

Salin’s men have all had their turn trying to tame the hellcat swordswoman. To a man, they’ve brought her to the heights of ecstasy but they’ve all had to rely on trickery or mystical attraction to bring her to heel. Even now, she refuses to submit and accept her new life. Never has a woman been so much trouble. Never has a woman so fired his blood. He will have her. He must.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be used, pleasured… Taken?

Read an excerpt

Blurb for Dark Elves II: Mastered:

Suzana has lost all she held dear–her family dead at sea, she, a musical mage of noble birth, has been taken by slavers. Alone, bereft, she can do nothing but mourn. But then the traders’ caravan is overtaken in the Dark Forest by the mysterious raedjour who are determined to take the one thing she still calls her own: her body.

Suzana’s capture is cause for celebration amongst the raedjour–virgins are highly prized, and a tournament is held for the honor of taking her maidenhead. And once it is taken, she will be passed to a different warrior every nine days until she finds her truemate.

From the moment he saw her, Krael knew Suzana was his to conquer. Her soft body incites the lust he’s honed over many cycles to pleasure and train women. He’ll have her body, yes, but he has no interest in being her truemate. Until another, Krael’s king, is determined to take her, then Krael grows determined to master her for his very own.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be used, pleasured… Mastered?

Read an excerpt

*****************

REVIEWS

• Examiner.com
  • “This story is crazy good!”
  • Reviewed by Acquanetta Ferguson

Pairing: m/m

Warning: blood sucking

From MLR Press

Available in ebook at Fictionwise

Available in ebook at ARe

Available in print at Barnes & Noble

Available in ebook at Barnes & Noble

Available in print at Amazon – anthology

BLURB:

A traumatic, barely believable experience in his past has turned Matt into a recluse. He very rarely goes out of his apartment and absolutely never goes out at night.

But then his boss invites him out for dinner. He’s only ever heard Wolfe’s sexy voice over the phone and has only seen pictures of the gorgeous man, but Matt finds himself sorely tempted for the first time in two years to leave his apartment.

But is Wolfe all that he seems?

**********************************

©2008 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

A knock on the door startled him.

“Matt, it’s me.” Wolfe! “Open up.”

Matt stared, frozen. Inky twilight had almost given up the ghost to night’s dark, and it could have been that color — or lack of it — that kept him rooted to the spot. His door had not opened except in the full light of day for so very long.

“Matt!” Knock again. “I know you’re in there.”

Matt found himself at the door, staring at the blank wooden panel. On the other side stood a man he very much wanted to know better. Fear paralyzed him.

“Matt!”

“What are you doing here?” Matt’s voice, when he found it, was rusty and soft.

Wolfe heard him anyway, his voice tempering. “I came to apologize.”

“You didn’t need to do that.”

“I brought food. You like Italian? I’ve got this pasta with garlic sausage that’s simply marvelous. You have to try it.”

Matt placed both trembling palms on the door, noting the contrast of the pale skin of his hand and the dark wood panel.

“Matt.”

“I…” His jaw worked as he tried to force reason over fear. Wolfe was here.

“Matt?”

“I…” Heaving a sigh, he rested his forehead on the door between his palms. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Wolfe’s voice sounded so close. Impossibly close considering there was a wooden barrier between them. Matt could almost imagine the breeze of its passage on his neck.

He sighed again, closing his eyes. Coward. “I can’t let you in.”

“Matt.” Low, sultry. The very sound oozed down Matt’s spine to pool hot, like lava, in his belly. He pressed up against the door, trying to get closer. “Open the door.”

His hand dropped to caress the knob. Only the lock kept him from turning it fully. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

The knob won’t turn. He shook his head, even though Wolfe couldn’t see it. That wasn’t right. There was another reason. “I can’t.”

“Matt.” Slow, reasonable, with that delicious purr. How did he do that in one syllable? “Open the door. Talk to me.”

Vampires. Can’t open the door. “No.”

“Tell me why.”

Wolfe isn’t a vampire, what’s the harm? “You won’t believe me.”

“Matthew—” His full name sounded so seductive through that voice. “—there’s something that keeps you holed up every night. I’d very much like to know what it is.”

He rolled his forehead on the stained wood, his hand gripping the doorknob. Warm gratitude flooded his chest. Not since his last friend had tried in the month after Daniel’s death had anyone wanted to know what was wrong with him. No one had cared.

He so very much wanted this man to care.

His fingers toyed with the lock.

“Open the door, Matt, and talk to me. Whatever it is, I’ll believe you. I promise.”

He said garlic sausage. Is the myth about vampires and garlic true? Wait, what are you thinking? You’ve talked to him during the day. He’s no vampire.

He turned the lock, hearing the soft scrape of metal on metal in the hushed blue twilight. Slowly, he stepped back, staring at his hands: one on the knob, one still splayed over the panel at eye level. I can do this. It’s just Wolfe at my door. Just Wolfe.

He twisted the knob and took another step back to let the door slowly open.

Lust stole his breath. Lit only by the twilight and the night lamps that illuminated the street below, Wolfe was every bit as gorgeous as the pictures promised — and then some. Tall. His sharp chin would rest easily on top of Matt’s head if they embraced. If he did that, the silky, curly black hair that fairly floated loose about his head and shoulders would drift down to caress Matt’s cheeks. Sharp, sculpted black brows swept up sharply from the bridge of his narrow nose toward his temples. His pale cheekbones followed a parallel line. The eyes between them were by far the most amazing, impossible green that Matt had ever seen. How could he see that color so very clearly in this lighting? He stared, captivated by them and the thick, curled lashes that surrounded them.

For a moment, Wolfe stared, eyes a little wide, lips parted. He looked almost as stunned as Matt felt. But it was brief. He smiled, and Matt’s attention was redirected to his full, red lips. “Hello, Matthew.”

He couldn’t talk. He should talk. He should say something. Anything. He couldn’t just stand there, gaping at the man. How transparent and hopeless was that?

But he couldn’t stop himself. His heart swelled in his chest, and his dick started to swell in his pants. His hands itched to reach out and touch, and his legs wanted to give out and take him to his knees for some justified worship. The man was simply beyond belief.

Still smiling, Wolfe raised to eye level a plastic bag with a full brown paper sackwithin it. “Dinner?”

Matt blinked. It did nothing to dispel the vision. “Yeah.”

Wolfe chuckled. “May I come in?”

Another blink. Geez, where was his head? “Yeah. Come in.” Matt stepped aside.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, another person crossed Matt’s threshold. A shiver of fear passed over his skin, but it was quickly erased by the sight of Wolfe’s long legs and high, tight butt encased in snug denim. A simple long-sleeved T-shirt in a deep green bagged around a slim waist but most definitely hugged a broad back and nicely muscular shoulders and arms.

“You must try this garlic bread,” Wolfe told him, digging into the bag right after he’d set it down. “I don’t know what they put on it, but the smell alone is divine.”

Letting the front door close softly, Matt followed as though drawn by an invisible rope. He flipped on the overhead light in the kitchen for the sheer desire of wanting to see Wolfe better. By the time he reached Wolfe, the man had a big hunk of bread covered in all sorts of cheesy stuff in his fingers, holding it up for Matt. Those red lips were grinning at him again. “Taste.”

Snared by the green eyes, Matt opened up. Crusty bread touched his tongue, and he bit down on instinct. A portion of his brain told him that what was in his mouth was delicious. A larger portion of his mind told him that the luscious lips below those amazing green eyes would taste even better.

Did he whimper?

“Good?”

He nodded, watching those eyes linger over his face, hoping they liked what they saw. Wolfe’s smile melted in the heat between them as he leaned in closer to Matt. A pink tongue darted between Wolfe’s lips as he lifted the remaining hunk of bread from Matt’s mouth and set it aside on the counter. Matt chewed by rote, watching that beautiful face loom closer. He shut his eyes as something warm and wet eased over the right corner of his mouth. “Butter,” Wolfe muttered, breath wafting over his skin.

“Mmmm.” God, he smelled good! Even over the prevailing aroma of garlic, cheese, butter, and Italian spices, Matt could detect the dark, delicious male scent.

A smooth cheek rubbed his. “Swallow.”

Matt did.

Hands slid over his shoulders, partly down his arms, then around his back. “Matt,” came a whispered groan near his ear, “you’re more intoxicating than I expected.”

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