Hi all. My name is Amanda Young and I'm thrilled to be here, another member of Slash & Burn. In honor of my very first post, I'd like to do two things.
The first is a contest. Anyone who leaves a comment on today's blog post by between now and Sunday, March 25th will be entered to win a free book. The winner can choose between either of my March releases, Something More or Missing In Action , both of which have plenty of hot, yummy manlove in them. I'll announce the winner here on Monday, March 26th. Simple as that.
The second, is give you all something yummy to read. The following excerpt is from my current work in progress, Secrets & Lies. Enjoy!
Copyright 2007 Amanda Young
Connor Drake leaned against the long mahogany bar and took a sip from the long neck beer bottle he held between his thumb and forefinger. His gaze wandered restlessly over the crowded dance floor, dozens on sweaty men in various stages of undress bumping and grinding to the disco music pulsing out of the speakers overhead. The scene should’ve had some effect on him, all those sweaty men writhing against one another, but it left him cold. He took another long pull from his drink and moved on to the small clusters of men socializing here and there along the fringes of the dance floor and in the wide open threshold leading into lounge on the other side of the building, his gaze roaming for some unknown…something that he refused to define.
In the short half an hour he’d been inside Angel’s Grotto, Connor had already been cruised by several men, their eyes meeting his for just the right duration, their come hither smiles alluring him to follow them into the back room, where men gathered to do anything their fickle hearts desired. Unfortunately, none of those men struck a chord within him. His dick lay inside the snug black jeans he’d squeezed into earlier in the evening, flaccid and unaffected by their come-ons.
He was on the prowl for someone in specific. A man he already knew he couldn’t have. Regrettably, his body wouldn’t listen to reason and refused to get hard for anyone else. Through trial and error over the last year, he’d come to realize that whoever he fucked needed to bear more than a passing resemblance to the man he yearned for, or things just wouldn’t work. The situation was as annoying as it was hopeless. He was smart enough to realize he searched for a replacement, but couldn’t stop himself from acting on the impulse. Not tonight or any of the other nights when he’d broken down and given in to the urge to come here, his sexual demons riding him hard for relief. It never did. No matter how pathetic he felt afterward.
Connor swallowed down the foamy bottom from the beer bottle and turned to order another. As he did, a man at the end of the counter caught his eye in the mirror behind the bar. The man had the right look about him, dark hair and eyes, a pale complexion. He was a little too tall, maybe an inch or so higher than Connor’s own six foot. A heavily muscled upper torso strained the cotton shirt fabric of the man’s t-shirt. He was a little bigger than Connor usually went for and most likely a top, but that was okay. He was versatile and didn’t mind playing the bottom on occasion.
Setting his empty bottle on the counter, he turned toward the man, a small smile tilting his lips. When the man smiled back, Connor nodded and tilted his head slightly toward the direction of the back room. The guy’s smile widened in acceptance of Connors silent offer to play. He set his drink down and made a beeline for the backroom. Connor followed, weaving his way through the crowd and trying to keep an eye on his conquest, lest he lose him in the mob of people.
Connor pushed aside the curtain of chains separating the illustrious backroom from the main floor and stepped into the dimly lit, cement-hewn corridor most of the patrons referred to as the dungeon. Tiny booths, complete with large viewing windows from waist height up and lined with crimson velveteen drapes, ran down both sides of the hall. There were nicer, more private rooms on the second floor, but this was where the real action took place. Where men paired off in groups of two or more and indulged in everything from the simplest of quickie blow jobs to fisting and beyond. The deeper you walked through the dark corridor, the more hedonistic the pleasures became.
The stout tang of semen and sweat hung in the air, a hint of something almost coppery underlying the stronger scents. The wet slap of flesh and hoarse male groans echoed through the passage.
Connor’s dick twitched in anticipation of what was to come and he took a step deeper inside, his eyesight gradually adjusting to the change in light. Having lost sight of his conquest once the man entered the passageway, Connor began to search for him.
Quick glimpses into the first two, six-by-nine rooms proved fruitless, an unknown couple in different stages of vanilla fucking inside each. He ducked his head into the third and—though the man he sought was nowhere in sight—stopped for a moment to watch the threesome inside. Morbid curiosity kept his feet glued to the floor as two large bruisers fucked a slighter built, blond man. The twink hung suspended in a sling connected to the exposed beams in the ceiling, strips of black leather tethered by silver metal rings crisscrossing his pale body and bracketing his thighs. A blood red ball gag spread his lips wide, his eyes scrunched tight in pleasure, pain, or a little of both.
More interesting than the tools of their trade, or even each man’s individual appeal, was the fact that the blond was lifted at the perfect height between their heavily muscled bodies, his hips at the perfect angle to accept both of his partner’s sizeable pricks inside his ass at once. Connor studied the men’s rhythm as they plowed in and out, the steady cadence of back and forth growing faster, rougher with every ragged inhalation.
To his surprise, blood rushed south to his groin and made his cock swell, his balls pulling tight as they lifted and snuggled up to the base of his shaft. The thought of being in the middle made his hole twinge in sympathy, but his cock was all for it. What would it be like to squeeze into a hot, tight hole and have his cock caressed by a throbbing cock in additional to the snug inner walls? His dick jerked inside his Levis with the intense desire to find out.
Movement at the corner of his peripheral vision caught Connor’s eye. He craned his neck around and caught sight of a dark head disappearing into a room a little farther down the hall. His guy?
He tore himself away from the trio and went in pursuit of his entertainment for the evening. Watching was fun, but it only went so far. Connor rubbed the heel of his hand over the stiff outline of his cock through denim. His dick ached, in need of a little TLC as the zipper bit into his skin. If he didn’t get some relief soon he was going to have permanent track marks up his shaft. He shuddered. If he wanted to decorate his prick, he’d wear a cock ring or get a piercing. Scars didn’t bear thinking on.
Connor stopped just outside of the stall he’d seen the guy slip into. With the curtain drawn closed, he wasn’t able to see inside. He pulled back the curtain. His gaze landed on his bedsport, who stood across the room with his back to the side wall. His thighs were spread a shoulders width apart, the man’s fist pumped up and down the flushed length of his cock, which jutting from a wreath of tight black curls.
Connor moved forward, letting the curtain fall shut behind him. His mouth began to water as he advanced, undressing as he walked. He yanked his t-shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor, his chest heaving under the strain of each breath, and worked open the fastening of his jeans. His gaze locked with the brunettes as he slid the zipper down, the loose denim pooling around his hips while he toed off his shoes.
His gaze dropped, landing on the brunette’s thick uncut cock, long and beautiful with a deep rose, flared crown that appeared on every backstroke. He watched the man stroke himself for a moment, his hand dropping to his own groin and rubbing. The brunette moaned and let go of his prick. He reached down and gave his low-hanging balls a sharp tug.
Man must’ve been close. Connor grinned and finished shoving his jeans down and off. He stepped out of them and left them lying in a crumpled heap upon the floor, too anxious to touch and taste the banquet of ivory skin in front of him to bother with stopping to pick them up.
He reached out and glided his fingers over one of the man’s pecs and the stiff peak of one puckered brown nipple. He watched it tighten, the flesh crinkling right up, and couldn’t resist leaning in to flick his tongue over the tiny bud.
The man’s back arched, pushing his chest out, and he moaned. “Fuck. So hot. Want you.”
“Mm hmm.” Connor sucked hard and pulled back, gratified to see the creased flesh flushed a darker shade of brown and glistening with his saliva. “How?” He bent to tend to the other nipple, wanting to see them both rosy and well-loved.
Strong hands gripped Connor by the shoulders and flipped him around. He reached out with both hands, palms landing on the smooth curtain and thick Plexiglas behind it. His hands fisted in the soft curtain, parting it in the middle between the panes and leaned his cheek against the cool glass as a hot, hard male body pressed him flush against it. The glass felt icy against his overheated skin, making him shiver. He gasped, goose bumps popping up on his chest and arms.
Hot breath puffed over the side of his neck, followed by the flat of a moist tongue licking at his skin. The sensuous touch continued up, stopping beneath the hollow of his ear. Sharp teeth nipped at the lobe. “Gonna fuck you so hard. Right through the damn glass.”
An arm wrapped around Connor’s waist, a hand grabbing his dick and pumping it in rough, fast strokes. It clamped down on the crown and squeezed, milking pre-come from the tip.
Connor moaned, his gaze straight ahead on the empty corridor outside, and thrust his ass back at the man behind him. “Do it. Fuck me.”
The hand on his cock let go. The sweltering heat against his back disappeared, cool air splashing over his damp, overheated flesh. Foil crinkled and the blunt end of a latex-covered dick slide through the crease of his ass, nudging his hole. Connor sucked in a breath and braced himself. It’d been too long since the last time he’d bottomed. With no prep, and no more lube than what came on a rubber, this was going to hurt. He wasn’t fool enough to think otherwise.
A hand tightened around one of his hips, holding him steady as the pressure increased. He bore down, gritting his teeth to keep from calling out, and felt the thick crown pop through his anus. Connor’s hole spasmed and burned around the invader, stretching to accommodate the monster cock being ruthlessly forced inside him.
His mind shut down and his libido took over, pushing his hips backward. He spread his thighs wider, as his body opened to the man pumping away inside him. Connor grunted, his head falling forward, as the bite of pain intensified his pleasure and took away his ability to think, made him soar.
In that moment, Connor could almost forget why he kept coming back to Angel’s Grotto. That what was supposed to be a fun lark had quickly snowballed into something much more disturbing: an obsession of epic proportions.
Visiting the club had been his and Darren’s, his now ex-boyfriend, last ditch attempt to spice things up in their stale relationship. Admission into Angel’s Grotto, a little known sex club outside of Pittsburgh’s city limits, required recurring clean bills of health, in addition to the huge monthly membership fee. Darren’s insistence that the club was exactly what they need to reignite their spark, more than anything, pushed into coughing up the cash and test results, though he felt a tad wary about the club’s shady reputation. At the time, his main concern had been holding onto his lover.
The age gap that had seemed so slight when they first got together, had grown into a wide-assed chasm between them. Ten years didn’t seem like much, but it was obvious in the way his gaze wondered when they went out that Darren grew listless with monogamy. At thirty-two, Connor couldn’t really blame him. He’d already gone out and done the single scene for years before they’d met. Glutted himself on anonymous sex until he sick of it, and all he wanted was to find someone he could settle down with and love. He’d thought he’d found that in Darren. If only he’d known…
The man behind him growled, pulling Connor out of his funk and back to the here and now. The grip on his waist tightened and the cock inside him shifted, glancing off his prostate. Connor moaned and threw his hips back harder against the man fucking him, impaling himself until he felt the itchy scratch of crinkly pubic hair against the crease of his ass. The tight ring of his anus stretched wide, burning around the base of his lover’s cock.
The man pulled back and thrust deep, pushing Connor forward, his face banging against the Plexiglas. “Oh, fuck yeah. You like it rough, huh? I can give it to you rough as you want, Babe.”
Connor grunted and pushed back. “Yes. Harder. Fuck me.” He didn’t want to think. He just wanted to feel. Escape the hopelessness of ever finding someone he could love and be loved by in return.
His prick bobbed, slapping his lower abs with every hard, deep thrust, and gifting his skin with thick smears of pre-come. The drive to come overruled thought. Connor reached down and grabbed hold of his dick, pumping in time with the fast lunges into his ass.
The force behind his partner’s thrusts grew choppy and out of tempo, pushing into him with short, snappy jabs. Connor felt the dick inside him swell and pulse, expanding as the man neared orgasm. He tugged his cock harder, squeezing the sensitive crown on every upstroke.
He wanted to come. Now. Before the man inside him got off and left him behind. Finishing himself off with his hand was always an option (he certainly used that method enough between visits here), but it wasn’t what Connor wanted and he wasn’t up to approaching anyone else tonight.
The brunette groaned, the sound vibrating down his body and straight into Connor. “Oh, hell yeah. Close, man. Hurry up. I’m gonna…” His pelvis rocked and pulled back scant inches, before shoving back into Connor. His hips circled and his cock danced, pounding into Connor’s prostate.
Connor moaned and squeezed his eyes shut, conjuring up the one picture guaranteed to get him off in a pinch. Dark hair, midnight blue eyes, a pair of full pink lips that looked as if they could Hoover chrome off a bumper. On the silver screen of his eyelids, Connor’s dream man dropped to his knees and licked his lips, making them glisten with promise.
The cock in Connor’s ass pushed deep, hitting his prostate. Tension coiled at the base of his dick and released, white hot sparks pulsing up his shaft. His balls knotted up tight, their sac pulling into his body and contracting. His dick pulsed and jerked in his fist, orgasm exploding inside him. Hot ribbons of spunk stuttered out of him, spewing over his fist and onto the floor.
Connor’s asshole clamped down tight on the prick inside him and milked his partner to climax. The man grunted and cried out, his hips making unsteady little pumps as he filled the condom. After a heartbeat, he pulled his cock out of Connor roughly and smacked him on the ass. “Thanks. I needed that.”
Connor winced from the man’s abrupt departure as much as from the sharp sting to his left ass-cheek. He lifted his head, ready to return the sentiment, and felt the words he’d been about to say shrivel up and die inside his windpipe.
On the other side of the glass, one lean hip propped against the wall, stood Teague Johnson. Their gazes locked. Connor shivered, every inch of his body shooting to attention under Teague’s brooding stare.