Good Afternoon! (unless it's still morning where you are)
Sorry I'm late today. What a mixed-up day so far. Or just what a day. I won't go into tons of details. I'm just glad you're out there. You guys mean a lot to me.
I plan to share a half a million --or maybe seven or eight--excerpts and things with you today. I have recently been re-reading some of my old stories while I've been working on the new ones. My current favorite is Civil Liberties. When the time comes to renew this book, I might ask if I can add to it. It's crazy, I know, and possibly conceited or something, but I love this book--and there's just so much I want say.
I couldn't name the people who inspired these characters except to say that Denny came from a DA candidate I knew in Florida, along with a person I saw on television once. Amanda--who barely has a cameo--is from the man's cousin. She had more money than anything else and used it to her best advantage. Last I knew, she used her inheritance to marry well, thus insuring that she never ran out of money or status. She was something else. And then there's Christian. He's a dichotomy of hard-boiled cop and soft-hearted vulnerability. Everything about him contradicts himself. I've known so many men that knowingly chose to follow their heads and their parents' expectations, instead of their hearts. Christian just does the best he can.
Starting at: $3.99
by J.J. Massa
When cop Christian Parker meets D.A. Denny at a bar and takes him home, they have one steamy night of passion. That might be the end of it, but a deposition brings Christian back into Denny's life. Denny tries to deny his feelings for Christian, preferring to be a player, but when a family tragedy brings Christian down, Denny is there to comfort him.
Everything that can go wrong for these two does go astray, and Christian is ready to give up. When another tragedy threatens to tear them apart forever, though, it might just be Denny who has to convince Christian that he's ready to settle down. Can they struggle through everything life throws at them and find a way to stay together?
Once inside his apartment, Christian turned toward his guest, determined to do things right.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked nervously.
“I want you, Christian,” Denny stated firmly, walking right up to him, taking him by the shoulders and pinning him to the closed door. His mouth came down on Christian’s as he murmured, “I want you every way I can have you.”
Oh, Christian was spinning, he felt like he was floating free, yet clinging. Such heady kisses, lips stroking over his, tongue seeking, caressing, sucking on his and all he wanted to do was climb inside this other man and stay there forever.
Before he knew what was happening, his tight t-shirt was over his head and off, the top button of his jeans open, and long, elegant fingers caressing him everywhere at once.
“Where’s the bedroom, Christian?” Denny murmured, and they turned, moving toward it.
Shoes, socks, pants, boxers, all of it melted off, floated away somehow and both men were naked when Denny tugged Christian toward the large bed that dominated the room.
“I can…I can touch you, too, right?” Christian scooted onto the bed, pulling the comforter back.
“I told you, I’m sorta new at this and…its stupid, but I didn’t know if there were rules.”
Denny grinned. “There are rules,” he said, sitting facing Christian, his hand stroking through the hair on his chest, fingers teasing a nipple. “You can touch me, if you want, but you have to tell me if you do or don’t like something. Do you have lube? Condoms?”
The question sent a thrill, and a spark of fear through Christian. This was real. The man he wanted was really going to make love…have sex with him. It was real.
“In the drawer,” Christian nodded, his words a dry croak.
“Hey,” Denny murmured, arms sliding around Christian, drawing him down on the bed to lie facing him. “It’s okay, relax.”
Denny wasn’t giving this up, this beautiful young body, so clean and cute, so hot and handsome. No, but he would calm his skittish tiger, and then have his way with him. When Denny’s hard cock brushed against Christian’s half-hard shaft, the younger man groaned, his erection growing again
*Much Later (to prove there's angst)*
It didn’t really surprise Denny when he heard her voice on the line. He and Amanda Arbuckle had known one another for a number of years. They’d been on again-off again lovers from the beginning. Causal friends, casual sex.
“Denton, how are you my dear?” she gushed enthusiastically. He could practically see her sitting in one of her spindly, Victorian chairs, holding her telephone oh so properly, her scheduling book on her lap ready for her to jot down the date and time he would be squiring and then bedding her.
“I’m just fine, Mandy, how are you these days?” She hated when he shortened her name, but he chose to interpret it as a mark of their friendship that she let him use the nickname.
He wanted to demand she just cut to the chase, but that wasn’t how these things were done. Though he had no intention of attending whatever soiree she felt she couldn’t possibly miss, nor did he have any desire to roll around in her silk sheets, it was bad manners simply to say so.
“I’m so glad to hear that, I must say! You were spotted on your own at the country club looking positively morose!” Her tone changed to one of empathetic sadness. “You know how much your happiness means to me, Denton.”
And how much would my happiness mean to you if you knew I was pining for another man, Mandy?
“You’ve always been one of my dearest friends, Mandy,” he said, keeping his thoughts to himself. Since his dearest friends knew little more about him than his name, job title and whatever they read in the paper, that designation of friend carried little weight with him.
“Of course I have, my dear,” she purred. “And that’s why I want you to accompany me to Daddy’s company’s charity dinner the Thursday after next. It’s formal, of course, but…”
“Mandy,” he interrupted her.
“…black tie is quite acceptable, and you always look positively edible with your salt and pepper hair and…”
“Amanda!” he stopped her.
“Denton, you don’t need to shout,” she objected, a studied vein of hurt clear in her voice.
“I’m terribly sorry, Mandy,” he apologized as expected. “Very rude of me. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Well,” she continued to pout. “You might as well tell me what has you acting so out of character.” And that right there clarified that she didn’t know him and wasn’t his friend.
Denny knew himself to be controlling, aggressive, had an intrinsic need to be in charge. The sweet, blond detective that liked it when Denny held his chair, liked it when Denny rolled him over, touched him, fucked him--he knew. Denny’s breath caught in his throat, the ache building in his chest.
I'll be back in about an hour with a different excerpt from a different book.