The Dream of a Thousand Nights: Genesis

September 26, 2011

The Dream of a Thousand Nights” was inspired by a short story I co-authored with my friend and fellow author, Venona Keyes.  “The Prince and the Jinn” was about 6,000 words long, and was a middle-eastern take on the “It’s a Wonderful Life” and “A Christmas Carol” theme (what would the world be like if you weren’t around).  While the plots of “The Prince and the Jinn” and “The Dream of a Thousand Nights” are very different (there is no wife/princess in “Dream,” since the prince and the Jinn meet as young men), the feelings the stories evoke are similar and the dreams are the same.

In “The Prince and the Jinn,” the prince is still mourning the death of his beloved princess, years later.  Surrounded by a beautiful garden and the generous gifts of his people, his grief is so great that he wishes to die.  He bemoans the fact that he didn’t take his own life when the princess died.  He dreams at night of a lover with whom he is at peace and happy, but when he awakens in the morning, the lover is gone, and he is lonely once more.

Tamir, a male Jinn, appears before the prince and shows him what the world would be like if he had, indeed died.  The prince sees his sister unhappy because she is to be married to a man she does not love.  He sees his land and his people suffer because he is not there to protect them.  The Jinn grants him three wishes, and the prince wishes that his sister will marry the man she loves, that his kingdom will prosper, and that he will no longer be lonely. 

The Jinn tells the prince that he has no need to grant any of these wishes, because the prince himself will see to it that his sister finds happiness and his kingdom will prosper.  And when the prince challenges the Jinn to explain how he has no need to grant the last wish, the Jinn explains that he, himself, will remain at the prince’s side so that he will never be alone again.  The Jinn then explains that it was he who held the prince’s hand to stop the prince from plunging a dagger into his heart after his wife’s death, and that he was the prince’s dream lover.

Stay tuned for excerpts from both The Prince and the Jinn” and “The Dream of a Thousand Nights.” 

Peace,

Shira

Excerpt: The Dream of a Thousand Nights, by Shira Anthony

September 26, 2011

Here’s a sneak preview of the first of the dreams in “The Dream of a Thousand Nights!”  By the way, if you read the excerpt from “The Prince and the Jinn,” from the previous posts, you’ll probably recognize some of this, too.

Excerpt from Chapter Two (pre-publication, final content may change):

A soft breeze blew through the palace windows. Neriah inhaled the delicate fragrance of orange blossoms and stretched his arms over his head. “Are you content?” came a man’s voice from beside him.

“I…,” Neriah hesitated, unsure of his response. Warm lips pressed against his own; the taste was familiar and intoxicating. He was not unhappy, and yet….

“What is it you desire?” his companion inquired.

Neriah hesitated once more.

“I can give you anything you wish. Diamonds, rubies, land, women….”

“I have no need for those things,” Neriah answered, claiming the lips that had spoken those words.

“What, then? What do you desire, beloved prince?”

“I want to know your name.”

Neriah sat up in his bed and shivered. It had been the same dream now for weeks, although he had come to wonder if he hadn’t dreamed it long before and forgotten it. Each time, he would awaken out of breath, aroused, and with an emptiness that pierced his soul to its core. He could remember the intense passion his dream companion had awakened in his soul, but he could never remember the face of the lover in his dreams, nor did he ever learn his lover’s name.

“My lord,” came a soft female voice from the entrance to his tent, interrupting his thoughts. “May I bring you something to drink? Should I send your manservant to help you dress?”

“I need nothing,” he replied as he dismissed the servant girl. “Leave me.” She bowed low and backed away from his tent.

It was always like this—those who knew who he was would insist on doing everything for him—and he despised it. Despite his royal blood, he was more than capable of attending to his own needs. Years of living by himself on the run from his father’s men had taught him to guard his independence. He knew that the servants found him cold and unreachable, but he cared little. His place was to lead them, not to befriend them. In truth, he had few people whom he could call “friends” at all, and he preferred it that way.

He stood up, covering his naked body in a silk shalvar kameez of the deepest blue, edged with delicate gold embroidery, and stepped into a pair of red velvet slippers. He walked over to a low-slung chair in the center of the tent and sat, frowning and rubbing his chin. He had heard the men return from their night raid on the enemy encampment. He would wait for a report before deciding what his next move should be.

“My lord.”

“You may enter, Uryon,” Neriah said with a nod to the captain of his personal guard.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with short, dark hair and bright green eyes walked into the tent, bowing low. He wore a deep purple shalvar kameez and a red scarf wrapped around his head. At his waist was a broad sword with an inlaid hilt, along with a small, jeweled dagger. Neriah himself had given Uryon the dagger as a symbol of the trust he placed in his officer, and Uryon had not disappointed him—Uryon had, countless times, protected Neriah at great peril to his own life. The prince knew that he was fortunate to have men such as Uryon under his command.

“We were successful,” Uryon announced as he kneeled before Neriah. “Sheik Karana’s men are either dead or have fled into the hills. We have brought back the spoils of the raid.”

“Spoils?” Neriah ventured a slight frown playing upon his lips. “I have no need for spoils.”

“Nevertheless,” Uryon replied, “there were several women taken in the battle, along with a male slave, and three chests of gold. Your Highness must—”

“Make arrangements for the women to be returned to their villages,” Neriah interrupted. “You may send them back with enough gold that they will be provided for.”

“And the slave?”

“Is he friend or foe? What are his origins?” Neriah asked. Another loyal, able-bodied soldier would be a welcome addition to their ranks. Several of Neriah’s best men had been won in battles with the enemy. He had earned their gratitude and their loyalty in freeing them.

“He won’t reveal from whence he comes,” Uryon replied. “He refuses to speak to anyone but you, Your Majesty.”

“He knows who I am?” Neriah asked, surprised at this turn of events. His identity as Neriah, the banished Crown Prince of Tazier, was a secret known only to his closest followers and loyal servants. To others, he was known as Sheva, a wealthy sheik who opposed the rule of the current King of Tazier.

“No,” Uryon explained, “but he will not speak unless it is to our leader, Lord Sheva.”

“A spy, then,” Neriah said, his face darkening, “perhaps in my father’s employ?”

“It is possible,” the other man replied, “although if he is a spy, he is a crafty one.”

“How so?” asked Neriah.

“He had been kept to pleasure his captors,” Uryon answered, looking uncomfortable now. “Or so the women have told us. They appeared”—Uryon hesitated for a moment—“quite jealous of his charms.”

Hope you liked that! 

Shira

City Falcon Release Day – Excerpt #3

August 26, 2011

As a fitting closure to this day, I’ll give you another little snippet. It’s actually one of my personal favorites. While writing this scene, I listened to Mark Knopfler’s “Sailing to Philadelphia” – I think the music fits the mood perfectly.

Without further ado, here’s to you:

They were back at runway 4L by then, standing at its very end where it jutted out into  Jamaica Bay. The landing lights were already on, and airplanes landed and took off half a mile behind them. Hunter used his field glass to scan the skies above Joco Marsh, speaking into his handheld, his voice occasionally drifting back to Mark between the roar of the planes.

Mark was leaning against the hood of his car, arms crossed, watching him. Hunter was a dark silhouette against the dramatic sky, hair and beard hued a coppery, golden red by the sun. The wind caught in the loose strands that had escaped his braid and tugged at his loose pants, outlining his long legs. He looked like something not quite from this world, some ancient spirit turned corporeal maybe, ready to leave solid ground at any moment.

He is gorgeous, thought Mark. A desire to touch, to make sure with his very own hands Hunter was solid and real, grew on Mark until he couldn’t stand it any longer.

They were all alone out here. The only ones who’d be able to see them were the pilots of the planes above, and they were supposed to be busy with other things.

He pushed off the car and closed the distance between them, enfolding Hunter in his arms from behind. Hunter lowered his field glass and leaned back into Mark’s embrace.

“I just called Greg,” he said. “We’re done here.”

Mark pressed a small kiss to the corner of Hunter’s mouth, pulling him a bit closer. “Good.”

They didn’t move, though. Mark’s hands rested on Hunter’s chest, his fingertips stroking lazily, back and forth. Hunter’s free hand covered Mark’s, thumb brushing the back of Mark’s hand. They watched the sun set in silence.

“This is beautiful,” Mark said softly, not only referring to the spectacle before them.

Hunter leaned his head back, searching for Mark’s lips. They kissed long, but gentle, without urgency, their lips barely open, painfully tender.

“You’re a romantic, Mark Bowman,” Hunter said, but he smiled as he turned his face to the horizon again.

Mark trailed his lips up and down the side of Hunter’s neck. “Is this bad?”

Hunter tilted his head to give Mark better access. “No, it is not. Not at all,” he said.

After a while, Hunter started to hum, that low, calming sound he used with the birds. He threaded his fingers through Mark’s and squeezed.

Mark wished he could stop time. He could have stood there forever, holding Hunter in his arms, with the wind caressing them, surrounded by peace.

To all of you who took the time to stop by today for my little party: Thank You! I hope you had as much fun reading through the posts as I had writing them.

If you took the quiz, come by here next week or check out my blog (http://felfaber.blogspot.com) or my Goodreads profile (http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4647473.Feliz_Faber) for the winner.


City Falcon Release Day – Excerpt #2

August 26, 2011

Back turned to Mark, Hunter asked, “Why are you here, Mark? Want to join me for the patrol?” Despite his casual tone of voice, the set of his shoulders radiated tension.

Mark rubbed his hand over the knotted muscle in his own neck with a wince. “I don’t think so, no.”

Hunter’s hands tightened on the window frame. Otherwise, he didn’t respond, waiting.

Mark took a deep breath. “Actually, I came to tell you… Hunter, I think it was all a big mistake. You, Greg, the falcons…. I won’t come back.”

“So why did you ask for it in the first place?” Hunter turned to Mark, face unreadable. “Why are you telling me that, anyway? It’s Greg you should be talking to.”

“I will,” Mark replied sharply. He clenched his fists in an attempt to control the angered embarrassment rising inside him. “I wanted to talk to you first because… because I think it concerns you most. I should never have gone after the falconry thing, knowing you were here.”

Hunter pushed himself off the car and straightened, crossing his arms. “What has me being here got to do with anything?” he asked, his voice even. Annoyingly so. Mark dug his nails into his palms.

“Don’t you tell me you don’t know that,” he said, struggling to keep his wavering control. “It was all about you, from the moment you first looked at me, with your fucking innuendos and your fucking attitude and your fucking eyes!” He heard his voice get louder but felt unable to stop it. Didn’t want to, either. “I knew from the start you were pure poison, and now I’m a mess, and it’s all… your… fucking… fault!” Mark’s fists pounded the accents to his last words on the car roof.

“Stop that,” Hunter snapped. “You’re scaring the falcons.”

“Don’t give a shit,” Mark growled, but he still took a step aside.

Hunter held onto his own biceps in a white-knuckled grip, but his face remained blank. His voice cut like cold steel. “You’re a grown man, Mark. No one could have made you do anything. You took my invitation all of your own free will. I didn’t have to twist your arm, as far as I recall.”

“You—” Mark started, but Hunter chopped him off.

“And don’t you dare blame me for the sex. That takes two, as well you know.”

“You started it,” Mark yelled. Hunter’s lips curled into a sneer.

“Ah, now, Mark, that’s pathetic. You didn’t strike me as a blushing virgin at all,” he said. “However, I get it. You don’t want to see me again. Fine. I’ll get over it.” Turning away, he made to round the car. “Get lost, then, and let me do my work.”

Mark’s vision blurred red at the edges. “You self-righteous, cocky, arrogant asshole,” he snarled, grabbed a handful of braid and yanked hard.

Hunter whirled around and lashed out, hitting Mark’s jaw hard enough to make him stumble backward. Roaring, Mark caught himself and launched into a tackle which ended with Hunter up against the car, wrists pinned in Mark’s iron grip, both men glaring at each other,  breathing hard. Hunter struggled, but his lean body was no match for Mark’s broader shoulders and taller frame. Eventually he stilled, eyes shooting daggers at Mark.

“What is it you want from me?” he hissed.

The words cut through Mark’s red-hot fury and brought him back to his senses with a jolt. Shoulders slumping, he stepped back and turned, all his anger draining away like water from a sieve, leaving him hollow and exhausted. He closed his eyes and shook his head, struggling to get his leaden feet to move, to carry him away.

A touch on his arm stopped him.

Mark stood, unable to turn, unable to move on.

“Mark,” Hunter said, the unexpected kindness in his voice helping Mark to find his tongue.

“Let me go, Hunter,” he croaked, horrified at how miserable he sounded. Hunter’s hand on his arm tightened instead, tugging gently.

Mark didn’t know how, but suddenly Hunter’s arms enfolded him, held him tight, and he just crumpled, knees going weak, hands fisting in the fabric of Hunter’s jacket.

The familiar soft humming vibrated beneath Mark’s ear. Hunter’s hands stroked Mark’s back, his hair. A part of Mark was appalled at the display of weakness he provided, but the rest of him didn’t care, leaning closer still into the warmth of Hunter’s embrace, unthinking, just giving in to the feeling of being held. Hunter’s lips touched Mark’s cheek, his soft beard brushed Mark’s skin. Words mixed into the low humming, no louder than the sound, soft words in a language Mark couldn’t understand but felt soothed by nevertheless.

They stood like that for a second or an hour, Mark couldn’t have told. Eventually he pulled back with a sigh, hanging his head. Hunter’s hands slid easily from his shoulders, coming to rest on his forearms. Mark turned his palms up, unable to stand the closeness any longer, but unwilling to give up physical contact completely.

“I’m so tired, Hunter,” Mark said. “I’m tired of fighting every day. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Then don’t,” Hunter said. “You needn’t fight everything.”

City Falcon Release Day – Excerpt #1 and some Recipes

August 26, 2011

This scene takes place at Falcon Station. Earlier, Mark and Hunter had argued about fastfood, which Mark mostly lives off and Hunter despises.
To get his point across, Hunter cooked an Arabian style dinner for Mark and Greg.

The falconers talked shop while they ate. Greg kept rustling among the papers he had thrown to the floor earlier, liberally dotting them with grease spots while discussing things with Hunter that were mostly Greek to Mark. It didn’t bother him. He let their conversation wash over him while he savored the best food he’d had in forever. No wonder Hunter didn’t care for burgers. Mark closed his eyes, chasing a particular aroma which reminded him of… oh, of how Hunter’s skin tasted right behind his…

A chuckle brought him back to the present. “Seems to me you like Hunter’s cooking, Mark,” Greg said. “Better than sex, isn’t it?”

Mark almost choked on the bite, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“Perhaps at your age, you old fart,” Hunter chided. “Wait till I tell Lucy you said that.”

“I’ll show you an old fart, brat! Besides, Lucy knows what I think of your stuff. I was actually quoting her here.”

Mark had regained his breath by then. “Makes one think, doesn’t it?” he said, aiming at casual. “As for me, it’s a close second.” He dared a glance out of the corner of his eye at Hunter, enjoying his stunned expression, which gave way to amusement a heartbeat later. Greg barked a laugh and dealt Mark a hearty slap on the back. “I like you better every time I see you, Mark, I really do.”

I added Hunter’s recipes below so you can be the judge of Greg’s sentiment:

Koresht e sardalu wa alu (Lamb with apricots)

2 lbs leg of lamb with bones, 1 onion, 1can tomatoes, 2 tblsp tomato paste, 2 tsp turmeric, 2 tsp cinnamon, 1-2 tsp cayenne (according to taste), 1 tsp ginger powder,1 tsp bell pepper powder, 1/2 tsp allspice, 1/2 tsp cardamom, 1cup dried plums, 1cup dried apricots, 2 tblsp pine nuts, 2 tblsp almond sticks,1 tblsp butter, salt, brown sugar, lemon juice, sunflower oil

Chop the lamb leg into 4-5 pieces. In a large pan, roast pieces in oil until brown. Remove the meat from the pan, put aside. Roast onions, stir in tomato paste, spices, tomatoes and 2 cups of water. Put the meat back. Simmer for 90min. Take out the meat, debone, and put the meat back into the pan.  Add plums and apricots and simmer for another 30 minutes. Add brown sugar, salt and lemon juice to taste.

In another pan, lightly roast almonds and pine nuts with a little salt and brown sugar. Sprinkle the finished dish with nut mix.   

Maghmour (Eggplant casserole)

1-2 eggplants, 1 can of chicken peas, 1 can of tomatoes, 2 tblsp. tomato paste, 3 onions, 2 cloves of garlic, 1 tblsp dried mint leaves, 1 pinch of cumin, olive oil, water, salt, pepper.

Cut the eggplants into cubes, salt generously, then fry in oil. Put aside.
Cut the onions into bigger pieces, cook in oil until translucent, add drained chicken peas and tomato paste. Stir and add a little water. Add canned tomatoes with juice and the fried eggplant cubes. Stir well. Add more water if necessary. Crush garlic and mint leaves, mix with cumin and allspice. Add to the dish. Salt and pepper to taste.
Let simmer at low heat for at least 30 min. Stir occasionally. Serve warm or cold.

Flatbread

160 ml warm water, 80 ml warm milk, 1 egg, 2 teasp.salt, 500 gr wheat flour, 3 teasp dried yeast, 1tblsp olive oil, 1 teasp sugar

Make a yeast dough. Allow to rise for 20 min. Part the dough into 15-20 pieces.
Heat a flat pan on the stove. Roll the dough pieces flat, make them very thin. Bake in the pan, one after another for a few minutes each.

Now who’s right, Greg or Mark?

THE ATTORNEY by Carolyn LeVine Topol – excerpt (Adult)

August 3, 2011

Here’s a little treat for you to enjoy as we close for the night, but I’ll be back over the next 24 hours to check on comments.  Happy Reading!  Enjoy the second book in The Male Room trilogy.

Chapter 3

SAM closed the door as soon as they entered his apartment, flipped the deadbolt, and pressed Chris against the door, crashing their lips together. Chris tasted like the perfect blend of green tea, Thai spices, and something more. It didn’t matter what it was. Sam wanted it; he was hungry for him.

Pressing back, Chris explored Sam’s mouth, wrapping his arms around Sam as he pushed his tongue inside. Sam felt a sound escape from his throat, his reaction more intense than he’d expected.

It didn’t matter that Chris was broader and taller; Sam took back control, tugging his date’s shirt out from where it had been neatly tucked into his pants. He immediately started to deftly unbutton the garment, exposing the beautiful, fair skinned six-pack underneath.

Taking a step back, Sam gazed at Chris’ heaving chest, leaning in to lick and suck each nipple, moving from one to the other, over and over, sometimes moving away from one nipple, only to return to it immediately, keeping his date guessing as to which nub he would attack next. Chris moaned, threading his fingers through Sam’s hair as the onslaught continued.

“Look at them—erect, hot, wet, waiting for me.” Sam continued to suck harder on each nub, then nipped at them both.

“Ahhh!”

“You like that, don’t you? You’re waiting for more?” Sam loved Chris’s responsive movements and wanted to experience more.

“Want to touch you,” Chris breathed out.

Anxious to oblige, Sam quickly unfastened the buttons of his own shirt, pulling it off and flinging it off to the side. Chris’ big, smooth hands instantly gripped Sam’s back and then moved to his chest, massaging in circles over every muscle, purposely avoiding his own erect nubs.

“You’re beautiful.” Eyes darkened, Chris stared at Sam as he continued rubbing his hands over his entire upper body. It wasn’t long before he began to search lower. Chris unbuckled Sam’s belt and then his own.

“You want more and I want to give it to you.” This was the moment Sam would find out if he had been right. Would they clash for control and implode before they got any further? Although he knew it bordered on cliché, Sam still wasn’t convinced two tops could handle the compromises that would need to be made.

“Bedroom.” Sam froze, a grin on his face when he heard Chris. “Can we move to your bedroom?” Chris didn’t wait for an answer, kissing Sam once again, wrapping his arms around him. The touch of the now warm hands sent a shiver up Sam’s spine.

Taking Chris by the arm, Sam hastily moved them to his bedroom. He tossed the comforter to the side, revealing the dark, burgundy-colored sheets below.

As Chris began to remove his belt, Sam stilled his hands. “Let me.” He whipped the belt out of the loops and unfastened the pants. No need for those any more. Before lowering them to the floor, Sam pressed his hand against Chris’s hard member still trapped beneath the fabric.

“Oh God.” Chris’s head fell back, his eyes slowly closing.

Inching the pants and briefs down together, Sam got his first look at the prize underneath. “You’re so damn big.” Chris’s cock was incredible; long, thick, and hard, waiting for Sam, responding to Sam’s every touch and word.

While Chris toed off his shoes and socks, then stepped out of his pants, Sam quickly stripped off the rest of his own clothing. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Chris grinned.

Sam knew men loved to suck his cock and practically lined up to get fucked by him, but for some reason he wanted Chris more than any other he’d ever made a play for before.

Jeff had sucked him off in the backroom of the Music Box once. He’d been great, but it was a onetime event. Jeff belonged to Craig, with Craig, and he was off the market now.

“I want to take you.” Sam pressed his lips to Chris’, slowly guiding him to the edge of the bed, hoping with each step forward he wouldn’t meet a wall.

“I know.” Chris pulled back briefly and then pressed their lips together again. The hunger and urgency between them grew until Sam wanted more and more of everything about Chris. He needed to have him sprawled on his bed so he could kiss every inch of that amazing body and then fuck him until he begged for release.

Chris lay on his back rolling his lips inward, clearly out of his comfort zone. Sam hovered over him. It was just how Sam wanted it. He was in charge. This was his show and he would make it a performance neither of them would forget.

Starting at Chris’s lobe, Sam nipped, licked, and kissed his way down the long neck, sucking just enough not to leave a mark. He then moved on to touch, and lavish attention on, the hot, muscular chest, and finally the tight abdomen. The man beneath him began to writhe, gripping the sheets in his clenched fists.

“You are so damn hot.” Kissing, licking, teasing the huge reddened cock, Sam listened to the moans urging him on. Each sound from Chris went right to Sam’s dick. He was harder than he’d been in ages without touching himself. When Chris began to buck under Sam’s ministrations, he stopped, grabbing the lube and a condom from the night table drawer.

“Sam.”

Blinking, as he squirted a large dollop of the gel onto his fingers, Sam looked up. Chris’ eyes were wide. He had that deer in the headlights look. “Are you okay?”

Closing his eyes, Chris turned his head to one side, obviously having second thoughts. Sam worried this would be over before it started.

“Chris?”

“I just, I don’t usually—” Biting his lip, Chris couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.

“I figured. I’ll take it easy.” Sam pressed his lips gently to the matted hair streaked across his forehead. “I’ll take care of you.” Sam wasn’t sure why he offered so much, but it felt right.

Warming the lube in his fingers, Sam positioned himself between Chris’ legs, encouraging him to spread them even more. When he responded, Sam’s breath hitched at the sight of this amazing, hulking man lying wanton and needy, waiting for him. “I’ll give you a night you’ll always remember.” He pressed one finger slowly into the waiting hole.

Chris arched his back slightly in response, breathing heavier as Sam pushed another finger in to join the first.

Opening up the tight channel wasn’t easy. Chris had obviously not been doing much bottoming, if any at all.

“More. Another. Please.”

Smiling as he witnessed the building desire, Sam gladly added a third finger, spreading Chris from the inside, opening him up so he’d be ready for the hot, long cock he was about to take. Moving his fingers within, he found the spot he was looking for and nudged it.

“Oh shit!”

“You like that? You want more?”

Chris nodded, licking his lips. Sam captured the seductive tongue between his lips and sucked on it as he dove in for another heated kiss. Chris’s legs fell further to the side as their contact became more urgent, and he began to buck against Sam’s fingers.

Pulling out carefully, so as not to hurt Chris with too sudden a move, Sam looked at the man below. “Are you okay?”

Smiling, Chris laced his fingers in Sam’s hair and pulled him in for another kiss.

That was all the encouragement Sam needed. He couldn’t hold back any longer. Adding to the thrill for Sam was the experience of watching the tight muscles of Chris’ sculpted body heaving as he panted, waiting for Sam to penetrate him. After putting the condom on with one smooth stroke and coating it with the lube remaining on his fingers, Sam slowly pushed his cock inside. “You’re so damn tight.”

A nod was the only response as Chris once again clutched the sheet in his fists.

Continuing to carefully move deeper, Sam pushed into the tight tunnel until he was completely inside. Looking down, he stilled, allowing Chris to signal when he could move again. When he felt the strong legs wrap around his back, Sam knew it was time.

Starting with a slow, steady pace, he thrust in and out, enjoying the warmth. Sam couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man beneath him. He was so open, so trusting. As Chris began to join the rhythmic movements, Sam felt something foreign in his gut. Ignoring it, he continued, changing the angle to make sure to graze Chris’ prostate on every stroke.

“Oh God, Sam!”

Leaning down, Sam crashed their lips together, swallowing Chris’ words and moans, wanting to take all of him at once.

“Ahhh. I’m gonna come. Please.”

When Chris made a move to touch his dick, Sam swatted his hand away. “You’ll come without even touching yourself.”

“Fuck!” Chris bucked beneath him, his reddened member bobbing freely, as Sam’s movements became faster and harder.

Resting his cock against Chris’ prostate, he delivered short thrusts over the delicate spot.

His head thrashing from side to side, Chris grabbed Sam’s shoulders, digging his nails in as he arched his back one last time. “Sam!” Creamy white spurts of liquid shot between them, hitting the full length of Chris’ chest up to his chin.

Feeling the intense pressure around his cock, Sam followed him, filling the condom.

After catching his breath, Sam gently pulled out, removed the condom, tied it off, and tossed it onto the floor.

Before he could say or do anything, Chris wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. This wasn’t what Sam normally did after fucking a trick—it would typically be too intimate—but Sam didn’t mind. Although he might regret his actions later, Sam followed suit, embracing Chris. The two lay, their legs tangled, sticky come drying on their chests.

Although he thought about getting up to wash off, Sam instead reached out with one hand to pull the comforter over them. It was Friday night and there was no need to think about alarm clocks or deadlines for the next day.

Holding one another beneath the blanket now cocooning them, Chris kissed Sam’s neck. “I’m not sure why I let you.”

“Shhh, just go to sleep.”

“No, Sam,” he whispered. “I need to tell you. You’re the first.”

Sam’s eyes shot open for a moment, and then a smile spread across his face. He nibbled at Chris’ lobe and then kissed his neck, cheek, and lips tenderly. “I’m glad it was me. And I’m not sure how, but somehow I knew.”

“Good.”

The two remained entwined as they fell into a sated sleep.

SAM didn’t feel or hear anything until he awoke to the light streaming into the bedroom. He rolled over, frowning when he discovered he was alone. His reaction set off an internal alarm, which he chose to set aside for the moment.

Then he spotted a small note on the nightstand.

Thank you for last night. You’re right, I’ll always remember it. It’s your move now, since your friend fixed us up. Here’s my phone number. I hope you use it. Chris

Damn! Now Sam had to really think about how he felt. He had been in his element the night before. In the light of day, out of bed, could he make a relationship work?

THE ATTORNEY by Carolyn LeVine Topol – Excerpt

August 3, 2011

Welcome to our second post of the day of celebrating the bumpy road to love in The Attorney.   Today I’m going to make it easy to win a copy of this new novella… everyone who comments will get entered into a drawing to win!  Here’s the “catch” — I will enter your name for each Virtual Party post you comment on.  You can only be entered once per post.  So join the fun, grab a virtual cocktail (or a real one) and sit down and enjoy the beginning of The Attorney, and getting our party underway.

Chapter 1

WALKING into his large corner office, Sam took a seat at his oversized desk. He had several active cases he was working on, but instead of diving into them as he typically did each morning, his curiosity won out. Sam pulled his laptop out of its carrying case and set it front and center on the smooth glass surface.

After logging on, he immediately searched out his newest bookmarked site, The Male Room. He snorted, still not believing he’d actually done it—Sam Solomon had filled in a profile at an online dating service. Five years ago, the only way he would have ever done anything like this would have been in response to a dare when he was too drunk to think clearly. Now that he was living alone and wishing for more than just a good fuck at the end of the day, Sam had decided instead to try the newest trend in dating.

He remembered the day his friends, Craig and Jeff, had sat in his office signing the documents necessary to start their online business. His two friends had really done their research, and the commitment they’d made to take the risk with a new business was certainly paying off. It had been less than two months since The Male Room had opened its virtual doors, and they already had one of the three most lucrative gay online dating sites on the east coast of the United States.

Having received a free profile for all the legal work he’d helped them with during their start-up period, Sam had given it a try. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for, but knew that going to the Music Box three to five nights a week to get his dick sucked or find a good ass to fuck was becoming less and less appealing. He envied his friends, remembering how, as they’d started their new business, they had also discovered the love that had been looming just beneath the surface for years.

Now Sam wanted a shot at something longer-lasting, but he was picky. He’d already accepted several dates from his online prospective pairings, but none actually had gone beyond a couple of brief encounters. One or two first dates had become second dates, but after a hot fuck and a good dinner, he didn’t have much desire to develop any of the matches into relationships.

When he looked at the home page for The Male Room, he noticed there were ten couples, captured in smiling pictures, listed as success stories. That was what Sam wanted. He wanted to be a success story, and not just in his professional or sexual world, but in his personal life. Hell, he wanted to have a personal life.

Exploring his profile’s “Connection” location, he noticed three new hits. All the men were good looking, but he’d learned through many years of gathering evidence for court cases, digitally enhanced pictures could go a long way to improving appearance. Now his search for the ideal date supported the same theory. Many of the pictures posted on the profiles were far less than honest representations.

Ignoring the photos, giving them no more than a passing glance, Sam looked at each new prospective match’s profile.

Two intrigued him immediately; the third seemed too much like him to be worth a second look. Sam didn’t think he could handle a coffee, let alone a dinner, with someone who was as much a control freak as himself. The thought crossed his mind that maybe he’d be better to stick to the old adage about opposites attracting each other.

Before he could think about it any further, the intercom on his phone buzzed. “Mr. Solomon, Jeff is on line two for you. Would you like to take his call or should I send it to your voice mail?”

“I’ll take the call, Donna. Please put it through.”

“Hello, Jeff. How are you and Craig enjoying your success?”

“At the bank or in the bedroom?”

“Touché! You two really have got it all.”

“It only took him ten years to figure out something I already knew when we were in high school.”

Sam chuckled. Although Jeff had started out as a trick who could have won a contest for best cock-sucker in Boston as far as Sam was concerned, he had since become a good friend and confidant, something Sam didn’t have many of. Lots of hot men wanted to be his trick, but very few took it further than that.

“Are you still there?”

“Oh, sorry. My mind wandered.”

“Well, honey, has it wandered over to your profile this glorious morning? There are some new prospects I think you should most definitely explore.”

“Are you a mind reader? I was just looking at them. I have to admit, I’m beginning to lose hope. I may be your first truly unsuccessful client.”

“Nonsense! You just don’t know how to pick ’em.” Jeff paused and Sam could hear some beeping and chiming noises in the background. “There. I just opened your profile.”

“Isn’t it cheating to have one of the owners of The Male Room act as my personal consultant?”

Jeff snickered. “It’s not normally offered as part of the service, but I’m more than willing to make an exception for you, especially since you clearly can’t tell a good match from a mediocre one.”

“So none of the matches are just bad, are they?” Sam smirked, looking forward to hearing Jeff’s comeback.

“There is a good match for everyone; sometimes at The Male Room you just have to sift through the less-than-perfect to find the diamonds in the rough.”

“I think you’re twisting your metaphors.”

“Maybe so, but I see the perfect match for you.”

“Which one? There’re three new additions who’ve shown interest on my profile page.”

“I tell you what, Sam. Let me act for you and set up a meeting tonight at the Thai place near the Boston Aquarium. Do you know the restaurant I’m talking about?”

“Yes. I’ve eaten there a number of times. They’ll probably recognize me when I arrive.”

“You’ve eaten there or done take-out?”

“I’m not answering your question on the grounds it might incriminate me.”

“You lawyers are all the same.” Sam heard Jeff clicking away at his computer. “Okay, you’re all set for tonight. I’ll contact the restaurant; you just be there at eight.”

“So, who am I meeting?”

“You’ll know him when you see him. It’s the man who was meant for you.”

“I’ll go along with this one time, but if you’re wrong, I think it may be time for me to take a break. Maybe I’m just not cut out to find someone. Not all of us can be as lucky as you and Craig… and all the men on the home page.”

“There’s a soul mate for you. I’m sure of it. And I think I’ve found him.”

“We’ll see.”

“How about a friendly wager?”

“What?”

“A bet. Let’s bet on it.”

“You want to bet on whether you’ve found the right man for me?”

“Exactly. I have that much faith in myself.”

“I could just throw the date to win the bet.”

“You won’t want to if you give it half a chance. I trust my instincts, and I think it’s finally your time.”

Hating to admit it, Sam hoped Jeff was right. He was nearly thirty-five and alone. Friends were great, fucks were temporarily satisfying, but Sam wanted to come home each night and know someone cared whether he’d be there or not. “Okay. It’s a bet. What do you want if you win?”

“That’s easy. I want to put you and your partner’s picture on the home page and get a few quotes for the caption. A respected lawyer in Boston is fabulous free advertising.”

“Sounds fair to me. And what if I win?”

“Don’t you get it, sweetie? You and I will both win if I win the bet. Focus on that… for me, better yet, for you.”

Biting his lip, Sam was glad no one could see him. Jeff was right. He really wanted his friend to win the bet, even if it meant an embarrassingly sweet picture of him would be plastered on the site’s home page. “Thanks, Jeff. I do hope you win.”

“Talk to you later, honey. Remember, eight o’clock at the—”

“Thai restaurant. I’ll be there, just make sure my date is too. I’m not in the mood for take-out this time.” Hanging up the phone, Sam refocused on his profile.

Studying the three faces, Sam searched each of the viewing profiles of the two likely candidates. He re-examined them as if he was preparing for a case. Each man had good qualities, and it seemed like he could spend a comfortable evening with either one of them.

Scrutinizing the two profiles, Sam hoped Jeff had picked the bartender. If anything, he should have some great stories to tell of people he’d witnessed while working. Besides, bartenders were supposed to be great conversationalists.

Enough! He was wasting too much time on this. It was in Jeff’s hands now. While Sam wasn’t counting on much, he was hoping his friend had better luck selecting the perfect match than he had. Clearly Sam only knew how to find the hottest fucks. It was too bad he wanted more.

Blinking himself back to reality, Sam pressed the intercom button on his phone. “Donna, bring me the files I requested you pull yesterday. I have to be prepared for court on Monday morning.”

“I’ll be right there, Mr. Solomon. Do you mean the files about the school purchasing computers for disabled kids?”

“That’s the one. And good news for both of us, the district is actually paying for my services. This one isn’t even pro bono.”

Donna laughed. “We both know you’d help them just as diligently even if it was.”

“Just bring me the files. I have a job to do, and so do you, if you want to get paid next week.”

“Be right there.”

Lifting his finger from the intercom, Sam prepared himself to re-examine every detail of information regarding the case of a local special education school fighting against a large computer distributor that had sent them systems that didn’t meet their specified needs, or the needs of their students.

He would be the first person to admit he enjoyed having enough money to spend as he chose, but one thing Sam couldn’t stand was robbing from those in need. He also couldn’t stand losing a case. Sam had no intention of losing this one; the case was too important and was beginning to receive more attention than he would have desired in the news.

Did someone say “free reads”?

July 30, 2011

I did!

Want something short, sweet and HOT? I have a few over on my website. Enjoy!

EM’s Free Reads


Free stories

Chunky or Creamy? — Richie thinks he may have found his perfect mate, if only the guy can fuck as well as he applies eyeliner.

The Interview — NSFW (2700 words) — Dylan is asked to do some very inappropriate things at this “job interview,” but it makes him want the job even more.

Pineapples & Chocolate — NSFW (2300 words) — Ben’s late-night grocery shopping is for much more than food. written from prompts: ecstatic, tuba, goldfish, nut sundae, greivous, craptastic, fire truck, pencil, pineapple and dinosaur

Going to the Zoo – NSFW (2200 words) — Nate & Cory from “A Heat.Seeking.Missile” are back for a fun sexy short. Written from prompts: Nate & Cory, zoo, rubber band, ice cream, elephant (Extended version published by Torquere Press as “Animal Instincts”)

What’s for Dinner? (1600 words)– Maybe getting stuck in the elevator isn’t so bad after all. Written from prompts: Elevator, trip, klutz, grin for Addison Albright

Chapter 1 from Sex, Lies & Wedding Bells — NSFW (April 2009)

–EM

EM Lynley
http://www.emlynley.com/free_reads.html


Rarer Than Rubies, Excerpt 2 (PG)

July 29, 2011

Here’s another little taste to tempt you to check out Rarer Than Rubies! Hope you enjoy it!

****


“Are you following me around?” Trent put his backpack on again, this time putting both arms through the straps. Obviously he wasn’t taking any more chances. Reed knew he wouldn’t get another chance to get into the pack, but where could the map be? Had Trent found it in his pack and knowing it wasn’t his, already thrown it away? Or was he working for a competitor and had already passed it off. Reed hadn’t let him out of his sight for very long, but there might have been someone waiting in his room at the Pink Tiger.

But this guy appeared too clueless to be part of any underworld organization. No one was that good an actor. The only explanation was Trent somehow realized the map was valuable and hidden it hoping to sell it to someone who would pay big money for the information.

“No, man. Bangkok’s really kind of a small place for farangs, you know? I run into the same people all the time. I’m Reed Acton, by the way.” He started to put a hand out but Trent didn’t look to be in a trusting, hand-shaking mood yet. He also didn’t volunteer an introduction.

Farangs?” Trent rolled the word around on his tongue and squinted in puzzlement.

“Foreigners…Westerners. It’s kind of an insult, but if you spend enough time here you get used to it.”

“But you speak Thai. You said you live here?”

“Yeah, for work.” Fuck. This conversation was getting into dangerous territory for Reed. But he didn’t want to just walk off on his own and suddenly it had nothing to do with the map. He wanted to get closer to Trent Dallas and breathe in the beautiful scent of him—probably courtesy of that fancy body wash Reed had watched him apply earlier—and lick along the curve of his jaw, and then maybe rip off that shirt Trent was wearing and trace around every muscle on his chest and abs. Reed had seen what was under there and this time he wanted more than to look. He wanted to touch, and taste and…

“Well, thanks for getting my bag back. Do you want a reward or something?” Trent’s voice jolted Reed back to reality and with difficulty he pulled his mind out of Trent’s pants. Which was too bad, because he was just starting to plan out what he wanted to do with that ass.

“No, no.” Reed shook his head. “I don’t want money. If that’s what you’re thinking, that I’m trying to scam you or something, you’re dead wrong.”

“Well…” Trent looked at Reed out of the corner of his eye and Reed knew he wasn’t convinced Reed was harmless.

“Look, let’s sit down for a few minutes and grab something to drink. The heat is getting to me.” Reed wiped the back of his hand across his sweaty brow and smiled up at Trent, getting another suspicious look in return. But Trent looked hot and sweaty, too—though it just made him look even sexier—and let Reed lead him to table set up under a canvas canopy near half a dozen street vendors.

Reed ordered cool coconut drinks for them. Trent eyed the drink warily at first, but when he saw Reed slurp down half the glass in one long pull he cautiously sipped and smiled in delighted surprise. The coconut drinks were one of Reed’s favorites, though some vendors made them too sweet. He loved the soft fresh coconut flesh that floated in the glass and he’d usually save a few pieces to suck on and savor the taste after he’d drained the liquid contents. From the look on Trent’s face he seemed to be relaxing and Reed decided to take a time out here and put him at ease.

“I admit I saw you in the airport and thought it might be fun to hang out. I know a lot of places to go in the city, if this is your first time here …” Reed smiled hoping Trent would trust him, no matter how suspicious Reed’s behavior might have been up till now. He wished he could forget about the map and enjoy a few fun-filled days with Trent Dallas—preferably in a bed in Reed’s air-conditioned apartment where they ordered in food and didn’t get dressed the entire time.

“How do I know I can trust you? I mean, what were you doing in the airport anyway?” Trent repeatedly poked his straw at the pieces of coconut at the bottom of his glass.

“I had to pick up a package for my boss.” Thankfully Reed could tell the truth. “It got misdirected so I have to get it from a different location later today.” He paused for a moment. “You can eat that. It’scoconut flesh.” Reed took a bite from a piece he pulled from his own glass, to demonstrate it was safe.

“Really? I’ve never seen it so soft.”

“It’s from young coconuts. I guess they don’t leave them on the trees long enough to get really hard. They’re much easier to open when they’re young, too.”

Trent fished a piece out and took a tiny bite. He quickly ate the rest of it. “Mmm.”

“See? You can trust me.” Reed laughed. He enjoyed watching Trent consume the rest of the coconut pieces, picking each up and licking it to catch the last drops of the drink before sucking it into his mouth with a tiny slurp.

“Eating coconut and going somewhere with you are two entirely different things.” Trent tilted his head slightly then licked his lips and Reed had to keep from jumping across the table and kissing him. Did Trent know how he was torturing Reed as he imagined what else those lips and tongue could be doing. The smile on Trent’s face led Reed to believe that maybe he did. Damn tease! But Reed was enjoying the game. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt a spark like this for anyone.

“Fair enough.”

They chatted casually for another ten minutes, where Reed kept the conversation mainly about Thai food–deftly avoiding personal topics–until Trent seemed to have relaxed and become less suspicious. Reed noticed Trent’s appraising glances and grinned, hoping his dimples might be extra convincing. God, he hated doing it this way but he was on a short timetable and he didn’t have the luxury of being smooth about it.

“Have you decided you can lower the threat level on me to blue or green?”

Trent laughed and Reed’s spirits picked up. He liked the sound of Trent’s laugh.

“Well, I might go as low yellow, with an option for blue.”

****

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2430

EM Lynley
http://www.emlynley.comhttp://emlynley.livejournal.comhttp://facebook.com/emlynley

Rarer Than Rubies by EM Lynley, Excerpt 1

July 29, 2011

RARER THAN RUBIES by EM Lynley
Paperback, 214 pages

When Trent Copeland runs into Reed Acton at a Bangkok airport, he thinks the handsome American is too good to be true. Why would someone like Reed be interested in a quiet, introverted gay-romance writer? After all, even an obvious tourist like Trent can see that there is more to Reed’s constant unexplained appearances in his path than meets the eye.

Reed Acton has one mission and one mission only—he needs to get the map that was accidentally slipped into Trent’s bag and keep the mobsters who want the priceless artifact from taking deadly revenge. Trent Copeland is a delicious and damned near irresistible diversion, but Reed can’t afford distractions right now, especially if he wants to keep Trent safe.

From Bangkok’s seediest back alleys to the sacred north, the two men will fight to stay one step ahead of the bad guys and learn that the only treasure worth finding is… each other.

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2430

EXCERPT

Prologue

“WE’LL be landing in Bangkok in approximately thirty minutes.”

The voice over the loudspeaker broke into Trent Copeland’s consciousness and he pushed it away, thinking it was simply part of his dream. He attempted to return to the comfort of his slumber.

“Sir, your immigration card.” Someone shook his shoulder and pushed an official-looking form at him, and he realized he wasn’t dreaming at all. It was real. And about to get even more real.

He blinked and sat up, bringing his reclining seat to a sitting position. He heard, as well as felt, a shift, as the jet literally changed gears and began its descent.

For a moment he stared at the paper, trying to trace the steps that had brought him here. Had it been only two weeks earlier that he’d been jolted out of the security of his routine by an unexpected and unwelcome phone call from his literary agent?

What had he been thinking, letting Beth and Cassandra plan this trip for him?

He better get plenty of inspiration for his next novel, or plenty of sex—or both—or someone was going to be in big trouble when he got back. If he got back. He took a deep breath and pressed his face to the tiny window, wondering what lay in store for him once he landed.

- 1 -

Two weeks earlier

Los Angeles, California

THIS wasn’t really happening. It had never happened to him before. Okay, once. But never twice—in a row. His friends told him it was natural and sooner or later it happened to everyone. Now it was happening to Trent.

“Rejected? What’re you talking about, rejected?”

“Trent, honey, I’m sorry. The publisher isn’t interested this time around.” Cassandra’s slightly British-accented voice came through the phone clear as crystal, but still Trent didn’t think he’d heard her correctly.

“Why not? I’m one of their top-selling authors!” If there were a New York Times best-seller list for gay erotic romance, every one of his books would have been on it. “Aren’t I?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he sounded like a child.

Trent got up from the couch, tipping his Siamese cat Godiva off his lap and causing her to loudly meow her displeasure as she landed on all fours. Trent paced around the living room, cordless phone pressed tightly to his ear. He wished he had a phone with a cord so he could twist it around his editor’s neck. No, Cass’s neck. What the hell kind of agent was she, if she couldn’t sell either of his last two books?

“Yes, Trent, you are one of the top sellers, but your editor told me she’d read this one already. Twice.”

“What the fuck? I just finished it! How could she have read it twice? Is she a psychic as well as an editor?” He stopped in the middle of the living room and Godiva, who had been tagging along at his heels, crashed into him with a less-than-ladylike snarl. She hopped back onto the vacant couch, out of his way.

“Well, honey, it is an awful lot like the last one you wrote, you know?” Cassandra’s voice rose ever so slightly at the end of the sentence, as if he actually were a child she wanted to appease. It didn’t work.

“Grrr,” was all he could manage in reply. He started pacing again, trying to burn off anger and nervous energy while he crafted a suitable response. “What kind of agent are you, anyway? You’re supposed to get them to want it.”

“Trent, honey, I’m a pretty good agent, but I’m not a miracle worker. You always have the option of coming up with a new pen name and I can shop this to someone else.”

“No!” Trent practically shouted. He remembered how hard it had been choosing a pen name in the first place. He and his two best friends since college days, Beth and Mick, had sat around in his crummy old apartment tossing around ideas; he’d had to endure asinine suggestions such as I.M. Hung from Mick. Finally, with Cassandra’s input, he’d settled on J.T. Dallas, though he came from a little town in Oklahoma and hated when people thought he was Texan. But Cassandra said Texas sounded sexy to readers and Dallas brought back images of the rich and ruthless, which always helped sell romance. She’d been right, as usual, and it had proved a good decision. Since then, she’d been much more than an agent. She’d not only helped shape his heretofore successful career, but had become one of his closest and most-trusted friends.

He realized Cassandra had been talking while he’d been strolling down memory lane and he struggled to catch up to what she was saying.

“… but I think you just need a little change of pace, a vacation or something. Get a new perspective,” Cassandra went on. “Shake things up a bit and spark your creativity….”

“I don’t know how they can say this is like the last one!” He wasn’t giving up. “This one is about a cowboy and a NASA scientist, while the last one was about a university professor and a… cowboy….” His voice trailed off at the end. “Okay, maybe there are some similarities. Slight similarities.” He couldn’t even convince himself. No wonder the editor had thrown it back.

“You’ve finished two books already this year. Take some well-earned time off and spend some of those fat royalty checks you’re piling up.”

“I don’t need a vacation.”

“Yes, you do. You can’t just sit around all day watching Turner Classic Movies and Lifetime.”

Trent grabbed the TV remote and quickly hit the mute button. Damn, she knew him entirely too well.

“Give me a call in a couple of days and we’ll go for lunch with Beth and you can tell me where you decide to go for your vacation, okay? Gotta run, sweetie. Love you!”

Cassandra disconnected and Trent tossed the phone onto the couch, narrowly missing Godiva, who meowed imperiously before racing for safety behind the television.

“Sorry, baby.” Trent plopped himself down on the couch and pouted while he figured out what to do next.

Maybe Cass was right and a vacation wasn’t such a bad idea. He had gotten into a rut. He glanced down at the carpet and wouldn’t have been surprised to find he’d worn a trail into the floor following the same path over and over and over. He should visit the travel agent around the corner and pick up some brochures. Better yet, he’d call Beth and she could help him choose a destination.

He’d get right on that, after he finished watching Now, Voyager, one of his favorite films. He adored the classic scene where Paul Henreid lights two cigarettes at once, before handing one to Bette Davis. It made him want to take up smoking, the way the Thin Man films left him craving dry martinis. Trent clicked on the volume, grabbed a box of tissues, and settled back onto the couch.

****

Stay tuned for another excerpt!