Wednesday, August 28, 2013

August Alfresco - VERY, VERY NSFW!! (You've Been Warned!) ::wink::

(Click the button to link back to the host site.)

For my part in the August Alfresco, I'm sharing a free short story which originally appeared at KQL

This story is EXTREMELY NOT SAFE FOR WORK as it contains sexual intercourse between two men. 

I'm also offering a prize - a  free pdf copy of the winner's choice of any of my books, found at Just leave a comment below with your e-mail *and* the title of the book you'd like to win. And of course, enjoy the story!! 

****PLEASE BE AWARE: I write GLBTQ romance. GLBTQ stands for gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and queer. This means my works feature same sex relationships AND same sex sexual acts. If winning that kind of a book isn't your cup of tea, kindly pass on to the next blog in the hop and leave the spot open for someone else. Thank you.****

"Saturday in the Park"

"This placed is horrendously overpriced for a simple state park," Max grumbled as he wheeled his Jeep into the entrance.

"Yeah, but you know you're going to love it once we get inside," Julian purred. He rubbed one hand along the inside of Max's thigh and waggled the battery-powered dildo in the air with his other hand.

Max smacked Julian's arm playfully. "Put that thing down." He still couldn't believe he'd let himself be talked into this.

Julian giggled. "This is so exciting!"

Max gave him a half-hearted smile. "I'm glad one of us is looking forward to this." He put the Jeep in park and opened his door.

"We can always go back home."

Max shook his head. "No, no. I agreed."

Julian smiled wickedly as he got out of the car. "Yes, you did."

"Don't rub it in."

"Oh, I'm going to be doing plenty of rubbing, don't you worry." He picked up his travel bag and grabbed Max's hand. "C'mon."

Max followed along as Julian led him down one of the nature trails into the park. About ten minutes in, Julian stepped off the path and into the bushes, pulling him along.

"Wait! The signs say we're supposed to stay on the path!" he argued.

Julian turned to him. "Okay. You want everyone to see us, we'll go back to the path."

"No!" He pushed Julian back in the direction they'd been going. "Off the path is fine."

"Thought so!"

They walked along for a few more minutes. Max stumbled over rocks, roots, his own feet. Too much more of this, and he wouldn't be in the mood for anything, let alone sex. They rounded the corner, and Max stopped in his tracks, the air leaving his chest in a whoosh of awe. "Wow."

Soft green grass, dotted with lavender and blue flowers, rolled out in front of them before sloping gently down toward a waterfall tumbling into an otherwise serene pool of bright blue.

"It's beautiful, right?" Julian let go of his hand and twirled around. "Like a fairy tale."

"Definitely." Max stood there mesmerized. "I had no idea this was here."

Julian slid his shirt over his head. "Care for a dip?"

"Are we allowed to go in there?" Max frowned at the pool, wondering if there were park rangers watching them from the bushes and trees.

"We're already off the path, right?"

"I guess so." He peeled his shirt off as well, stopped to admire Julian body as Julian finished undressing and stood before him, stark naked. He let out a low whistle and beckoned Julian over. He spied the dildo sticking out of Julian's bag, and frowned again. He kept forgetting to ask about it. "Why'd you buy one so big?"


"The dildo. Why'd you buy it so big?"

"Don't you like it?"

Max chuckled. "I haven't spoken to it much, but it looks like a nice enough dildo. I'm still curious."

Julian blushed and looked away, hugged his arms around himself. "I thought you might like something like you'd been used to."

" I'd been used to? What?" He wracked his brain, trying to figure out what on Earth that could mean. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"No, no no. No. You can't say something like that and then say never mind. Out with it."

Julian sighed heavily and padded away. "I saw Ashton online the other day. Actually, he messaged me."

Max cursed under his breath. So his ex was up to those old antics again. Nice.

"He told me about all the stuff you guys used to do together."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Stuff like this. Like how you used to go camping and fuck under the stars."

Max snorted. "Baby, the only stars we ever fucked under were the glow in the dark ones stuck to his ceiling. He lied to you."

"Still. I don't know how you did it."

"Did what?"

"Went from someone like him to someone like me. I looked through all his pictures. He's perfection brought to life. And look at me." He waved a hand up and down his body. "I'm fat, I'm frumpy, and I have a pencil dick."

"Jesus..." Max shook his head. "Is that what this is all about? You are not fat. You are not frumpy, and you most certainly do not have a pencil dick." He took Julian by the shoulders and shook him gently. "Why do you let people get in your head like that? And why didn't you tell me he messaged you? I'd have told you he lied."

"Still," Julian repeated.

"No. There is no still." He ran his fingers through Julian's hair. "You want to know how I can go from a guy like him to a guy like you? When's my birthday?"

Julian frowned. "May seventeenth."

"What's my favorite color?"

"Purple," Julian answered immediately.

"What street did I grow up on?"

"Hummingbird Circle."

"I've been with you a little over a year, and you know all those things. I was with Ashton for five years. You know how many times he remembered my birthday? Twice. Once because he actually remembered, the second time because his sister called to remind him the day of. You want to know how else I can go from a guy like him to a guy like you? You and I make love. All Ashton and I ever did was fuck." Max paused for a deep breath, hating the ache in his chest these memories caused. "But the real reason I can go from a guy like him to a guy like you is because you never have to get drunk or high in order to deal with the fact that you're attracted to a man instead of a woman like your parents think you should be. You're not embarrassed to hold my hand in public."

Julian blinked, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Wow."

"Yeah. Look, I know you're not always happy with your body. If you want to, we can start going to a gym together or something." He ran his hands up and down Julian's arms. "But just know that you don't need to do anything for me to find you sexy or attractive or handsome. I love you—body, mind, heart, and soul."

Julian blushed again, but this time the rosy tint to his cheeks came with a smile.

Max took a step back and reached for the buttons of his jeans. He popped each open slowly, one at a time, all the while never breaking eye contact with Julian. He slid his pants and boxers down, stepped out of them, and reached for Julian, brought their bodies together and smiled at the soft gasp that escaped Julian.

He trailed his lips down the side of Julian's neck, over Julian's shoulder and down Julian's arm and back up again, until he reached Julian's lips. "Let's go for a swim," he whispered.

Julian shivered and nodded. He bent to reach for the dildo on the way by, but Max stopped him. "But—" Julian protested.

Max reached down and wrapped his fist around Julian's cock. "I've got all I need right here."

Julian gasped and arched against him.

In the face of Julian insecurities and worries, Max's earlier shyness and embarrassment at their intentions out in the wild faded away. Julian needed him, needed his reassurance, his confidence in them. He took Julian's hand and headed down to the water.

"Brr!" Julian giggled as he waded in, pressing up against Max. "I didn't consider it might be cold!"

"It's okay," Max said, sucking in a quick breath as he stepped further in and the water lapped at his chest. He bent his head to nuzzle Julian ear. "You're enough to warm me up."

He glanced around, looking for the perfect place, and found it in a little spot where the bank dipped down, forming a shelf. He scooped Julian up into his arms and waded over while Julian giggled and wiggled. Max deposited Julian next to the shelf, then took a spot on it himself on his back, his ass hanging over the edge. He smiled up at Julian and beckoned his lover forward with a crooked finger.
Julian's eyes went wide as understanding finally dawned. "You want me to top?"

Max nodded. He hadn't bottomed for Julian yet—not because he hadn't wanted to—but because he'd needed to be certain of his partner. They'd only been together for a little over a year, but today had been an eye opening experience. Julian loved him enough to set all this up, loved him enough to let Max's ex get under his skin, and God knew Max adored Julian. Bottoming for him seemed like the next logical step in their relationship.

Julian blushed and shuffled his feet, sending waves lapping at Max's ass. "Am I big enough to top? I want it to be good for you. Maybe I should get the dildo."

Max shook his head and grabbed for Julian's hand. "You are what I want. I don't want some artificial slab of latex. I want you. Flesh and blood. The man I love."

Julian shivered and leaned in for a quick kiss. He licked and nibbled a trail down to Max's left nipple, swiped his tongue across the tight nub and grinned when Max arched and sighed.

"Use your teeth, baby," Max instructed.

Julian's grin only got bigger. He lowered his head again and took Max's nipple between his front teeth, rolling it back and forth and biting down delicately.

Max fisted his hand in Julian's hair and held Julian's head tight, pleasure and pain spiking out from his nipple, warming his chest and belly. He pressed Julian closer, hoping to relay the idea of harder without actual words.

Ever an adept student, Julian redoubled his efforts, sucking Max's nipple into his mouth and chewing on it, making soft growling noises that sent shivers up Max's spine and drove him wild. Julian let go with a wet plop and continued his path lower. He stopped at Max's groin, pushed his face into the hair there and breathed in deeply.

Max giggled at the soft, warm blow of Julian's exhale as it tickled his flesh. His mirth quickly shifted to lust as Julian's lips pressed against the tip of his cock, sucking ever so gently. He let out a grunt.
Julian raised his head. "What was that?"

"I said suck me already!" Max chuckled and reached down to grip his cock, wagged it at Julian.

"Hmm...that does look tempting. I'm not sure if I should lick it..." He gave Max's cock several long, slow strokes of his tongue. "Or maybe I should stroke it." He wrapped his fist around Max's cock and stroked it from base to tip, pressing his thumbnail into the little slit on the head before flicking his thumb over the tip.

Max writhed and moaned. "More..." He panted, breath coming hard and fast.

"More of which?" Julian smiled wickedly down at him. "The licking?" He licked Max's cock up and down. "Or the stroking?" He gave Max's cock two good, tight pumps.

Max shook his head. Didn't much matter what Julian did, as long as he kept doing something. Anything. "Don't care. Just touch me."

"Or maybe you'd prefer this." Julian dropped to his knees.

Max let out a long, low moan as Julian parted his cheeks. "Oh, yes..." The hot wetness of Julian's tongue traced his opening, fluttered over it, and then probed him. Max shuddered and arched his ass off the ledge, desperate for more contact.

Julian wrapped one hand around Max's cock and stroked as he licked, raising his head occasionally to swipe his tongue across Max's balls. He sucked one into his mouth and Max nearly lost all control. Max tangled his hand in Julian's hair, loving that delicious gentle suction.

Julian withdrew and stood up. He spit into his hand, wetted his cock, and stepped up between Max's legs. He glanced up at Max, as if to ask one last time if Max were certain.

Max nodded and raised his legs to rest them on Julian's shoulders. He sighed and fisted his own cock as Julian's filled him. He had no idea what his lover had been worried about—Julian fit him just right, was just long enough and just big enough around. He looked up, enthralled by the look in Julian's eyes—lust, love, but also, confidence and control. Seemed Julian liked the role of top. Max chuckled to himself. He certainly liked the role of bottom.

Julian sped up his pace and Max's thoughts scattered. The world faded away until nothing existed but them—the only sounds in the world were their grunts and sighs, the slapping of their flesh, and the splashing of the water around them, the only thing Max could see were their bodies so perfectly joined, the only thing he could feel was the slide of Julian's body against him, inside him, the clutching of Julian's hands, and the tightness of his own hand. He stroked his cock in time with Julian's thrusts, eyes rolling back in his head. He gasped and bucked up as Julian tweaked his nipples, pinching them and tugging on them.

Julian changed the angle of his thrusts, hunkered down and moved faster, harder. He tucked his left forefinger behind his thumb, held it his hand close to Max's right nipple, and let go with a quick flick.
Max cried out, stroking himself faster and faster as Julian kept it up, fucking him hard, flicking his nipples and making those grunting noises Max loved. "Harder," he gasped out the word.

Julian obliged him, and Max had to reach down and hold onto the ledge. He grimaced and grunted, as Julian's movements pressed him back against some rocks he hadn't realized were jutting out. But it didn't matter. The pain only heightened his senses, made the pleasure that much more intense. His body tightened up, muscles bunching and straining for release. He let go of the ledge and grabbed for his cock, tugging and squeezing. Julian went rigid and arched against him, head thrown back in a stunning display of ecstasy. Two more strokes and Max found his own climax, body shaking. Julian collapsed on top of him and Max hugged him close.

Julian pressed a kiss to Max's neck. "So...what do you think?" He paused for several deep breaths. "Should we make fucking in the park a regular thing?"

Max grinned. "Baby, you can fuck me anywhere!"

Be Part of the Solution

This is a no comment post. What does that mean? Well, it means it originally appeared as a guest post on a website but it didn't get any comments. I'm sharing it as a recycled post because I think it still has merit, and well, frankly I wrote the darn thing, so somebody should read it! LOL

This one originally appeared on Wet Dreams, as part of the Love is Love Tour, on Saturday, February 16, 2013 (there are six comments, but as you can see, they're all spam)

Be Part of the Solution by DC Juris

One of the questions I get asked a lot is "what is it like to be transgender?"

The answer I'd love to give is, "being transgender is just like being you or anyone else - I'm human first. I'm just like you."

It's not that cut and dry, though.

Unfortunately, our society, though much more open/accepting/tolerant than in the past, still doesn't fully embrace transgender people. A lot of that stems from a lack of education, but most of it stems from growing up being taught that the world revolves around gender roles, and the belief that anatomy concretely defines gender.

Most people take one look at me and think "female." They don't bother to stop and speak to me, to find out that my insides don't match my outsides. I guess, at the basest level, that's what being transgender is – having outsides that don't match your insides. Your body doesn't match your mind, heart, and soul.

Imagine for a moment that tomorrow you wake up in the body of the opposite gender. You're still you – same thoughts, feelings, beliefs, hobbies, ect. But your body doesn't match. People are referring to you by the wrong pronouns, calling you the wrong name. And no matter how many times you correct them or try to explain – hey, this is just a crazy mistake – no one believes you. No one takes you seriously. And even if they do, if you do something remotely "feminine" or "masculine" – anything that, in their eyes, defies what you've told them – they take that as "proof" that you're wrong or confused.

That's the reality of life for a lot of transgender people. It was the reality of life for me, for a while. I spent a good deal of my time spinning my wheels and getting nowhere. There were times when I thought to myself, "I might as well just put on a damned dress and be what everyone wants me to be. There's no point because no one takes me seriously as a man."

And then I met someone who did. Or at least, someone who didn't think I was a freak, or confused, or lying, or trying to get attention. I eventually married that person, and we're still together, even though he married a woman and now sleeps with a man. He understands that, beneath all the labels, I haven't really changed. He loves me – the inside. The mind, heart, and soul.

One person is really all it takes to change a life. One person was all it took the night I decided to end it all, and one person was all it took later on for me to realize I could be who I was meant to be, and it didn't mean losing everyone in my life. Mind you, I've lost a fair amount of family and friends because I'm transgender. More than I lost when I came out as bisexual. For some reason they could wrap their minds around me sleeping with both genders, but not me wanting to be a different one than I was born.

But I'm rambling. The point of this post is this: you are one person, but you can make a difference, and here are some ways:

Think before you use gender pronouns. How often do you speak to a complete stranger and start with "Ma'am" or "Sir"? Is that really necessary? How about "excuse me" or "pardon me" or something like that? No matter how the person is dressed, you don't truly know how they identify as far as gender. They may be simply wearing what they have to wear to blend in or not get fired or appease a family member.

Educate yourself. Don't just assume you know what it's like to be transgender, or what it means. Do some research, dig up some info. You may find that you don't have the first clue about what transgender life is like.

How often have you thought one of the following: "she's too fat for that outfit," "Lawdamighty what was she thinking wearing that?", "why doesn't he shave his beard – he looks stupid like that!" Let's be honest, we've all done that. We've all looked at someone else, shook our heads and wondered why a train wreck like that is allowed out in public. Well, stop. You don't know the first thing about that person. Maybe she's a transwoman, and the only clothes she can afford come from a thrift store. Maybe he's a transman, and he's in the middle of hormone therapy, and his body hair is all going crazy on him. The point is – stop judging other people. You're probably not perfect yourself.

Be kind, rewind. And no, I don't mean videotapes. I mean thoughts. Before you speak, rewind your thoughts in your head. Is what you're about to say going to be helpful, or are you just spouting ignorance?

Be inquisitive, but sensitive. Wanna know the number one question I get asked? It's "do you wear a penis all the time?" Now just who in the hell has the right to ask me that, and whose business is it anyway? If you're going to ask questions, which a lot (not all but a lot) of trans people encourage, do so in a way that's not insulting. Don't ask things like "how do you have sex?" Seriously? We have sex just like you do! A better phrasing might be, "I'm trying to understand your sexual options. Are there tools that are better or more functional?" (Hell, I don't know, but you get the idea!)

Be respectful of personal space. Just because a transperson is your friend, doesn’t mean they're comfortable with being touched. Like everyone else on the planet, transpeople have their own quirks. For us though, touch can be a bigger deal that most. Some transpeople, with or without surgery, aren't comfortable with certain parts of their bodies. Even being hugged can be traumatic. Keep that in mind.

And finally, if a transperson has told you their gender, use the right pronouns. Transmen are he, him, etc. Transwomen are she, her, etc. They are the gender they live and present as, not the one they are born with. NO MATTER HOW FEMININE OR MASCULINE THEY MIGHT LOOK TO YOU! I can't stress that enough. Don't use lame excuses like "I keep forgetting" or "you looked girly today." Stop forgetting. Make an conscious effort and be respectful of the effort they are making every moment of the day.

Here are some helpful resources for more information and education about transgender people and the issues we face.

(Some of them are overtly not safe for work, and I've indicated that in front of the link, but you should assume all of them might contain content you don't want your boss catching you looking at!)







Monday, August 26, 2013

Meet the Author Blog Hop

****PLEASE BE AWARE: I write GLBTQ romance. GLBTQ stands for gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and queer. This means my works feature same sex relationships AND same sex sexual acts. If winning that kind of a book isn't your cup of tea, kindly pass on to the next blog in the hop and leave the spot open for someone else. Thank you.****

Hi folks! For those of you who don't know me, I'm DC Juris. I'm a transgender fella who writes GLBTQ romance - usually fantasy and contemporary.

Today I'm sitting down with one of my favorite characters, Canyon, from my m/m sweet romance, "Who Better Than Canyon."

Here's the story blurb:

When Canyon's ex-lover, Robert, dies, he leaves behind a last request that Canyon take word of his passing to Simon, an old friend on the east coast. Canyon reluctantly agrees, and soon finds himself falling for Simon, despite the nagging belief he shouldn't. Canyon is plagued by guilt over his part in the accident that claimed Robert's life. But Simon knows something Canyon doesn't: Robert's death wasn't an accident, but a suicide, and Robert's intent was for the two men he left behind to come together. But Robert's plan didn't account for two things: Simon's disbelief that anyone can truly love a soon-to-be-cripple, and Canyon's staunch decision that the next man he gives himself to will give him a wedding ring first. Can Canyon and Simon set aside their own issues long enough to see what lies between them, or will they both miss out on their happily ever after?

DC: Thanks for sitting down with me, Canyon. 

Canyon: ::grins:: Aren't I sitting down with you every day? ::winks::

DC: Ahem. So, since writing your story, I've gotten a lot of feedback from readers who felt like you and/or Robert were cheating on someone, or were cheaters in the sense of relationships. Some readers were horrified that Robert was with you romantically while married to his wife, Natalie. Can you respond to that?

Canyon: First of all, let's get something straight: Robert was bisexual. Having a man and a woman in his life was something that came natural to him. But to say  he was cheating on either of us? No. Natalie and I knew about each other the entire time. I mean, Robert was wearing a wedding ring the night I met him. 

DC: Natalie didn't like you, though.

Canyon: ::chuckle:: Natalie didn't like competition. She had no issue with him having one night stands, but as soon as he got serious with a man, she had a fit. She had the option to leave him at any time, and she stayed, which tells me she wasn't as unhappy as she let on.

DC: You left him though. 

Canyon: ::sigh:: Yeah. 

DC: That worked out for you, in a way, though. Ultimately that path lead you to Simon.

Canyon: Robert led me to Simon.

DC: Talk to me about Simon.

Canyon: ::wide grin:: He's adorable. Just adorable. He's creative, caring. And I don't have to tell you he's passionate. 

DC: ::raises an eyebrow:: You certainly don't. ::clears throat:: The readers haven't seen that side of him yet. 

Canyon: About that second story you've been promising us... 

DC: Yeah, yeah. We'll get there, pretty boy.  So, what's the deal with being hung up on a wedding ring? You've got to admit, it's a rather strange thought process for a guy, especially since gay marriage wasn't even a legal option for you growing up. Where'd that obsession come from?

Canyon:  ::shrug:: I guess I never thought of it that way. I'd been to dozens of weddings by the time I was sixteen, and at every one I'd just sit there and daydream about that being me. It was a fantasy I hoped to one day make a reality. 

DC: And you did. 

Canyon: ::sweet smile:: Indeed I did. 

For my part in the hop today, I'm offering a free pdf copy of "Who Better Than Canyon" to two lucky winners. Just leave a comment below with your e-mail, and you'll be entered. 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

And now for a little snippet of "Who Better Than Canyon" 

Born and bred in the desert dust, Canyon had never seen the ocean in anything other than pictures. He didn’t much trust the rushing waves, didn’t much care for the roar of the water as it whooshed up onto the beach and out again. He did like the sand though, hot and squishy under his bare feet. Reminded him of home. The lack of people, however, did surprise him. “Where is everyone?”

“This is a privately owned beach.”

“You can own a beach?”

Simon nodded. “You can own anything if you have enough money.”

“What kind of work nets you enough money to buy a beach?” Although he wondered if Robert might’ve owned one, had they lived on the coast.

“Art,” Simon answered with a grin.

“You...own a beach?” Canyon chuckled. Simon owned a beach. The man was full of surprises.

Simon pulled his shirt off and headed down to the water’s edge. “You coming?”

Canyon shook his head. Strolling up and down the beach was one thing. Swimming in water where lots of little things lived was quite another.

Simon shrugged and waded out, diving into the surf with a battle cry that made Canyon laugh out loud. He walked along for a few more paces, absently kicking sand, before sitting down to watch Simon splash around. The man seemed quite at home in the water, and for the first time Canyon understood the phrase swims like a fish. He leaned back on his elbows, but quickly sat back up when he sank further into the sand than he wanted to. Canyon stood and brushed his shorts clean, paced up and down the beach as he waited for Simon. Although the lack of people didn’t bother him, being out here alone filled him with a sense of eerie foreboding.

At last Simon returned, shaking the water off like a shaggy dog. Sinfully plastered to his body, his trunks outlined nearly ever detail of his cock and balls. Canyon fought a losing battle against looking, finally turning away as the heat of a blush raced up his neck and face.

“You look positively unhappy,” Simon told him.

Canyon shrugged, thankful Simon hadn’t noticed his reaction, or at least hadn’t mentioned it. “I guess I don’t see the draw.”

“What, of the beach? Oh, well you’re doing it wrong then. Come with me.”

He followed Simon down the beach, over an embankment and through a crop of tall weeds to what looked like a little cave beneath a long boardwalk. Canyon didn’t much trust caves, either. Big things lived in caves. “A cave?”

“Well, not a real one. There aren’t really too many sea caves in this part of the east coast. You have to go north to Maine and Canada. This is an artificial cave. I had the rocks relocated to under the boardwalk to make my own caves. It’s ingenious, really.” Simon grabbed a piece of decaying wood and used it to remove a large spider web from the entrance. He gestured Canyon inside.

“You’re not suggesting we go in there, are you?”

Simon grinned. “Absolutely. C’mon. Trust me.”

Canyon’s heart sped up at that smile, and he shook his head. He had loved Robert, hadn’t ever really fallen out of love. He was here to mourn Robert. Why the hell did he keep noticing Simon?

“Come on now. Don’t be a wimp,” Simon teased. “If a slip of a thing like me can brave the big scary cavern, surely someone as tough as you can.”

“You don’t have to get all insulting, little one.”

“Little one, is it?” Simon gave Canyon a shove in the middle of his chest, but the grin stayed on his lips and the light of humor stayed in his eyes.

“Well, now you’re just playing with fire.” Canyon took a step forward, towering over Simon. “I ought to tan your hide for that.”

“You’ll have to catch me first.” Simon turned and darted into the cave.

Canyon cursed under his breath, following against his better judgment. He found Simon sitting on a large, smooth rock near the rear of the cave.

Simon pointed to the ground just in front of the rock. “Sit here, and lean back. Just trust me.”

Canyon eyed his surroundings warily. There didn’t appear to be anything alive in the cave—little or big—besides them. He brushed off the area Simon had indicated, scowling at his dirty hands, and sat. Simon took him by the shoulders and pulled him backward, so that his head rested in Simon’s lap.

“Now close your eyes and feel the sea.”

Canyon frowned but closed his eyes anyway, expecting nothing but more unease. Simon didn’t pull his hands away, and Canyon wasn’t sure how to interpret that at all. He tried to do as Simon had told him, and feel the sea. Although how a man could feel something he wasn’t in was beyond him. Outside the surf rose and fell, pounding against the rocks with a thunderous booming that reminded Canyon of the summer storms back home. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost smell the rain. Not the rain, he realized, but the sea. His nostrils flared, taking in the crisp, clean air and the scent of clear, cool water.

Canyon smiled, Simon’s nimble fingers finding and massaging away the knots and bunches in his neck. This was what Canyon missed the most about having a relationship: the give and take of simple affection without demand or expectation. He missed the intimacy, the familiar scent of the man he loved, and the feel of his skin, cool and smooth beneath his own warm hands. Simon’s hands strayed a little now, skimming down Canyon’s arms and around to his chest.

Canyon shivered and sat up a little, leaned his head to the side, bearing his neck in invitation. He wasn’t disappointed. Simon’s lips brushed his ear, began to nibble the flesh of his neck. Oh, he liked that! Robert had never done that. He leapt to his feet and sprinted toward the front of the cave.

“Canyon?” Simon called out behind him, but Canyon ignored it. This wasn’t right no matter how good it felt. No matter how much he’d prayed Simon wouldn’t stop. He ran down the beach, back to Simon’s Jeep and yanked on the passenger side door handle. Simon appeared, slamming the door shut with his hand before Canyon could get it all the way open. Damn. For such a small man, Simon was fast and strong.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m not ready to sleep with you.” The words blurted from his mouth before Canyon could stop them. He flushed and turned away with a roll of his eyes. For fuck’s sake.

Simon chuckled softly. “I don’t recall saying I wanted to sleep with you.”

Canyon bristled. He wasn’t much to look at, he knew, but why else would someone kiss him like that?

“At least not until we’ve both had a proper shower. And I didn’t bring any lube or condoms with me, after all, which proves I wasn’t planning on what happened, if that’s what you think.”

Well, that was better. Canyon faced him with a grin. “I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re just a little shy. That’s all.”

Canyon shook his head. He’d never been shy with Robert. When he and Robert had met, it had been Canyon who had taken the lead, come on strong and been relentless in his pursuit. He’d seen the ring on Robert’s hand, and something inside him had taken it as a challenge. Married man in a gay bar signaled fresh meat. At least that’s how it had started. But this with Simon. This was different. Simon wasn’t a challenge or a chase, because Simon wasn’t married, and he clearly wasn’t in denial about his sexuality, and he wasn’t unwilling. And that scared Canyon more than anything else.

Simon reached up and brushed a lock of Canyon’s hair back from his face. “You remind me of a dog my father once rescued. Damn skittish thing, but you could see it wanted to belong.”

“What happened to it?” Canyon half turned back to the Jeep, slid his fingers into the door handle again.

“It ran away a couple dozen times, but it always came back. One day, dad came home and found it curled up in his bed, sound asleep. Never left my father’s side after that. I think the key was knowing when to let go.” Simon stepped away and went around to the driver’s side of the Jeep.

“Are we leaving?” He glanced back down the beach. Maybe he had hoped Simon would drag him back down to the cave and try again.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. C’mon.” Simon patted the passenger seat and gestured for him to get inside. “Let’s go, I know the perfect place.”

Canyon climbed into the Jeep. Hungry? Definitely. But, once again, for something that had little to do with food.


Manday Hotties - Cowboys

Today I'm featuring cowboys!

NOTE: I claim no ownership or copyright to any of the following images. I have no knowledge of where they came from, who the models/subjects are, or who owns the photos. Most of them have been sent to me via e-mail over the past few years by friends/readers. If these photos are your intellectual property or feature you and you would like credit, please e-mail me at If these photos are your intellectual property or feature you and you would like them removed from my blog, please e-mail me at

Friday, August 23, 2013

Back to School Blog Hop

Back To School

So, I don't have any stories that actually feature school as a theme - no teachers in any of mine, no college kids, nothing like that.

However - wait for it - I do have a story that features a Dom having to relearn and reinvent his ideas about BDSM. Which is technically kinda the same thing. Okay, it's not really but just go with me here b/c I'm the King of Blog  Hops and Allison Cassatta is hosting this one and she's made of awesome, so I had to join the hop. Besides, I promise once you see the sexy cover and read the excerpt, you won't give a hoot what the hop is about. :-)

My prize for the hop is, of course, a free pdf copy of "Relearning the Ropes." To enter to win a copy, just leave a comment below with your e-mail address. Simple!

(See? I told you the cover was sexy!)


When his good friend Julius dies unexpectedly, Marcus finds himself saddled with a new submissive—Charlie. But Charlie comes with a history, and more pain and need than Marcus has ever encountered. Marcus knows he loves Charlie, and Charlie loves him, but Marcus must set aside his old theories about BDSM and relearn the ropes if he wants to be the Dom—and the lover—they both need.


Marcus rolled over to stare at the clock. 3:25 AM. A month ago, at precisely that moment, his phone had rung. He’d answered it, expecting it to be the only person who ever called him that late, his friend Ju- lius, but instead it was Julius’s lawyer. The man apologized for waking Marcus, but Julius was dead—condolences, of course—and Julius left the care of his sub, Charlie, to Marcus, and could Marcus please go over to Julius’s house and fetch Charlie?

At 3:45 that morning Marcus went and picked Charlie up, and, for the past month, Charlie slept in the spare bedroom across the hall. Marcus hadn’t slept since. Not that he didn’t like or want Charlie. He did, on both counts. Loved Charlie, was quite in love with Charlie. But if Marcus had wanted a live-in sub—which he hadn’t; his life was far too busy and complicated, and he was entirely too set in his ways—he wouldn’t have chosen one like Charlie. Charlie was a complex little creature: delicate and high-maintenance. He took everything Marcus knew about how to treat a sub and turned it upside down.

Marcus groaned and flipped over onto his other side, putting the mocking glare of the clock’s bright red numbers behind him. Aside from Charlie, Marcus had never dominated a man he’d loved. He had no clue how to reconcile the two. Charlie needed clear boundaries, a clear definition of their relationship, but how was he supposed to define their relationship to Charlie if he couldn’t define it to himself? He tried to treat Charlie like any other sub, but the fact of the matter was Charlie wasn’t just any other sub. Sold into sexual slavery at fifteen, Charlie had been dragged all across the country before he’d landed in Julius’s hands.

Marcus was all business when he served as a Dom at Anton’s BDSM playhouse, clinical, almost. For most of the men he played with, that was enough—the domination, the control. But Charlie, Charlie needed more. The only question, was could he give it? He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force himself back to sleep.

****PLEASE BE AWARE:  I write GLBTQ romance. GLBTQ stands for gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and queer. This means my works feature same sex relationships AND same sex sexual acts. If winning that kind of a book isn't your cup of tea, kindly pass on to the next blog in the hop and leave the spot open for someone else. Thank you.****

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Backlist Feature: Simply Smut

Content Warning: solo female masturbation, BDSM


From male/male romance to a little solo female fun, this anthology of seven stories has just what you're looking for...and then some.

Come watch Amber, whose online adventures have left her panting and ready. Or maybe you'd rather play with Jason, a sexy writer who has finally figured out the plotline of his life revolves around his hot assistant, Paul. And don't forget Chase, the sexy transgender man heading the right way for some steamy sex with fellow ftm Toby. These are just three of your options. You've got thirteen playmates at your disposal in these seven stories - all guaranteed to rev your engine and keep it running. All. Night. Long.

Excerpt from "Torn Apart":

Torn’s not like any other place you’ve ever been. That planet has a soul—remember that. She’ll demand your respect, and you’d do best to give it.

And in true human fashion, William had dismissed the words of his superior officer. Ten years of living in the barely-describable-as-civilized wilderness of Torn without incident had only served to cement his belief—no, his conceit—that nothing could stop him. There existed nothing that William, indeed any human, couldn’t conquer, couldn’t bend to their will. Couldn’t convert.

Except Torn. She’d proven that, at last, and taken back the land from terraforming, digging, and drilling. Torn had handed down her revenge. The storm—the natives called it the Great Anger—had come on quickly. No preceding black skies, no foretelling howling winds. No time to react. No warning. Nothing.

Crudely built, the wooden shanties they had lived in had splintered and crumbled under the powerful gusting gales. The Great Anger had ripped mighty trees from their roots as if they had not been rooted at all, careened them through the air like they’d weighed no more than twigs. They’d become weapons in Torn’s plan, a way of bringing about even more damage as they were slammed through walls and rooftops. Quakes had split the roads open; torrential rains had flooded the cities. In its wake, the Great Anger had left nothing but devastation.

William recalled passing the bodies of the dead and dying, some trapped beneath rubble but somehow still drawing breath. Though he’d known many of them—as an Earth Liaison he had crossed paths with almost everyone in the village at some point or another— he hadn’t stopped to help any of them—not the dying, at any rate. There’d been nothing to do for the dead, no way to see their remains properly honored. He’d comforted himself by saying he’d come back for them, but he doubted the truth of that even now, in the aftermath, in the eerie silence that surrounded him—in the moldy, wet dark. William had one thing on his mind, one person left in the world whom he gave a damn about besides himself. Intugu.

Where his lover had ended up, William didn’t know. He’d searched as much as he could during the storm—ran up and down alleyways, darted in and out of huts screaming Intugu’s name to no avail. The last they had spoken, Intugu had mentioned a meeting in the council hall on the other side of town. William would reach the hall within the next hour, if he’d guessed the distance correctly earlier.

He crouched low at the sound of voices off to his left. Only two days since the Great Anger, and already the looting and pillaging had started. Not just those from other ravaged towns come to prey upon the weak, but their own townspeople as well. There was no one left to enforce the law—the Honor Guard had long since fled, had taken possession of anything that would fly the very hour the Great Anger had ended and left the planet behind. There was no justice to be had, no safety anymore. Not from the elements, not from the animals—four legged or two. And they were surely all animals now.

He waited for the voices to move away before he stood again and continued down the path. Pain shot up from his ankle, sizzled along the muscles of his leg, and nearly made him cry out. He surrendered to it, though only momentarily, kneeling to inspect the makeshift bandage he’d fashioned. Seeped through with blood and muck, the thing clung to his wound with a tenacity that seemed almost human. He grimaced at the sickly squishy sound it made as he pulled it back.

He might as well have not even bothered, since all that met his eyes was the same gnarled flesh scraped down to the bone. The smell, though—the scent of overripe meat, the sharp tang of blood, and the heated stench of sweat combined with pus—would’ve raised food to the back of his throat if there’d been anything left in his stomach. As it was, he failed to stifle a cough. William replaced the bandage as best he could and stood again, shouldering his pack. Time to move on, to focus on his goal of finding Intugu.

He limped along slowly. In truth it drove him mad to move at such a snail’s pace, but he supposed it didn’t matter anyway. If Intugu had managed to live, he’d be somewhere waiting. And if he hadn’t, well, he’d still be somewhere waiting. Fatigue tugging at him, William started again to mentally catalog the supplies he’d managed to scrounge before he’d headed out after Intugu. His bag held a length of rope—not much longer than his arm, but maybe it would prove useful for something—a hunk of sambat bread (though he hated the stuff), a large knife, a spoon (in case he somehow managed to find something more appetizing than that disgustingly dry, crumbly bread), and a hunk of chain. A paltry lot, indeed, but the Honor Guard had taken most everything else.

Following the winding gravel trail through what remained of the forest, he finally arrived at the council hall. He stood frozen in that spot, mesmerized, as the sheer magnitude of what had happened pressed down on him. What had once been a tall, proud, sprawling building was now a barely recognizable ruined heap.

Monday, August 19, 2013

Manday Hotties - Cops

Today I'm featuring sexy cops!

NOTE: I claim no ownership or copyright to any of the following images. I have no knowledge of where they came from, who the models/subjects are, or who owns the photos. Most of them have been sent to me via e-mail over the past few years by friends/readers. If these photos are your intellectual property or feature you and you would like credit, please e-mail me at If these photos are your intellectual property or feature you and you would like them removed from my blog, please e-mail me at

Enjoy. :-)

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Lovestruck Giveaway Hop

For my part in the hop today, I'm introducing you to Canyon, from "Who Better Than Canyon," my m/m sweet romance (sweet romance = no sex).

Why Canyon? Well, because of all of the characters I've written, he's the sweetest. He's a romantic at heart, and determined that the next man he falls for will put a ring on his finger! 

Content Warning: Some readers have decided there's infidelity in the book, because a deceased character had a relationship with two people at once - a man and a woman. Well, the deceased character was bi, and um...yeah, he's dead when the story starts, so, there's actually no physical infidelity in the book whatsoever. But if the past actions of dead characters are an issue for you, you've been warned. Just sayin'.

To enter to win a free pdf copy, just leave a comment below with your e-mail. Easy, peasy!

Here's the blurb and excerpt:

When Canyon's ex-lover, Robert, dies, he leaves behind a last request that Canyon take word of his passing to Simon, an old friend on the east coast. Canyon reluctantly agrees, and soon finds himself falling for Simon, despite the nagging belief he shouldn't. Canyon is plagued by guilt over his part in the accident that claimed Robert's life. But Simon knows something Canyon doesn't: Robert's death wasn't an accident, but a suicide, and Robert's intent was for the two men he left behind to come together. But Robert's plan didn't account for two things: Simon's disbelief that anyone can truly love a soon-to-be-cripple, and Canyon's staunch decision that the next man he gives himself to will give him a wedding ring first. Can Canyon and Simon set aside their own issues long enough to see what lies between them, or will they both miss out on their happily ever after?


“How’d that work, anyhow? Sharing him?” Simon asked.

“It didn’t. I told him it did. I told him a lot of things worked that didn’t.” Canyon shrugged, hoping the nonchalance gesture would steer Simon clear of any more questions. They’d spent the last three hours and two bottles of an expensive-tasting white wine in Simon’s lavishly decorated living room, seated on opposite sides of the room on the softest leather couches that Canyon had ever touched, chatting over this and that, but mostly avoiding the subject of Robert, which was fine.

“Why’d you put up with it?” Simon knelt in front of the fireplace, artfully arranging the wood inside with one hand, while still holding—with a steadiness that must’ve been born of practice—his wine glass in the other. Flickering light from the fledgling fire outlined him, making him look like a glowing angel. My guardian angel. Canyon jerked as the unexpected thought flitted through his mind.

“He loved his wife.”

Simon chuckled. “Natalie.” He raised his glass. “God, I never understood what he saw in that bitch. I went to school with her, you know. With both of them, actually.”

“Yeah? What was he like as a kid?” Canyon asked, fascinated to have a chance to learn such things. It told him Simon’s age, as well. If he’d gone to school with Robert that made Simon forty-four, forty-six at the oldest. Nice. Canyon liked older men; he tended to get along better with them.

“Nerdy. He was the biggest geek. If something new came out, technology wise, Robert had it. He had the first cassette player, the first computer. The first CD player. I remember he had CDs before he even had something to play them on. We saw them downtown at a store, and he didn’t have enough money for the player, but he bought two CDs. When I asked him what he planned to do with music he couldn’t listen to, he just said ‘it’ll keep’.”

“He said that even back then, huh?” Canyon had heard that phrase far too often during his three years with Robert.

Simon nodded. “It’ll keep. That’s what he thought about everything.”

“Yeah. I guess he was right about some things.”

“I dunno. You don’t strike me as the sort of man to be kept on a shelf, waiting.” Simon shrugged and looked away. He stood on unsteady feet, grinning, and went to the kitchen. He had another bottle of wine in his hand when he returned to the living room. He waved the bottle at Canyon. “Top you? Off, I mean. Of course.”

“Sure.” Canyon laughed, his spirits lifted for the first time in days. Simon moved toward him with measured, purposeful steps, tongue caught between his teeth in apparent concentration. He was very handsome, with short spiky hair, green eyes flecked with gold, and a small, almost feminine, lithe frame. Simon leaned over him to pour the wine, breath just tickling the hair on the top of his head, and Canyon’s cock stirred. “On both accounts,” he murmured.

Simon glanced at him, grinning again. “You’re drunk.”

“You started it.”

“Touché.” Simon straightened and stared down at him, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Simon shook his head. “You’d get robbed on that deal. I’d planned a trip to the beach next weekend. You’re welcome to join me.” He frowned and moved away, headed back to the kitchen.

Generous offer, but one Simon might want to rescind once he knew the truth about Robert’s death. “There’s something you should know.”

“What’s that?”

“I said there’s something you should know,” Canyon repeated as Simon returned with another bottle. Good lord, did the man own a winery? “Robert’s death was my fault.”

“What makes you think that?” Simon sat back down across the room and cocked his head as he poured himself another drink.

“The night he died, we had a pretty nasty argument. He showed up at my house, said he wanted to get back together.”

“But you didn’t.”

“We’d already been apart six months, and I’d just started to feel normal again. Six months is a long damned time. I considered it, though, but I made it clear he had to leave her.”

“I’m guessing he said no?”

Canyon nodded. “I know he loved her, but I just...I gave up enough of my life playing second fiddle. I wanted something more. I wanted to marry him.”

“Can’t fault you for that.”

“When he left...I’ve never seen him so angry. He shouldn’t have been driving.” Guilt surging through him, Canyon lowered his head and looked away, unwilling to meet Simon’s eyes.

“Well. I think sometimes you have to acknowledge that you can’t control everything. Sometimes...bad things happen.” Simon cleared his throat. “What line of work are you in?” he asked, changing the subject.

Canyon found the switch in topic odd, but then maybe Robert’s death was too fresh for Simon. Maybe Simon needed a safer, less painful topic. “I’m between jobs right now, but the last thing I did was record keeping for a doctor.”

Simon chuckled. “Really? Big strapping thing like you? I had you figured for a landscaper or construction worker.”

“Not in the Arizona heat! I like my air conditioning, thank you very much. And I liked the completion of the tasks. I could start out with a big pile on the side of my desk and whittle it down to nothing by the time I left for the day.”

“But you don’t work there now?”

Canyon shook his head and a blush crept up his cheeks. “Robert left me some money, so I guess now I don’t have to work anywhere if I don’t want. Or at least I can be choosy for a while.”

“Knowing Robert, you can be choosy for the rest of your life.”

“Three million. He left me three million.” Canyon blurted. Why had he felt so compelled to share that information?

“Wow.” Simon let out a hearty belch that had them both rolling with laughter.

“What do you do?” Canyon asked, once he’d caught his breath.

“I’m a painter.” Simon pointed over Canyon’s shoulder behind the couch. “Those are mine.”

Canyon glanced back at the wall. A strange mix of still life paint- ings and what he guessed would be called impressionist works, they showcased a wide range of talent, as far as he was concerned. “Those are really good. There’s a lot of money in art then, huh?” he asked, looking around the room.

“Robert bought the house for me.”

“Oh.” While Robert was incredibly generous when it came to his money, he really only spent it on people he cared a great deal for. Family, usually. Or lovers. Which brought an entirely new dimen- sion to their little situation, didn’t it? Both of them former lovers of Robert’s? But Simon hadn’t said anything of the sort, had he? And wouldn’t someone share such details—compare notes, at the very least? So it must’ve been something different that had bonded the two men. They’d gone to school together, were childhood friends, clearly. Maybe there was nothing more to it. But considering Robert had made it a point to get word of his death to Simon, and considering Natalie’s reaction at the lawyer’s office, Canyon seriously doubted Robert and Simon had been merely platonic.

Simon stood and stretched, and Canyon couldn’t keep himself from admiring the view.


Canyon nodded. He was hungry, all right.

****PLEASE BE AWARE:  I write GLBTQ romance. GLBTQ stands for gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and queer. This means my works feature same sex relationships AND same sex sexual acts. If winning that kind of a book isn't your cup of tea, kindly pass on to the next blog in the hop and leave the spot open for someone else. Thank you.****

Backlist Feature: Relearning the Ropes


When his good friend Julius dies unexpectedly, Marcus finds himself saddled with a new submissive—Charlie. But Charlie comes with a history, and more pain and need than Marcus has ever encountered. Marcus knows he loves Charlie, and Charlie loves him, but Marcus must set aside his old theories about BDSM and relearn the ropes if he wants to be the Dom—and the lover—they both need.

“And this guy right here!” A sleazy-looking, slender man with thinning hair who reminded Marcus of Wormtongue from The Lord of the Rings slid an arm around Charlie’s shoulders. “Is the best damn record keeper this firm has ever had!” He gave Charlie a shake, his giant hand squeezing Charlie’s upper arm.

Marcus flinched, anger boiling his blood. This was why he’d never wanted a full-time sub of his own—because he’d be forced to accompany them in public eventually, and seeing anyone touch what was his made him want to kill someone.

Charlie watched him with wide eyes and an expression of apology, apparently quite aware of his coworker’s effect on his Dom. “I’m just an ordinary secretary. Nothing special.”

“Nonsense!” The man pounded Charlie on the back. “C’mon, there’s someone I want you to meet.” He grabbed Charlie’s arm and hauled him away.

Marcus frowned. What the fuck should he do about this? He didn’t dare risk exposing Charlie as gay—whatever Charlie’s reasons for wanting to stay in the closet, he had to respect them. But he didn’t care for the idea of Charlie being paraded about like calf at auction, especially after Charlie had already been sold twice in his lifetime. And he damned sure didn’t like having to hide his status—he was a Dom, goddamn it. Add to that, he could likely tear limb from limb every man in this building, or at the very least have them pissing their pants in less than five minutes. Marcus didn’t do passive. He was more predator than anything when it came to these situations, so swallowing down his natural instincts was painful.

He supposed this was a lesson every Dom should learn, though. What was that line from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade? “Only the penitent man will pass.” Just a random quote from a random movie he’d seen only once, but he found the words cropping up in his mind often. Especially now.

Marcus moved through the crowd, keeping himself a few paces behind Charlie and the insufferable interloper. The man reeked of cheap cologne, even at a distance, and his suit—though he’d probably argue otherwise—was a bottom-basement forgery of the real thing. Marcus sneered and adjusted his own tie. His two-hundred-dollar tie, thank you very much, which just happened to be the least expensive thing he had on, right down to his Maurizio Amadei-designed cashmere briefs. God, he hated men who flaunted what they couldn’t back up. His quarry stopped in front of a group of people, the man making boisterous introductions and Charlie looking back over his shoulder, eyes scanning the room quickly.

Marcus raised his glass and nodded, recognizing that deer-in-headlights look. What would Julius have done? What had Julius done? Marcus gave silent praise to his friend, who had apparently been a much better diplomat than he.

“Fuck,” Marcus growled under his breath. The man had two wineglasses in his hand and was trying to push one off on Charlie. Charlie didn’t drink—was just as afraid of alcohol as he was nearly everything else. Charlie took a half step back, gesturing with his hands and shaking his head. Marcus stood still, torn. On the one hand, he wanted to save Charlie. Rescue him, take him home, tie him up, and show him that his love and loyalty were well placed. On the other, Charlie needed to lean to deal with these situations, in case he was ever truly on his own. A prospect no one had even considered before Julius’s accident.

Across from him, Charlie held one of the wineglasses in his hand, staring at it as if it would come to life and attack him. God, he was bad at this, wasn’t he? Marcus frowned. Julius had never mentioned just exactly how socially inept Charlie really was, and Marcus felt like an idiot—and a failure as a Dom—for not realizing. Charlie was so very submissive in all things, but he still hadn’t grasped how to decide who deserved his submission and who didn’t.

Marcus strode forward, aware of the appreciative glances he attracted from women and men both. “Ah, Charles, there you are.” He took the glass from Charlie’s hand and deposited it in on a nearby table. “Do pardon me,” he said to the onlookers. “I’ve a friend who wants to pick his brain.”

Marcus took a firm hold of Charlie’s elbow and led him away. The muscles beneath his fingers trembled, as did the rest of Charlie’s body.

“Thank you, Marcus.” 

Marcus nodded curtly, not ready to speak. 

“I’ve angered you.” Charlie’s trembling turned into all-out shaking. 

“No,” Marcus answered, voice gruffer than he wanted it to be.

“I’m sorry.” Charlie’s eyes were sad, his lips curled into a pout. A door opened nearby, letting in a rush of night air, and Charlie’s head snapped around, nose sniffing like a wild animal. Which was exactly what he was, Marcus realized. Feral, untamed. Untrained. Had Julius been unable to acclimate Charlie to the real world, or simply unwilling? Admittedly, helping anyone overcome five years of mental, physical, and sexual torture, of being treated like a piece of meat—passed around from abuser to abuser—was a daunting task. Let alone trying to do so with someone as naturally submissive and timid as Charlie.

Marcus sighed. “Let’s mingle for a while.” But later, when they returned home, they definitely needed to talk.