Revving it Up by Sean Michael
Blurb: Jon and Bryan have been dating for about six months. While things were hot and heavy in the beginning, they’ve since cooled down to a low simmer. Still,
forward to seeing Jon again tonight after his shift at the bar. But a game of
truth or dare has left him wearing a plug and it’s making him aware of every
single step he’s taking. Bryan
Will Bryan be able to make it through his date with Jon without going crazy? Or will Jon find out why he’s got that extra wiggle in his walk tonight and do something about it?
Buy link: Revving it Up will be available April 28 http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/bio_Michael.html
Bryan headed into the coffee shop, searching for Jon, praying to God that the man was sitting in the soft, cushioned booths instead of the hard wooden chairs nearer the counter. The whole fucking day had been…insane. In. Fucking. Sane.
Jon’s head popped up from one of the booths—thank God—the man grinning and waving at him, brown hair a little longer than the last time they’d hooked up, allowing him to see the curls. And fuck, but the man was stacked. So damn sexy. He made
little. Why didn’t they get together more often? Oh yeah, they’d sort of geared
down to slow for some reason. Bryan
closer, each step feeling…huge. Bryan
“Hey.” Jon watched him every step of the way and when he got to the booth, Jon told him, “You’re looking…really good tonight. There’s an extra wriggle in your walk.”
“Thanks.” He sat, gingerly, fighting the urge to moan. “How’s your week been?”
“Good. Good. You?”
“Not bad. The bar was crazy today.” And that was the understatement of all understatements.
“Yeah?” Jon gave him a grin. “You have any good stories?”
“Oh, more than I can tell, I bet.” Like how he’d been involved in a terrible truth or dare game with his old roommate from college and Jack’s fiancé… Man, he should have known better, but Jack always knew how to push his buttons and get him to do shit he probably shouldn’t.
“Playing coy?” Jon waved at someone. “What do you want, man?”
“White chocolate mocha, please.”
Jon gave the order as soon as the waiter was in range. “White chocolate mocha and I’ll have another peppermint latte.”
The dude gave Jon a warm smile, but the man’s attention had already turned back to him. And it felt heavy tonight, Jon’s gaze. “I’m glad you were able to get off early tonight, man. It feels like forever since we went out.”
“I know, right?” They’d been dating hot and heavy, then things had simmered down. It wasn’t lack of interest, really, more that the spark was just…dimmer lately.
“So what have you been doing with yourself lately?” Jon’s gaze was warm—the man’s sexiness hadn’t dimmed any, that was for sure. Jon was a thousand watt bulb, no doubt.
“Working, mostly. We lost a bartender and I didn’t think Amy was ever going to hire a replacement. Thank goodness she did. The guy started two weeks ago and he’s finally trained.”
“Is that why you’re looking so hot tonight?”
His cheeks went fiery and he ducked his head. “Sort of, yeah.”
Jon’s chuckle was like a caress. “Now, after that reaction, I think I have to know exactly why you’re looking so hot tonight, and I won’t be satisfied with a ‘sort of, yeah.’”
“No? Are you sure? There was a truth or dare game, dude. Truth or dare.”
One of Jon’s eyebrows went up. “Isn’t that like for teenagers who need an excuse to do stupid shit?”
“Well, yes. Or stupid old friends having a bachelor party…” Okay, now he felt a little dumb.
Jon laughed, touched his hand where it rested on the table. “Tell me what stupid shit they made you do?”
“Oh, Lord. We karaoked. I drank maraschino cherry juice. There was a plug incident.”
“A plug incident?” It figured Jon would focus on that. Well, it was the more interesting of the dares even if he had tried to play it down.
“Uh-huh.” He wriggled, said… incident shifting inside him.
About the Author:
Often referred to as "Space Cowboy" and "Gangsta of Love" while still striving for the moniker of "Maurice," Sean Michael spends his days surfing, smutting, organizing his immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs. While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and persuing the kama sutra by channeling the long lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to "Chicago."
A long-time writer of complicated haiku, currently Sean is attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate spinning and soap carving sex toys.
Barring any of that? He'll stick with writing his stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark.