Author: Clare London
Release Date: September 20 2016
Publisher: Jocular Press
Length: 74,000 words
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Blurb
When you find a place where lust and sex rule life, and your every desire can be fulfilled, why would you ever want to leave?
Young runaway Scot and his boyfriend Jerry escape their deadbeat homes and families, hoping to leave prejudice behind them and travel to a new life in Las Vegas. Unprepared and naive, they're lost almost at once, and shelter at a run-down, deserted motel in the middle of the scorching hot Nevada desert. A place with secrets, run by staff both gorgeous and uninhibited, and driven by a mysterious sexual connection Scotís never even dared to dream.
All but drugged by the lazy heat and the hedonism around him, Scot watches as Jerry is seduced away and realizes their relationship was nothing more than shared lust. Restless, Scot knows he wants true love and real understanding. Could he find it with the mysterious and elusive owner of the motel, Connor Maxwell? Connor seems to think so, every time he appears and pursues Scot for his own. But where does Connor come from? It seems the passion calls him into being at its own whim.
Eventually, what binds Connor and his friends to the motel may be too strong for Scot to break through. Scot has ambitions to travel, to make something of his life ñ but is his only option to embrace life at the motel in his true loverís arms?
Or will that love be strong enough to release them both...
Excerpt
Scot had been dreaming, he was sure
he had, though he couldnít recall it clearly. It had been a suffocating,
disorientating dream: he could still feel the shudder in his limbs, the throb
of his heart. A wet dream?
Öyou
were happy. You were laughingÖ
The details were slipping away from
him like smoke, even as his mind cleared. But he remembered a tall stranger
leaning over him with a hypnotizing smile, and an expression of delight.
Someone welcoming, with hands on him, soothing him, caressing him. A comforting,
sensual presence beside him, within him, talking
to himÖ.
ÖIíve
been waiting for youÖ
Scot shook his head to clear such
nonsense. A presence? What the hell kind of weird word is that?
He and Jerry had been to plenty of movies about vampires, succubi and other
monsters, though theyíd spent most of the time making out in the darkened back
seats of the theater. Was one of those special effect creatures teasing his
dreams now? But he hadnít watched a movie like that for a long time. They
didnít scare him like they were meant to, and besides, he knew all too well the
difference between movies and reality.
He stretched, his movements languid.
The tangible feeling persisted. It felt soft and thick, flowing like viscous
liquid, stroking like feathers, full of warmth and color and a really delicious
smell.
Ötalking to youÖ
It wanted him. It slid inside his clothes,
between his legs, seeking an entrance to his body.
Öwant
youÖ
Startled, Scot sat bolt upright. His
heart was beating far more quickly than usual. For the first time, he acknowledged
he was in nothing but his boxers, with no memory of undressing. And he had a
throbbing erection. It tented the fabric, causing a damp patch at its tip. This
was fiercer than his normal waking reaction, and it showed no signs of dying
down.
Shit. Heíd never had such a strange, erotic dream
before, not even about Jerry!
He shifted on the bed, unsettled and
horny, the sheet creased beneath him. Had Jerry undressed him? Surely it
wouldn't have been anyone else. The erection nagged at him, persistent and
demanding. He toyed with the idea of running his hand a little lower, and
giving it what it neededó
Then a door at the back of the room
opened, bringing a waft of scented, wet air from what was obviously the
bathroom.
ìScot? Youíre awake then.î It was
Jerry, his voice soft and sleepy too. The hard edge of their last conversation
had gone, replaced by the caressing tone Jerry often used when they were making
out.
ìWhere have you been?î Scot
grumbled. ìCome closer.î
Jerry walked over to the bed, toweling
at his hair. He was naked, except for another towel twisted around his slim waist.
A fuzzy patch of moonlight bathed his bare chest, highlighting a single, erect
nipple.
Scot ached somewhere deep inside,
wondering at the emotions that stirred him so strongly. He lusted after Jerry,
of course he did, but this ache was something else. Damned dreams. ìHow
late is it? Have you had a shower? I thought the lights were working now.î
ìThey are.î Jerryís smile was more
relaxed. ìBut I liked the candlelight in the dining room, so I thought we could
have the same in here. Itís only ten p.m. or so. My headache was easing off so I
left you sleeping and took a shower. Itís a very small bathroom so weíll have
to take a turn.î His gaze flickered over Scotís stretched limbs, the shape of
his swollen cock under the sheet. ìI thought you needed the sleep.î
ìThanks.î Scot sighed and wriggled
his hips on the bed. ìBut now I need something else.î
Jerry laughed and turned to the
dresser, lighting a candle in one of the holders there. When he turned back to Scot,
the chiaroscuro effect made him look alternately sensual and sinister. The
faint smell of sulfur from the match trailed in the still air.
Scot sighed contentedly, and fell
back on to the bed. ìDidnít I say to come closer?î
A strange expression flitted over
Jerryís face, but he grinned easily enough and climbed onto the bed beside
Scot. ìYes, boss.î
Scot chuckled, then caught his
breath. Jerryís body beside him was so different from his dream. It was real.
ìItís just us now, isnít it?î
ìYes, thank God. This is our new
beginning. For us, Scotótogether. They wonít chase us any more, thereís no one
to keep us apart. To tell us who we can and canít see.î
It sounded rather melodramatic to
Scot, but no less the truth. ìTo swear and spit at us?î
Jerry nodded. He stretched out a
hand and slid it around Scotís neck. ìI know how bad it wasóî
ìNo, you donít.î Scot tried to keep
the pain and anger out of his voice, but sometimes he wondered if he ever
would. Heíd struggled with life for as long as he could remember, first of all
trying to keep beneath the radar of his miserable home situation, then to hide
the true nature of his friendship with Jerry. Heíd once told Jerry that he lied
so much to his family and colleagues, he couldnít always remember what was the
truth and what was his cover story. Heíd been forced to do it all because heíd
been drawn to a man: theyíd wanted each other.
Was that so wrong? He didnít know
which caused him the more painóthe persecution and abuse heíd suffered, or the
cowardly way heíd tried to cope with it all.
ìHey, itís okay. Thereíll be no more
of that crap,î Jerry whispered. He rolled across the bed, nudging against
Scotís body. ìYouíre so damned hot.î He winced as he shifted his cock under the
towel. ìYou make me so fucking horny.î
Scot smiled and pressed his mouth to
Jerryís shoulder. His heart was beating fast again, but for a very different
reason. ìNo more sneaking around, doing it in corners. In cars and alleyways.î
Jerry grinned. ìNot always so bad,
though? Sometimes the danger adds to the excitement.î
Scot hid his shiver. ìBut we have a
choice, now, Jerry. A choice of when and where. Not just snatched half hours at
lunch, or after dark, or while my parents are getting wasted at some bar or
other.î
Jerry nodded. ìSure, whatever.î His
hands ran gently down Scotís chest, cupping his belly.
Scotís muscles tightened. So maybe
heíd found their secret life much more distressing than Jerry had. And it had
been exciting, in its own way. Jerry in particular had seemed to enjoy the
risk. Their groping sessions had been desperate and awkward, but Jerry had never
hesitated to take any opportunity to fuck. Scot had been carried away with the
desire too, but he regretted the fact theyíd never had much time together to
explore each otherís bodies. Everything had been rushed, the feelings anguished,
the lovemaking awkward. Scot felt he had years of frustration and repression still
to set free.
ìJerryÖ.î
ìHmm?î
ìMy choice is now, Jerry. I
want you hereóand now.î
ìSure.î Jerry smiled at him. He
didnít seem to be listening that carefully, his eyes unfocused and his
breathing shallow. Scot could feel Jerryís cock thickening under the towel. He
reached down, jerked the cloth away, and took firm hold of it.
Author Bio
Clare London took her pen name from the city where she lives, loves, and
writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home,
she juggles her writing with her other day job as an accountant.
Sheís written in many genres and across many settings, with award-winning
novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes
variety in her writing while friends say sheís just fickle, but as long as both
theories spawn good fiction, sheís happy. Most of her work features male/male
romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys
both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic, and sexy characters.
Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter three
stage and plenty of other projects in mind... she just has to find out where
she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.
Clare loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her here:
Website: http://www.clarelondon.com
E-mail: clarelondon11@yahoo.co.uk
Blog: www.clarelondon.com/blog
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/clarelondon
Twitter: https://twitter.com/clare_london
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/clarelondon
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