Good Monday morning, Orgiasts! And Happy New Year’s Eve! I hope you have something fun planned for midnight tonight, but make sure you’ve set aside some time to sit back and read the conclusion of my sexy Christmas Flash based on prompts sent in by the lovely Dawn Roberto: retired bull rider, snow storm, candy cane.

A big announcement before we get to the conclusion of my third and final Christmas flash story, Stew Brannigan Rides Again.

The following is from your Story Orgy writers:

Hello faithful orgiasts who bounce between our blogs every week… we love you. We really, most whole-heartedly do. You are the reason we six became a group in the first place! We wanted to post free gay fiction that was sometimes spooky, often smexy, and always romantic, and we have done some pretty amazing things in the last two years. The Story Orgy has self-published three anthologies—And the Prompt Is… Volume One, And the Prompt Is… Holiday Edition, And the Prompt Is… Road Trip—and one anthology through Breathless Press, Word Play. We’ve donated hundreds of dollars to charities from the sales of these collections, and all because of you! On our blogs, we’ve posted thousands and thousands of words, introduced you to dozens of characters and any number of dramatic scenarios, not to mention lots and lots of hot, steamy sex scenes. Oh yeah, can’t forget the steamy sex scenes!

And so, with the start of a brand new year, your Story Orgy writers have to admit something. We’re tired. Really tired! We’ve been writing so hard and so fast to keep our weekly posts interesting and sexy and surprising, that often times we don’t have time to write other stories for our publishers. Some of us have Evil Day Jobs (EDJs) that eat up a lot of our time as well, and then we need to make time to spend with families and friends, as well as a bit of sleep now and then. So, yeah, we admit it: we’re a little used up.

Which brings us to the classic line: It’s not you, it’s us. You see, a little while ago, the Story Orgy met in our secret Story Orgy room and hashed some things out, and we’ve decided that we’re not going to post weekly reads on our blogs for the foreseeable future. We know! It was difficult for us to say it ourselves! However, while there will no longer be guaranteed weekly posts, keep an eye out for posts from time to time as we try out new stories or characters, or ask for prompt suggestions from you for a new anthology, or maybe even let you know about some fantastic give aways. This new arrangement will also give us more time to work on some exciting new Story Orgy anthologies we hope to have available throughout the year.

So, while the weekly posts will no longer be there waiting every Monday at 6:00 AM, we certainly won’t forget about you, our faithful readers. We hope you’ll still comment on our Facebook posts and follow each of us not only in our future Story Orgy collaborations, but also our individual publishing events as well.

Thank you, you wonderful readers who have come to feel like family to us, for an amazing two years of fun and hot, sexy stuff. We look forward to expanding on the Story Orgy name in the years ahead and hope you’re as excited about the things to come (hee hee) as we are.

Much love,
The Story Orgy

Okay! As I wipe a tear out of the corner of my eye, on with the conclusion of the story! Once again, this sexy little story, Stew Brannigan Rides Again, is based on prompts sent in by the lovely Dawn Roberto: retired bull rider, snow storm, candy cane.

Stew Brannigan Rides Again

Conclusion

by

Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

Stew picked up the clothes he’d left lying around the trailer, his cock throbbing and his mind conjuring up endless positions he wanted to explore with Jarrod Gammon.

If the man showed up, that was. Might be Jarrod would chicken out at the last minute. But just in case he didn’t, Stew hauled the vacuum out of the folding door closet and ran it over the worn out, beaten down carpet in the living room, down the hall, and into his bedroom. He noticed that the sheets on the bed were a crumpled mess, and he stripped them off and stuffed them in the hamper in his closet. As he looked through the sheet sets he’d collected over the years, he found a set of red satin sheets and, with a grin, pulled out them out of the back of the linen closet.

Finally might get a chance to use these.

After cleaning everything as best he could, Stew took a long shower. He ran the water heater out, and finally, shivering in the sudden blast of the cold spray, twisted the faucets off. His fleece robe, best gift he received last year, mailed to his trailer from his niece Hannah in Gainesville, warmed him up and he padded into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee, stopping in surprise at the blizzard outside the window.

“Good Lord, it’s snowmaggedon,” Stew whispered, and right on cue a blast of arctic wind rocked his trailer.

For the next few hours Stew watched Christmas specials on TV, paced, stared out at the heavy snow fall, and kept his hand away from his cock. If Jarrod didn’t show up by midnight, Stew was going to ring in Christmas Day with a hearty wank and then slip into those red satin sheets alone. Again.

After eleven o’clock, just as he’d poured the burnt coffee down the sink, Stew heard the scrape of a plow on the road outside and the heavy rumble of a truck. He squinted through the kitchen window to watch a massive four wheel drive pick up truck fitted with a plow blade on the front  pull up in front of his trailer. The engine cut out, the lights went dark, and the driver hopped down from the cab to trudge through the heavy snow to his door.

Good God, he actually showed up.

Stew’s heart seemed to leap in his chest at the sound of the knock on his door. Was this really going to happen? Was he actually going to have a man here with him and not a porn DVD?

He hurried into the living room, paused to count to ten so it would look as if he wasn’t waiting to pounce on the door, and then pulled it open.

Jarrod stood on the tiny wooden porch, snow collecting on the brim of his Stetson as it blew through the frigid night. The younger man sported a big smile and held a paper sack cradled in one arm. Stew’s cock twitched at the deliciously dirty thoughts spiraling through his mind.

“Evening, Stew,” Jarrod said, still standing on the porch, his drawl layering sex on each word. “Plowed my way out here at the end of my shift, thought I’d drop in with a bag of fancy canned goods, wish you a Merry Christmas.”

Stew smiled at him. “You going to sing me a Christmas carol, Jarrod?”

Jarrod laughed. “I might need to warm up my throat before I tried something like that.”

Dear sweet baby Jesus. Thank you for this gift I am about to receive.

Jarrod shifted his weight on the porch and squinted up at Stew through the snowflakes. “So, you gonna invite me in?”

“Well, Hell’s bells, my manners have up and run off.” Stew stepped back and waved his hand as he said, “Please come in.”

Jarrod stepped up into the trailer and Stew took the bag from his hands. He set the bag on the coffee table and tried not to stare as Jarrod removed his jacket and Stetson, and then leaned against the corner of the wall to pull off his boots. The man was sexy brought to life, and a sudden rush of panic sent chills zipping along Stew’s spine. How was he going to break this seriously hot cowboy? He’d been retired much too long.

“Nice tree,” Jarrod said with a nod toward the small decoration.

“Got it last year on sale,” Stew said, and then flinched. What the fuck is wrong was wrong with him?

They looked at one another across the room for a moment, and then Jarrod asked, “You nervous as I am?”

Stew smiled. “More.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

Jarrod raised his eyebrows. “Got any beer?”

“Abso-fuckin-lutely.”

Stew grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge. When he returned to the living room, he found that Jarrod had turned off all the lights except the small Christmas tree. He sat on the couch beside Jarrod and handed him a beer.

“Cheers,” Jarrod said, and clinked their bottles together.

They drank, Stew chugging half of his beer at once, and when he turned to ask Jarrod how his shift plowing the city’s roads had gone, the man stopped his words with a kiss.

It was better than Stew had fantasized about. Jarrod’s lips were soft and warm, still wet from the beer, and his tongue pushed into Stew’s mouth with an arrogant familiarity that made Stew even harder. The kiss was hungry and sloppy, mouths open, tongues wallowing together, hands squeezing and clutching each other through their jeans.

Finally, Jarrod pulled away and stood up. For a moment, Stew was afraid the man was going to storm out of the trailer, unable to finish what he’d started. But the heated look in Jarrod’s eyes put his anxiety to rest, and Stew watched as Jarrod unbuttoned his flannel shirt.

“Get naked,” Jarrod instructed. “I gotta be skin to skin with you now.”

“I like the way you talk,” Stew said, and stood up as well.

They stripped in the multi-colored blinking glow of the Christmas tree, and when both of them were nude, they stepped together for another hot, tongue heavy kiss. Jarrod’s cock was big, mighty fucking big, and Stew thought the man might not have been lying back in the store when he’d made a joke about Stew handling twelve inches.

Good God, what had Jarrod eaten when he’d been growing up? Had he been raised under high tension power lines?

Stew pulled back to catch his breath and his gaze dropped to the faded scar that ringed Jarrod’s left shoulder, souvenir of his bronco busting fall. He placed a gentle kiss on the scar, and Jarrod let out a quiet breath.
“Ain’t a day goes by that it don’t ache me some,” he said, his voice soft and sad.

Stew nodded, took Jarrod’s hand and placed it on his hip. “Same goes with me here.”

Jarrod leaned in for another kiss and shifted his hand to take hold of Stew’s cock.

“I’d like to ride this bronco,” Jarrod said, giving Stew’s dick a playful tug.

Stew took hold of Jarrod’s monster prick, grabbed it with both hands side by side, and said, “This here is one mean bull just waiting to be broken.”

Jarrod kissed him. “Ain’t found a man yet who could ride him three times in one night.” His eyebrows lifted and he grinned at Stew. “Think you might be able to break that record?”

“I aim to try,” Stew said. “But first, I need to relax my muscles a bit.” He gently pushed Jarrod to his knees before him, and closed his eyes when the man took him in his mouth.

Jarrod’s soft, full lips held tight to Stew’s shaft, sucking him slow at first, and then picking up speed until he had Stew right at the edge.

“Oh yeah, keep it up,” Stew said with a growl. “Right there. Right there. God, I’m gonna come.”

To Stew’s surprise, Jarrod didn’t back off. Instead, he took Stew’s cock deeper into his throat, lips tight around the bucking shaft as Stew blew his load. When he had finished, Stew slipped his cock from between Jarrod’s glistening, swollen lips and helped him to his feet to give him a long, soft kiss.

“That was fucking hot,” Stew said.

“You taste good,” Jarrod told him. “Better than I’ve imagined.”

Stew blinked. “You’ve thought about us together?”

“Fuck yeah, lots of times.” Jarrod stroked his huge cock and smirked at Stew. “You ready for round one?”

“Think I need to meet the beast first,” Stew said, and sat on the couch—no kneeling for him with his sore hips—then reached out to pull Jarrod around in front of him. He stroked the long, thick length of him and ran his tongue root to tip before taking half of it in his mouth.

The taste of Jarrod spread across his tongue, a mix of sweat and body wash and the dry, salty taste of his skin, and Stew savored it. He sucked him hard and fast, managing to take most of him into his throat without gagging a few times. His cock was back up again, and he stroked himself as he sucked Jarrod, surprised when a few moments later the man stepped back and pulled his dick free.

“Got me close, there, Stew,” Jarrod said. “But I’ve got a hankerin’ for some bronco busting, if you’re game.”

“Been a long time,” Stew said, “but I’m game.”

Jarrod had condoms—extra large, naturally—and lube, and he slipped one on, slicked it up, and then bent Stew over the arm of the couch. He moved slowly, inching his fence post of a cock into Stew a little at a time.

The familiar burn of the initial entry made Stew wince, as did the ache in his hips, but with some back and forth and a bit more lube, Jarrod was soon seated completely inside him. Stew had never experienced the feeling of fullness, of being completely filled by someone, like he did with Jarrod.

He sighed, and then flinched as Jarrod grabbed him by the hips and started to fuck him.

“Easy with the grip there,” Stew warned.

Jarrod released him, reaching up to hold him by the shoulders instead. “Sorry.”

“No worry,” Stew said, and then gasped. “Oh, God, you’re big.”

Jarrod plowed into him, faster and faster, and soon he let out a heavy grunt. He rammed hard into Stew, his cock spearing even deeper as he came into the condom.

After they’d caught their breath, Jarrod slid out of him and smiled at Stew. “You took that pretty well, old man.”
Stew narrowed his eyes at Jarrod. “Old man?” He pointed down the hall toward the bedroom. “Let’s go. Round two starts now.”

Jarrod’s eyebrows went up. “Already?”

Stew raised his own eyebrows. “Unless you don’t think you can be ready.”

“Oh, I’m ready,” Jarrod said and got to his feet, his cock already growing.

In the bedroom, Jarrod smiled at the sight of the red satin sheets. “Fancy.”

“You ain’t the only one can put on airs,” Stew said.

He stretched out on his back across the red satin sheets, the slick material cold against his bare, sweaty skin. Jarrod stepped between his legs and lifted them up slowly. Stew’s hips moaned and mumbled about the motion, but stayed mostly quiet, and he saw Jarrod flinch when he rested Stew’s ankles on his shoulders.

“That okay?” Stew asked.

“Yeah,” Jarrod replied with a nod. “Just don’t bounce them too much, if you can help it.”

“You’re in command of the bouncing,” Stew said. “Depends how hard you drive that tree trunk into me.”

“Guess I’m going to be hurting then,” Jarrod said with smirk. “Cause I plan to fuck you hard and deep.”

Stew’s cock jerked at the words and tone of Jarrod’s voice, and pre-cum dribbled onto his belly. When Jarrod slid into him for the second time, Stew’s well-used hole protested a bit louder than his hips. But Stew clenched his teeth and reached up to pinch Jarrod’s nipples as the man pounded into him until, several minutes later, he pushed in deep once again and cried out as he shot his second load.

“That’s fucking amazing,” Stew gasped. His ass was sore and stretched out of proportion after Jarrod slipped free and grinned down at him.

“Sure you can do three times?” Jarrod asked as he peeled off the condom and dropped it in the trash.

Stew nodded, though he wasn’t sure his asshole agreed.

“I think you need a bit of healing first,” Jarrod said, and turned to leave the room.

Stew heard the crinkling sound of tearing plastic, and then Jarrod returned to the bedroom. In one hand he held a box of candy canes, in the other he carried the small plastic Christmas tree from the living room. He set the tree on top of the dresser and plugged it in, smiling at Stew in the blinking lights.

“We needed a little spirit of Christmas in here,” Jarrod said.

Stew pointed to the candy canes. “You going to get me sugared up?”

“Not the way you think.” Jarrod took a candy cane from the box and slipped it into his mouth, sucking on it seductively as he stared at Stew. When he had the candy cane slick with spit, Jarrod knelt between Stew’s legs and slowly, steadily slid it into his ass.

“Oh, fuck,” Stew said with a gasp. “Never had anyone do that to me before.”

“Like it?”

Stew surprised himself with a nod. “Yeah. It feels good. Cooling.”

“That’s the peppermint,” Jarrod explained. “Soothes the muscles.” He reached into the box for another candy cane and, after sucking it first, slipped it in alongside the first one.

Stew closed his eyes and held his legs up, his hips quiet for now, as if intrigued by the candy canes. When Jarrod had six candy canes sliding in and out of Stew’s well-used hole, he spit on them and stood up, his fingers holding the curved ends as he fucked Stew with them. Jarrod’s cock was hard again, standing out from his groin like a long, heavy limb.

“I think I’m ready,” Stew said.

“Yeah?” Jarrod pulled the candy canes out and, staring down at Stew, ran his tongue slowly up the length of them. He grabbed another condom and suited himself up.

Before Jarrod could get into position, Stew got up off the bed, the satin sheets slick beneath him. “Lay on your back,” he instructed.

“Oh yeah?” Jarrod nodded to his hips. “Think you can manage?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Stew said with a grin, “you just worry about keeping that shoulder in place.”

Jarrod smiled and shook his head before stretching out on his back. He lifted his cock off his belly and Stew got on his knees on the bed. He moved into position over Jarrod, and then lowered himself slowly, so slowly, onto the man’s amazing dick. The peppermint had soothed his muscles, and Stew sighed as he carefully impaled himself a third time.

“Oh, yeah,” Jarrod said through a sigh. “You’re still so fucking tight. Even on this record breaking third time.”

“Swollen is different from tight,” Stew explained, and leaned down for a kiss. “Get ready to be ridden.”

“Break me in, cowboy,” Jarrod said.

Stew closed his eyes and thought back on the days when he rode bulls. He loosened his muscles and let himself believe he was back in that time, young again, flexible, and foolish enough to believe he could ride forever. He shifted and shimmied, bounced and bobbed, rose and fell on Jarrod’s pillar of a cock.

As Stew bucked his hips, Jarrod’s cock smacked his prostate, hard, and it pushed him over the edge. Without touching himself, Stew let out a grunt just before his cock jerked and sprayed cum up the length of Jarrod’s torso.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Jarrod groaned. He put his hands on Stew’s thighs, gripping hard enough to leave marks, and bucked up into him. “I’m coming. Fuck yeah, coming again.”

Jarrod filled the condom inside Stew for the third time and Stew collapsed on top of him. He eased off Jarrod’s softening length and rolled onto his back beside the man.

“Fucking awesome,” Jarrod managed to say once he had caught his breath.

“Completely agree,” Stew said, and then a yawn snuck up on him.

It was contagious, Jarrod yawned next, and Stew sat up to grab a cum towel from his nightstand drawer. He cleaned his cum off Jarrod’s toros, tossed the towel aside, and then pulled the top sheet and blanket up over them. He pulled Jarrod into his arms and kissed him softly on the lips.

“Merry Christmas, Jarrod.”

“Merry Christmas to you, Stew.”

“I’m glad you finally plowed this section of road first,” Stew said.

Jarrod smiled and kissed him. “I’m glad I finally plowed you.”

“Smooth talker.”

Stew pulled Jarrod a little closer. He smiled at the small, blinking tree on top of the dresser, and, as the sticky feel of peppermint dried in his ass, Stew slipped into sleep and dreamed he was young and full of fire, back riding bulls once again.

~~ * ~~

 Well, it looks like Stew and Jarrod rode each other pretty well. I hope you enjoyed my three Christmas Flash stories. Thanks for an amazing two years of posts and smexy stuff. Have a very Happy and safe New Year’s Eve. I wish you love, quiet times, crazy fun, laughter, and perspective in 2013. I look forward to getting to know you all a little bit better, and I hope you continue to check in with me on Facebook and through my website email. Now, let’s hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs for more hot, smexy reads.

 Lee Brazil     Havan Fellows     Em Woods

 Follow our tweets during the week:

Jade Baiser: @jadebaiser

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

Good Monday morning, Orgiasts! And Merry Christmas Eve! I hope your gifts are wrapped, your eggs are nogged, and your trees are trimmed and you have time to sit back and read a sexy little story based on prompts sent in by the lovely Dawn Roberto: retired bull rider, snow storm, candy cane.

A few announcements before we get to the first part of my third and final Christmas flash story, Stew Brannigan Rides Again.

My second collection of short stories is now available! Think you’re ready for Another Very Dirty Dozen? 11 of my hot, steamy stories that were first published in magazines or anthologies, plus an all new short story, “Running Mate,” never before published! Get your hands on it at AMAZON or ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS and steam up some windows this holiday season.

Em Woods has joined forces with another author to bring you a lovely, romantic tale of a man who redeems himself after a life spent pushing away those around him. Who’s this other author? None other than Charles Dickens! Click HERE to get your hands on Em’s re-imagined A Christmas Carol, now available from Total E-Bound, and find out some things about Ebenezer Scrooge Dickens never mentioned!

The SIXTH book in Lee Brazil‘s Truth or Dare series, Donovan’s Deal, is now available at Breathless Press! In this book, Lee returns to his original couple, Mischa and Donovan, to see how they’re managing to juggle their relationship and parenthood. You need to get this book! Click HERE to grab a copy from Breathless Press today!

One more update: The stories from our Holiday anthology last year, And the Prompt Is… Holiday Edition, have been released as singles! Grab up one, two, or all five of the Story Orgy Holiday stories for just .99 each! Click on each of our names to hop on over to All Romance eBooks for the stories: Hank Edwards, Havan Fellows, Lee Brazil, Em Woods, JR Boyd.

Okay! On with the story! Once again, this sexy little story, Stew Brannigan Rides Again, is based on prompts sent in by the lovely Dawn Roberto: retired bull rider, snow storm, candy cane.

Stew Brannigan Rides Again

Part One

by

Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

Son of a bastard bitch whore slut, my hips hurt.

It was the same thought Stew Brannigan upon waking most mornings, but in the winter he put more grit behind it.

He pushed to his feet and groaned a little at the sharp pangs that ricocheted through his pelvis. The linoleum floor of the trailer home was cold and he shivered as he hurried into the bathroom to pee, grateful for the toilet rug he’d picked up on the cheap at Harold’s Groceries and Sundries the beginning of the month.

Going to be a snow storm tonight, Stew thought. Just like that sassy Latin singer says, hips don’t lie.

He finished his business in the bathroom and returned to the bedroom to rustle through the closet for his slippers and some fleece pants. After donning both, he shuffled along the hallway, through the living room where the tiny, tabletop Christmas tree merrily blinked its multi-colored lights, and on into the small kitchen to start the coffee.

Sure enough, snow clouds lay stacked, dark and imposing, over the mountain peaks. Perfect timing, too, as everyone finished up their last minute purchases on Christmas Eve. He supposed he’d better make sure he had enough supplies to last a while. The Fork in the Road Trailer Estates was out at the ankle-end of town. If the snow was going to be as deep as his hips like the weatherman said, it might be until after the new year before those DPW yahoos were able to plow the road clear.

Been a long time since someone’s plowed my road.

Stew smirked as he poured out a cup of dark, steaming coffee, spent a moment thinking about Jarrod Gammon, one time bull rider like Stew was himself, now a plow jockey for the city. Jarrod was one of the pretty ones, dark hair messy enough to look sexy, dark eyes, and broad shoulders. Stew had known the man a while now, hated him for a time, but now just liked to fantasize about what it would be like to fuck him.

Ah well, time enough for that later. Right now, he needed to get his show on the road. Those supplies weren’t going to show up at his door just by wishing. He picked up his cup and shuffled back toward the bathroom. A few more sips of coffee made his eyes open a little wider, and, as he shrugged out of the fleece bathrobe his niece Hannah had given him for Christmas last year, he paused to assess himself in the full length mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door.

Not bad. He still managed to workout three days a week at that uppity fitness center near the library. The elliptical helped keep Stew’s hips in tune, and the weights kept his chest broad and his biceps firm. If he overlooked the silver streaks at his temples, in his mustache, and threaded through his chest hair, he might be able to pass for thirty-five.
Stew snorted at the mirror. Maybe forty-two. Oh, hell, he had to admit it. He looked like his age, fifty-four.

“Smart ass kid,” he muttered to his reflection, and turned to start the shower.

Thirty minutes later, Stew was in his truck, wincing as he bumped over the last pothole on the narrow road that led from Fork in the Road Trailer Estates to state road 17. There was no traffic coming either way, never really was this far outside town, and he turned right, his hips grateful for the smooth feel of blacktop under his truck’s tires.

Thrown by a bull at 6.8 seconds ten years ago, Stew still couldn’t sit in one place for long. The bull had stomped on his right hip, broke it in five places, and forced him to hang up his Stetson for good. He’d had the best time in the circuit for six years after that, until Jarrod Gammon, that upstart kid from the North, had shown up and managed to hang on for 7.3 seconds.

Damn youngsters. Never respected their elders good and proper.

But Jarrod had been injured himself two years ago. Fell wrong off a bronco, separated his shoulder and ended up needing pins and a plate to hold him together. That had ended Jarrod’s riding career as well, and, to Stew’s surprise, the man had remained in town after the rodeo had moved on, getting a job with the DPW and settling himself in a studio apartment at the end of the main drag, a constant reminder of Stew’s broken record.

Stew had seen Jarrod when he had been in town just a few weeks before, and, he had to admit, the kid still looked good. He’d kept the cocky swagger he’d brought into town with him, sure, but something in Jarrod’s gaze had softened. Stew had seen Jarrod standing in the painting supplies aisle of the hardware store, examining two different paint brushes as if they held within them the secrets of time, space, and life. Jarrod had glanced at Stew, looked away, then back again. He’d smiled then, a kind of sexy, smirky smile that had since that day starred in even more of Stew’s jerk off fantasies. They hadn’t said anything to each other, just a friendly smile and a nod as they went about their business, two old rodeo riders in passing.

Yet, damn, Jarrod had looked good. Those rugged good looks, dark, tousled hair, a lock of it hanging over his forehead just above those dark brown eyes. Jarrod hadn’t shaved in a few days, either, and the dark of his beard made a nice contrast on his pale skin, drew attention to the soft, dark fur peeking out between the open V of his button down flannel shirt.

Oh yeah, Jarrod Gammon was one sexy bastard. But Stew wasn’t sure what team Jarrod rode for. Either way, he didn’t know if he wanted to have sex with the man who had kicked him off the top spot. Unless he got to mount Jarrod and fuck him senseless, drive hard and deep into the man, pound himself into that round, firm ass until he lost his load.

Yeah, that might be nice.

As he arrived into town, Stew glanced up automatically at the windows of Jarrod’s studio apartment. Sometimes he saw lights on, and once he’d caught a glimpse of Jarrod standing with his arms crossed over his broad chest, staring down at the street below.

Today, Jarrod’s windows were dark, and Stew tried to push aside the dirty thoughts crowding his mind. He tried not to think about how it would feel for Jarrod to wrap those full, pouty lips around his cock, roll his dark eyes up to watch Stew’s face as he sucked him. Tried not to think about what Jarrod would taste like as Stew ran his tongue through the hair on his torso and down to the dark patch of pubic hair. He didn’t want to keep thinking about touching Jarrod’s skin, rolling the man’s balls in the palm of his hand, slipping a finger down between Jarrod’s legs to rub the soft grooves of his anus and push slowly into him.

Stew got the last parking spot left in Harold’s Groceries and Sundries parking lot and shut off the engine. He gripped the steering wheel tight for a moment, thinking about such non-sexual things as the skanky oil rigger who lived in the trailer next door to him, and the sullen old woman who lived across the street in an effort to get his erection to wilt.

That did the trick, and Stew climbed out of the truck, wincing at the sharp pains that criss crossed his hips like belts of barbed wire. Fucking bull. Fucking rodeo. Fucking younger version of himself who thought it would be a blast to be a real life rodeo cowboy. What the fuck had he been thinking? Oh yeah, he hadn’t.

Harold’s was packed with people stocking up ahead of the big storm and getting last minute items for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day dinners. There were no buggies available, so Stew grabbed the second to last basket. Near the depleted meat counter, Stew nodded to the owner, Harold himself, who stood with his chubby arms crossed and resting on the swell of his belly, smiling from ear to ear as he watched the townsfolk clear out his inventory.

Enjoy the next four years of mortgage and car payments, Harold.

Stew was still smirking when he rounded the corner of the canned soup aisle and ran smack dab into none other than Jarrod Gammon. A flare of pain fireworked into life in his left hip as he twisted to avoid the brunt of the collision, and Jarrod flinched himself as he turned his shoulders.

“Sorry, there, Jarrod,” Stew said. “Didn’t see you.”

“All good, Stew,” Jarrod returned as he rolled his shoulder back. He’d lived in the south long enough to pick up a drawl and it coated each word with a sweet, sexy icing. “Caught you smirking before we crashed, though. Care to share?”

Stew grinned as he met Jarrod’s dark eyes. “Maybe over a beer some time.”

Jarrod grinned back, and Stew thought he saw something like interest spark deep inside Jarrod’s gaze. Could he be imagining things, or was it a Christmas miracle come to life?

“I’ll be sure to take you up on that some night.” Jarrod nodded down to Stew’s basket filled with canned goods. “I see you’re restocking the bachelor pantry ahead of the storm.”

“Yup. You look to be doing the same. Name brand though. Fancy.”

“I like a certain ambiance when I open a can, “Jarrod replied, surprising a laugh out of Stew.

“You’re pretty funny when you’re not being pitched off a bronco,” Stew said.

“Back at ya, when you’re not being stomped on by a bull.”

Ouch. Point, Jarrod Gammon.

“Well, Jarrod, it was good to catch up, but it’s time for this old guy to go stand in line for twice as long as it’ll take me to drive back home.”

“How are things out at the Fork in the Road Trailer Estates?”

Stew shrugged. “Could be worse. There could actually be a fork in the road out there, and then the directions to get to my place would be twice as difficult.”

Jarrod grinned. “You ready for the storm? It’s going to get deep they say. Twelve inches, at least.” Jarrod’s eyes seemed to glow as he said it. “That’s a lot of anything, don’t you think?”

Stew regarded Jarrod a moment, took in the younger man’s grin, the way his gaze had zeroed in on Stew’s own and the flare of his nostrils. Deciding that it was Christmas Eve and he could claim he was drunk off an early celebratory six pack if Jarrod reacted poorly, he said, “Nine inches tends to be my limit. But I’ve been known to be able to make ten work.”

Sex filled the air between them, almost a third party to their conversation. Pheromones spun like dust motes, just like he’d learned about in that animal husbandry class he’d taken at the community college.

“Think you’ll get snowed in out there?” Jarrod asked, his voice lower now, his pupils expanding and his gaze much more serious.

“Yup.” Stew nodded but couldn’t pull his gaze from Jarrod’s eyes. “Probably take all y’all a week at least to get the road plowed and work your way into the streets of Fork in the Road.”

“Yup, probably. Couple of men could do a lot of plowing themselves during that time,” Jarrod said.

Stew’s cock roared to life, hungry, horny, and eager. “Yup. If they had a mind to.”

“My mind’s made up,” Jarrod said. “It’s been made up for years now, just didn’t know how to ask.”

“You know what number I’m at?”

“Sixty-four.”

“I’ll be expecting to hear your plow truck at the end of your shift,” Stew heard himself say. “If you got the balls to show up.” He started to walk away, and then turned back. “And bring some of those name brand can goods you’re so high and mighty about.”

Jarrod let out a deep, booming laugh, and Stew caught himself smiling as he waded into the checkout lines at the register. As he stood there lost in thoughts both naughty and nice, he went through the motions of nodding and smiling and wishing those around him a Merry Christmas. Outside the plate glass windows of the grocery store, Stew saw the first battalion of snowflakes start to fall in the fading light of Christmas Eve, and found he didn’t really care as much.

~~ * ~~

 Well, it looks like Stew and Jarrod have a date all set up. Let’s hope they get as many inches as they both expect! Come on back next week for the conclusion of my final Christmas Flash, “Stew Brannigan Rides Again.” Have a very Merry Christmas, hold your loved ones a little longer, sit a few minutes more in the dark with the Christmas lights on and appreciate all you have. I have had an amazing year this year, and I appreciate each of you. I’ve met so may wonderful people online and in person, it amazes me. Here’s to an even more fun-filled and exciting year in 2013, and I’ll see you next week right here. Merriest of Christmases to you and yours. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

 Lee Brazil     Havan Fellows     Em Woods

 Follow our tweets during the week:

Jade Baiser: @jadebaiser

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

Good Monday morning, Orgiasts! The holidays are rushing up to us. I hope you have your shopping well under way for whatever holiday you celebrate, and for my friends celebrating Hanukkah, I hope you enjoyed your holidays.

A few announcements before we get to the conclusion of my second Christmas flash story, “Stripper Claus.”

My second collection of short stories is now available! Think you’re ready for Another Very Dirty Dozen? 11 of my hot, steamy stories that were first published in magazines or anthologies, plus an all new short story, “Running Mate,” never before published! Get your hands on it at AMAZON or ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS and steam up some windows this holiday season.

Em Woods has joined forces with another author to bring you a lovely, romantic tale of a man who redeems himself after a life spent pushing away those around him. Who’s this other author? None other than Charles Dickens! Click HERE to get your hands on Em’s re-imagined A Christmas Carol, now available from Total E-Bound, and find out some things about Ebenezer Scrooge Dickens never mentioned!

One more update: The stories from our Holiday anthology last year, And the Prompt Is… Holiday Edition, have been released as singles! Grab up one, two, or all five of the Story Orgy Holiday stories for just .99 each! Click on each of our names to hop on over to All Romance eBooks for the stories (Amazon links coming soon): Hank Edwards, Havan Fellows, Lee Brazil, Em Woods, JR Boyd.

Okay! On with the story!! This is the conclusion of my Christmas Flash Fiction I wrote based on prompts sent in by Jambrea Gaff:  Mall Santa, Fountain, and Stripper Pole. Ohh myy! Thanks, Jambrea! I hope you enjoy the story you helped me create.

 

Stripper Claus

Conclusion

by

Hank Edwards (c) 2012

Clay watched the ambulance attendants wheel the stretcher down the handicap ramp. The woman’s daughter, Cassie, walked alongside, one hand gripping her mother’s, the other holding tight to a doll Santa had given her for being so brave.

A robust “Ho, ho, ho,” nabbed Clay’s attention, and he turned to look over at Santa where he was welcoming a young boy onto his lap. There was conversation about what the boy wanted for Christmas, a photo was snapped, and the boy left with a candy cane and a bright smile. Santa met Clay’s gaze a moment, winked, and then turned to greet his next visitor.

Reports needed to be written and the higher ups notified of the incident, so Clay had no time to hang around and flirt with Santa. With a nod to the wide-eyed teenage girl elf who stood by the exit, Clay made his way out of Santa’s castle and through the crowds toward the security office.

He passed the glass fronted counter of Caroline’s Cookies and heard someone call to him. It was Millie, of course, her hairnet snug around the top of her gray-haired head, eyes wide behind the dark plastic frames of her glasses.

“What happened, Clay?” Millie asked.

“Someone just passed out is all,” Clay replied. “Probably got too warm waiting to see Santa.”

“Can’t fault her for that,” the other counter worker said, a woman a couple decades younger than Millie’s early 70s.

“That new Santa is one hot piece of beef.”

Clay frowned. “You do know you’re talking about Santa, right?”

The woman stared at him a moment before saying. “That’s all fake hair and beard and padding. Have you seen him walking into work?” Clay shook his head and the woman and Millie exchanged a look as they fanned themselves.
Millie said, “Trust me, Clay, it would be worth the effort for you to get to work an hour early and, maybe, you know, hang out in the locker room a bit. Maybe have trouble with your belt or the gel insoles of your shoes or something.”

A noisy family of six stepped up to the counter and Clay shook his head and turned away, lifting his hand in farewell. He had a report to write up, and then he could grab some lunch.

The next morning, Clay found he was wide awake earlier than usual. Maybe the dreams of sinking his cock deep into Santa’s tight, hot hole had something to do with it. He paid more attention than usual to his grooming, checking his hair in the mirror several times and changing his uniform pants twice, trying to find the pair that fit him the best.

When he arrived at work, the mall was busy already, and he leaned into the cold wind screaming across the open plain of the parking lot. Holiday season meant the employees parked in the furthest corners of the lot to allow more shoppers to park closer.

Merry fucking Christmas, be grateful that you’re working.

He stepped into the employee men’s locker room and paused. Someone was there already, taking a shower and singing a Christmas song. He had a deep, rich voice, and the scent of the body wash he was using sent a shiver through Clay.

Clay opened his locker and hung up his coat. He busied himself preparing for his shift, but stopped what he was doing when the water shut off. In a few minutes, a sexy, stocky furry hunk of man wearing only a white towel stepped around the corner of the lockers and stopped in surprise at the sight of him.

“Oh, sorry,” the man said, a blush of embarrassment tinting his cheeks. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“No worries, you sounded good.”

“Yeah? Well, thanks.” The man moved past Clay, the damp scent of body wash wafting behind him.
As he went back to his work, Clay looked up now and then, checking out the short, dark hair on the man’s head, the dark fur covering his torso, and the round curve of his ass beneath his towel. Clay stared into his locker a moment, trying to collect himself and keep his hard-on at bay. Not too successful on that front.

“My name’s Kent Wales.”

Clay looked up in surprise. He’d been so focused on ignoring the man he hadn’t heard him approach. Kent wore a pair of tight fitting boxer briefs that outlined his cock and balls, the leg openings clinging to the furry trunks of his thighs.

“What?” Clay managed.

Kent smirked and extended his hand further. “Kent Wales.” He gestured over his shoulder to a small pile of red velvet and white faux fur trim. “Otherwise known as Saint Nick, Santa Claus, or the jolly old elf.”

Clay took Kent’s hand and his cock throbbed at the damp touch of the man’s skin. He tried not to think that earlier he had been jerking off with that same hand, tried also not to wonder if Kent had been doing the same.

“Clay Rawlings.”

“Good work yesterday with that lady who fainted.” Kent turned his back to return to his locker, and Clay’s gaze dropped to the tight, round swell of his ass beneath the soft cotton briefs. “It’s been a long time since someone’s fainted in front of me. Not since my stripper days.”

“Stripper days?” Clay’s brain clicked back into gear. “Santa stripper? Kinky.”

Kent smirked over his bare shoulder. “You have no idea.”

Clay smirked back. “I think I do.”

Kent held his gaze a long moment, his eyes a brilliant blue, and then his smirk widened to a grin and he said, “You here all day?”

“Yep.”

“Meet me back here after the mall closes?”

“Secret Santa stuff?”

“Something like that.”

Clay nodded and, reluctantly, turned away to finish getting ready for his shift. When he had nothing left to occupy him, he closed his locker and brushed past Kent on his way to the door. “Keep those elves in line.”

“They are sarcastic little bitches,” Kent said, and they both laughed.

After a long, distracted day patrolling, Clay was glad to follow the last lingering shopper to the main doors and lock them. He got on the radio and checked in with the other security guards, making sure all the doors were secure, and then each of them did a walk through of a wing of the mall, meeting in the center by the fountain to report all shoppers had left and stores were secured. Some employees were cleaning up stock and counting out the register receipts, safe behind metal gates. Soon they would scurry out the back entrances and trudge across the empty parking lots to the employee spots.

Clay volunteered to lock up everything and herded the other security guards to the door. He watched them walk out into the night, shoulders hunched against the wind, and then turned to hurry back to the employee locker room.
Someone was humming a Christmas song, and when he recognized it, Clay grinned. “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” Indeed.

He straightened his shirt, reached down the front of his pants to adjust his already hardening cock, and then moved along the row of lockers to come to a surprised stop at the end. Kent had pulled out the padding that gave him a big belly, but still wore his Santa suit and beard. He was humming the song as he spun around a stripper pole, one of the expandable poles that could be taken along with him.

“Well, hello Santa Claus,” Clay said.

Kent looked up and smiled beneath the white beard. “Well, hello Clay. Have you been a good little security guard this year?”

Clay smirked. “Nope.”

Kent winked and his smile widened. “Good. Sit down on the end of that bench, Santa’s got a present for you.”

Clay sat on the bench between the lockers, his leg bouncing with impatient anticipation. He licked his dry lips and tried not to think too far ahead. He didn’t want to miss a minute of Kent’s “present.”

Still humming the song, Kent slid around the stripper pole, changing his grip with ease. He hooked a leg around the pole and spun with one arm extended. When he came to a stop, he faced Clay and planted both booted feet to either side of the pole, and then pulled apart his red velvet jacket. It was held together with Velcro and sounded like material tearing. Clay’s cock jumped at the sound and the sight that followed: Kent’s strong torso, shining with sweat and covered in dark hair.

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas,” Clay whispered.

Kent smiled beneath his beard and shrugged out of the jacket before resuming his dance around the stripper pole. He continued to hum “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” and teased the back of his red velvet pants down an inch, then another, and then another. Clay caught glimpses of the pale flesh of Kent’s ass cheeks, also graced with dark hair, and he had to reach down to adjust himself.

With his legs to either side of the pole, Kent extended a foot to Clay and nodded down to his boot. Clay gripped the sides of the boot, surprised to find it was real leather, and slid it off his foot. The white sock stayed inside the boot, leaving Kent with one bare foot. The man planted that foot on the floor and lifted his other leg for Clay to remove that boot as well. Clay set the boots on the floor and stared at the vision before him.

Still wearing the white beard, red hat with white trim, and red pants, Kent was a hot vision of Christmas spirit. Sweat gleamed beneath the hair on his chest, and as he spun around the pole, Kent slipped the top of his pants down a little bit at a time, revealing the waistband and straps of a red jockstrap underneath.

Clay nearly blew his wad right there.

Finally, with a flourish of arm movements and a high kick that sent the red pants flying over Clay’s head, Kent gripped the stripper pole and upended himself. He wrapped his feet around the pole and slowly lowered himself to the floor, his arousal evident by the bulging cotton pouch of his jockstrap and the feral look in his blue eyes.

“Holy shit,” Clay said in quiet awe when Kent ended his routine sitting on the floor with his legs around the base of the pole.

Kent got to his feet, breathing deep from his workout, and he walked up to stand right in front of Clay, wearing only the red hat, white beard, and red jockstrap.

“Santa’s got a present for you, Clay.” Kent reached down to grab his cock, barely restrained by the jock’s pouch.

Clay couldn’t wait. He was beyond impatient by now. He could smell the damp, rank scent of Kent’s sweat and it pushed his excitement even higher. Leaning forward, Clay extended his tongue and ran it slowly up the sweat-slick, hairy surface of Kent’s belly. Above him, Kent sucked in a quick breath and Clay felt the man’s abs tremble.

He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of the jock and pulled it out then down. Kent’s cock, fully hard and slick with pre-come, bobbed in Clay’s face and he opened his mouth to take it deep in his throat.

“Fuck yeah,” Kent said and groaned as he put his hands on the back of Clay’s head. Kent thrust his hips, his cock pushing and pulling between Clay’s lips, the salty taste of Kent’s sweat and pre-come filling his mouth as the man’s prick skidded along his tongue.

With trembling fingers, Clay unbuttoned his own shirt and fumbled with the buckle of his duty belt. It clattered to the floor and he worked on his pants next, leaving them open and pulling his underwear down so the waistband sat under his balls. His cock swayed in the warm air of the changing room, pre-come dribbling down the shaft. Before Clay could take hold of himself, however, Kent leaned over to wrap his hand around the hot length of him.

Clay moaned around his mouthful of cock, and Kent mumbled something that sounded like, “Fuckin’ hung, too? Fuck yeah.”

That was all it took. Clay released Kent’s cock and stood up, forcing Kent to stand as well. He pressed his mouth over Kent’s and, as their tongues collided, struggled out of his uniform. Kent lost the jockstrap and hat, and Clay leaned back to finally pull away the white beard. They grabbed each other tight, sweat-slick bodies rubbing together, cocks grinding, mouths crushed together.

Finally, Kent pulled back and said in a hoarse whisper, “Fuck me.” He moved to lean over the bench between the lockers, his strong arms supporting him up, his ass in the air. “Condom’s in my pants pocket.”

“Santa brings all the right gifts,” Clay said and fished the packet out of the soft velvet pocket. It was lubricated, good thing, and as Clay rolled it over himself, he knelt behind Kent and pressed his mouth to the damp, hairy crack of the man’s ass. Clay flicked his tongue over the tender folds and felt Kent shiver. He drilled his tongue between the ridges of muscle once, twice, a third time. By then he had the condom rolled on just right and stood up.

The tight, rounded mounds of Kent’s furry ass waited before him, and Clay tipped his cock down toward the tight entrance. He was harder than he’d been in years, it wasn’t going to take long for him to come, and from the size of the puddle of pre-come on the bench beneath Kent, he was just as close.

Clay eased into the hot depths. He felt Kent’s muscles clutch and release around him. A groan started deep in his chest and rumbled up his throat to slip from between his lips.

“Oh, fuuuuucckk,” Kent moaned. “Yeah, man.”

Clay pulled back and pushed in again, and then his hips took over. Sweat ran down his body as he watched Kent’s ass cheeks bounce beneath the onslaught of his fucking. He heard the wet, sticky slap of skin on skin contact, felt the tightening of Kent’s muscles around his driving cock, squeezing and releasing in time with his thrusts.

“Oh, yeah, oh yeah,” Kent said between grunts.”I’m coming. Santa’s coming.”

The deep, lustful tone of Kent’s voice and the tight grip of his muscles was too much for Clay. He closed his eyes and pushed in deep, letting out a shout as he shot his load into the condom.

Spent and gasping, Clay leaned forward, laying along Kent’s back and putting his arms around the man. He placed a gentle kiss on the knobs of Kent’s spine as he slid out of him.

Kent straightened up and turned to smile dreamily at Clay before leaning in to give him a slow, deep kiss.

“That was fucking awesome,” Kent said.

“You’re fucking awesome,” Clay returned. He reached down to tug Kent’s softening cock. “You are one hot Santa fucker.”

Kent smirked and reached down to give Clay’s cock a playful tug. “You’re the Santa fucker.” He kissed him again.

“Feel like another trip on Santa’s sleigh? Maybe at your place?”

“Sounds good,” Clay said. “But this time, I get to ride your Yuletide log.”

Kent waggled his eyebrows. “Butch and versatile? Merry Christmas to me.”

“Santa deserves a gift now and then, too,” Clay said, and then nodded toward the stripper pole. “And definitely bring that with you.”

~~ * ~~

 Well, it looks like Clay and Kent really hit it off. I hope you enjoyed my Christmas Flash story, “Stripper Claus,” and come back next week–yep, your Story Orgy writers are posting for you on Christmas Eve!–for the start of my third and final story, featuring these prompt items sent in by Dawn Roberto: candy canes, snow storm, a retired bull rider. Oh yeah, you’re not gonna want to miss my story “Stew Brannigan Rides Again,” that’s for sure! For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

 Lee Brazil     Havan Fellows     Em Woods      Jade Baiser

 Follow our tweets during the week:

Jade Baiser: @jadebaiser

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

Good Monday morning, Orgiasts! Happy second Monday of December to you! I hope you have your shopping well under way for whatever holiday you celebrate, and for my friends celebrating Hanukkah, chag Chanukah sameach!

A few announcements before we get to the first part of my second Christmas flash story, “Stripper Claus.”

Em Woods has joined forces with another author to bring you a lovely, romantic tale of a man who redeems himself after a life spent pushing away those around him. Who’s this other author? None other than Charles Dickens! Click HERE to get your hands on Em’s re-imagined A Christmas Carol, now available from Total E-Bound, and find out some things about Ebenezer Scrooge Dickens never mentioned!

One more update – wow, lots of news this week! The stories from our Holiday anthology last year, And the Prompt Is… Holiday Edition, have been released as singles! Grab up one, two, or all five of the Story Orgy Holiday stories for just .99 each! Click on each of our names to hop on over to ARe for the stories: Hank Edwards, Havan Fellows, Lee Brazil, Em Woods, JR Boyd or hop on over to AMAZON for them: Hank Edwards, Havan Fellows, Lee Brazil, Em Woods, JR Boyd.

Okay! On with the story!! This is the first of two chapters I wrote based on prompts sent in by Jambrea Gaff:  Mall Santa, Fountain, and Stripper Pole. Ohh myy! Thanks, Jambrea! I hope you enjoy the story you helped me create.

Stripper Claus

Part One

by

Hank Edwards (c) 2012

Clay stepped out of the mall security office and adjusted his duty belt. If he were twenty years younger, and twenty pounds lighter, he knew he would look hot. He had muscle, he still worked out, but somewhere along the line his gut had gotten soft. Now, he just looked like a middle-aged guy prowling the mall on the lookout for rowdy teenagers, lost children, and shoplifters.

Merry fucking Christmas.

The smell of cigarette smoke made him turn his head. Millie, somewhere in her 70s and who worked the counter at Caroline’s Cookies, stood leaning against the wall with a 40 ounce soda in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Her gray hair, done up in tight pin curls, was covered with a net, and her dark plastic framed glasses reflected back the fluorescent lighting.

“You know you’re not allowed to smoke in here, Millie,” Clay said.

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighed, dropped the cigarette on the tile floor, and ground it out beneath her thick soled shoe. “How’s tricks, Clay? Nab any shoplifters today?”

“Not yet, my shift’s just starting.”

“So much merchandise,” Millie said with a shake of her head. “So little time.”

“How’s the cookie business?”

“Crumbling,” Millie said, and cackled a laugh before taking a long pull on the straw of her soda.

Clay grinned and shook his head. “I like you, Millie. Even though you smoke inside the mall.”

“I like you, too, Clay. You’re one of the fun ones. Hey, didja see that new Santa they got for the remainder of the season?”

“Harvey’s gone?”

“DUI.”

“Ouch.”

Millie shrugged. “Happens. New guy’s not as long in the tooth. Looks to be in better shape.” She waggled her eyebrows and grinned.

Clay frowned. “Santa in shape? Where’s the fun in that?”

She waved a hand at him. “Ah, he wears a padded stomach. I seen him putting it on while I happened to be walking past the men’s employee locker room.”

“You lurking around the door to the locker room again, Millie?”

She blinked innocently at him as she sipped her soda. “Like I said, I just happened to be walking past, that’s all. Go check him out for yourself, he’s down there right now.”

“You trying to set me up, Millie?”

“No one should be alone on Christmas, Clay.”

“You’re a peach, you know that?” Clay said, feeling a warm glow of affection for Millie’s thoughtfulness, even if he wasn’t too sure how he felt about trying to score a date with Santa.

“Yeah, tell that to my boss.” Millie snorted. “She’s sixteen and thinks she knows everything.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Clay said as he turned toward the hallway leading to the mall and the mass of shoppers. “Kids that age do know everything. They just forget more and more each year.”

“Be careful out there, Clay,” Millie called after him, and he raised his hand in acknowledgement as he walked away.

The mall was packed. More packed than Clay could remember, and he had worked security there for twenty years. The economy was recovering, slowly, and people had a bit more spending money, which they all seemed to be intent on spending this holiday season. Shoppers were loaded down with bags and boxes. They pushed carts and strollers and held the hands of or carried screaming, tired children.

Again, Merry fucking Christmas.

Clay made a circuit of the entire mall. As he let his gaze wander over the shoppers, he noticed a number of DILFs, Dad’s he’d definitely like to fuck. It was the weekend, so most of the hot daddies hadn’t shaved. Stubble darkened their faces, and their gazes were intense, focused, as they shouldered paths through the throngs of people. Clay got hard watching the big, brawny daddies push through the crowd, and he stopped in a men’s room to check on things. It was empty, surprisingly, so while he was there, he ducked into a stall and took a moment to adjust his package. He may be getting older, but he definitely still had logs on his fire. He stood in the stall, slowly stroking his cock and thinking about the daddies, imagined one of them in there with him, pushing Clay to his knees and telling him to suck it. Clay could almost taste the damp salty skin of the daddy’s cock, feel the wide, plump head scrape along the roof of his mouth and bump the back of his throat, taste the delicious bitterness as a flood of cum coated his tongue and the daddy grunted quietly above him.

The speed of Clay’s hand increased and he shifted his fantasy to think about… Who? Another anonymous daddy from the mall? A spray tanned porn actor? There was no one special in his life, hadn’t been for a long time. The collection of porn DVDs could only do so much for so long, and each visit to the bar scene made him feel five years older than the last.

Just like that, the mood was gone. Clay blew out a frustrated breath as his stroke slowed, and then stopped altogether. Tucking himself back inside his pants, Clay left the stall and washed up. He looked at his reflection for a moment, taking in his brown, receding hairline, blue eyes, and square jaw. He looked good for his age, just a little… sad, maybe. Something was missing. Someone was missing.

A group of loud teenagers burst into the restroom, quieting immediately on seeing Clay at the sinks. After giving the one he deduced to be the group leader a stern, pointed look, Clay left the restroom, his mood definitely darker than it had been at the start of his shift.

Three hours of patrolling the mall allowed him to nab four shoplifters, prevent three near fist fights over the last sale item, and stop a group of kids from spraying ketchup and mustard on the floor of the Coney Island. Clay was tired and more than a little grumpy as he walked past a store called Stripper’s Delight. It never failed to make him chuckle. The boom in popularity of stripper pole exercise classes had paved the way for a store dedicated to selling shoes, poles, outfits, and music for strippers. There were even poles set up in the back of the store for potential customers to try them out. Right here in a mall.

Clay stopped for a moment in the center of the mall where the four wings of stores came together. A fountain splashed and bubbled in the middle of the open court, and people sat around it at iron cafe tables. The long, long line of children and parents waiting to see Santa curled around the cafe tables like a massive, living wall, and Clay shook his head. Such a long wait, and the children would be exhausted and crabby by the time they got to Santa’s lap. Merry Christmas, here’s a photo, enjoy your day.

Right.

At that moment, above the noise of the crowd, the fountain, and the Christmas music piped in overhead, Clay heard  “Ho, ho, ho,.” The voice was a deep, rich baritone, and the timbre sent shivers down his spine. The shivers gathered in a spot just behind his balls, and Clay’s cock surged to life. This, then, was the hot Santa Millie had told him about. Well, he’d have to check Santa out.

Before he could spin a decent fantasy incorporating the red suit and some egg nog for lube, Clay was interrupted by a startled scream from Santa’s Castle. He reacted on instinct, making his way quickly through the surging crowd toward the raised platform. The exit area was blocked by curious onlookers, and Clay wedged himself between them, painfully aware of the number of people holding up cell phones in hopes of capturing something dramatic, anything, on video and selling it to a network news channel.

Clay climbed the steps people normally used to leave Santa’s Castle after visiting with the jolly old elf, and stepped onto the platform. He swept his gaze across the scene, taking in the details in seconds. Santa and several of his helper elves, really just high school age girls with fake ears and tights, knelt by a large woman who lay on her back, out cold. He knelt beside Santa, felt his knee knock against the man’s, and caught a flash of brilliant blue as Santa raised his eyes to look at him.

“Oh, good,” Santa said. “We need an ambulance. She’s passed out. Just went down hard when her daughter sat on my lap.”

“She breathing?” Clay asked, and reached down to take the woman’s wrist and feel for a pulse.

“Yeah, she is.” Santa glanced over his shoulder to where a young girl sat crying on his big gold throne. “That’s her daughter. I’m going back to talk with her, try to keep her calm.”

Clay met Santa’s gaze, felt something click even amidst the drama of the situation, and nodded. “Good idea. Thanks.”

He used his radio to call for an ambulance, and by then the woman had started to come around. She looked up at them, startled and scared, and Clay put a hand on her shoulder to keep her lying still. “You’ve fainted, but you’re okay.”

“Cassie?” the woman asked, and looked around with a frantic expression.

“Your daughter’s right over there with Santa, see?” Clay pointed and the woman lifted her head to see, then relaxed.

“I just felt dizzy, I don’t know what happened to me,” the woman said.

Clay glanced over at Santa, caught the man staring, and said, “I know what you mean.”

~~ * ~~

 Well, well, well. Clay’s having some naughty thoughts about Santa, isn’t that nice? Come on back next week for the conclusion of “Stripper Claus,” and see how I work a stripper pole into the storyline even more! Until then, be good and be good to each other. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

 Lee Brazil     Havan Fellows     Em Woods      Jade Baiser

 Follow our tweets during the week:

Jade Baiser: @jadebaiser

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

Good Monday morning, Orgiasts! Happy first Monday of December to you! I hope you have your shopping well under way for whatever holiday you celebrate.

A few announcements before we get to the conclusion of my Christmas flash story.

Em Woods has joined forces with another author to bring you a lovely, romantic tale of a man who redeems himself after a life spent pushing away those around him. Who’s this other author? None other than Charles Dickens! Click HERE to check out the blurb for Em’s re-imagined A Christmas Carol, available 12/3 from Total E-Bound, and find out some things about Ebenezer Scrooge Dickens never mentioned!

One more update – wow, lots of news this week! Our Holiday collection from last year, And the Prompt Is… Holiday Edition, has been discounted! You can stuff your stocking with some Story Orgy sweet, steamy romances for just $2.99! Click on over to grab a copy from AMAZON or ARe. And, if you’re in the mood for just one of our stories, beginning Monday, December 10, you can grab each of the Story Orgy Holiday stories as a single story for just .99! Check back next week for links.

Okay! On with the story!! This is the last of two chapters I wrote based on prompts sent in by Andrea Speed: Pizza delivery guy, Abandoned house, Snowman. Thanks Andrea! I hope you enjoy the story you helped me create.

A Gift For Greg

Conclusion

by

Hank Edwards (c) 2012

Greg stared up at Jerry Golling, the intense frown on Jerry’s face enough to make Greg fidget in the driver’s seat.

“Do I know you?” Jerry asked.

“From high school,” Greg said, his cock a hard mast of longing even in the frigid air coming in the open car window. “Greg Marwell.”

Jerry stood silent, his face hidden by shadow and unreadable.

“Debate team?” Greg offered, his voice more uncertain.

“I remember you,” Jerry said quietly. “Very well. I’m just surprised is all.”

Greg nodded, felt himself blush and looked away. “Yeah. I’m surprised, too.”

“You brought my pizza?”

The blush deepened, heating Greg’s face against the cold night air. “I did. Sorry. It’s right here.”

“Come inside,” Jerry said and turned for the house. “You must be freezing.”

Greg sat still a moment, considering. No one waited for him at home, no gifts, no special meal. What did he have to lose? He shut off the engine and got out of the car, carrying the pizza as he followed Jerry along the side of the house to a sliding door in the back. Inside, battery operated lanterns provided a warm glow and a propane heater vented out a back window provided heat. A futon covered with layers of quilts took up one corner.

“You squatting?” Greg asked, surprised.

Jerry turned and Greg saw his face clearly for the first time. He was still handsome, his rounded chin covered with dark stubble, hazel eyes behind plastic framed glasses, proud nose, and full lips. It was all Greg could do to keep from walking right up to Jerry and kissing him like he had fantasized doing for so many years.

“Yeah,” Jerry admitted and dropped his gaze as he dug in his pockets to pull out wads of bills. “Got the house from Mom and Dad years ago. Lost my job a year and a half ago. Bank took the house last week.”

“Merry fucking Christmas, huh?” Greg said.

“Pretty much.” Jerry looked up at him. “I have nineteen eighty. Is that enough?”

It wasn’t, but Greg nodded and handed over the pizza. “Perfect.”

Jerry passed him the wad of bills, and a spark sizzled up Greg’s arm when their fingers touched.

“You on your own tonight too?” Jerry asked.

“Yeah, just me.”

“Want to stay for pizza?”

Greg nodded, and then said, “If you can spare it, sure. How about we split the cost?”

“Sounds great.” Jerry smiled and Greg’s pulse kicked up a notch as his cock took notice.

They sat on the futon and talked as they ate. The wind curled around the corners and eaves of the house, the cold kept mostly at bay by the propane heater. As they talked, Greg noticed they both relaxed, each of them settling back against the futon until their knees touched briefly. Greg’s erection jerked at the contact, and when Jerry didn’t pull away, he lost track of their conversation.

“You okay?” Jerry’s question brought him back to focus on the moment and out of his fantasy of being in a sixty-nine with Jerry.

“What? Oh, yeah. Just… drifted a bit there. Sorry.”

Jerry watched him in silence a moment, and then said, “I had a crush on you back in high school, you know.”
Apprehension and excitement twisted inside Greg’s belly as his cock thrummed with need.

“You did?”

“Yeah. You made me so nervous, I could never talk to you.”

“Are you kidding me?” A nervous laugh escaped Greg’s lips and he hoped it didn’t sound as high-pitched to Jerry as it did to him. “I felt the same way.”

Jerry’s eyes widened. “No way.”

“Yes way! I joined the debate team just because you did!”

“I wondered why you did that,” Jerry said. One corner of his mouth quirked up in a sexy smirk. “You weren’t very good at it.”

Jerry suddenly widened his eyes and pressed his lips tight, mortified at what he had said. But Greg laughed, a genuine, feel-good, belly laugh, and slid sideways on the futon so he was lying down. Tears rolled down his temples from the force of his laughter and his body flooded with adrenaline and endorphins. How long had it been since he’d laughed like this?

Jerry leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder, looked down into Greg’s watery eyes, and said, “I’m sorry, that was rude of me to say.”

“It’s okay,” Greg reassured him. “It was just the truth. I sucked at it.”

“But you tried, that’s what mattered.”

“Only to be close to you.”

Jerry smiled and shook his head, looking away as he blushed. “I never knew that.”

“Well, we’ve confessed now. And here we are, fifteen years later, on Christmas morning, with no one but ourselves to answer to.” Greg reached up to put a hand on the back of Jerry’s neck, turned him back to look in his eyes. “I say we deserve a little Christmas spirit, don’t you?”

“Yeah, we do,” Jerry said.

When he leaned down for a kiss, Greg felt a buzz travel down his spine to his balls. Jerry’s lips were slick with pizza grease and softer, warmer than he had ever imagined. The kiss deepened, turned hungry, and in a moment Greg had pushed his tongue into Jerry’s mouth.

It didn’t take long for them to strip out of their clothes and, shivering despite the propane heater, slip beneath the quilts on the futon. Greg twined his legs with Jerry’s, felt the hard, determined length of the man’s erection press against his own, and reached down to take hold of both of them.

“Oh, yeah,” Jerry said with a gasp. “It’s been so long since someone’s touched me like that.”

“Me, too,” Greg assured him, and gasped himself at the warm, trembling touch of Jerry’s hand on his dick.

“I don’t have a condom,” Jerry admitted.

“It’s okay,” Greg said. “This is enough. For now.” He slipped beneath the covers, kissing his way down the hair covered length of Jerry’s torso to his throbbing cock. It bucked against his tongue when he took it in his mouth, and he paused to savor the salty taste of it.

“I want to taste you, too,” Jerry said, and Greg shifted position to stick his feet out from under the covers and line up his crotch with Jerry’s face. Here was that sixty-nine position he had just been fantasizing about.

The wet heat of Jerry’s mouth on his prick made Greg moan around the cock in his own. It wasn’t going to take long, he was so close already. And it was Jerry Golling sucking his dick; Jerry Fucking Golling!

That seemed to be all it took to send him off the edge. A spark snapped deep in Greg’s belly, hot and wild. He felt the rushing wave of his orgasm rising, and took his mouth off Jerry’s cock long enough to grunt a warning. Jerry pulled back and stroked him fast and rough to a shuddering climax, turning his face into the spray of cum.

“So hot,” Jerry whispered. “Feels so good on my face. Oh, yeah, I’m coming, too.”

Greg took his mouth off Jerry and pumped his fist along the hard length as jets of cum splashed across his face. The smell of it, rank, sharp, and delicious, was trapped beneath the heavy quilts and filled his nose. When Jerry had finished, Greg leaned in to kiss the slick-sticky tip before turning and pushing his head out from under the covers.
They looked at each other, faces both cum-smeared, and then laughed before leaning in for a slow, sensual kiss.

“Merry Christmas, Jerry Golling,” Greg said.

“Merry Christmas to you, Greg Marwell,” Jerry replied. “I’ve got some wipes we can use to clean up.” He paused, then asked in a quiet, shy voice, “Would you like to stay the night?”

Greg smiled and leaned in to kiss him again. “No debate about it.”

~~ * ~~

 

Well, that’s a nice Christmas present, isn’t it? Come on back next week and wallow some more in the spirit of the season by indulging yourself in the start of an all new flash fiction story based on the prompt items: stripper pole, mall Santa, and fountain. Ohh myy. Until then, be good and be good to each other. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

 

Lee Brazil     Havan Fellows     Em Woods      Jade Baiser

 

Follow our tweets during the week:

 

Jade Baiser: @jadebaiser

 

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

 

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

 

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

 

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

 

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

 

 

Good Monday morning Story Orgy readers! Today your Story Orgy writers start counting down to Christmas by posting a series of Holiday themed flash fiction stories, inspired by prompts sent in by you, our adoring readers, way, way back in July. Oh, how time flies, eh?

Before we get to the first installment of my first of three stories, we have a few announcements.

Em Woods has joined forces with another author to bring you a lovely, romantic tale of a man who redeems himself after a life spent pushing away those around him. Who’s this other author? None other than Charles Dickens! Click HERE to check out the blurb for Em’s re-imagined A Christmas Carol, available 12/3 from Total E-Bound, and find out some things about Ebenezer Scrooge Dickens never mentioned!

Speaking of Em Woods, she and Lee Brazil are embarking on a blog tour this week in support of their recent releases from Breathless Press. Don’t know what those books are? Click HERE to get Em’s excellent Choices and click HERE to grab Lee’s Willow, both contemporary romances perfect for a cozy night by the fireplace or, if you’re like me, the heat vent. Ha! Follow their tour, which includes DC Juris, who will be promoting his Bad Moon Rising, and Dilo Keith, who will be posting about Make Mine to Go, at the following sites:

November 26: The Menagerie Authors
November 27: Reviews by Molly
November 28: Wicked Readings By Tawania
November 29: Wickedly Wanton Tales
November 30: Wickedly Sexy Writers

Speaking of blog tours, you can act like a Grateful Dead or Phish fan and follow Lee Brazil, Havan Fellows, and myself as we hop around the blog world in support of the Freaky Flashes Anthology, which features stories by each of us, including my story “The Sum of His Parts.” Click HERE to get your hands on a copy of your own, and stop by and leave a comment or two for us!

November 26:  The Divas of Desire
November 26:  Reviews by Molly
November 27:  Queen of the Night Reviews
November 27:  Christine Young Romance Writer
November 28:  SnifferWalk
November 29:  Wicked Readings By Tawania
November 30:  My Reading Obsession
November 30:  Tamaria Soana

I hope to see you there!

One more update – wow, lots of news this week! Our Holiday collection from last year, And the Prompt Is… Holiday Edition, has been discounted! You can stuff your stocking with some Story Orgy sweet, steamy romances for just $2.99! Click on over to grab a copy from AMAZON or ARe.

Okay! On with the story!! This is the first of two chapters I wrote based on prompts sent in by Andrea Speed: Pizza delivery guy, Abandoned house, Snowman. Thanks Andrea! I hope you enjoy the story you helped me create.

A Gift For Greg

by

Hank Edwards (c) 2012

 

Fucking economy.

Greg Marwell pulled into the parking lot behind Sal’s Pizzeria and twisted the key of his old Fiesta. The engine chugged, coughed, sputtered, chortled, and, finally, gasped before shutting off. Greg sighed and leaned forward to rest his forehead against the steering wheel. His breath plumed around his face as the cold settled into the car and wrapped chill arms around him.

“Marwell!”

The ragged, wet voice of Sal, the owner of Sal’s Pizzeria, made Greg snap upright. He squinted through the frosted windshield to find the man waving him in the back door.

“Not even a minute to catch my breath,” Greg grumbled. The car door squealed in protest as he shoved it open. With the empty insulated carrier dangling from one hand, he stomped into the back room of the pizza shop.

“Got another delivery,” Sal said. He didn’t look at Greg, his attention was on the pizza he was slicing.

“It’s after one in the morning,” Greg noted, trying not to whine. He hated whiners. Every member of his team back at General Motors had whined and moaned and carried on, even more than usual on the day they had all been walked out three years ago. But not Greg. He had been hopeful, optimistic, eager for a change.

And he was still waiting for that optimism to pay off. This job couldn’t have been that life change he had been waiting for. Delivering pizzas for Sal’s Pizzeria wasn’t exactly a step up from his $90,000 a year job as an automotive engineer. But it had been close to home and he worked at night while he hit the interview trail during the day. So many interviews, more than 450 over the last three years, and only a handful of call backs. Always the same response: either he was over qualified, or he just didn’t have the right skill set.

“Marwell?”

Greg blinked and looked up to find Sal standing right in front of him. The man held the pizza box in both hands and had raised his eyebrows. “You awake?”

“Barely,” Greg muttered. He took the pizza, slid it into the insulated carrier, grabbed the printed order with the house address, and shoved out the back door of the building, Sal’s sarcastic, “Oh, yeah, Merry Christmas,” trailing behind him.

The Fiesta’s engine was reluctant to turn over, but the spark finally caught and Greg let out a relieved breath. He didn’t have the money for car repairs. Ramen noodles and day old bread were keeping him alive. That and any pizzas made with the wrong toppings.

As Greg navigated the icy, deserted city streets, the smell of the fresh pizza tempted him. His stomach rumbled and his mouth watered. Christmas Eve, well, technically, Christmas Day, and here he was hungry for pizza.

“Focus,” he scolded himself. “You can have Ramen noodles and instant oatmeal when you get home.”

He checked the address on the slip again and frowned. What road was this place on? He pulled over to the side of the road, coming to a stop beneath a swaying light up wreath bound to a street lamp. Flicking on the dome light, Greg squinted down at the address as he tried to think of where he could find the street to get to this house. Why couldn’t he think of where this street was?

Then a mental wall tumbled down and a memory, blurred with age, floated to the surface of his mind. Windswept Lane, the street where Jerry Golling had lived back in high school. Jerry Golling, nerd hunk of his high school, and someone Greg had wanted badly during all four years. He had followed Jerry home on more than one occasion, keeping back a respectable distance to be able to watch his ass shift inside his corduroy pants as Jerry had lugged with him the text book for every one of his classes.

When Greg had heard Jerry had joined the debate team, he had signed up as well. And it had been amazing to sit and watch, breathless and hard, as Jerry stripped away the arguments of each opponent. Jerry’s voice had been steady and confident in debate, so different from when Greg had managed those few times to greet him in the hallway and Jerry had stammered and stuttered and hurried off to his next class.

Jerry Golling. After all these years, Greg was going to be driving down Jerry Golling’s street once again. And this time, he was delivering pizzas.

A cold, hard stone of shame dropped into the pit of his gut, and Greg rested his forehead against the steering wheel a moment. Well, nothing to do but drive on and see which house he was going to. He let out his breath, watched it plume before him, then eased away from the curb.

It didn’t take long for him to find Windswept Lane. Somewhere in the back of his mind or subconscious, Greg may have kept this route mapped out to satisfy that young version of himself, the one that had never shared more than three sentences with Jerry Golling and, most likely, still yearned for him.

Snow crunched under the tires and a sudden gust of wind rocked his tiny car. Houses, dark and closed up tight, seemingly hunkered down against the frigid night, were more spaced out in this part of the city. Light up figures of snowmen, Santa, and reindeer decorated lawns and rooftops, painful reminders that this was Christmas morning and Greg would have no gifts of his own to open back home.

The address came up faster than Greg anticipated and he had to back up because he had missed the driveway. He sat a moment, his car idling in the driveway as he surveyed the house before him. Was this the same house where Jerry Golling had lived back in high school? What kind of fucked up coincidence would that be?

Greg started to notice more details about the house once his surprise at the address had worn off. Things like the dark windows lacking any window coverings, the paper taped in the window that looked like a foreclosure notice, and the mailbox stuffed full of circulars and junk mail.

“Fuck,” Greg mumbled. “Pranked on Christmas Eve, of all nights. Twisted little fuckers.”

Movement from the corner of his eye made Greg turn his head to look out the passenger side window. A snowman stood in the middle of the lawn, coal eyes, carrot nose, top hat, the whole cliche. That couldn’t have been the movement he’d seen… could it?

“Time to head home,” Greg muttered to himself. At least now he’d have a pizza to eat, though it would cost him some of his paycheck.

He had just shifted into Reverse when a shadowy figured stepped out from behind the snowman and waved to him. It was a man, tall and thin, his face mostly hidden in shadow, and the glow from a streetlight reflecting off the lenses of his glasses.

“Hey!” the man said. “Wait!”

Greg hesitated. He’d heard about pizza delivery guys being robbed, but had never had it happen to him. This was a pretty safe city, but still, people were desperate. Should he stay and talk to this guy? What if he had a gun? Greg only had about twenty dollars in small bills on him, but the guy might take his car and, shitty piece of junk that it was, Greg still needed it to get his job done.

He was too slow. The man circled the front of his car and approached Greg’s door. Greg looked up at the man, wondered briefly if he had locked his doors after getting in, then gasped in surprise as recognition, embarrassment, and excitement all collided within him. He cranked down the window and said, “Jerry Golling? Is that you?”

~~ * ~~

Well, that’s a fine ho-ho-ho, isn’t it? Come on back next week and wallow some more in the spirit of the season by indulging yourself in the final chapter of my flash fiction. Until then, be good and be good to each other. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

Lee Brazil     Havan Fellows     Em Woods      Jade Baiser

Follow our tweets during the week:

Jade Baiser: @jadebaiser

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

Namaste, Story Orgy fans, and happy Monday!

A couple of announcements this week before we get to the final chapter of my paranormal “Critter Catchers.” I hope you’ve enjoyed reading along with my story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’m hoping there will be further adventures for Demetrius and Cody in the near future, but for now, bask in the rather extended (sorry, had to tie up all those loose ends!) final chapter.

The Story Orgy’s anthology And the Prompt Is… Road Trip Edition, is now available for purchase! Click on over to ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS and AMAZON to download your copy today! As always, the first 90 days of royalties will be donated to a charity benefiting LGBT interests, and this time we’re honoring the wonderful Jase, who volunteered his time to provide editing by donating to his choice: The Point Foundation, which provides scholarships for LGBT students.

Did you grab your own copy of Willow by Lee Brazil? It released on Friday, 11/16, and is already climbing the charts! Click HERE to hop on over and download your copy of Lee’s latest contemporary romance today!

Em Woods has joined forces with another author to bring you a lovely, romantic tale of a man who redeems himself after a life spent pushing away those around him. Who’s this other author? None other than Charles Dickens! Click HERE to check out the blurb for Em’s re-imagined A Christmas Carol, available 12/3 from Total E-Bound, and find out some things about Ebenezer Scrooge Dickens never mentioned!

Don’t forget that the character of Margie, the nurse, is named in honor of Margie Church who won the quick contest I ran looking for a vehicle model for good old Joanne Monroe, the widow in her 90s who drives a tan mid-70s Cadillac Sedan de Ville with a white vinyl roof and a yellow revolving bubble light on the roof. Congrats, Margie!

I hope you have a great Thanksgiving and get the chance to visit with friends and family as you enjoy a day of thanks and fellowship.

Today’s prompt: He could admit that.

Critter Catchers

Parson’s Hollow Series, Book 1

Chapter Sixteen – Finale

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

Demetrius had been foolish, he could admit that, and now it might cost him his life.

He’d chased after the werewolf, or wolf man, whatever he was, and come right up beside the beast as it had knocked an old woman down to the floor. Demetrius found he still held the tattered magazine he’d picked up in the common area where he’d gone to wait for Cody, and he rolled it up tight and swatted the monster’s nose.

The wolf drew back, releasing the old woman from beneath its massive paw, and turned to glare at him.

Oh shit.

Demetrius backed up slowly, all the spit in his mouth evaporating as he watched the giant beast turn to face him. Over the monster’s massive shoulders, Demetrius saw the other residents scurry into their rooms and shut the doors. One woman in a wheelchair was stuck at an angle in the doorframe, but that didn’t seem to have the wolf’s attention. At this time, those ferocious golden eyes were focused only on him.

Bodies lay strewn about the hallway, and Demetrius carefully stepped over them as he backed away from the wolf. Where the hell did Cody and the nurse have to go for the gun, Parson’s Hollow Sporting Goods?

The wolf’s lip lifted in a snarling sneer and it hunkered down low on the tile floor. Demetrius saw its muscles tighten as it prepared to pounce, and he turned to sprint down the hall. Behind him, he heard the thud as the monster landed on the floor too close for comfort, and he put on a burst of speed. The sound of the wolf’s paws got closer and closer.

As the moist heat of its breath washed across the back of his neck, Demetrius dodged to the left and rounded a corner. He heard the wolf skid past the intersection behind him and hope flared inside his chest. He might just live through this after all. Maybe. Possibly.

A set of glass doors stood before him, a security light gleaming on the wall just outside, and beyond that a few cars in the parking lot. A howl echoed along the hallway, loud and shocking, and Demetrius covered his ears as he ran faster. He turned to use his back to push out of the door and, at the sight of the wolf bearing down on him, a scream slipped out of his mouth. His feet tangled together and Demetrius fell hard on his ass on the cement walkway outside the door. His teeth clicked together and he felt one of them chip.

He scrambled backwards in a crab walk, gaze locked on the door he had just stumbled through. His hands touched the cool, damp of grass and slipped out from under him so he fell flat on his back. He lay staring up at the full moon a moment, and then the glass door shattered and the werewolf landed amid the glass and twisted metal just ten feet away. It lifted its snout and let loose a terrifying howl.

“Demmy!”

Demetrius craned his head to look behind him. Cody stood at the end of the sidewalk beside the nurse. The woman held a gun in both hands, aiming right at the wolf.

“Stand down, Mr. Klemper!” the nurse shouted.

The werewolf turned its head to glare at her, and then it bounded past Demetrius toward Cody and the nurse.

“Shoot, Margie! Shoot!” Cody shouted.

Margie squeezed off two shots and Demetrius heard the heavy, wet sounds of the bullets striking the wolf’s body.

Then it was on her and, with one great swipe of its paw, the werewolf separated Margie’s head from her body. The nurse’s head bounced away across the parking lot and Demetrius could have sworn he saw the face flinch each time it struck the asphalt.

“Oh shit,” Demetrius heard himself saying. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

The werewolf turned in a circle, whimpering as it tried to lick the spots it had been shot. The moonlight made the blood look black and tacky on its fur. As Demetrius watched, Cody eased forward on his hands and knees, gaze locked on the injured werewolf as he reached out for Margie’s gun still clutched in her outstretched and bloody hand.
Margie’s body jumped, some kind of reflex muscle activity, and Cody shouted in surprise, attracting the wolf’s attention. It roared at him and Cody backed away, scrambling to his feet and running off across the parking lot. Cody shouted over his shoulder at the monster, “Hey, Klemper! Fuck you and your furry ass! Bet you can’t catch me!”

As the werewolf ran off after Cody, Demetrius pushed to his feet and stumbled over to Margie’s body. He pulled the gun from her grip and headed out across the parking lot after them. His body felt numb, used up, and his thoughts pinged around the inside of his head like a pinball. The gun was heavy in his hand, the grip still warm from Margie’s fingers. He tried not to think about the blood around her body, in the hallway of the nursing home, all the blood he’d seen over the last month. It had to end, tonight, before anyone else died. Especially Cody. He didn’t think he could live through Cody dying.

A howl pulled Demetrius up short and he stopped to look around the parking lot. It didn’t take long for Demetrius to locate the werewolf. It was using its claws to tear apart a car, Margie’s maybe, and inside the car he could see Cody huddled against the driver’s door, eyes wide with terror.

“No fucking way,” Demetrius said to himself and set off toward the car, shouting, “Hey!”

The werewolf stopped its destruction of the car and turned toward him. It’s eyes were blazing pits of fury and something that may have been flesh hung from its claws. The thing snarled and turned to face him, rising up on its back legs to its full height of over eight feet tall.

“Oh shit,” Demetrius whispered. He tried to think of a new plan of attack, but it was too late. The werewolf was running at him, fast, and all he could do was raise the gun, take a breath, and squeeze the trigger over and over again.

*     *     *

“You were lucky,” said Dr. Zenona Baldwin as she looked over Demetrius’s chart. “You know that, don’t you?”

Demetrius shrugged, then winced as the motion pulled at his scabs. His aim had been true; he had hit the werewolf in the head with the last four bullets in Margie Church’s gun and the beast had gone down hard. It tumbled into him and had sent him skidding across the parking lot, leaving him with a bad case of road rash on his shoulder and arm.

“You don’t think it was my marksmanship?” Demetrius asked.

Zenona gave him a flat, steady look and repeated, “You got lucky.”

Demetrius sighed. “I know.” He looked back up at her. “How’s Cody?”

“Sprained ankle’s splinted,” she said. “He’ll need to stay one more night.”

“You think you can give him another chance?” Demetrius asked.

Zenona rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated breath. “He’s a man child.”

Demetrius smirked at her. “But he’s handsome and loyal and more fun than any man you’ve known before.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “If he’s all that, why don’t you date him?”

A funny, trembling shiver worked through Demetrius’s stomach at the suggestion. He felt himself blush and turned away, waving at Zenona in dismissal. “You know he doesn’t play for my team, Zenona.”

Before she could respond, a quiet knock at the door drew their attention, and Demetrius smiled at the new arrival.

“Oh. Hi there.”

Oliver stepped into the room, his cheeks pink with a blush. “Hi. I thought you might need a lift home.”

Demetrius smiled. “I do, thanks.” He looked up at Zenona. “If I can be released, that is.”

Zenona nodded. “Yes, you can go. Layer antibiotic ointment on the scrapes and keep them covered for the rest of the week.”

Demetrius raised his eyebrows. “You’ll watch out for Cody?”

She snorted a laugh. “Maybe I’ll have him transferred to the psych ward while I’ve got him here.”

“They’d be too scared to keep him,” Demetrius grumbled as he pushed off the edge of the bed. He swayed a moment and Zenona reached out to steady him. When he had his feet under him, he smiled at her and said,

“Thanks. Where’s Cody?”

“He’s sleeping now,” Zenona said. “I’ll tell him you said good-bye and that you’ll see him tomorrow, okay? You go home and get some rest.”

Demetrius nodded, then shuffled to the door and lowered himself into the wheelchair waiting in the hallway. Oliver pushed him down the hall toward the elevator and pressed the button. They had the car to themselves on the ride down to the first floor, and Demetrius said, “Sorry we thought you were a murderous werewolf.”

Oliver smiled and shrugged. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve been mistaken for.”

“Oh? What’s the worst thing?”

“Mormon.”

On the drive to Demetrius’s small house, Oliver stopped to pick-up carry-out food from Margie’s Diner. The sign over the door made Demetrius think of the nurse, Margie Church, and for a moment he saw her head bouncing off into the dark parking lot, her face flinching with each strike. Had he really seen that? Had he really seen any of it?

The ride from the diner to Demetrius’s house was short and they sat at the small kitchen table to eat and make small talk. Oliver’s story had been splashed across the front page of the Parson’s Hollow Herald after he had been released from jail (even the charges of indecent exposure had been dropped). The security camera footage had captured all but the metamorphosis of Arnold Klemper into the werewolf. The cameras in the parking lot had, however, caught grainy footage of the werewolf falling under Demetrius’s gunshots and then changing from its wolf form into a pale elderly man.

“How many papers have picked up your story?” Demetrius asked.

Oliver shrugged and blushed. “All of them, it feels like.”

“Going on a world tour now?”

He shook his head. “Probably not. Just the big morning shows maybe. How about you?”

Demetrius shuddered at the thought. “No, and thanks for keeping our names out of it.”

“They’re in the police report,” Oliver said. “Someone’s bound to find out.”

“Later’s better than now. I need to get it out of my mind.”

Oliver got up and rounded the table, then leaned down to kiss him softly on the lips. “Maybe I can help with that?”

Demetrius smiled up at him. “Yeah? That would be nice. We’ll have to go slow, though, I’m still pretty sore.”

“You just come in here and let Dr. Berridge devise a treatment plan for you,” Oliver said as he helped Demetrius stand up and turned them toward the hallway. “Besides, it’s only fair I should see you naked, since you’ve already seen me that way.”

Demetrius laughed. “Yes, good point!”

Removing his shirt took some time, but Demetrius’s pants slid right off, leaving him standing beside the bed with his boxers tented. Oliver stripped to his underwear as well, then leaned in for a kiss. Demetrius closed his eyes and lost himself in the soft, warm touch of Oliver’s lips. The man was a good kisser.

Oliver ducked his head to lick, suck, and nip at Demetrius’s nipples, and Demetrius felt his boxers become even tighter. Oliver moved lower still, his tongue leaving a trail of hot, wet fire behind as he licked along Demetrius’s skin until he knelt at eye level with his crotch. Sliding his fingers beneath the waistband of the boxers, Oliver pulled them out and down.

Demetrius’s cock bobbed in front of Oliver’s face, and, as Demetrius watched with a tight feeling of disbelief coiled inside his chest, Oliver parted his lips and took him in his mouth. Wet heat wrapped around him, sent a shudder up his spine that left him gasping. It had been so long, so very long, since he’d been with anyone, not since Clint had broken up with him two years ago.

The speed of Oliver’s sucking increased and every muscle in Demetrius’s body clenched, including, it seemed, his heart. He looked down at the man kneeling before him, reached out to run his fingers through the soft blond curls, listened to the slick, quiet sounds of his cock slipping in and out of Oliver’s mouth.

“Close,” he said and sucked in a breath as he felt the familiar tightening low in his belly, followed by the flash fire of orgasm. Oliver took him deep into his throat and swallowed each drop that pumped out of him, leaving Demetrius gasping and weak-kneed.

Oliver stood up and gently laid him across the bed, then kissed him softly on the mouth.

“What about you?” Demetrius asked around a yawn. “You didn’t come.”

Oliver smiled and kissed him again as he drew the covers over him. “Time for that later. Get some sleep.”

“Okay,” Demetrius said, and closed his eyes. A moment later, he was out.

He awoke hours later, the room dark around him. Oliver laid curled beside him, an arm thrown over Demetrius’s side. Moving slowly, Demetrius slipped out of bed and shivered when his feet touched the cold wood floor. His shoulder and arms felt stiff, the scrapes on his upper body tight, and his legs ached. All in a day’s work.

Grabbing socks, fleece sleep pants, and a sweatshirt, he left the bedroom and hurried down the hall to dress in the dark living room. In the kitchen, he found it was just past midnight, and shook his head. He’d been asleep for thirteen hours. Paging Rip Van Winkle, please pick up the white courtesy phone.

Demetrius checked his cell phone. Five missed calls, all from Cody’s mobile phone, the last one just ten minutes ago. The phone had been set to vibrate so he hadn’t heard the familiar ringtone. He pressed the button to return the call and was relieved to hear Cody’s voice when the man picked up.

“Hey there,” Cody said.

“Hi. How are you?”

“You know me, nothing keeps me down,” Cody assured him. “You doing okay?”

Demetrius nodded, then remembered Cody couldn’t see him. “Yeah. I’m okay. Sore, and the scrapes are starting to itch, but I’m okay. Crazy shit, huh?”

“Definitely some crazy shit,” Cody agreed. There was a long moment of silence, unusual for Cody, and then he asked, “So Oliver took you home?”

Demetrius pulled out a kitchen chair and sat, his muscles tight against the chill of the house. “Yeah, he did.”
“How’d that go?”

A blush heated Demetrius’s face. “It went well, nosy Rosy.”

Cody laughed, but it sounded uneasy and tired. “Well, good. I’m glad you’re happy. You are happy, aren’t you?”
Demetrius frowned at the dark night pressing against the glass of his kitchen window. “Yeah, I guess so. Aren’t you?”

“If you’re happy, I’m happy,” Cody said.

“Nice,” Demetrius muttered. “Hey, you’re still in the hospital, right?”

“Yeah, one more day. Zenona says I can go home tomorrow.”

“How’s things with Zenona?” Demetrius wondered. “Think there’s a chance you two might get back together?”

“You never know,” Cody replied. “Stranger things have been known to happen.”

“Well, for the record, I like Zenona, and I think you two make a good couple.”

“Yeah?” Cody snorted a quiet laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Demetrius sighed. Same old Cody. “How’d you get to keep your phone in there?”

“I can be very persuasive,” Cody said.

“Oh, I know that,” Demetrius assured him. Another moment of silence, then Demetrius let out a breath and said, “Well, you should get some rest. I’ll come by and see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Cody said. “Oh, just so you know, I checked the voice mail at the office earlier this evening and we’ve got a shit ton of jobs waiting for call backs.”

Demetrius smiled. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. I guess when people heard we could handle bringing down a werewolf they figured we can clear the squirrels and bats out of their attics.”

Cody’s mention of the werewolf brought a question to mind, and Demetrius asked, “Any idea yet how Mr. Klemper became a werewolf or a wolf man or whatever the hell he was?”

“Lucia stopped by my room after you left on your little honeymoon,” Cody said, an odd edge to his voice. “Looks like he went to Romania to visit relatives a few months ago, just before moving to Parson’s Hollow.”

Demetrius ignored the jab about his “honeymoon,” and said, “Ah. And when he was in Romania is there any mention of him being bitten by a big dog, perhaps?”

“Funny you should mention it,” Cody said. “Lucia tracked down a police officer over there who knows a bit of English and, after some back and forth, and you know how patient she can be—” Cody snorted a laugh that Demetrius echoed— “she was able to find out that he had been staying in a town near some heavy woods and happened to be out walking in the light of the full moon when he was knocked down and bitten. By a dog. A big dog.”

“And so begins our story,” Demetrius said with a sigh. “And all those people died.”

“All those people he argued with down at the senior center and in the nursing home.” Cody fell silent, then said quietly, “That Margie Church was pretty damn brave.”

“Yeah, she sure as hell was,” Demetrius agreed. “Good thing she had that gun in her car.”

“True that.” Cody yawned. “Well, buddy, I’m getting tired. Rest up, we’ve got lots of work ahead of us.” He paused.

“If you’re still interested in staying in business with me.”

Demetrius smiled as he thought about their small office, the way his desk faced Cody’s, the way they bickered like an old married couple, and the fact that Cody knew how he liked to take his coffee. The furnace clicked on and, as the warm air washed over his feet, Demetrius nodded into the dark and said, “No other way I’d care to make a living, old friend. No other way.”

~~ * ~~

Wow! So, Story Orgy readers, I hope you enjoyed getting to know Demetrius and Cody and some of the residents of Parson’s Hollow… Wait, what? What’s that I hear? Some disgruntled mumblings and a few shaking of fists over Demmy ending up with Oliver and not Cody? Well, never fear, dear readers, because as I’ve said before, I hope that this is the first of many adventures for Demetrius and Cody and you never know what’s going to happen in future stories. Feel better? No? Well, poop. How about if I tell you that next week your Story Orgy writers will be bringing you hot, steamy reads with Christmas themes, three per writer! We’ve decided that this year you’ve been so good (or good at being naughty) that you deserved three Christmas flash stories from each of us. So come on back next week and wallow in the spirit of the season. Until then, be good and be good to each other. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods

Follow our tweets during the week:

Jade Baiser: @jadebaiser

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

Good Monday morning, Story Orgiasts! November is flying by like the rest of 2012 has, and before you know it we’ll all be stuffed full of turkey and potatoes and gravy and stuffing and cranberries and green bean casserole and… Man, am I hungry now!

A couple of announcements this week before we get to the second to last chapter of my paranormal “Critter Catchers.”

The Story Orgy’s anthology And the Prompt Is… Road Trip Edition, is now available for purchase! Click on over to ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS and download your copy today! As always, the first 90 days of royalties will be donated to a charity benefiting LGBT interests, and this time we’re honoring the wonderful Jase who volunteered his time to provide editing by donating to his choice: The Point Foundation, which provides scholarships for LGBT students.

Releasing this Friday, November 16, is Lee Brazil’s contemporary romance, Willow. You definitely won’t want to miss this! Click HERE to hop over to the Breathless Press page and pre-order your copy today!

In my chapter today, you’ll meet a nurse named Margie in honor of Margie Church who won the quick contest I ran looking for a vehicle model for good old Joanne Monroe, the widow in her 90s who drives a tan mid-70s Cadillac Sedan de Ville with a white vinyl roof and a yellow revolving bubble light on the roof. Congrats, Margie!

This week’s prompt: It was more than he wanted.

Critter Catchers

Parson’s Hollow Series, Book 1

Chapter Fifteen

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

“I need to stop in and see my Grandma,” Cody said, then glanced at Demetrius. “You okay with that?”

Demetrius nodded. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

Cody drove for a few more minutes, but then the silence got to him, and he asked, “Hey, you doing okay?”

Demetrius nodded again but didn’t look at him. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“That’s the eighth time you’ve said the word “fine” since we left the body shop after your truck was towed,” Cody said. “Fess up now, what’s wrong?”

Demetrius heaved out a sigh and shrugged. “You’re going to yell at me.”

Cody looked over at Demetrius, then back at the road. They were almost to the Parson’s Pines Nursing and Convalescent Home of Serenity where his Grandma was living out her days. He knew what Demetrius was thinking about. Or rather, who Demetrius was thinking about.

Oliver Berridge.

Cody wished Demetrius could just see Oliver for what he was: a man who turned into a vicious, blood-thirsty wolf when the moon was full. But, if anyone should be chewed up one side and down the other for making bad decisions in the romance department, Cody himself would have to step to the front of the line. With the number of women he’d dated and dumped, he was going to have to start traveling outside the Parson’s Hollow city limits.

Or switch teams and date men.

But not just any men. Demetrius seemed to be occupying his thoughts more and more these days. At first, Cody had convinced himself that it was because they were best friends since high school and he was concerned for Demmy’s safety, what with the murders and Oliver’s stitches under his chin and all. But, as he watched Demmy growing closer to Oliver, he started to feel differently about it. More agitated, more prone to shouting. More, dare he say it, jealous.

And now Demetrius was talking and Cody hadn’t even been listening, as usual.

“Sorry, Demmy,” Cody admitted with a sheepish grin. “I totally spaced out there for a minute and missed what you just said.”

Demetrius sighed and waved a hand at him. “Never mind, it wasn’t important.”

The headlights splashed across the sign for Parson’s Pines and Cody turned into the parking lot. They got out of the truck and started toward the one story brick building. The sun was setting and Cody felt it take a big chunk of his energy with it. They had spent hours at the station answering questions and filling out paperwork, and then more time at the body shop with Demetrius’s insurance agent. Another day spent chasing this monster or cleaning up after him.

Inside the nursing home, Cody led Demetrius past the open doors of patient rooms, inside which TVs played with the volume much too high, or the elderly residents sat in wheelchairs staring wistfully out the window.

“Man, I don’t want to end up here,” Demetrius whispered.

“We’ll share a room,” Cody whispered back. “You’ll love it.”

Demetrius gave him a grin that looked as tired as Cody felt. “Great, something to look forward to.”

“You know I’ll be the one who gets all the extra pudding,” Cody said. “Stick with me, kid, and you’ll be rolling in pudding.”

After he said it, Cody realized how sexual the statement sounded, and felt his stomach knot at the thought of rolling around in pudding with Demetrius. Naked and hard.

What the fuck was going on with him?

To distract himself from the images in his head, Cody said, “Did I tell you about the old guy I helped the nurse subdue last time I was here?”

Demetrius stared at him. “You subdued an old man?”

“Well, not in a Jason Statham kind of way,” Cody assured him. “He had started a bit of a row about another old guy stealing his pudding, and the nurse and I hauled him off to his room.” Cody shook his head as he thought about it.

“Feisty old guy, too. Strong and wiry. Had it in for everybody it seemed.”

“Wow, he sounds like you,” Demetrius said.

Cody narrowed his eyes. “Cute. Here we are.”

A lamp beside his Grandma’s bed was turned to its lowest setting, allowing shadows to lurk in the corners and along the walls. She lay in bed beneath layers of quilts, all of which she had once stitched together by hand. Her white hair, soft as cotton balls, framed her face, and she turned dark eyes to blink at him.

“Everly?” she asked in a trembling voice. “Is that you?”

A cold needle of sadness stitched its way through Cody’s chest as he stepped into the room. “No, Grandma, it’s Cody.”

“Oh.” She blinked at him in confusion. “Are you Everly’s boy?”

“No, I’m Alice and Greg’s son. Everly was your husband. How are you feeling?”

Her smile was quick and bright. “Oh, just fine, just fine. I had a good day today. I went out in the courtyard and watched the birds at the feeder. Mr. Klemper was in a bit of a temper today, but I don’t pay him any never mind.”
Cody turned to where Demetrius lingered in the doorway. “That’s the old guy I helped the nurse with, Mr. Klemper.”
Demetrius nodded, then gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’ll wait out here while you visit with your Grandma. I don’t want to confuse her.”

Cody nodded and watched Demetrius step away from the door. He realized, with a sudden jolt of insight, that he wanted to spend more time with Demetrius, more quality time, and not just as friends. Actually, it was more than just what he wanted, it was what he felt he needed.

But that would have to wait. For now, he was with his Grandma, and he turned back to her. “Other than Mr. Klemper’s outburst, did you enjoy your day outside?”

“Oh yes, indeed I did.” She nodded a couple of times. “And Mr. Klemper didn’t stay around long. He stomped off behind the bushes and turned into a wolf and ran away.”  She pulled a wrinkled hand out from beneath the quilts and pointed a shaky finger at a flower with a purple hooded blossom that stood in a drinking glass on her night table.

“But I held a bit of wolfsbane and he left me alone.” She turned her bright-eyed gaze back to Cody. “Werewolves don’t care for wolfsbane, you know.”

Cody frowned and cocked his head. Had he heard his Grandma correctly? Did she just say that angry old Mr. Klemper had turned into a werewolf that afternoon?

“Grandma, what did you just—”

A scream stopped his words in his throat, and Cody was out of the chair and standing protectively in the door of his Grandma’s room, fists and jaw clenched. Demetrius stood in the common area farther down the hall, a tattered magazine held in one hand.

“Oh, it’s the full moon,” his Grandma said from behind him, and Cody turned to look over his shoulder to find her pointing out her window. “Mr. Klemper’s going to be in quite the temper now.” She reached out to pluck the wolfsbane from the glass and held it on her chest as she smiled at him. “Would you like a bit of wolfsbane, dear?”
Before Cody could answer, the scream came again, and he stepped out into the hall. Pulling the door to his Grandma’s room shut behind him, Cody ran to stand beside Demetrius.

“Who’s screaming?”

Demetrius pointed along the hall. “It’s coming from down there. What the hell is going on?”

Cody nodded to the windows of the common area that looked out on an expanse of lawn edged by trees. The moon had risen, fat, round, and orange.

“Full moon.”

Demetrius’s eyes widened. “It’s not Oliver?”

Cody shook his head. “It’s not Oliver. It’s the old guy, Mr. Klemper.”

Another scream drew them down the hall. As they went, other residents shambled out of their rooms to see what the commotion was about. They tried to coax them back inside, but the elderly men and women either didn’t hear them or chose to ignore them.

“Where are the nurses?” Demetrius wondered aloud.

“Good question,” Cody said, and then came to a stop outside a door marked with the name tag Arnold Klemper.

“What the fuck is Klemper doing now?” asked one of the elderly men who had followed them down the hall.

A nurse stood in the doorway with her back to them, blocking their view of the room. She backed up a step, then another, her soft soled shoes squeaking on the tile floor as she moved into the hallway. Her eyes were wide and her gaze locked on whatever was happening inside the room. It was the nurse Cody had helped with Mr. Klemper the other night, and now he could see that her name tag read MARGIE.

“What’s going on?” Cody asked.

Margie snapped her head around to look at him. “He’s killed two of the nurses, and he’s having some kind of seizure. Or… I don’t know what.”

Cody and Demetrius stepped up beside her and peered through the doorway. Arnold Klemper stood at the window with his back to them, the light of the full moon throwing him into silhouette. The bodies of two nurses lay in a heap on the floor at his feet. Klemper stretched out his arms and threw back his head to let out a long, loud howl. As they watched, his body shifted and his limbs snapped and cracked, twisting into different positions. Klemper dropped to all fours and his pajamas ripped along the seams as he shifted into a large, hulking werewolf.

“Holy shit,” Margie whispered. “Oh, holy fucking shit.”

“What is that fucking thing?” asked an elderly man behind them. “Is this another goddamn Twilight movie? I hate those fucking movies.”

The werewolf turned its head and narrowed glowing golden eyes at them as it growled over its shoulder. Cody felt his balls pull up and his body go cold with fear. It was big, really big. Even bigger than he remembered the night it chased them down the road.

Mr. Klemper, the agitated, angry, temper-tantrum throwing resident of Parson’s Pines Nursing and Convalescent Home of Serenity was a wolf man. Sure, why not?

With a snarl, the werewolf leaped out of the room. Cody, Demetrius, and Margie the nurse scattered, but the old man with the potty mouth didn’t move as fast. The wolf brought the old man down to the floor and locked its jaws on his neck. Cody heard the snap of bones and backpedaled to avoid the spreading puddle of blood.

“Jesus!” Margie shouted.

The group of onlookers fled, screaming as they scattered along the hall. Some slipped and fell, others shoved their fellow residents out of the way as they tried to escape. The wolf lifted its broad head to let out a deafening howl, and then jumped after the fleeing residents, taking them down one by one.

“Cody!” Demetrius’s voice caught his attention, brought his gaze up from the body of the old man lying before him in a bloody mess. He blinked to focus his vision, found Demetrius getting to his feet and helping Margie the nurse up as well. “The silver bullets! They’re in your truck.”

Cody scrambled to his feet. “We don’t have a gun!”

“I’ve got one in my car,” Margie said. “What caliber?”

“Uh…” Cody’s mind was a blank. Behind him he could hear the werewolf snapping its jaws, its claws scraping along the tile floors.

Margie rolled her eyes. “Men. Come on, there’s a side exit to the parking lot down here.”

“You go, I’ll distract him from the residents,” Demetrius said.

Cody grabbed Demetrius’s arm as he tried to trot past, turning him around and staring down into his eyes.

“What?” Demetrius asked. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated with fear. Cody could feel the muscles in his arm trembling.

“Be careful,” Cody said.

Demetrius nodded. “You too.”

“We’ll make some noise once we get the gun,” Cody told him. “Try to lure it out into the parking lot.”

“Okay.” Demetrius turned away and sprinted down the hall.

“Wolfsbane!” Cody shouted after him. “My Grandma’s got some in her room! He hates it!”

Demetrius waved without looking back and Cody stood for a second watching him run off, wishing he’d said more, done more, to say good-bye. Just in case they didn’t see each other again.

“Come on, Romeo,” Margie said impatiently. “People are dying.”

“Every second of every day,” Cody whispered, then turned to hurry after Margie toward the exit.

~~ * ~~

Wow! Lots of big revelations this week! Looks like Oliver is innocent! Hopefully Cody and Demetrius make it out of this alive, and Cody can follow up on his epiphany to spend more quality time with Demetrius. Be sure to stop by next week for the final chapter of  CRITTER CATCHERS: A PARSON’S HOLLOW PARANORMAL and see how Demmy, Cody, and Margie the nurse handle Mr. Klemper the wolf man! For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

 

Good Monday morning Story Orgy readers! I hope you enjoyed the extra hour of sleep, I know I did! And I don’t know about you, but I will be so damn happy to have this election day behind us, ugh! Those robo-callers have been out IN FORCE this past week.

Only a couple of announcements this week before we check in on Demetrius and Cody. Did you know Havan Fellows, Lee Brazil, and myself all have stories in Breathless Press’s Halloween anthology Freaky Flashes? You get 13 spooky tales for the low price of $1.49! Click HERE to download it today, and keep those Halloween chills coming!

Remember our Road Trip stories from way, way back in August when we were all bitching about how hot it was? Well, we’ve collected the stories together in one anthology and will be releasing it next weekend! And the Prompt Is… Road Trip will be available on Amazon and ARe in a multitude of formats. As always, the first 90 days of profits will be donated to The Point Foundation providing scholarships for LGBT students.

Okay, time to get on back to Parson’s Hollow. Ready to find out what Demetrius thinks about Cody running into his truck? Me too!

This week’s prompt: An unforgettable dream.

Critter Catchers

Parson’s Hollow Series, Book 1

Chapter Fourteen

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

Demetrius felt calm, relaxed, and warm as he looked around. He was in a room where the walls were covered with heavy white drapes that puddled on the floor. Somewhere nearby an orchestra played soothing music, some symphony or another. He wore black pants and a white shirt, the collar unbuttoned two buttons.

“Hello, handsome.”

The voice was deep and smooth, and when Demetrius looked over his shoulder, he found Oliver standing there. He wore tan pants and a black shirt, also open two buttons to expose a chest covered with fine, dark blond hair. His sensual smile sent a shiver through Demetrius.

“Oliver,” Demetrius managed. “Hi. Where are we?”

“Together,” Oliver said and stepped to him. He took Demetrius’s left hand in his right and slid his other hand around Demetrius’s waist. “Shall we dance?”

Though he hadn’t slow danced in years, and never with another man, Demetrius found he was able to follow Oliver’s lead and move across the floor with no problem. He felt confident and safe in Oliver’s arms.

“Wake up,” Oliver said, his voice calm and smooth as he whispered into Demetrius’s ear.

Demetrius pulled his head back and looked him in the eye. “What did you say?”

“You have to wake up,” Oliver repeated, only this time he sounded like Cody. But that was crazy, right?

“Wake up!” Cody’s voice intruded on the scene, loud and rugged, like the man himself. The orchestra stopped playing and Oliver let him go and turned away as Demetrius started to shake.

“What, what, what?” Demetrius said and shook himself awake.

“Dude, you scared the shit out of me.” Cody stood beside him, hand on his shoulder to shake him awake.

Demetrius looked around. The air bag of his truck was deflating and a block away he could see the Widow Monroe’s car ambling slowly along, the yellow revolving light on top winking at him.

“Did you hit me?” Demetrius asked, squinting as he became aware of a headache. The dream of Oliver was gone, and though it was an unforgettable dream, he had to realize it was just that and not reality.

“You came to a dead stop right in front of me!” Cody said, then turned to wave toward the back of the truck. “You’re lucky I’ve got bumper guards on my truck, or else both our vehicles would be disabled.”

“Who was following you?” Demetrius asked as he rubbed his head.

Cody narrowed his eyes. “Guess.”

Demetrius sighed. “Lucia.”

“Ding, ding, ding. The man wins a prize.”

“Can the prize be a new truck?”

Cody gave him a sarcastic smirk. “Cute.”

“Who gets the ticket?”

“You both do,” Lucia said as she walked up, her ticket pad out and pen poised. “Do you require medical assistance?”

“No, but we have to get to the intersection of Derringer and Braxton,” Demetrius said. “There could be another murder if we don’t hurry up.”

Lucia narrowed her eyes. “Careful, Demetrius, you’re stepping into dangerous territory. Remember you both were suspects at first.”

He nodded and flinched at a quick spike of pain up the back of his skull. “I think the wolf or whatever it is showed up outside a house near Derringer and Braxton. I got a call about a really big dog in a woman’s yard, staring at her through the patio door.”

“Who called you?” Lucia asked.

Demetrius felt himself blush. “I didn’t get her name, just where she was. She was panicked.”

“She should have called 911,” Lucia said.

“Can we just go check it out, please?” Cody said. “You can write us up once we get there. Okay? Deal?”

Lucia sighed. “Fine. Get this piece of crap off the road first.”

Cody helped Demetrius push his truck to the curb, and then they got in Cody’s truck and he headed toward Braxton.

“You okay over there?” Cody asked, throwing a glance toward Demetrius as he maneuvered through the streets of the neighborhood.

“Yeah, I’m all right. Just saw stars for a minute back there — Look out!” Demetrius braced himself as a large, brown, shaggy animal ran across the road in front of Cody’s truck.

Cody slammed on the brakes and they watched the beast gallop up to a privacy fence and, in one jump, clear the top and vanish from sight.

“What the fucking hell was that?” Lucia demanded. She had stepped out of her cruiser and stood alongside Cody’s truck, gun out as she stared after the creature.

“Welcome to our world,” Cody said. “Care to lead to the other block?”

“I think we should check these houses,” Demetrius suggested. “Someone may be hurt.”

“You wanna stay here and I’ll follow Lucia?”

Demetrius nodded and slipped out of the truck. Before he shut the door, he met Cody’s gaze, startled at the depth of concern on his friend’s face.

“Be careful,” Cody said. “I mean it.”

“You, too.”

“Got your cell?”

Demetrius nodded and patted his front pocket.

“Bullets?”

“Fuck.”

“In your truck?”

Demetrius nodded again, and then shrugged. “No gun for them anyway.”

“Waste of great-grandma’s silverware,” Cody said.

“It was a pain in the ass to keep polished anyway,” Demetrius admitted.

Lucia squealed the tires of her cruiser as she pulled around from behind Cody’s truck. Demetrius pushed the truck’s door shut and stepped back, watching as Cody followed Lucia to the next intersection and turned left. When the truck was out of sight, Demetrius turned to face the houses and took a steadying breath. He really hoped he didn’t find another crime scene like Ian McLeod’s and Lillian Hackett’s; he didn’t think he could take seeing another dismembered body.

He knocked on a few doors, but no one answered. As it was late morning, he figured the residents were at work. Or dead. He peered through a few windows and found just normal looking rooms with furniture arranged around large screen TVs and children’s toys scattered across the floor. No signs of struggles or dismemberment.

At the fourth house off the corner, Demetrius knocked on the door but the only response was the yowling of a cat from inside. Bushes crowded close to the front of the house beneath the windows prevented him from seeing inside. Stepping off the porch, Demetrius circled the house and came to a stop at the back corner, eyes wide and his heart pounding.

Broken glass lay scattered across the back deck of the house. Dark splotches that looked disturbingly like blood stained the cream siding and wood planks of the deck. With his throat suddenly closed tight and his stomach churning with fear, Demetrius walked carefully to the steps and climbed them to stand on the edge of the deck.

“H-Hello?” he called in a quiet, raspy whisper.

He took a few steps closer to the shattered patio door, cleared his throat, and tried again. “H-Hello, it’s Demetrius from Critter Catchers.”

No answer. He drew in a breath, gathered his courage into a group, and stepped toward the door.

A furry missile flew out the door at him, startling him so much he took two steps back and stumbled backwards down the steps. He fell on the lawn on his back, a high-pitched scream tearing from his throat as the animal landed on his chest.

It was a cat, most likely the one he had heard yowling inside the house. It stared at him a moment, its green eyes wide and wild, and then it took off running across the backyard to disappear in a clump of bushes.

“Fucking cat,” Demetrius managed as he caught his breath. He scrambled to his feet and climbed the steps onto the deck. Careful to avoid stepping in the puddles of what he now knew for sure was blood, he leaned through the patio door and looked around the bloody kitchen.

Body parts lay scattered around the room, and he battled back the coffee and toasted bagel that threatened to come back up on him. The smell rolling out of the room was rank and thick, and just as Demetrius turned away, he caught sight of someone running across the backyard behind him.

He was startled to see Oliver Berridge dashing across the lawn from one neighboring yard to the other. Naked.

“Oliver!” Demetrius shouted automatically.

Oliver stopped, pinwheeling his arms to keep from falling forward, and turned to stare in wide-eyed fear at Demetrius.

Demetrius, in turn, couldn’t help ogling Oliver’s body. Tight and trim, the man was pale and covered with dark blond hair. His cock stuck out from a thick patch of the same color hair, and Demetrius had to force his gaze to lift to Oliver’s pale, frightened expression.

“Why are you running?” Demetrius asked. “And why are you naked?”

“It came at me,” Oliver said. “I-I followed it, and it got her in there. I tried to help but I got blood on me and—”

“Freeze!”

Demetrius jumped and turned to find Lucia standing at the back corner of the house, gun drawn and aimed at Oliver. Cody stood behind her, his eyes wide and fists clenched at his sides.

“Don’t move, Oliver,” Lucia said as she slowly approached him. “On the ground with your hands to the side.”

“It wasn’t me!” Oliver said, his voice trembling and tears spilling down his cheeks. “I swear to God it wasn’t me.”

“We’ll get there,” Lucia said. “Just lie down. Don’t give me any trouble.”

There was a moment of hesitation, and then Oliver crumpled to the ground and lay face down on the grass, sobbing as Lucia quickly handcuffed him.

“Did you see him as a…” Demetrius shrugged. “Werewolf?”

Cody shook his head. “It doubled back this way. I thought it was going for you.”

“He came from over there,” Demetrius said, and pointed. “He was naked.”

Cody cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, I see that. Lycanthropes get you all hot and bothered?”

Demetrius rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help sneaking another peek at Oliver’s body as Lucia marched him past on the way to the police car. Oliver looked at Demetrius over his shoulder and said, “It wasn’t me. You know me, Demetrius, tell her! Tell her I didn’t do this!”

Demetrius opened his mouth, glanced at Cody and saw his glare, then clamped his lips tight together. A small, cold ache bloomed in his chest at the disappointment he saw on Oliver’s face before the man moved out of sight.

~~ * ~~

Oh no! Looks like Oliver is the werewolf after all. Or is he? Be sure to stop by next week and see what happens next with Demmy and Cody now that Oliver is in police custody. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

Good Monday morning Story Orgiasts! Welcome to Halloween week. Are you ready for all the neighborhood boos & ghouls to come to your door begging for sweets? This week Demetrius and Cody are hot on the trail of the Parson’s Hollow werewolf. Think they can stop him before he kills again… and again… and again? Howl at the moon once for yes, twice for no.

Before we get to the story, there are some announcements. First, not sure if you’ve heard, but book 2 of my Venom Valley Series is now available. Have you grabbed your copy of Bait to see what becomes of Dex, the handsome

town deputy? It can be downloaded from AMAZON or ARe or

SMASHWORDS. Enjoy!

Also, Lee Brazil’s new story Truth Deeper Than Logic is now available atBreathless Press. Click HERE to grab a copy of this shifter story for yourself.

Ready for more Demetrius and Cody? That full moon is about to rise, let’s hope they have a plan to stop the blood-thirsty werewolf!

This week’s prompt: There were signs.

 

Critter Catchers

Parson’s Hollow Series, Book 1

Chapter Thirteen

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

Looking back on it all, Demetrius realized that there were signs all along during their investigation. Signs both he and Cody had overlooked. But by the time he realized it, it was too late. How many deaths could have been prevented? It was painful to consider, but Demetrius thought back on that first day of the full moon’s cycle as he lay in the hospital, trying not to feel guilty.

The first day of the cycle dawned with a sharp chill in the air. A heavy mist rolled between the trees and dried stalks of corn. It snaked its way around the pumpkins at the roadside stands and ran ghostly fingers across the glass of Demetrius’s bedroom window. He shivered at the sight and pulled his fleece robe tighter across his chest. Coffee. A full pot was needed, maybe two.

As he waited for the coffee, Demetrius thought about the hackneyed plan they had come up with the night before. His stomach knotted at the thought of what he needed to do, but if it meant saving some lives, he’d have to man up and just do it. It did mean spending more time with Oliver, but he would need to be careful. Very careful.

With a sigh, he turned to look for his mobile phone, then stopped when he heard the ringtone Cody had programmed under Oliver’s number: “Bad Moon Rising,” by CCR. Cute.

“The suspect makes the first move,” Demetrius mumbled to himself. “Interesting.” He picked up his phone, took a breath, then pressed the button to answer.

“This is Demetrius.”

“Hey, it’s Oliver.” He cleared his throat and a quiet, nervous chuckle followed that melted a bit of the icy wall Demetrius had tried to use to shelter his heart. “Oliver Berridge, reporter at the Herald?”

Demetrius couldn’t help a quiet snicker. “You that rabble rouser who wrote the article about artichoke price gouging at the Food Village Grocery and Tackle?”

Oliver’s honest laugh made Demetrius feel both good and guilty. But, try as he might, he couldn’t help flirting with Oliver. Maybe it was the animal magnetism of his werewolf side that drew him in.

“That’s me,” Oliver said. “Hey, I heard about your, um, experience with the bull yesterday. Think I could do a ride along with you and Cody sometime? I was thinking it would be a slice of life piece about independent contractors here in town. Might bring you some more business.”

Demetrius blinked and stood in silent shock. Well, that was easy. Why the hell hadn’t he and Cody come up with that idea?

“Hello?” Oliver said.

“Sorry, wool-gathering. Need coffee.”

“Oh, sorry, is this too early?” Oliver said in a rushed voice.

“No, no! You’re good!” Demetrius flinched and slapped a hand over his eyes. “I mean, this is fine. I was up. Awake! I was awake. Not up, just, you know, awake, and getting coffee.” He sighed. “Sorry. I need—”

“Coffee?” Oliver offered.

Demetrius laughed. “Yeah. But, back to your idea. I love it. The idea, that is. Great one, that idea of yours.”

“Okay, great. So, when can I ride with you?”

Demetrius felt his cock stir at the image that popped into his mind: Demetrius sitting in the cab of his truck and Oliver lowering himself on Demetrius’s cock. He could almost feel the hot, slick grip of Oliver’s body as the man sank lower and lower onto him.

Good Lord, he needed coffee and a hearty jerk off session.

“Let me check the schedule and I’ll get back to you, okay?” Demetrius said, and was glad to hear that his voice did not break once.

“Sounds good. Looking forward to it.”

Demetrius pressed the disconnect button and stood leaning on the counter for a moment, trying to get his wits to line up once again. When he felt a little more in control, Demetrius turned for the coffee pot and poured out his first cup of the day and headed for the shower.

Later, as he pulled into the parking lot of the strip mall where their small office was located, Demetrius’s mobile phone buzzed. He checked the display but didn’t recognize the number. Hoping it would be a client, and not just because they needed more business, but also to allow him to spend time with Oliver, Demetrius answered.

The woman at the other end of the line sounded harried and out of breath. “There’s a big dog in my yard!”

A chill worked its way through Demetrius and the coffee sloshed unpleasantly in his gut. “How big of a dog?”

“Huge!” A loud howl blasted through the phone followed by the woman’s scream. “It’s on the deck and staring at me through the patio door! Come get it, hurry!”

“Wait! Where are you?” Demetrius shouted into the phone.

“Derringer road at Braxton. Hurry!”

The line went dead and Demetrius scrolled through the numbers on his phone and quickly called Oliver, narrowing his eyes when the call went to voice mail. As he listened to Oliver’s greeting, he wondered if the man had changed because of the full moon and couldn’t answer his phone.

After the beep, Demetrius said, “Hi Oliver, it’s Demetrius. I just got a call about a big dog around the intersection of Derringer and Braxton. If you’re available, meet me there. Hope to see you.” Demetrius disconnected and sat for a moment. He had to get moving, but the fact that Oliver hadn’t answered his phone sat in his gut like a cold stone of dread. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Demetrius had considered… No, he had hoped, that Oliver was not the werewolf or wolf man or whatever was stalking and killing people in Parson’s Hollow. And yet, the evidence kept stacking up against him. Dammit.

He took a breath, and then tossed the phone on the seat beside him. Before he could shift into gear, Cody pulled his own truck up alongside Demetrius and grinned at him through the window. Demetrius powered down his window and Cody lowered his passenger window.

“We got a call,” Demetrius told him. “A big dog out on Derringer at Braxton.”

“How big?”

“Really big!”

“Did you call Oliver?”

Demetrius nodded. “Went to voice mail.”

Cody narrowed his eyes.

“I know!” Demetrius said, the pitch of his voice edging higher. “Come on, the lady sounded panicked. Let’s go!”

“Right behind you.”

Demetrius drove fast through the town, skidding around corners and speeding along the side streets. Cody kept pace with him and, halfway to the intersection of Derringer and Braxton, Demetrius heard a siren wail into life behind Cody. A quick look in the side mirror revealed one of the town’s five police cars closely trailing Cody. Demetrius nodded to himself. Good, they might need someone with a gun. And he had six silver bullets in the glove compartment of his truck. He and Cody had pooled their resources of pure silver items and sent them off to a nearby smelter with their request. Five hundred dollars in labor later, the six bullets had showed up in Demetrius’s mailbox.

Now he just needed a gun to load them into.

Details.

A car pulled out of an intersection right in front of him. It was a big car, a whale of a car, a tan mid-70s Cadillac Sedan de Ville with a white vinyl roof. It moved slow, extremely slow, and a yellow bubble light revolved on the roof. It was, of course, JoAnn Monroe, known around town as Widow Monroe, the wife of the late fire chief who passed away forty years ago. She held a special place in the heart of the townspeople, for even as the hospital burned and collapsed before her, her husband trapped inside, JoAnn kept her emotions in check and continued to tend to the injured lying on the south lawn.

Now in her nineties, 96 at least, and refusing to quit driving, the sheriff had installed a revolving yellow light on top of her car for safety purposes. It was a beacon to all motorists in case she became mired in a snow drift (it had happened three times so far), got lost in fog (four times), or pulled out into traffic without looking (countless). The yellow bubble light allowed people to keep track of where she was and adjust their own speeds accordingly. All hail the Widow Monroe.

And she had just puttered out in front of Demetrius as he sped through town.

“Shit!” Demetrius jammed both feet down on the brake pedal. He felt the rear of the truck wiggle back and forth and prayed that Cody could stop in time, and the police car behind him could as well.

His truck lurched to a stop inches from the rear bumper of the Widow Monroe’s car. Demetrius had just enough time to let out his breath before Cody ran into him from behind and his air bag deployed.

~~ * ~~

Oh no! I hope Demetrius is okay after getting rear-ended by Cody (minds out of the gutter all you dirty birds!) Be sure to stop by next week and see what happens next with Demmy, Cody, and Oliver now that the full moon is about to rise. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

Good Monday morning, Orgiasts! I had an amazing time at GRL and met so many great authors and readers. What a fantastic event. I hope those that attended feel the same, and for those who couldn’t make it, there’s always next year!

A few announcements this week. Bait, the second book of the Venom Valley Series, my self-published gay romance paranormal set in the Old West, is now available! You can download a copy at Amazon, All Romance eBooks, or Smashwords. I hope you enjoy the further adventures of Josh, Dex, and Glory as they fight off the vampire Balthazar and his new army of the undead. The book is available for an outrageously low $1.99, and I’ve dropped the price of Bounty, the first book of the series, to $1.49!

Lee Brazil is having a contest to celebrate the release of his book Willow, available from Breathless Press on November 16th. Click HERE to go to Breathless Press and pre-order your copy today, and click HERE to jump to his blog and leave a comment for a chance to win a gorgeous pendant crafted by the uber-talented Amara Devonte!

Just one more announcement before we jump back into Parson’s Hollow. It’s officially Halloween month, and nothing says Halloween better than a collection of spooky stories (well, maybe a body in the freezer of your basement, but that’s besides the point). Freaky Flashes, a collection of short, spooky stories, is now available for pre-order from Breathless Press. Inside its sexy, creepy cover, you’ll find flash fiction from Lee Brazil, Havan Fellows, Dianne Hartsock, and yours truly, Hank Edwards. Click HERE to pre-order your copy today!

Okay, that’s it for the announcements. Ready to see about our boys in Parson’s Hollow? Let’s see what they’re up to now, as the days tick away to the next full moon.

The prompt for this week is: “I’m at a loss.”

 

Critter Catchers

Parson’s Hollow Series, Book 1

Chapter Twelve

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

“I’m at a loss.”

Demetrius rolled his eyes and turned away from Cody to open the file cabinet behind his desk in the Critter Catchers office. “Well, I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“He’s a killer, Demmy,” Cody said. “And there you were having lunch with him. And with your Aunt Amelia! Why don’t you just draw on her skin with marker to show where he should dig in his claws?”

“Are you just not hearing me?” Demetrius asked. “I told you, Amelia said her friend Lillian was murdered by a werewolf. A were-wolf, Cody. Something’s going on at that senior center.”

“Yeah? What did Ollie have to say about it? Did he snarl and bark and lick himself in an inappropriate place?”

Demetrius slammed the file cabinet drawer and whirled around. “That’s enough, Cody! I know you’re suspicious of Oliver, okay? I am, too! And I’m trying to learn as much about him as I can before the full moon in two days.”

“Okay, fine. And what have you learned?”

Demetrius let out his breath, and, with it, some of his frustration. “That he likes folk music and medium roast coffee. His guilty pleasure is over the top action movies and reality dance contest shows on TV. He works out in the mornings before work, and his favorite season is autumn.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Cody said and threw his hands up. “You’ve fallen for the guy.”

“It’s hard not to, Cody!”

“How’s his chin look?”

Demetrius shrugged. “It’s fine. Healing well. He got the stitches taken out last week.”

“Werewolves are fast healers.”

“According to who?”

“Movies, TV, popular culture.” He narrowed his eyes at Demetrius. “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend about it, see what he knows?”

“Maybe I will!”

“Good!”

The phone rang, the sound loud enough to startle them both into silence. They each stared at it a moment, until Cody finally reached out and picked it up. “Critter Catchers, this is Cody.”

Demetrius took the time to stomp off and use the bathroom. After washing his hands, he stared at his reflection in the mirror and wondered just what he was thinking, getting involved with the main suspect of their hack job of an investigation. Could he be that desperate for affection that he would turn to the newest man in town, even if he might be a vicious werewolf?

Cody pounded on the door, startling him out of his inner thoughts. “Come on, pinch it off in there, we’ve got a job to go to.”

Demetrius yanked open the door and glared at Cody. “I was just peeing.”

“Whatever. Let’s go, I have to piss, too, and then we’ll leave.” Cody brushed past him and pushed the door halfway closed behind him, a habit Demetrius found disturbing and reassuring. Cody would only leave the door open while he pissed with people he felt comfortable around, and this must mean he still trusted Demetrius, which made him feel better.

As he stood off to the side to afford Cody some privacy, Demetrius asked over the sound of Cody’s strong stream, “What’s our job?” He tried not to think about how easy it would be to lean out just a bit to be able to see Cody standing at the toilet, cock hanging out as he pissed. Demetrius wasn’t into water sports, not at all, and he had seen Cody naked on more than one occasion, but he’d always held a mild fascination with Cody. He was so masculine, so self-assured, and so handsome, it was difficult, sometimes, to keep his thoughts about Cody anchored in the friend harbor of his mind.

“A bull is stuck in some woman’s koi pond.” Cody finished and zipped, then flushed and moved to the sink to wash his hands. He kicked the door fully open to be able to see Demetrius. “We get to go haul it out.”

Demetrius blinked at him. “How the hell are we going to do that?”

Cody shrugged and grinned. “That’s the fun of it. We won’t know until we get there. Come on.”

It was a short drive to the woman’s house, and soon they stood on the edge of her backyard, staring at the big, angry bull stomping around in her koi pond. Each time it tried to clamber out, its hooves slid off the field stone lining the sides.

“Wow,” Demetrius said. “That bull looks pissed.”

“Really pissed,” Cody agreed.

“It belongs to Bud Alvedson,” said their client, Adrianna Lamberton. Her long, dark hair was pulled back in a loose bun, and she wore a pink track suit and running shoes. “I just woke up and found it in there.” She frowned. “I think it’s stomped on all my koi.”

“Yeah, looks like they’re floating around its legs,” Cody said.

“I really liked those fish.”

“Maybe Mr. Alvedson will pay for you to get some new ones?” Demetrius suggested.

“That cheap old bastard?” Adrianna blew out a breath. “He won’t even pay to have his fence fixed so his bull won’t get out.”

The bull snorted and tossed its head, the afternoon sun glinting off the points of its horns. Demetrius felt his balls pull up in fear as he wondered what those horns would feel like stabbing into his flesh.

“Yeah, probably not. We used to party out in his corn field after football games, remember Demmy? Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” Cody said, then turned to Adrianna. “Do you have a red bath towel by any chance?”

Demetrius turned to him. “Are you crazy? You’re going to play matador with this thing?”

Cody shrugged. “Unless you wanted to?”

“What about throwing a rope around its neck and using the truck to pull it out?”

“And strangling it?” Cody narrowed his eyes. “You are a cold son of a bitch, you know that?”

Demetrius opened his mouth, then snapped it shut as Adrianna stepped out the back door with a red towel over her arm. Cody reached out to take it from her, but at that moment all three of them froze as the bull let out a terrific snort. A great clattering of hooves followed, along with the cracking and shattering of field stone as the bull stamped against the sides of the pond.

“It’s coming out!” Cody shouted happily. “See that? It’s climbing out!”

Demetrius took a few steps back as the bull’s front hooves pounded against the soft earth of Adrianna’s flower beds around the rim of the pond. It kicked off with its back legs and staggered up and out of the pond, flinging water and bits of field stone. Its hooves dug up the fall flowers Adrianna had planted around the pond as it pawed the ground, head lowered, water dripping from the tips of its horns.

“Um, Cody? It’s getting ready to charge,” Demetrius said and backed up a few more feet.

“Oh shit!” Adrianna shouted. She tossed the red towel at Cody and made a beeline for the back door to her house.

The bull snorted and took off, its powerful legs throwing up clods of dirt and flowers behind it as it charged them. Demetrius watched in dumbfounded amazement as Cody turned to run, the red towel streaming out behind him, still clutched in his fist.

“Drop the towel!” Demetrius shouted as the bull stampeded past a dozen feet away, its eyes locked on Cody and the towel streaming out behind him like Superman’s cape.

Cody was a fast runner, he always had been, but he was no match for an angry bull. He was, however, more agile, and, just as Demetrius’s stomach twisted in anticipation of seeing Cody tossed in the air by the bull, he darted to the left. The bull skidded to stop, its hooves plowing deep trenches in Adrianna’s lawn as it turned to watch Cody run back toward Demetrius.

A cold chill shot through him at the sight of Cody heading for him. “What are you doing?”

“Start the truck!” Cody shouted. “We’ll lead it home!”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Demetrius shouted back.

“Start the fucking truck!” Cody shouted louder.

Demetrius turned tail and ran across the yard to where he had parked the truck near Adrianna’s garage. He started the engine and did a three point turn in the double wide gravel driveway, then leaned over to pop open the passenger door and waited for Cody. With his hands tight on the steering wheel, Demetrius watched as Cody led the bull around a pear tree, and then headed for the truck. Instead of getting in the cab, however, Cody climbed in the bed and slapped a hand on the roof of the cab, shouting, “Drive! Drive!”

Demetrius hit the accelerator and the truck bucked forward, the passenger door slamming shut with the motion. Cody fell face first into the bed of the truck, but kept his grip on the towel and managed to drape it over the tailgate. Moving as steadily as possible, Demetrius pulled down the driveway and into the street, then turned toward the Alvedson farm.

The bull followed along, its hooves clattering against the asphalt, snorting and tossing its head as other drivers and pedestrians scattered before them. When they were halfway to the farm, Demetrius saw red and blue lights in his mirror and started shaking his head, saying, “No, no, no, no.”

“It’s Lucia!” Cody shouted to him. “She got a death wish or something?”

“Wave her off!” Demetrius shouted.

“I did,” Cody replied. “She just flipped me off and is pointing for you to pull over.”

“Fuck that,” Demetrius muttered to himself, and turned onto the rural road that went right past the Alvedson farm. This was a dirt road, recently oiled to keep the dust down, and the bull slipped more than once as it followed along behind the truck, Lucia following a safe distance behind the bull.

They came to the break in the fence where the bull had escaped and Demetrius slowed enough for Cody to jump out, waving the towel and luring the bull back into the pasture. It chased him around a few times until Cody tossed the towel on the ground and high-tailed it for the break in the fence.

Lucia walked up as Cody sprinted through the fence, and she helped them set the rails back up. The bull stomped back and forth over the red towel, trampling it into the mud, and Lucia smirked at Cody.

“You make friends everywhere you go, don’t you?”

“You know me, Lucia,” Cody said, then jumped back from the fence as the bull rumbled past, its tail flicking the fence rails.

They left Lucia to talk with Bud Alvedson and Demetrius drove back to Adrianna’s house where they found her standing by the mess that used to be her pond, landscaping, and back lawn. She asked about her towel and narrowed her eyes when Cody cleared his throat, toed the ground, and finally told her he had dropped it in the pasture. Without a word, she turned and stomped into her house and appeared a moment later with her checkbook.

“I guess it was worth it,” she grumbled as she handed over the check.

Demetrius wrote up a receipt, then jumped into the truck and Cody pulled out into the road. They were quiet a moment, then they looked at each other and busted out laughing. It got so bad, Cody had to pull over. Finally, as the sun was sinking behind the trees, they wiped their eyes and smirked at each other.

“We okay?” Demetrius asked.

Cody grinned. “We’re okay. Just… Be careful.”

“I’m not the one playing matador to a loose bull,” Demetrius said.

“Point taken. But… Be careful.” Cody shifted into Drive, but before he could pull away he stopped, his attention riveted on something through the windshield.

“What is it?” Demetrius asked, ducking his head to see where Cody was looking. Then, he saw it. The moon had risen, big and orange, with just a slice taken off the corner. “Oh, shit. It’s almost full.”

“Tomorrow night,” Cody whispered. “I thought we had a few more days.”

“My calendar must be wrong,” Demetrius said. “Fucking city council calendars. Doesn’t anyone do research any more?”

Cody looked at him, his eyes wide. “Demmy, Tracey from the library told you some full moon cycles can last a few days.”

“Yeah, she did.”

“Tomorrow could be the first day of that cycle.”

A cold, hard nugget of fear crystallized inside Demetrius’s gut. “Lillian Hackett was killed in the afternoon, before the moon came up.”

“It’s going to start tomorrow.” Cody looked away, then back again, and they said at the same time, “Oliver.”

~~ * ~~

Uh oh, looks like these two just ran out of time! Be sure to stop by next week and see what happens next with Demmy, Cody, and Oliver now that the full moon is about to rise. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

Good Monday morning, Orgiasts! Welcome to another week. Let’s hope this one plays nice, eh?

A few announcements this week. Bait, the second book of the Venom Valley Series, my self-published gay romance paranormal set in the Old West, is now available! You can download a copy at Amazon, All Romance eBooks, or Smashwords. I hope you enjoy the further adventures of Josh, Dex, and Glory as they fight off the vampire Balthazar and his new army of the undead. The book is available for an outrageously low $1.99, and I’ve dropped the price of Bounty, the first book of the series, to $1.49!

Lee Brazil is having a contest to celebrate the release of his book Willow, available from Breathless Press on November 16th. Click HERE to go to Breathless Press and pre-order your copy today, and click HERE to jump to his blog and leave a comment for a chance to win a gorgeous pendant crafted by the uber-talented Amara Devonte!

Just one more announcement before we jump back into Parson’s Hollow. It’s officially Halloween month, and nothing says Halloween better than a collection of spooky stories (well, maybe a body in the freezer of your basement, but that’s besides the point). Freaky Flashes, a collection of short, spooky stories, is now available for pre-order from Breathless Press. Inside its sexy, creepy cover, you’ll find flash fiction from Lee Brazil, Havan Fellows, Dianne Hartsock, and yours truly, Hank Edwards. Click HERE to pre-order your copy today!

Okay, that’s it for the announcements. Ready to see about our boys in Parson’s Hollow? Let’s see what they’re up to now, as the days tick away to the next full moon.

The prompt for this week is: Nothing has changed.

Critter Catchers

Parson’s Hollow Series, Book 1

Chapter Eleven

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

Demetrius pulled up alongside the curb in front of his Aunt Amelia’s house and put the truck in Park. He took a few minutes to scoop the books, papers, gloves, masks, invoices, and various other crap off the passenger seat and chuck it onto the narrow bench of the backseat to make room for her. When he looked up, he saw his Aunt Amelia picking her way along the step stone path to the passenger door of the truck.

“I was about to come up to the door,” Demetrius said as she climbed into the truck.

“Oh, pine trees, there’s no need for formalities,” Amelia said and turned to smile at him. “We’re family. We don’t need to be so formal.”

“Well, it’s good to see you.” Demetrius leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “So, we’re off to run errands today?”

“If you’ve got time,” Amelia said. “I don’t want to take you away from your business.”

“I’ve got time,” Demetrius assured her, and pulled away from the curb. “We could use less free time. Business is slow.” He glanced over at her. “How’s your possum situation? They staying away?”

Amelia nodded. “No sign of them since you evicted the little pine cones.” She opened her purse and fished out a stack of bill payment envelopes needing stamps. “First stop, the post office.”

After an hour of driving Amelia to the post office, then Parson’s Pharmacy, then the dry cleaner, and then both grocery stores to take advantage of competing double coupons, Demetrius felt the first rumbling of hunger.

“How about lunch?” Demetrius asked. “My treat.”

“Oh, lunch sounds wonderful,” Amelia said. “Margie’s always has the freshest pies.”

“Margie’s it is.”

After parking and helping Amelia down from the truck, Demetrius held the diner door open for her and they were waved to a booth by Margie herself. They settled in, gossiped a bit with Margie, and then ordered lunch. Once Margie had gone off to give their order to the cook, Amelia caught Demetrius’s gaze and nodded toward the front window. He turned to look over his shoulder and blushed at the sight of Oliver peering in at them through the glass. The man waved and Demetrius waved back, relieved and disappointed when Oliver continued off down the sidewalk without coming in the diner.

“He’s a cute one,” Amelia said. “He your new fella?”

Demetrius sighed. It still felt weird talking with his aunt about dating men, but he knew it was good for both of them. And Amelia had always been supportive ever since he came out to her his junior year of high school.

“I don’t really know yet,” Demetrius said. “It’s complicated.”

Amelia nodded and sipped her iced tea through the straw. “Isn’t it always? I have a fella, you know.”

Demetrius blinked in surprise, then smiled. “No, I didn’t know. Come on, tell me more.”

“He lives in the independent senior section of Parson’s Pines,” Amelia said with an adorable rosy tint in her cheeks.

“His name’s Otis Bogdanovitch, and he’s quite the catch.”

“Oh yeah? Well, good for you, Aunt Amelia. I’m happy for you.”

“I met him at the senior center,” she went on. “It was during the Homecoming Dance for Seniors. I was there with Lillian Hackett and Barb Aikman.” Her gaze clouded a bit, and Demetrius felt a chill go up his spine at her mention of Lillian Hackett, the second victim he and Cody had discovered. She had been torn apart right inside her kitchen as they had been out setting up traps by her chicken coop. It had been the middle of the afternoon, and they had heard her scream once from her house, but by the time they’d run up onto the screened in back porch, it had been too late.

“I’m sorry about Lillian,” Demetrius said quietly. “It must really hurt sometimes.”

Amelia looked up at him and smiled though she had tears in her eyes. “It does. If she had gone in a more… peaceful way, I don’t think it would bother me so much.”

“I understand.” He reached out and squeezed her hand, her skin chilled from holding to the iced tea. “But, you were telling me about Otis.”

Amelia gave a decisive nod. “I was, and I will. He’s quite the whip, but I have to tell you, that senior center is just like high school. It’s been, what? Fifty or sixty years since we’ve all been in high school? Well, nothing has changed. It’s just like being back there all over again. You’ve got your cliques and popularity contests. Why, there’s even a group of jocks, only now they play golf and shuffleboard instead of football and basketball. They mostly hang around with the prom queens, who only look that good because they go to the beauty shop twice a week and take aqua aerobics every day to stay fit. Oh, and then there’s Mr. Kelmer. He’s a real treat. Comes in and tries to take over all the activities and the TV programs. Grouchiest man I have ever met in my life. Most unpleasant. Why, he and Lillian had a bit of a row just before… Well, they had a disagreement over how she had parked her golf cart.” She shook her head and sat back as Margie placed their lunch plates in front of them. As she unrolled her silverware from the paper napkin, Amelia leaned over the table and said in a low voice, “Only thing that’s different between high school and the senior center is that half the time the seniors don’t remember what they say or do because they’re so damn old!”

They both laughed over that and tucked into their food. After they had taken a few bites in silence, Amelia smiled at him and asked, “So what’s complicated between you and your fella?”

Demetrius looked into her eyes for a long moment, weighing his options. He wanted her to be safe, wanted her to stay inside with the doors locked and the window shades drawn during the full moon, but even that wasn’t a guarantee she’d be spared. He had seen the monster up close and personal, he knew how strong the thing was. Should he spill his guts and tell her everything, including his suspicions about Oliver? And, to be fair, his confusion about the man as well. Because he was attracted to Oliver, very much so, and he really did like spending time with him. They had laughed about Cody’s crazy behavior the other night when he had interrupted their dinner at Antonio’s, and the evening had ended with a soft, lingering kiss.

“Demmy?” Amelia said, pulling him back into the moment. “You okay?”

He smiled and nodded. “I’m fine. It’s just complicated because he’s new to town and… Well, and Cody doesn’t really trust him yet.”

“Cody’s very protective of you,” Amelia said. “Not everyone is lucky enough to have a friend that faithful.”

Demetrius nodded as he cut into his turkey sandwich. “I know. I just wish he was faithful in moderation sometimes.”

“Oh, sassafras trees,” Amelia said and pointed her fork at him. “Demmy, you be grateful for what you’ve got. Before you know it, some monster might snatch away your Cody and leave you all alone, and then you’ll be no better off than me.” She pressed her lips together and sat back, using her napkin to dab her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to keep a positive attitude, but it’s difficult sometimes.” She drew in a long, shuddering breath and let it out. “It’s just, when your friend is ripped apart by a werewolf, it takes some time to get over it, you know?”

Demetrius dropped his fork and it clattered against his plate, drawing the attention of everyone else in the diner as the bell above the door jangled. Amelia looked up and smiled shyly. “Well, hello there.”

“Hello.” The familiar voice pulled Demetrius’s shocked gaze from his aunt’s face, and he looked up to see Oliver standing beside the table.

“Oliver!” Demetrius said, his voice a little too loud. “How are you? Why are you here?”

Oliver frowned at him before pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. “I had an errand to run, but thought I’d stop in on my way back to the office and get a bite to eat. If that’s okay?”

Amelia extended her hand. “I’m Amelia Rosinski, Demetrius’s aunt.”

Demetrius watched Oliver shake with her, tried not to envision claws tearing through the flesh of Oliver’s hand and ripping into Amelia’s skin. He chugged some of his iced tea and slid over to make room in the booth for him. As Oliver sat beside him and reached across him to grab a menu from the holder, a ball of sweat ran down Demetrius’s side and he knew this would be the longest meal ever.

~~ * ~~

Seems like Aunt Amelia is a little more in tune with what’s going on than expected! This should prove to be one heck of a meal, eh? I’m looking forward to GRL this week and meeting a lot of you out in Albuquerque! If you’re going, make sure you come up and introduce yourself, and definitely come to the Gentleman’s Juke Joint party that I’m part of. It’s going to be a lot of fun and with some hot, hunky cowboy dancers around, woo doggies! Be sure to stop by next week and see what happens next with Demmy, Cody, and Oliver. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

 

Good Monday morning, Orgiasts! Welcome to another week. Let’s hope this one plays nice, eh?

Just one announcement today before we jump back into Parson’s Hollow. It’s officially Halloween month, and nothing says Halloween better than a collection of spooky stories (well, maybe a body in the freezer of your basement, but that’s besides the point). Freaky Flashes, a collection of short, spooky stories, is now available for pre-order from Breathless Press. Inside its sexy, creepy cover, you’ll find flash fiction from Lee Brazil, Havan Fellows, Dianne Hartsock, and yours truly, Hank Edwards. Click HERE to pre-order your copy today!

Ready to see about our boys in Parson’s Hollow? I think it’s time we checked in with Cody Bower, don’t you? Let’s go!

The prompt for this week is: You’ve stayed too long.

Critter Catchers

Parson’s Hollow Series, Book 1

Chapter Ten

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

“Visiting hours are over,” the nurse said in her deep, masculine voice that startled Cody no matter how many times he heard it. “You’ve stayed too long. Again.”

Cody turned away from the bed where his Grandma Felicia lay sleeping. “How’s she been?”

The nurse shrugged. “Same as she ever is. Good days and bad. We keep an eye on her, though.”

A scuffle from the hallway just outside the room caught the nurse’s attention and she stepped out of sight, saying, “Here now! Mr. Kelmer, you know better than that.”

“He took my pudding!” an old man out of Cody’s sightline roared in a surprisingly strong voice. “He always takes my pudding!”

Cody shook his head and turned back to the bed. Grandma Felicia lay beneath a mound of covers, breathing quietly. Just as the nurse had explained, she had good days and bad days. But, to Cody, the bad days seemed to be outweighing the good days as of late, and he had a bad feeling about it.

His grandmother snorted in her sleep, and Cody decided it was, indeed, time to go. He wasn’t doing her, or himself, any good by sitting there. He was starting to get hungry, and, besides, the scuffle out in the hallway seemed to be getting louder. He was curious about Mr. Kelmer, as well; he sounded like a scrappy old man, and if there was one thing Cody thought he was going to become when he was older, it was definitely a scrappy old man. He pushed up out of the chair, bent over the bed to give his grandmother a kiss on the cheek, then stepped into the hallway and tried not laugh.

The nurse had just managed to pull a man, who he assumed was Mr. Kelmer, off another old man who did, indeed, have multiple pudding cups on his dinner tray. The nurse had gotten behind Mr. Kelmer and put her arms around him, locking her fingers together over his chest. Mr. Kelmer cursed and shouted so forcefully that spittle flew from his lips. His red face glistened with sweat, making a few dark spots beneath his right ear stand out even more, and his eyes shone with the depth of his anger.

“Mr. Kelmer!” the nurse shouted into his ear. “Calm down!”

“He’s a thief!” Mr. Kelmer jabbed a long, crooked finger at the other man, who sat, wide-eyed and blinking. “He’s always been a thief! Always!”

Rolling her eyes to meet Cody’s, the nurse asked, “A little help?”

Cody fought back a sigh and stepped up to take one of Mr. Kelmer’s arms as the nurse took the other. Together they dragged him down the hall and into his small room. Cody helped the nurse deposit Mr. Kelmer in a worn and duct taped Naugahyde recliner, and then took a few steps back. As the nurse scolded the man, Cody looked around the room at Mr. Kelmer’s meager belongings, letting his gaze move over the faded paperbacks with cracked spines, tiny carved figurines scattered across the top of a small dresser, and a painting of mountains rising out of a forest, their peaks shrouded within heavy mist.

“And you!” Mr. Kelmer snapped, his voice bringing Cody’s attention back around to find the old man glaring up at him from the chair, fingers gripping the armrests. “I’ll see you again, you can count on it.”

“Okay then,” Cody said and gave a small wave. “Take your meds and sleep well. Night.”

He walked down the hall and pushed out the main entrance of Parson’s Pines Nursing and Convalescent Home of Serenity. After a quiet snort—serenity, ha!—Cody continued to his truck and pulled out of the parking lot, headed into town. It was seven thirty and he was definitely hungry, so he thought maybe he’d stop in at Margie’s Diner and get a plate of meatloaf. Besides, it was Thursday, and Vicki Downing would probably be waitressing. They’d been circling each other for about a year now, flirting like mad, but each time one of them became available, the other one was seeing someone. Maybe, since Cody was unattached, he might luck out and Vicki would be as well.

A parking spot down the street from Margie’s Diner opened up as he approached, and Cody pulled in. He paused to check his hair and teeth in the mirror, then got out and walked down the sidewalk with a bounce in his step. He thought about the opening scene of Saturday Night Fever, that shot of John Travolta strutting down the sidewalk to the beat of “Staying Alive,” and imagined he looked something like that, only five times as cool with a billion times less money.

As Cody passed Antonio’s, the long, narrow Italian restaurant three storefronts down from Margie’s, he glanced through the window and came to a sudden stop mid-strut. A couple walking behind him bumped into Cody’s back and staggered around him before continuing on, the man saying, “Asshole,” over his shoulder.

But Cody didn’t hear the insult. His gaze was locked on the couple sitting a table beyond the front window of Antonio’s. They talked and laughed, exchanging mildly flirtatious glances as they ate pasta and sipped wine. It looked like the perfect date, and Cody would have been happy if it had been anyone other than Demetrius and Oliver.

“Son of a…” Cody said to himself, standing stiff-legged and stunned on the sidewalk. His thoughts fluttered through his head like a startled flock of birds, none roosting long enough for him to follow through logically. He was going off only emotion right now, and all he knew, all he could think about, was that Demetrius was having dinner with the man they had pegged as the murderous, rampaging werewolf.

He didn’t know he was going to enter the restaurant until he was already through the door, and by that time, it was too late to turn back because Demetrius had caught sight of him. Cody watched Demetrius stop talking in mid-sentence as his eyes widened and an expression that was equal parts guilt and relief flashed across his face. Taking a moment to pause and pull in a deep breath that helped his scattered thoughts settle a little, Cody strode across the restaurant to loom over Demetrius and Oliver, arms folded, and mouth set.

“Well, if it isn’t Parson’s Hollow’s latest power couple,” Cody said, and hated that his tone sounded more jealous than fearing for his best friend’s life. The strength of his emotions and their source confused him, but it was all he had to work off of, and he couldn’t back down now. He needed to make sure Oliver understood that, should anything happen to Demetrius, Cody would see to it that justice was taken out on Oliver’s hide, be it in wolf or man form.

“Cody,” Demetrius said, his voice high-pitched and strained. “What are you doing here?”

“I was on my way to Margie’s for dinner, saw you through the window, thought I’d stop in and say hi.” Cody turned to look down at Oliver who wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Hi Oliver. How’s that chin healing up?”

The reporter lifted his gaze to meet Cody’s for a second and muttered, “Cody. It’s fine, thanks.”

“Good. Pasta nice and fresh? Antonio treating you well?” Cody asked.

“What are you doing?” Demetrius whispered.

Cody shrugged. “Just saying hello. Can’t a guy say hello when he sees his best friend out on the town?”

Demetrius narrowed his eyes. “Can I speak to you outside a moment, please?”

“Absolutely.” Cody fixed the top of Oliver’s head with a steady gaze. “Good to see you again, Oliver.”

“Likewise,” Oliver replied without looking up at him.

Demetrius shot up out of his chair and, taking hold of Cody’s biceps, walked quickly to the door and then out onto the sidewalk.

“Are you out of your mind?” Demetrius snapped. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” Cody waved a hand toward the window where they could both see Oliver watching them. Demetrius shoved Cody off to the side out of Oliver’s sightline.

“I am on a date.” Demetrius threw his hands up. “Okay? There. I said it. I’m on a date, with Oliver Berridge, whom you believe to be a werewolf.”

Cody pulled his head back and crossed his arms. “Whom I believe to be a werewolf? I believe? Oh, so you’re saying now that it was a bear or someone’s Great Dane that chased us down and would have killed us if Zenona hadn’t driven by? Is that what you think?”

Demetrius sighed and turned a 360 before meeting Cody’s gaze. “I didn’t say that.”

“And yet, here you are, on a date with the guy most likely to be a blood-thirsty killer once a month.”

“Look, let me just go back inside and finish my dinner, and I’ll call you later to talk about this, okay?” Demetrius held his hands out palms up. “Please?”

Cody leaned in close and pointed a finger at Demetrius’s face. “I don’t like it, Demmy. You’re getting too cozy with this guy, and it scares me.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Demetrius said in a sure, quiet voice. He raised his eyebrows, his gaze locked with Cody’s.

“Trust me.”

Cody couldn’t fight back a grin. “Damn. First time someone’s said those words to me. No wonder girls hate when guys say it.”

Demetrius grinned back. “We good?”

Cody frowned. “Be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Demetrius turned away, but looked back over his shoulder. “Thanks, though. For worrying about me.”

“Get out of here.” Cody pointed toward the restaurant, and then stood with his hands on his hips and shook his head. He looked up at the stars overhead and noticed the moon was now a waxing crescent, a term he’d learned while surfing the Internet for information on werewolves.

Not long now until it would be full again. And someone, he feared, would end up dead.

He just wanted to make damn sure that someone wasn’t Demetrius.

~~ * ~~

Cody seems to be pretty upset by Demetrius having dinner with Oliver. He must be a really good friend, huh? I’m sure Demetrius has a plan of action once the full moon rolls around, right? Be sure to stop by next week and see what happens next with Demmy, Cody, and Oliver. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

Good Monday morning Story Orgiasts, and Happy October! I hope the weekend treated you well and that this week treats you better. A few announcements before we get to today’s post.

It’s officially Halloween month, and nothing says Halloween better than a collection of spooky stories (well, maybe a body in the freezer of your basement, but that’s besides the point). Freaky Flashes, a collection of short, spooky stories, is now available for pre-order from Breathless Press. Inside its sexy, creepy cover, you’ll find flash fiction from Lee Brazil, Havan Fellows, Dianne Hartsock, and yours truly, Hank Edwards. Click HERE to pre-order your copy today!

Speaking of Lee Brazil‘s shorts … Wait, stop, minds out of the gutter. I’m talking about short stories here. Sheesh! Anyway, his self-published collection of short, sexy fiction, Encounter, is now available at Amazon and at All Romance eBooks. Click on the site names to download your copy today!

Em Woods’s story Choices, her hot male menage story, is now available at Breathless Press. Click HERE to hop on over and download your copy today!

Also from Em Woods, her story about the strength of love in difficult times, Holding On, is now available at all e-book retailers, including Total E-Bound books. Click HERE to jump over to Total E-Bound and get your copy today!

Wow, lots of publishing news! Lots of great stories from your Story Orgy authors, and we really appreciate all of our readers. Okay, you’ve been wonderfully patient, now on with the story! Let’s see how Demetrius is dealing with his suspicion of and attraction to Oliver.

The prompt for this week is: Every night….

Critter Catchers

Parson’s Hollow Series, Book 1

Chapter Nine

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

The TV was on, tuned to some racy comedy with a laugh track and more commercials than Demetrius could follow. He had his feet up and a cold beer close at hand, and his mind drifted. He thought back to when he and Cody had discovered the bodies of Ian McLeod and Lillian Hackett. The rank, hot smell of blood and the dark red stains of those murder scenes would forever be part of him.

But then, Demetrius thought of Oliver. Attractive, polite Oliver, who had received five stitches to the underside of his chin the same night Cody had tripped what looked an awful lot like a werewolf and sent it skidding chin first along the road. Demetrius had noticed Oliver before all that, of course. As two gay men in a small town, they had become instantly aware of each other, and, if Demetrius might be so bold, there had been an initial attraction, as well.

For the last few days, Demetrius had picked up his phone and started to dial the number for the office of the Parson’s Hollow Herald, the newspaper where Oliver worked as a reporter. But each time he had reached the last number, he disconnected, nervous about going out with Oliver. He wasn’t afraid of the man, even if somewhere in the back of his mind he suspected Oliver was a werewolf. No, he wasn’t afraid of Oliver, he was afraid of himself. Demetrius had a bad habit of embarrassing himself in front of the men he was attracted to. And it wasn’t just that he might knock over a glass of water or drop his utensils on the floor of the restaurant. He would most likely tip over a baked Alaska and burn the place down.

Smoke inhalation on the first date was something many couples just never came back from.

Demetrius gave up and switched off TV. He finished his beer and pushed out of the recliner. In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth, washed his face, and then shuffled into his bedroom and dropped into bed. The queen size mattress seemed even bigger than usual, and, like every night, he lay there alone. Every night the moonlight cuddled him to sleep, and every morning he woke with the sun.

These nights, however, he found he was paying more attention to the phase of the moon, and had counted down on his kitchen calendar to the next time it would be full.

The moon was waning now, in the last quarter phase. A bite was taken each night until, in a few days’ time, when it sat between the Earth and the Sun and turned its dark side toward Earth, it would be a new moon. And then, it would steadily brighten back to full.

Back to the phase that called forth a werewolf.

A yawn crept up on him, and Demetrius rolled to his side. He had searched the Internet for information on werewolves but mostly found only movie references. Maybe he could find something in the Parson’s Hollow library. He thought there was an Ancient Artifacts section or something hidden in a back room somewhere. Cody had mentioned it once, he thought, when he had been talking about dating girls in high school. Cody had asked the girls to help him look for books in that section and then made out with them.

Smooth, Demetrius thought, much smoother than he could ever hope to be. With that, he fell asleep.

And dreamed of Oliver. They sat beneath the big old weeping willow that grew on the grassy bank of Parson’s Creek. Oliver’s sandy red hair glowed in the soft rays of the setting sun, and they laughed easily as they talked.

Then Demetrius leaned in to kiss him. He felt the soft, warm press of Oliver’s lips, and put his hand on the back of Oliver’s head, digging his fingers into his soft, short hair. They kissed for a long time, hidden there beneath the drooping green curtains of the willow. Oliver’s tongue slipped between Demetrius’s lips, slick and strong.

Oliver touched Demetrius’s crotch, ran his fingers along the outline of his erection beneath the denim. Demetrius groaned and lay back, Oliver stretched above him. He could feel the thick, hard length of Oliver’s interest pressed against his thigh, and Demetrius moaned into Oliver’s mouth.

In moments, they were nude. Oliver’s chest was covered with hair a shade darker than the red gold on his head. Demetrius ran his fingers through it, pinched the hard, pink points of his nipples hiding in there.

“I’ve wanted you since I saw you,” Oliver whispered in Demetrius’s ear, and ran his hand down Demetrius’s chest, fingers parting the dark hair until they gripped the base of his cock.

“Oh,” Demetrius sighed, and the willow branches seemed to sway with the word.

Oliver flipped position and Demetrius found himself staring at the long, pale length of his cock. The rounded flare of the head was shiny with pre-cum, and Demetrius ran his tongue from root to tip, then took him in his mouth.

The combined taste of salty and bitter burst across his tongue like a Parson’s Hollow Fourth of July firework. Demetrius felt Oliver return the favor on his own cock, and they sucked each other with sure, fast hunger. In moments, Oliver grunted around his mouthful of Demetrius’s flesh and a torrent of hot, thick cum erupted inside Demetrius’s mouth, prompting him to come as well.

They lay together, sweating and breathing hard, Oliver’s head resting on Demetrius’s thigh to be able to look up at him.

“Amazing,” Oliver said with a sigh.

“Yeah,” was all Demetrius could manage.

The light shifted suddenly. Instead of the orange rays of the setting sun, the willow leaves around them now glowed in cool, white moonlight. Demetrius shivered and sat up, looking around for Oliver, but he was nowhere to be found.
He pulled on his clothes and, as he knelt beneath the willow tree buttoning his shirt, called out, “Oliver?”

A growling snort answered him, and Demetrius’s pulse quickened. He pressed his back to the trunk of the willow and held his breath as he watched a tall shadow move around the outside of the branches. It circled the tree, growling and breathing heavily, and Demetrius followed its path with wide eyes.

Suddenly, the branches parted directly before him, and the wide, furry head of a werewolf thrust inside the cool shelter of the willow branches. Its eyes glowed red and its black lips lifted in a snarl, exposing long, sharp canines. Its breath was hot and rank, the smell of blood and death. It lifted its head and howled, the sound deafening inside such close quarters. Demetrius cried out and pressed his hands over his ears. As he stared at the beast before him with icy terror flooding his system, Demetrius saw a scar on the underside of its chin.

The alarm woke him, and Demetrius lay catching his breath in the morning sun. He didn’t need a dream dictionary to explain that one to him.

And was it wrong that he really, truly wanted to find out if Oliver had such a hairy chest, werewolf or not?

Demetrius got up and made coffee, checking the Critter Catchers schedule as he waited for the pot to brew, and saw no appointments. They would need to get some more business if they each wanted to be able to buy food and pay for their homes, but today Demetrius decided to use the time to do some research. He drank his coffee as he showered and shaved, then drove to the Parson’s Hollow Library. Stepping inside, he paused to breathe deep of the wonderful smell of books. He really needed to read more.

“May I help you?”

Demetrius looked over at the main desk and felt like he’d just stepped back in time. Tracey Mumm, another in a long line of Cody’s ex-girlfriends, stood behind the desk. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore a lightweight sweater over a white blouse. She had obviously been part of Cody’s Catholic schoolgirl phase.

“Tracey?” Demetrius asked.

She frowned. “Do I know you?”

“Demetrius Singleton. I’m friends with Cody Bower.”

Tracey’s open, inquisitive expression shut down immediately at the mention of Cody’s name, and Demetrius cursed himself. Dammit, he should know better than to toss his friendship with Cody out without first testing the waters.

“Oh. I feel sorry for you. But, he probably calls you back when he says he will, doesn’t he?”

Demetrius shrugged. “Well, not always.”

“Does he ever?” Tracey demanded.

“Well, yeah, most times.”

“There you go. More times than I ever got called back.” She slammed a hardcover book shut and tossed it aside.

“What are you doing here?”

This was not going to be easy. “Well, I’ve heard about an Ancient Artifacts section here in the library? Something like that?”

Tracey glared at him. “Are you kidding me right now?”

Demetrius blinked in surprise. “No. Why?” Oh crap, was that where Cody had made his move on Tracey?

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Forget it. It’s back here.”

Tracey led him around behind the main desk and down a short hallway to a locked gate. Gloves made from fabric waited in neat rows on a small table, and she slapped a pair into his hands, stating in a flat voice, “Put these on.”
A code popped open the lock on the cage and Tracey led him into a windowless room lined with shelving units made of polished wood. Books of all sizes lined the shelves and a small card catalog stood guard to the left of the door.

“Card catalog is there. Books are all by Dewey decimal. What are you looking for?”

Demetrius felt himself blush, and he cleared his throat and said, “Well, just some research.”

Tracey rolled her eyes, and Demetrius wondered how long Cody had been able to tolerate her. A couple of weeks?

A couple of hours? “If you tell me, I could probably find it faster for you.”

“Oh, well, I see. Okay then. I’m looking for information about werewolves.”

There was no blink or eye roll that time. Tracey had a mission and her face went still as her gaze focused on the card catalog. She walked away from him, asking over her shoulder, “Werewolves or wolf man?”

“There’s a difference?” Demetrius asked.

Tracey shrugged as she flicked through cards. “Some would argue with me, but I think of it this way. A werewolf can change between man and wolf at will, except during the full moon, when the lunar phase forces him to change. A wolf man has no control over his condition, and he will only change during the three nights of the full moon. This condition is much more unpredictable and vicious, and the human form of the wolf man usually has no knowledge that he turns into a wolf.”

“Three nights of the full moon?” Demetrius asked.

Tracey paused to read a card, then straightened up and turned to face him. “It can change from month to month. At the least the phase can last a single night, at the most, up to three.”

“Jesus, three nights?” Demetrius felt a shiver rattle through him. “How can you tell?”

She looked at him a long moment before handing him a card. “If you see a wolf man out at night, you’ll know. Here’s a book on the subject. You can’t check it out, but you can look through it at this desk and make notes on those notepads. If you write in the book, it’ll cost you over $1,000 in damages.” Tracey raised an eyebrow. “Clear?”

Demetrius nodded, his mind still spinning at the thought of a full moon lasting for three nights. He wondered how many people could die during those three nights, and how long it would take for them to get silver bullets.

~~ * ~~

Uh oh, Demetrius seems to be a bit conflicted about their suspect! I wonder what his research will turn up? Be sure to stop by next week and see what happens next with Demmy, Cody, and Oliver. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods,     Jade Baiser,     J.R. Boyd

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

Good Story Orgy Monday morning and Happy Autumn! Where the heck is 2012 going, eh?

A few announcements before we get back to Cody and Demetrius…

Em Woods’s story Choices, her hot male menage story, is now available at Breathless Press. Click HERE to hop on over and download your copy today!

Also from Em Woods, her story about the strength of love in difficult times, Holding On, is now available at all e-book retailers, including Total E-Bound books. Click HERE to jump over to Total E-Bound and get your copy today!

Lee Brazil‘s fifth book in his bestselling Truth or Dare series, Risking It All, is now available at Breathless Press. Click HERE to hop on over and download your copy today! His Naughty Nursery Rhyme story, It’s Simple, Simon, is now available at ARe and Amazon.

Havan Fellows‘s Geoff’s Teddy, the third book of her Synchronous Seductions series, is burning up the Romantic Comedy category at ARe. Click HERE to jump over and download a copy of your own if you haven’t already.

Keep an eye out for our next anthology, And the Prompt Is… Road Trip, which will be available soon. As always, the first 90 days of profits will go to a LGBTQ charity, and this time we’ve chosen The Point Foundation, which empowers promising LGBTQ students to achieve their full academic and leadership potential – despite the obstacles often put before them – to make a significant impact on society.

Wow, lots of publishing news! Lots of great stories from your Story Orgy authors, and we really appreciate all of our readers. Okay, you’ve been wonderfully patient, now on with the story! Let’s see how Demetrius and Cody are doing after their run in with the werewolf and the suspicion that Oliver (not him!) is said werewolf! The prompt for this week is: It was as far as he could go.

Critter Catchers

Parson’s Hollow Series, Book 1

Chapter Eight

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

“They all tangled up in there?”

Demetrius pulled his head out of the dark, dusty overhang of the house and turned to look down at his Aunt Amelia. She had silver hair cut into a bob, generous bosoms and hips, and a wide, pale face that seemed to always have a smile.

Except for this moment.

“Yeah, they’re way back in the back,” Demetrius replied. “Kind of all grouped up and staring at me.”

“Oh, sugar maple,” Aunt Amelia said, and Demetrius had to grin. Instead of using traditional cuss words, Aunt Amelia relied on the names of trees to voice her displeasure. Demetrius had never figured out if there was a system between the type of tree and the level of Amelia’s vexation. “I don’t like possums. Those pointy noses and skinny tails.” She shuddered.

“Well, don’t worry, we’ll get them out,” Demetrius assured her as he climbed down the ladder. “Let me just go look for Cody.”

“All right,” Amelia said as she nervously eyed the gap in the siding of her house where the possums came and went.

Demetrius walked down the driveway to where he had parked the truck. They had invested in magnetic signs to affix to the door panels that read “Critter Catchers – Let us catch those unwanted critters for you!” with the phone number and URL. Cody stood at the back of the truck, just zipping up his coveralls.

“Hi,” Demetrius said as conversationally as he could manage. “You almost ready?”

Cody nodded but didn’t meet his gaze. “Almost.”

Demetrius paused a moment, tried to think of something to say, then just nodded back and headed up the driveway once again. Cody was still pissed at Demetrius for what he had said in the hospital after Oliver had walked away. Cody claimed he had “pussed out” by telling Lucinda, the sheriff’s deputy who had arrived not long after and stood looking at them with one raised eyebrow, that they had been chased by something large, but he just wasn’t sure what it had been. A bear or dog was possible.

Cody had, in usual Cody fashion, jumped right in with, “There’s a werewolf in Parson’s Hollow!”

After some heated back and forth, during which Lucinda had threatened to give them both breathalyzers and arrest them for public intoxication, Cody and Demetrius finally left the hospital. Lucinda had written up her report by saying that a wild animal of unknown species had pursued them.

That had been a week ago, and Cody had barely said three words to Demetrius. He had maybe looked him in the eye five times, three on accident.

Demetrius had never realized how much time he and Cody spent together talking until Cody fell silent. As the week wore on, Demetrius felt more and more sad, more and more hollow. He wondered how things could ever go back to the way they had been, before the scene in the hospital, before the supposed werewolf, before Oliver Berridge, handsome new reporter at the Parson’s Hollow Herald.

In the backyard, Demetrius talked with Amelia for several minutes about her plans to move her garden gnomes around for the new autumn season. Finally, Cody strutted up the driveway with his duty belt rattling and a big, cocky grin on his handsome face. For Aunt Amelia.

“Amelia!” Cody said and threw open his arms to give her a hug. He stepped back and looked her up and down. “You look great. You start doing Pilates or something?”

“Oh, Cody Bower,” Amelia said and turned away as she blushed. “How you talk. I probably worried the pounds off thinking about those possums living in my eaves.” She shook her head. “Bigtooth aspen.”

“Well, worry no longer, we’ll get them taken care of for you.” Cody tromped past Demetrius to the ladder and climbed up to stick his head into the dark space of the house’s overhang.

“This place is falling down around my ears, Demmy,” Amelia said as they stood side by side watching Cody. “I should just move to Parson’s Pines and be done with it.”

“Oh, Aunt Amelia, you’re not ready for Parson’s Pines,” Demetrius assured her. “That’s a nursing home, isn’t it? You just need a good handy man, that’s all.”

Amelia shook her head. “Things just seem to keep stacking up around here. And Parson’s Pines is all levels of assisted living, not just a nursing home. I’ve been hearing talk about it down at the senior center.”

Cody ducked his head out of the eave and looked at Amelia. “Yep. Those are possums. Five of them, I think.” He shifted his gaze to look Demetrius in the eye. “Ready to get to work?”

Demetrius narrowed his eyes as irritation prickled through him. “I’ve been at work. I was just waiting for you.”

Cody ignored the insult as he climbed down the ladder and moved it to the opposite end of the house, right below where the possums had gathered. He waved Demetrius over and using grunts and hand gestures and not explaining what he was about to do, had him get into position on the other side of the ladder. Cody climbed up, produced a battery powered drill from his duty belt, then set about loosening the screws holding the vented aluminum in place. Above the sound of the drill, Demetrius could hear the scratching and squeaking of the possums above him.

“Bombs away!” Cody called just as the last screw came out and the piece of vented siding tipped.

A furry, wriggling mass slid free and fell right on top of Demetrius. He let out a shout as the tiny clawed feet scratched at him and the long, scaly tails whipped around his head and dragged over his face. Demetrius ran around the yard, screaming and trying to pull possums off his head. Their feet got tangled in his hair and the tails wrapped tight around his wrists, one even slithered around his neck. He thought he heard Aunt Amelia shout, “Oh, birch trees!” in the background, but Demetrius was more focused on keeping the possums from scratching out his eyes or biting him.

Finally, Demetrius was able to get his hands on the group of furry, squirming bodies and he lifted them off his head en masse. Five tiny, pointed noses and five pairs of shiny black eyes peered at him. The young possums clutched his fingers with their tiny feet and had secured their tails around his wrists.

That was when he heard Cody’s laughter.

Demetrius glared across the yard to where Cody sat on the ground, both hands over his belly and his face bright red as he laughed. The suppressed anger Demetrius had been feeling all week at Cody’s silent treatment finally boiled over within him, and he stomped across the lawn to stand over his laughing friend.

“You think that was funny?” Demetrius demanded. “I could have been bitten! I could have gotten rabies!”

Cody wiped his eyes and looked up at him, trying for apologetic but failing miserably. “You looked like you were wearing a possum hat.” And he lost it again, falling over on his side and rolling back on forth on the grass.

“It was sort of funny,” Amelia admitted from where she stood on the driveway, a safe distance away from the possums Demetrius clutched tight. “It looked like you might be going to a Royal wedding or something. You know, the funny hats they wear?”

A tiny smile quirked up one corner of Demetrius’s mouth, he couldn’t help it. The animosity between him and Cody seemed to have evaporated, and for that he was grateful. He wasn’t too thrilled about the way his friend had gone about it, but he was glad they were back on speaking terms.

Cody managed to get his laughter under control and helped peel the possums from Demetrius’s hands and place them in cages. Then, while Demetrius shifted Aunt Amelia’s garden gnomes around for her, Cody secured both ends of the siding on the eaves, and soon they were driving off with foil wrapped pound cake on the seat between them as thanks.

Every now and then, Cody would chuckle from his place behind the wheel, then stop himself and glance at Demetrius from the corner of his eye. With a sigh, Demetrius finally shook his head and allowed himself to laugh.

“It must have looked pretty funny,” Demetrius said.

“Oh, my God,” Cody blurted happily, “it was the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

“All right now,” Demetrius said. “I don’t think we need to go that far.”

“Well, it was pretty funny.”

Demetrius looked over at Cody’s profile. “Well, I’m just glad you’re speaking to me again. I’ve missed you this week.”

Cody looked over at him, his expression serious, and said, “I have to admit, Demmy, it hurt when you didn’t back up my story. But I understand why you did it.”

“It all happened so fast, Cody. And it was dark.”

“Full moon,” Cody reminded him.

“I know that, but… Could it have been a werewolf? I mean, an honest to God, straight from Transylvania werewolf?”

Cody was quiet a moment, focused on driving. “When you say it like that, I’m not so sure.”

“See? That’s where I was at! It’s not that I don’t support you, it’s just that I didn’t believe my own eyes!”

They were driving through the downtown area by then, and Cody eased the truck into an angled parking spot outside Parson’s Pharmacy. He put the truck in Park and looked over at Demetrius.

“I just don’t want any one else to die because of that thing,” Cody said. “You know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Demetrius looked out the window. “Why’d you stop?”

“You’ve got some scratches on your face from the possums,” Cody explained. “Thought you might want to stop in and grab some antibiotic ointment.”

“Oh shit, scratches?” Demetrius lowered the sun visor and peered into the vanity mirror. Sure enough, several shallow scratches marred his cheeks and forehead. “Dammit.”

“They’re not deep,” Cody assured him. “Just need some tending to. Go in and grab a tube and some bandages, and I’ll head over to Margie’s and grab us some lunch to go.”

They parted company and Demetrius stepped into the orderly shelves and cool fluorescent lights of Parson’s Pharmacy. He was very conscious of the scratches on his face and, with his gaze cast down, headed straight for the Band-Aids and Ointments aisle. It took only a few minutes for him to grab the items from the shelf, and when he turned to start toward the registers, he let out an involuntary gasp at the sight of Oliver Berridge rounding the corner of the aisle.

Werewolf or not, Oliver looked incredible. He wore a high school letterman’s jacket over a blue Oxford shirt that made his eyes look even more blue than usual. Faded jeans hugged the bulge of his package and thighs. Oliver raised his head, the lights overhead momentarily flashing off the lenses of his round glasses, and he caught sight of Demetrius. Surprise and discomfort crossed his face and he said, “Oh,” in a way that sent a little fissure through Demetrius’s heart.

Demetrius lifted a hand in a quick wave. “Hi there.”

“Hello.” Oliver looked around. “Not with your insane friend, are you?”

“No, he’s not here.” Demetrius took a breath, then stepped closer.

Oliver backed away a step. “That’s close enough.”

Demetrius nodded and held his hands up palms out. It was as far as he could go. “I’m not going to yell or shout or accuse you of anything crazy.”

“Okay,” Oliver said in a tone that made it clear he didn’t really believe Demetrius. “What happened to your face?”

“Oh. We cleared a family of possums out of the eaves of my Aunt Amelia’s house.”

“Looks like they won.”

“Yeah. I know.” Demetrius fell silent, considering what he wanted to say next. He had known, of course, that he would run into Oliver at some point. Parson’s Hollow was a small town and there would be no getting around that fact. During the past week, while Cody had been freezing him out, Demetrius had come to the decision that he needed to get to know Oliver better. If the man was a murderous, rampaging werewolf, it would be better to get close to him, learn his habits, know his favorite places, so when the full moon came around again, they would be ready.

And, in the sunny autumn days of the past week, when the idea of a werewolf seemed more ludicrous than possible, Demetrius thought it might be nice to just get to know Oliver better without any sort of agenda attached to it. “I wanted to apologize,” Demetrius said. “We had been through a pretty scary situation and were a little…”

“Drunk?” Oliver offered.

Demetrius blushed. “That, too.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes as he looked Demetrius over, considering his words. “Apology accepted.” He turned away, then whirled back and pointed at finger at him. “You’re lucky I didn’t write an editorial piece about it, you know?”

“I know. Thank you.”

“All right then. I’ll see you around.”

Oliver started to walk away and Demetrius took a breath, then blurted out, “Can we go out sometime?”

Oliver turned back, his surprise clear by the expression on his face. “Like on a date?”

Demetrius shrugged, suddenly bashful. “Or just two people getting to know one another better.”

There was a long moment of silence, and Demetrius was about to tell him to forget about it, when Oliver said, “All right. Why not?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I thought you seemed interesting when I first met you. And your apology sounded sincere.”

Demetrius felt a sharp pang of guilt about that. He had been sincere about his apology, and he did want to spend more time with Oliver, but he had ulterior motives as well.

“You can call me at the Herald,” Oliver said. “Now go clean out those scratches before they get infected.”

Demetrius watched Oliver walk away and couldn’t help feeling a little surge of excitement within the cloud of suspicion. There were three weeks until the next full moon. Surely he could uncover some clues, and learn a bit more about Oliver Berridge, by then?

 ~~ * ~~

The mysteries and clues keep stacking up! Be sure to stop by next week and see what happens next with Demmy, Cody, and Oliver. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods,     Jade Baiser,     J.R. Boyd

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

Good Story Orgy Monday morning! Ah, I love autumn. The crisp fall air, the changing leaves, that Halloween feel to the air when spooky things can run amuck. Before we get to those spooky things, however, the Story Orgy writers have been busy, so a few announcements!

Em Woods’s story Choices, her hot male menage story, is now up for pre-order at Breathless Press. Click HERE to hop on over and reserve your copy today! Or click HERE to go to Stumbling Over Chaos’s blog and enter a comment for a chance to win a copy! Be sure to read the rules on the page, and you have until Thursday evening, September 20 to enter.

Em Woods has been busy! Holding On, her story about the strength of love in difficult times, is now available at all e-book retailers, including Total E-Bound books. Click HERE to jump over to Total E-Bound and get your copy today!

Lee Brazil‘s fifth book in his bestselling Truth or Dare series, Risking It All, is now available at Breathless Press. Click HERE to hop on over and download your copy today! His Naughty Nursery Rhyme story, It’s Simple, Simon, is now available at ARe and Amazon.

Havan Fellows‘s Geoff’s Teddy, the third book of her Synchronous Seductions series, is burning up the Romantic Comedy category at ARe. Click HERE to jump over and download a copy of your own if you haven’t already.

Keep an eye out for our next anthology, And the Prompt Is… Road Trip, which will be available soon. As always, the first 90 days of profits will go to a LGBTQ charity, and this time we’ve chosen The Point Foundation, which empowers promising LGBTQ students to achieve their full academic and leadership potential – despite the obstacles often put before them – to make a significant impact on society.

Wow, lots of publishing news! Lots of great stories from your Story Orgy authors, and we really appreciate all of our readers. Okay, you’ve been wonderfully patient, now on with the story! Let’s see how Demetrius and Cody handle the after effects of that chase by the werewolf! The prompt for this week is: “It’s a rule, so it’s right…right?”

Critter Catchers

Parson’s Hollow Series, Book 1

Chapter Seven

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

The ride to Parson’s Hollow Medical Center did not take long. Demetrius sat in the backseat of Zenona’s SUV and stared out at the trees flashing past, afraid of looking too deep within their ranks and seeing the beast keeping pace with them. He was surprised they had survived being chased by the thing. Well, chased and nearly killed. It would have killed them, too, had it not been for the arrival of Zenona Baldwin, doctor at Parson’s Hollow Medical Center and one of Cody’s ex-girlfriends.

Demetrius tuned into the conversation from the front seat, listened idly as Cody grilled Zenona on what she had and hadn’t seen when she had stopped her SUV and honked. Cody fired questions at her until, after they pulled into the doctor’s parking lot and Zenona spun the wheel to arrow into a free space, she finally turned to him and said in a low voice that Demetrius could just barely hear, “I was sending a text message, okay? Now back off! When I rounded that corner, I was looking at my phone for just a few seconds, and when I looked up I saw…”

“What?” Cody demanded. “What did you see?”

“I don’t know!” Zenona shut off the engine. “A bear! A wolf! A really big sheepdog! I’m not sure, Cody, all right? It all happened really fast.”

“I saw it. We both saw it as it tried to tear us apart,” Cody said. He pointed a finger in her face. “And I think you did, too, but you don’t want to say it.”

Zenona slapped his finger down. “Stop that.”

Cody’s finger came back up. “I know what I saw.”

Zenona slapped his finger aside. “Don’t point your finger at me, you know I hate that! And I don’t give a shit what you think you saw, Cody Duran Bower, because you were drunk. Don’t try to deny it, I can smell it on you. And besides that, your best friend needs medical attention.”

Demetrius blinked, realized she meant him, and he opened the door to step out of the SUV. He heard Zenona and Cody get out of the truck behind him and they started across the lot for the hospital doors. The moon overhead was just past full, and its white glow lit up the few cars and made the asphalt look like dried blood.

The hospital was quiet and filled with efficient, soothing sounds. Demetrius was taken to a bed with a privacy curtain pulled around it. A nurse took his vitals and asked him questions about how he was feeling, to which Demetrius answered that he didn’t really know. Zenona showed up at some point, looking very professional with her hair pinned up and wearing a white lab coat and reading glasses. She made a few notes, told him to get some rest, and then excused herself.

Demetrius closed his eyes and drifted for a while, trying to relax, but his mind kept turning back to the werewolf crouched on the shoulder of the road. It’s chin had been scraped raw when Cody had tripped it, and it had been pissed as it stared down into the drainage ditch at them. It had raised its paw, so big, impossibly massive, and Demetrius knew it would have taken off their heads with one swipe if it had had the chance.

The glass doors and thin curtains of the emergency room here would be no match for those paws.

Panic rippled through his chest again, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He still wore his shoes, thankfully, no one had made him change into a gown yet, and he tried to stay quiet as he stepped out from behind the curtain. Only a few nurses were on duty and they were busy at the desk, allowing him to slip away toward another set of doors.

He wanted out. Out of the maze of the hospital, out of Parson’s Hollow, and, hell, out of Pennsylvania. It had been a nice run, all twenty-eight years of his life, but it was definitely time to start somewhere new. Somewhere without a werewolf.

“Oh, hi there.” The voice startled a squeak out of Demetrius and he turned to find Oliver Berridge, the new reporter at the Parson’s Hollow Herald, sitting in a chair in the hallway. His sandy red hair gleamed beneath the fluorescent lighting, and his round glasses had slipped down his nose to allow him to peer over the tops and fix his blue eyes on Demetrius.

The helter skelter flutter within Demetrius’s chest quieted, replaced with a completely different, and much more pleasant, nervousness. Demetrius glanced over his shoulder, found he had not been seen by the hospital staff, and stepped around the corner and up to Oliver. There was something about Oliver that drew Demetrius inward, like the pull of air when a train goes into a tunnel, or the suction of a drain. He realized the sexual undertones of these images and cleared his throat nervously.

“Hi,” Demetrius said, trying to keep his voice steady.

“You here visiting someone?” Oliver asked.

“You could say that,” Demetrius replied, thinking that maybe it was the sanity he was feeling slip away. “What about you?”

Oliver lifted his head and pointed at a bandage on the underside of his chin that Demetrius had overlooked until now. “Getting a few stitches.” Oliver looked at him again and shrugged as he blushed. “Clumsy. I caught my foot on a tricky step going up to my apartment, banged my chin on the stairs. Five stitches, first I’ve ever had, so I can cross that off my bucket list.”

Demetrius stared down at Oliver, feeling as if all of his organs had just frozen into one solid mass. The bandage covering the underside of his chin seemed to glow white hot now that Demetrius had noticed it. Oliver had cut his chin. Just like the werewolf had out on the road when Cody had tripped it. Could it be? Could Oliver be the murderous werewolf?

“Hey, you okay?” Oliver asked, his brows coming together to produce a tiny line of concern just above the bridge of his nose. He stood up and reached out to Demetrius. “Demetrius? What’s wrong?”

Demetrius pulled back from Oliver’s touch, felt himself flail for a few steps until he bumped into someone behind him. The only word Demetrius could think to say was, “Don’t!”

Hands from behind him gripped his upper arms, and he craned his head around to look up at Cody’s shocked and concerned face.

“Demmy? What’s going on?” Cody flicked his gaze over to Oliver, then back. “Everything okay?”

“I just asked him if he was feeling all right,” Oliver said. “That’s all, I swear! Totally off the record. Just making conversation.”

“His chin,” Demetrius whispered up at Cody. “Look at his chin.”

“His chin?” Cody looked back at Oliver, and Demetrius watched as Cody’s eyes widened. “What’d you do to your chin there, Ollie?”

Demetrius looked back at Oliver, saw his eyes narrow. In anger? In annoyance? Maybe nervous contemplation? Demetrius couldn’t tell, but it sent a fresh chill through him.

“I tripped on the steps going up to my apartment,” Oliver said. “Five stitches.”

“Uh huh. I see.” Cody’s grip tightened on Demetrius’s arms. “Tripped, huh? That’s a bitch.”

“What’s going on here?” Zenona asked as she stepped up between them and looked from Oliver to Cody and Demetrius and back again. “Oliver, did you sign your release forms yet?”

“Just waiting for them,” Oliver said.

“Go on down to discharge,” Zenona instructed and pointed toward the main doors of the emergency unit. “Carol will have your forms ready.”

“Thanks, Dr. Baldwin,” Oliver said. He looked at Demetrius once again and nodded. “Well, good to see you again, Demetrius. I hope things turn out well for you.” His gaze shifted up to look at Cody. “Good-bye, Cody.”

Demetrius watched Oliver walk away, couldn’t help dropping his gaze to the firm, rounded curves of his ass. Even though Oliver was, most likely, a murderous werewolf, he still looked hot, and a tiny part of Demetrius mourned the fact that he would never get a chance to get to know him better.

“Did you see that?” Cody whispered to Zenona. “His chin! Did you see that bandage?”

“Yes, Cody, I did,” Zenona said in a calm, quiet voice. “I applied the bandage after I put in the five stitches. He tripped going up his apartment stairs.”

Cody snorted. “Likely story.” He turned Demetrius around and looked down at him. “What do you think, Demmy?”

“Seems kind of convenient,” Demetrius said, and took a breath, feeling the fresh air start to thaw the cold terror that had formed within him. “I mean, you tripped that thing chasing us and it scraped up its chin and then he needs stitches under his chin?”

Zenona gave Demetrius a long, sad look. “Oh, Demmy. I was hoping you had some sanity left, but I see hanging out with Cody has eaten it away.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’ll say this one last time. Oliver is not a werewolf. There is no such thing as werewolves. You were chased by a bear or a dog.”

“We need silver bullets,” Cody said.

Demetrius looked at him. “What?”

“Silver bullets are the only thing that can stop a werewolf,” Cody explained. “It’s common knowledge.”

“Common knowledge?” Zenona repeated.

“Yeah. Silver bullets are for werewolves.” He looked at Demetrius. “It’s in all the horror movies. It’s a rule, so it’s right… Right?”

Demetrius shrugged. “I guess so?” He looked at Zenona, saw the fear and disappointment in her eyes before she turned on her heel to walk off, saying over her shoulder, “I’m calling the police.”

“Good!” Cody called after her. “They need to know what we saw!”

Demetrius winced and looked up at Cody. “It is pretty unbelievable.”

Cody gaped at him. “What? You were there! How can you say that? If it hadn’t been for me tripping the fucking thing, it would have torn you apart.”

“It was big, and it was scary, yes,” Demetrius said. “But we were drunk, too.”

“You’re such a pussy.”

“What?”

“You’re pussing out on me.” Cody turned his back and walked away. “I can’t believe you’re pussing out.”

“Cody…” Demetrius called after him. But Cody kept walking, leaving Demetrius in the hallway wondering just what the hell he had seen out on the road, and how thin, wiry, handsome Oliver could transform into the big, hairy, nasty beast they had seen on the road.

~~ * ~~

Oliver? A werewolf?! Eeep! What do you think, Story Orgy fans? Be sure to stop by next week and see what Demmy and Cody do about their suspicions about the adorable Oliver, new guy in town and potential werewolf. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods,     Jade Baiser,     J.R. Boyd

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

Good Story Orgy Monday morning! Ready for more fun, feisty, gay romance reads? Before we jump back in with Cody and Demetrius and that werewolf (there wolf! — sorry, but any Mel Brooks fans will appreciate that one), a few announcements.

Em Woods’s story Choices, her hot male menage story, is now up for pre-order at Breathless Press. Click HERE to hop on over and reserve your copy today!

Lee Brazil‘s fifth book in his bestselling Truth or Dare series, Risking It All, is now available at Breathless Press. Click HERE to hop on over and download your copy today! His Naughty Nursery Rhyme story, It’s Simple, Simon, is now available at ARe and Amazon.

Congrats to Havan Fellows, whose story Geoff’s Teddy is #1 at ARe in the Romantic Comedy category. Woo hoo! Click HERE to jump over and download a copy of your own if you haven’t already.

Keep an eye out for our next anthology, And the Prompt Is… Road Trip, which will be available soon. As always, the first 90 days of profits will go to a LGBTQ charity, and this time we’ve chosen The Point Foundation, which empowers promising LGBTQ students to achieve their full academic and leadership potential – despite the obstacles often put before them – to make a significant impact on society.

Wow, lots of publishing news! Lots of great stories from your Story Orgy authors, and we really appreciate all of our readers. Okay, you’ve been wonderfully patient, now on with the story! Remember that Cody and Demetrius were being chased by a werewolf down an empty road. The prompt for this week is: This was going to take not giving a shit to a whole new level.

Critter Catchers

Parson’s Hollow Series, Book 1

Chapter Six

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

“Run!” Cody shouted and turned to sprint back up the road.

Behind him, he heard Demmy huffing as he followed. But Demmy had never been an athlete, and Cody soon outdistanced him.

Further back, Cody heard the growls of the beast closing in on them. And it would get to Demetrius first.
Cody wasn’t about to stand for that. Demmy was like his brother. Hell, Cody was closer with Demmy than he was with his own flesh and blood brother. He wasn’t about to let some fucked up movie monster kill Demmy, his best friend all through high school, and the only one who had stuck around afterwards to still be friends.

Thankfully, Cody no longer felt drunk. The adrenaline rush had burned through the alcohol in his system fast. He risked a glance over his shoulder and his stomach jumped, literally jumped, inside him in fright. Demetrius had fallen further behind, gasping for breath, eyes wide with terror. Behind Demetrius, the monster loped ever closer, jaws open wide, seconds away from grabbing Demmy.

Not on Cody’s watch. He hatched a plan in one breath, and realized the stupidity of it in the next. This was going to take not giving a shit to a whole new level, but he couldn’t stand by and let Demmy be torn apart by this creature.
Cody came to a stop in the road and turned to face Demmy and the werewolf. Demetrius ran past, and Cody heard him call back, “Cody! What are you doing?”

Then the thing —it’s not a thing! It’s a fucking werewolf!— was on him, running full tilt on all four legs. Cody waited, forced himself to wait a little longer, then, at the last second, side-stepped and stuck out his foot. The monster’s front legs collided with Cody’s leg and sent him flying. But, Cody had always prided himself on his workouts, and he never, ever skipped leg day like so many of his other lifter acquaintances. So although Cody was sent tumbling off into the drainage ditch at the side of the road, the monster’s front legs were knocked out from under it and it went skidding face first along the asphalt.

Cody hit the mucky bottom of the ditch and felt his breath leave him in one heavy duty whoosh of air. His lungs were so shocked they forgot how to work, and he lay on his back in the stagnant, putrid water, flailing and gasping.

Before Cody had his breath back, Demetrius skidded down the side of the ditch and landed next to him, sending a wave of foul water washing over his face. Cody coughed and sputtered and shook his head, but still his chest seemed too tight, his lungs too stupid to remember how to breathe.

The monster roared from a few yards down the road, the sound louder than the T-Rex from the Jurassic Park movies and fourteen times as terrifying. It made Cody jump and with that movement his lungs reconnected and he drew in a deep, grateful breath of the stinking air in the ditch.

“You okay?” Demetrius said. “Jesus tap dancing Christ, what the fuck were you thinking?” He grabbed Cody’s arm and tried to pull him up out of the muck, but Cody could feel that his feet were stuck fast.

“I had to stop it from getting you,” Cody said as he tried to pull his feet free.

“Well I appreciate that, but now we’re both going to be killed and no one’s going to know it’s a fucking werewolf!” Demetrius shouted. He fell to his knees beside Cody and sent another wave of noxious water rolling over him.

“Shit!” Cody yelled, lifting his chin just in time to avoid getting the rank water in his mouth. “Stop moving around so much, this water is probably full of e-coli and Legionnaire’s disease, and, I dunno, athlete’s foot!”

Demetrius said nothing in reply. Cody thought a non-response was unusual for Demetrius, so he stopped trying to pull his feet free and looked up at his friend’s face. In the white light of the moon, Cody saw how wide Demetrius’s eyes were as he stared up the slope toward the road. When Cody looked that way as well, he felt his eyes widen just as much at the sight of the werewolf crouched above them at the top of the ditch.

It glared down at them, its front claws tightening and releasing in the gravel of the shoulder. In the moonlight, Cody could see that the thing’s chin —werewolf, it’s a fucking werewolf, just say it!— was scraped raw and bloody from its skid along the asphalt. Blood dripped onto the gravel and in the tense silence of the moment, Cody heard the quiet plop as it landed.

Then the thing tipped back its head to let out a long, ear-splitting howl.

“Come on!” Demetrius said. He moved around behind Cody, gripping him under the arms and pulling with all he was worth.

Cody felt his feet pull free of the clutching muck. Demetrius, however, had now become mired, and he sat down hard in the swampy water, pulling Cody down with him. Cody sat between Demetrius’s legs, Demetrius’s arms around Cody’s chest. Even with a werewolf crouched above them, Cody had the crazy thought that it was like he and Demmy were about to go on the Log Flume ride at Knoebel’s Grove Amusement Park.

“I’m stuck!” Demmy said. He jerked his legs but his feet stayed in place. As he struggled, Demmy’s grip around Cody’s chest tightened, keeping him in place.

“Let me go!” Cody shouted. He looked up at the monster above them, and reached down to grab Demmy’s hands in an effort to pry them off his chest. “Demmy! Let go!”

“I’m stuck!”

Cody did the only thing he could think of: he shot an elbow back into Demmy’s side. Demetrius let out a gasp and his grip weakened enough for Cody to push up to his feet.

Where he found himself staring up into the werewolf’s face, just a foot away.

“Shit,” Cody whispered. He felt as if he had been hypnotized as he watched the beast raise a big, clawed paw, ready to bring it slashing down across his face.

Headlights splashed over them. Cody caught a glimpse of the ragged, bloody skin of the beast’s chin, saw the light shine off the monster’s fangs, and noticed a dark spot just beneath its pointed right ear.

The driver of the approaching car slammed on the brakes and sounded the horn, startling both Cody and the werewolf. Cody shifted his gaze to the car, squinting into the glare of the headlights. A breeze of movement made him take a step back, and when he looked, saw the monster’s back as it loped across the road and into the dark woods beyond.

Cody let out the breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding, and felt the strength go out of his legs. He sat down hard in the scummy water, his entire body shaking. Someone touched his shoulder and he jumped, a shout slipping from his lips before he could stop it.

Demetrius knelt beside him, eyes wide and face pale in the wash of headlights.

“You okay?” Demetrius asked. His eyes darted up and down as he inspected his body for any sign of injury. “Did it get you?”

Cody shook his head, but before he could reply, they both jumped when a woman asked, “You okay?”

Squinting, Cody looked up at her, saw only her silhouette for a moment as she stood at the top of the ditch, and he raised a trembling hand. “Yeah. Swell.”

“Cody Bower?” the woman asked.

He squinted even harder, trying to make out details. Long hair, rounded hips, good tits. And that authoritative voice. Oh shit.

“Who is that?” Demetrius asked, a hand at his brow to cut the glare of the headlights. “How does she know you?”

Cody sighed and pushed to his feet, then turned to grab Demetrius’s hand and lifted him to his feet as well.

“Oh,” Demetrius said as he looked over Cody’s shoulder and into the woman’s face.

Bracing himself, Cody turned to face their accidental savior, and said, “Hey, Doc.”

Dr. Zenona Baldwin stepped back as they climbed out of the ditch, looked them up and down with an expression of distaste, and said, “Typical,” before turning on her heel to stomp back to her car.

~~ * ~~

Well, looks like Cody’s pissed off yet another woman in Parson’s Hollow. Good thing Dr. Zenona Baldwin came along when she did, right? Be sure to stop by next week and see what Zenona saw and if Cody can, or wants to, get back on her good side. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods,     Jade Baiser,     J.R. Boyd

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

Good September Monday morning, and Happy Labor Day! Your Story Orgy writers aren’t taking a holiday so you can enjoy more fun, feisty gay romance reads. The weather’s going to start getting cooler, there will be a crispness to the air, and leaves will start to turn soon. Perfect weather for a bit of a scare, don’t you think? And the perfect time to get back to Parson’s Hollow to hang out with Demetrius and Cody while they try to figure out those vicious murders.

Before we jump back in with Cody and Demetrius, a couple of announcements.

This Friday, September 7th, Lee Brazil’s next book in the Truth or Dare series will be available. Are you ready for Risking It All? Click on HERE to Pre-order your copy today!!

JR Boyd is taking some time off from the scheduled Story Orgy posts to focus on school work and other things. He may pop in now and then with a bit of writing, and he’ll still be around on Facebook leaving sassy comments or a friendly smack on the hiney. Because we’re back down to four Story Orgy postings each Monday, we’re going to do away with the Hook Ups and give you four full length posts each week! That’s right, all those words will be coming at you hard and fast every Monday morning! Think you can handle it? I think you can!

Today’s prompt is: It was the kiss.

Critter Catchers

Parson’s Hollow Series, Book 1

Chapter Five

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

Demetrius leaned unsteadily against the juke box stuffed in the back corner of the Hollow Leg bar. It was Parson’s Hollow’s oldest building, and it showed. Set off a bit from the rest of the downtown area, the rectangular brick building had weathered many storms, including the 2011 Super Bowl when the Pittsburgh Steelers lost to the Green Bay Packers. For a small town in Pennsylvania, the Steelers were the only team to root for in the NFL.

After what had felt like days sitting in a tiny conference room and answering questions at the Parson’s Hollow Police Department, Demetrius and Cody had finally been released. It had seemed to Demetrius that Lucia was more than a little reluctant to let them go. He supposed he could understand her point of view. They had, after all, been the first ones on scene at the two most violent murders their little town had ever seen:  Ian McLeod and Lillian Hackett.

Instead of going to their homes like any well-adjusted citizens might do, Cody had convinced Demetrius to stop in at the Hollow Leg for a drink to take the edge off. Once Demetrius had finished his first drink he realized he had more than one edge inside him and ordered another. And another. And another. And now, he lay across the rounded glass top of the juke box, pressing the button to flip through the selections as he searched for the perfect song to reflect his mood. One more flip and he stopped, transfixed by the CD cover and the song title that practically screamed PLAY ME through the fingerprint smeared glass.

“This is it,” Demetrius whispered to the juke box, then turned to shout over his shoulder at Cody who sat slumped at the bar, “This is it!”

“If this is it,” Cody responded, singing in a drunken, off-key voice. “Please let me know.”

“No, no, no,” Demetrius said before turning back to the juke box. He swayed as he dug in his pocket for change, took a moment to line up the quarter with the slot, and pushed it home. He squinted hard at the selection number and carefully punched it into the key pad. The music started, a series of frantic electronic drum beats that sent Demetrius to the vacant dance floor, barely registering the three other people sitting at tables around the edge of the dance floor. He staggered a bit, righted himself, and pumped his fist as he shouted the lyrics.

“Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods?”

Demetrius danced and shouted/sang the lyrics to Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding Out For A Hero,” and when the song was over, he bowed elaborately to no applause, and nearly fell over. Finding his balance once again, he made his way back to the bar stool next to Cody and climbed up. A fresh drink sat before him and Demetrius blew out a breath as he eyed the new beverage.

“Bonnie Tyler again?” Cody asked.

“It’s the song of my life,” Demetrius replied. He grabbed the drink, took a breath, and drank half of it at once. “Wow. What was that?”

“Water,” Cody said and patted him on the back. “Thought you might need to hydrate a bit.”

Demetrius sighed and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.” He sat up straight, nearly toppled backward off the stool, then turned to point a finger in Cody’s face. “Do you know what the biggest lie is in movies and books and TV shows? Do you?”

Cody shrugged. “It’s all natural?”

“Nope.” Demetrius got off the bar stool and spread his arms wide, forcing a waitress to duck as she walked past. “It’s the kiss.”

Cody narrowed his eyes. “The kiss?”

Demetrius nodded. His thoughts were getting tangled up, scenes from each murder worked their way into memories of his time with Clint, his ex, as well as mini fantasies of Oliver, the attractive new reporter with the Parson’s Hollow Herald. Demetrius cleared his throat and tried to explain.

“It’s always the kiss that seals the deal, you know? It’s like electricity, or the spark from an arc welder or something.”

Cody grinned at him. “An arc welder?”

Demetrius hit him in the arm. “Don’t patronize me.”

“Wow, big word for a drunk guy.” Cody pushed the glass toward him. “Drink more water.”

“In a minute. Listen, this is important.” Demetrius paused to collect his scattered thoughts, tried to remember the point he had wanted to make, but settled instead for saying, “It’s the kiss the artists make such a big deal of. Right? The writers, the filmmakers, the painters. All of them. But it’s not the most important thing in the beginning of a relationship.”

“It’s not, huh?” Cody said. “What is?”

Demetrius settled on his stool again, fixed his gaze on Cody’s face, and said as quietly as he could manage, “That first look.”

Cody smiled and leaned in a little closer. “You mean when you first catch the other person’s eye?”

Demetrius smiled and nodded. “Yeah. That one. The kiss is nice, don’t get me wrong, but that first look, the first eye contact. That’s the killer, isn’t it? It’s all there in the other person’s eyes: the interest, the promise, the invitation. And it’s all before the kiss, before any physical contact.”

“You, my friend, are a squishy romantic fool.” Cody put an arm around Demetrius’s shoulders and pulled him in for a tight hug. “And I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Demetrius said with an eye roll even as he snuggled up against Cody’s muscled chest. “I bet you say that to all your gay best friends.”

“Yeah, I do.” Cody released him and fished his wallet from his pocket. “But with you, I mean it.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Demetrius said, and reached for his wallet, but Cody stopped him.

“This night’s on me, buddy,” Cody said. “You get the next one.”

Demetrius nodded and pushed off from the bar. He shoved through the door into the chill night air and stood under the flickering neon beer sign. It was dark, the moon on its way to full and hanging just over the tree line. Somewhere in the woods around the parking lot an owl hooted — who, who, who — and Demmy replied, “Me, me, me.”

Cody pushed through the door and stood tall beside him. He drew in a deep breath, held it, then let it out and smiled down at Demetrius.

“I think we’d better walk ourselves home this time, Demmy.”

Demetrius nodded. “Yeah. I think you’re right.”

“Let’s get to hoofin’ it then. Sooner it’s started, the sooner it’s done.”

They headed off, crossing the parking lot and walking along the gravel shoulder. Rocks crunched under their shoes and their shadows stretched out before them in the moonlight.

“Nice night for a long walk home,” Cody said.

“Good thing,” Demetrius agreed. “And it’s not that long of a walk.”

“Three miles.”

“Is not, you’re lying.”

“Three miles if it’s a block,” Cody said. “Bet you”

Demetrius reached over to shake with him, his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out just how far the Hollow Leg was situated outside of town. “Deal.”

Cody stopped in his tracks, still gripping Demetrius’s hand, and pulled him up short. Demetrius tried to pull his hand free but Cody’s grip was strong and he wouldn’t let go.

“Hey,” Demetrius said as he tugged and tugged. “Let me go.”

“Sh,” Cody told him, and it was then that Demetrius noticed how wide Cody’s eyes were, his gaze fixed on something in the road up ahead.

Demetrius had ended up with his back to whatever held Cody’s attention. As he slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder, Demetrius’s pulse kicked up several notches and a cold tingle of dread started from a place deep in his belly. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and gooseflesh broke out along his arms. The tendons in his neck crackled as he turned and his breathing quickened to quiet pants.

Something stood in the road fifty yards ahead of them. It was tall, seven feet, maybe eight, and covered in thick, dark fur. Its head was enormous with a long muzzle and pointed ears that stuck straight up toward the starry sky. A low, ominous growl rolled over them and Demetrius watched, wide-eyed, as the beast shifted its weight on its large, clawed back feet that straddled the double yellow line.

“Were—” Cody whispered.

“Wolf,” Demetrius finished for him. His hand was the only piece of him that felt warm, and that was only because Cody still held onto it.

The monster standing down the road lifted its great snout toward the moon and let out a long chilling howl. Moonlight glinted off fangs and a long, black tongue that made Demetrius think about a chow that belonged to a next door neighbor when he had been young.

He had hated that dog.

The werewolf lowered its heavy, shaggy head and fixed them with a hungry glare.

“We are so fucked,” Cody said.

 ~~ * ~~

Well hell, looks like Demetrius and Cody are in a bit of trouble. Eep! Be sure to stop by next week and see how (if?) they get out of this mess! For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods,     Jade Baiser,     J.R. Boyd

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

 

 

Good Monday morning, and welcome to the last week of August. I bet all you parents out there are counting the days until school starts again! Soon, very soon…

Today I’m posting the conclusion of my Road Trip story, Cross Country Foreplay, written from prompts suggested by Myristica Onenine. Those prompts were a workaholic businessman, travel west coast to east coast, flash flood. After a few announcements, we’ll get on with the final post of Cross Country Foreplay.

To celebrate Breathless Press’s 3rd Birthday and the new website, Havan and Lee have some short free reads available for download. Did you get the fact that they are FREE?! Lee’s story, Nothing to Forgive, is HERE. And Havan’s Lucky Night, is HERE.

Em Woods’s story of love in desperate times, Holding On, is available HERE for download for VIP customers of Total e-Bound Books! Not a VIP customer? No worries, it’s available for pre-order as well, and will be released on September 17. Click on over and get your copy today!

And, have you downloaded Lee Brazil’s Naughty Nursery Rhyme, It’s Simple, Simon yet? It’s available from Breathless Press HERE.

Finally … Though we’re finishing up our summer Road Trip, your Story Orgy writers are ALWAYS planning ahead! We’re drafting something very special for the December holiday season- and we’d love to have your prompts. What we need from you is just a few words…a person (not a name), a place, and a thing…at least one item should be holiday related…for example…

person- Accountant
place- bank lobby
thing- gingerbread man

That’s it. Your prompts could be selected to inspire a story for And The Prompt Is, The Holiday Edition Volume 2.

Feel free to leave your suggestion in a comment here, or email it to storyorgy(at)ymail(dot)com.

Whew! Okay, that’s it! Rest stop is over, time to jump back in the station wagon and hit the open road! Thanks to the amazing Startled Monkeys Media for the cover to our Road Trip edition ebook. Wow, that’s a long, hot stretch of open road!

Cross Country Foreplay

Story Orgy Road Trip, Part Five (Conclusion)

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

 Chapter Fourteen

Preston slipped his phone out of his pants pocket and hit the top button to light it up. In the glow of the touch screen, he saw Brady backed into the corner, fingers tightly curled around the handrail. Brady blinked rapidly against the sudden light, his lips slightly parted as he pulled in quick, shallow breaths.

“Brady? Hey, look at me.” Preston stepped up close, reached out to touch his shoulder, but pulled back when Brady flinched away.

“Don’t,” Brady said, his gaze locked on a spot somewhere in the space between them. “Don’t touch me. I – I don’t like small spaces.”

“Okay, we’re okay. It’s going to be all right. You’re not alone. I’m right here with you and I am not afraid of small spaces, okay?” Preston eased closer. “I’m going to move up close to you. I’m not going to make you move or do anything you don’t want to do. I’m just going to stand beside you. I’m going to put my phone away again, so it’s going to get dark again. Are you ready?”

Brady gave a fast nod in the dim light, and Preston clicked his phone to standby. Darkness pounced on them again, and he heard Brady draw in a sharp breath.

“It’s okay,” Preston soothed. “It’s all right. We just lost power, that’s all. The elevator has safety brakes holding us in place, so we’re safe.” Slowly, very slowly, Preston sidled up beside Brady and put a hand on his shoulder. The man’s muscles were taut as high tension wires, his fingers locked onto the railings. With steady, gentle movements, Preston lightly rubbed Brady’s shoulder, gradually increasing the pressure until the muscles there loosened.

“Good, that’s good,” Preston whispered. Touching Brady, standing close to him and breathing in his scent mingled with the musk of his fear-sweat made Preston hard, really hard. Brady needed him. Right now, the young man Preston had fallen hard for on the drive, much harder than he could have expected, needed him. Brady was young, beautiful, and smarter than he gave himself credit for, and he had followed Preston into the elevator to convince him of his true feelings.

A wave of guilt washed through Preston. He had acted childish when he had seen Phillip’s text message. He had been hurt, true, his vanity and masculinity cut down by those few words. But they had not been typed by Brady. Preston should have given Brady a chance to explain, but all he’d wanted to do was run, just like all his other relationships. When he was hurt, when he felt overwhelmed, Preston fled instead of staying and working through the problem.

But not this time. This time, he was going to stay; Brady was worth it. And, Preston realized, he was worth it as well.

If only his cock wasn’t hard enough to poke right through the side of the elevator.

He closed his eyes in the dark and made himself push thoughts of sex from his mind. He needed to focus his energy on calming Brady’s fears.

“Keep relaxing,” Preston said, keeping his voice low and calm. He dug his fingers in a little harder, finding knots and roughing them out.

“Feels good,” Brady said. His voice was stronger, braver, and it made Preston’s cock jump.

Preston’s anger drained completely away, leaving behind regret and a mellow flame of hope. He had reacted out of hurt and embarrassment, and he needed to apologize to Brady. But was this the right time and place for that?

A shrill beeping cut through the darkness, making them both jump. A light on the elevator’s control panel flashed, catching Preston’s attention, and a moment later, a man’s voice came through the tiny speaker in the control panel. “Hello? Is someone in there?”

“Yes!” Brady shouted. “We’re here! Help us!”

Preston applied gentle pressure to a spot in Brady’s neck and he calmed somewhat. Clearing his throat, Preston said, “There are two of us in here. The lights are out.”

“Power’s out all over the city,” said the disembodied voice. The dim red light throbbed like a heartbeat. “The emergency light in that elevator burned out last week, sorry. It’s on our list to fix. Just so you know, fire and rescue are here now. But it’s going to be a few minutes until they can get to you.”

“Okay, we’ll be here,” Preston said. He turned and moved to kiss Brady softly on the lips, feeling him start at the sudden touch. Preston slid his mouth next to Brady’s ear and whispered, “I know what will relax you. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Brady whispered back, his breath hot in Preston’s ear. “I’m sorry, Preston. I never said those things about you.”

“Shh,” Preston said. “I know. You have to be very quiet. They’re listening.”

“Okay, but what are you – oh.” Brady’s voice was quiet and, if Preston heard right, it seemed that a little bit of stress had leaked from it when he got on his knees in front of Brady.

He unzipped Brady’s pants and reached in, eyes open in the dark, the only light the dim, red glow from the control panel to let them know the audio channel was open. His fingers grazed Brady’s cock and it twitched. He pulled it carefully through the zipper and leaned in to purse his lips around the head in a gentle kiss.

Brady was true to his word and kept quiet as Preston sucked him. Bobbing his head fast, Preston pumped in time with his fist, fingers tight around the shaft. It wasn’t going to take long. He could hear Brady’s accelerated breathing, feel his balls tightening up. With a single, sharp intake of air, Brady’s cock jumped between Preston’s lips and flooded his mouth with cum.

Preston swallowed it down, coaxed the last few drops from the softening tip as Brady let out a long, quiet sigh. After a final kiss on the tip, he tucked Brady’s dick back inside his pants and got to his feet. Preston kissed him, swiping his tongue through Brady’s mouth, letting him taste himself. His lips skimmed Brady’s ear and he whispered, “Better?”

“Much,” Brady said.

“You guys doing okay up there?” the voice crackled through the speaker.

“Yeah,” Preston said. “We’re holding it together.” He coaxed Brady’s hand off the railing and held it tight against his chest. “We’re holding it together.”

 

Chapter Fifteen

 When fire and rescue finally managed to get the doors open, they shined work lights in on them and Brady’s stomach dropped when he realized they had stopped between the fifth and sixth floors. They were going to have to be pulled up through the top half of the door. He tried not to think about the elevator shifting at that precise moment, dropping just a few inches to snap his spine. Or drop even farther, maybe an entire floor, and cut him in half.

The hyperventilating started again, but then Preston was there. Preston – strong, broad-chested, and thick-cocked Preston. And Preston tightened his grip on Brady’s hand and talked to him in soft, gentle tones as he led him to the door. He could do this, Preston said, it was going to be fast and over with before he realized it. Preston would be right behind him and then they were going to go have a drink. Everything was going to be okay.

Brady paused in front of the jimmied open doors. He looked up into the faces of the fire and rescue guys, took note of their strong arms beneath tight T-shirts. It was going to be okay, because Preston told him so. He looked over his shoulder at Preston, who nodded encouragement back. Brady turned to the fire rescue team, took a breath, and raised his hands.

He was lifted up and out of the elevator in a breath, and he stumbled down the heavily shadowed hall, the emergency lights bright in his eyes. Coming to a stop a dozen feet from the elevator, Brady turned to the wall and pressed his forehead against it, taking deep breaths. A moment later, a pair of strong hands touched his shoulders, squeezed them reassuringly, and Brady’s pulse slowed.

“You okay?” Preston asked.

Brady nodded, the utilitarian wallpaper scratching against his greasy forehead and encouraging him to pull away from the wall. He turned to find Preston watching him intently.

Preston frowned. “Sure you’re all right?”

More deep breaths until Brady felt his head clear. “Yeah, I’m sure. You said something about a drink?”

One of the fire team snorted. “Good luck finding an open bar. Power’s out all over.”

“Stadium Diner’s open,” another offered. “Just down the block to the north. No liquor license, but Dave’s got the generator pumping full strength and the grill’s open.”

“Sounds good to me.” Preston raised his eyebrows at Brady. “How about you?”

“I just want to be on the ground floor for a while,” Brady said.

Preston nodded. “I heard that. Let’s go.”

The stairway was lit by emergency lights and it only took a few minutes to get to the lobby level. The members of the class were huddled together in a wash of light outside the conference room, and when they saw Preston, they all started talking at once. Preston laughed and held up his hands, shushing them into silence.

“As you can see,” Preston said, with a smile aimed at Brady, “we’ve had a bit of setback. I know some of you drove here, but I think it might be best not to attempt the roads right now until the power can come back on. We’re headed to a diner close by that we hear is still open.”

The class followed them across the lobby, out the doors, and into the rain, most putting up umbrellas, a luxury Preston and Brady did not have. Brady set off at a trot that Preston matched, the class tittering and giggling behind them. Down the block, the diner sat, lit up like Christmas, in the middle of other, dark businesses. Preston and Brady took a table by themselves a little ways off from where the class had congregated. Once they had ordered iced teas, Brady set his menu aside to look out the window at the gray, rainy day.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Preston said.

Brady shifted his gaze to meet Preston’s. “Just glad that I agreed to drive out here with you.”

Preston smiled. “Me too.”

Two men stomped into the diner, cursing as they shook off the rain. They were in their late twenties or early thirties, one taller and lanky, looked strong, the shorter man in shape and handsome, but with a more reserved air, quietly studying the diner’s occupants as they stood in line looking around at the crowded tables. Preston met their eyes, shared a headshake about the rain with the shorter one, then looked back at Brady.

“Look, I’m… I’m sorry I got angry at you.” Preston blushed and looked down to stir the ice in his tea with his straw. “I just saw that text and it really, you know, hurt. I mean, I can’t do anything about the bald spot. I know how it looks, right? I see it in the mirror every morning, and it makes me flinch.”

“Hey, stop.” Brady reached out to touch his hand. He seemed to remember they were in a public restaurant, with the members of their class nearby, and pulled back his hand. “I don’t care about that. I think you’re handsome and fun and more fucking intelligent than anyone back at Techmagine realizes.”

Preston rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

“No, seriously.” Brady nodded. “And the way you look at me when we…” He stopped, swallowed, and glanced away as a blush exploded across his cheeks.

Preston leaned over the table. “Hey.” Brady brought his gaze back to Preston’s, an embarrassed smile on his handsome face. Preston nodded and said, “I feel the same way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve always thought you were handsome, and smart. A fuck of a lot smarter than Phillip Holt. And I was excited and nervous and terrified that Cameron chose you to come on this trip with me. I had hoped we’d get to know each other better, but I never, ever imagined we’d end up… together. You know? And last night was amazing. More than amazing, it was the best, most connected sex I’ve had with anyone, ever. I never thought the drive here was going to be the foreplay leading up to sex that was so hot. And, I’m not stupid. I know there are thirteen years between us, the lifespan of a teenager, but I don’t feel that gap. I feel really comfortable with you.” He lowered his voice and leaned even farther over the table. “I feel comfortable in you, and with you in me.”

“God, me too,” Brady whispered. “So much.” He looked down and back up. “I’m so fucking hard right now, you have no idea.”

Preston’s dick throbbed in response, and he could feel a damp spot spreading from the oozing pre-cum. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea.”

Brady grinned. “The power better come back on soon. I want to get back in your room again.”

“All afternoon, baby,” Preston said.

Desire glazed Brady’s eyes. “God, you’re killing me.”

“Me inside you,” Preston continued. “You inside me. Flip-flopping all day and all night. I’m going to drain your balls, and then make you beg for more.”

Brady put his head down on the table. “I can’t take this. I’m going to have to come soon, I’m hard as a railroad spike here.”

“Think of me sitting on that spike,” Preston whispered. “Taking it deep in my ass until you’re all the way inside me. My swollen cock slapping against your flat, smooth belly. My fingers pulling and twisting your nipples.”

“Damn you,” Brady said. He lifted his head and stared into Preston’s eyes, his expression intense, hungry. “You’re killing me.”

The people in the diner around them cheered and they both blinked and looked up. Preston was surprised to find one of the men who had come in after them staring at him and smiling. The man nodded and winked from where he sat on a stool at the counter, obviously having caught the sexual current running hot and heavy between Preston and Brady. Preston smiled and nodded back.

“The power’s back,” Brady said.

“It is?” Preston looked around, then caught sight of the buildings around the diner lit up once again. He met Brady’s eyes and said, “You ready?”

Brady smirked. “In about two minutes when I can walk out of here.”

“Gotta stop thinking about pushing your cock in my tight ass first?” Preston said.

Brady dropped his head to the table again. “You gotta stop saying that shit or we’ll never get to leave.”

One of the class attendants walked up, car keys in one hand and cell phone in the other. “No more class today?”

Preston smiled up at her. “No. We’ll catch up during the week, but if the storm continues as they predict, we might as well wait until tomorrow.”

She smiled at them both. “Thanks for an eventful morning!” With a wave, she walked off, blending in with the rest of the class as they crowded out the door.

Preston dropped some cash on the table to cover the cost of their iced teas. “Think you can walk the two blocks back to the hotel?”

Brady nodded. “Barely.” He got to his feet and Preston followed suit. “But, one request.”

“Sure.”

“Let’s take the stairs up to the room?”

Preston laughed and put an arm around Brady’s shoulders. “Absolutely.”

 ~~ * ~~

Well, there you have it. Preston and Brady made it to their destination and things have wrapped up rather nicely. I hope you enjoyed going along for the ride with these two, and very special thanks to Myristica Onenine for the awesome prompts that sparked this story. Come back next Monday when Demetrius and Cody return in my story “Parson’s Hollow: Critter Catchers.” For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me to see how the other road trip stories are wrapping up.

J.R. Boyd,    Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods,     Jade Baiser

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

 

Welcome readers to the Breathless Press Scavenger Hunt Birthday Blog Hop!

We have nineteen blogs participating, and each author is giving away a prize, books, swag…you name it! Here on my blog, one lucky winner will receive a copy of my self-published novel Bounty, a vampire and zombie mash up set in the Old West. It’s the first book in my Venom Valley Series, and if you’re interested, you can “Like” the series Facebook Page HERE.

BUT…The main thing to remember is … It’s Breathless Press’s Birthday!

And have they got a gift for one lucky reader! Visit every blog in the hop, and locate the eighteen clues- that would be the blue letters. Create a list of each author whose blog you visit (Don’t forget to leave a comment so your visit can be verified!) and the blue letter you found on their post. Unscramble the message and send an email to olivia(dot)ventura(AT)breathlesspress.com with the decoded message, the list of participating authors, and what letter was found on which blog.

(Note: You are ONLY eligible to win if you visit & comment on ALL blogs!)

Your email makes you eligible to win a 50 BOOK LIBRARY! Fifty books of your choice from Breathless Press! That’s approximately a $150 value!

Okay, now that instructions are out of the way … scroll down to read my post. And don’t forget to look for the secret letter in BLUE.

Wicked, wicked ways are so much easier when you have a group to support you.

As part of the Story Orgy writer’s group, I write and post weekly free gay romance reads on my blog every Monday morning. Usually, these posts are parts of a longer story, and many times they tend to veer off into creepy, some might say outright frightening, directions.

I’m never sure if I’ve gone too far. Is it too much for a character to move into a new house only to discover that a most violent and horrible murder took place there years before? And what if I took it a step further? What if this new owner discovered that the spirit of that victim lingers in the house and communicates with him by leaving messages on the upstairs mirror? Is that going too far?

Apparently not, according to the members of my Story Orgy group. They encouraged me each week with comments and feedback on my novella, “Wicked Reflection,” available in the collection Word Play, Story Orgy: Volume 1, released by Breathless Press and available for purchase HERE.

My flash fiction story, “The Sum of His Parts,” will materialize in the Breathless Press collection Freaky Flashes, available for download on October 31, naturally. The Story Orgy group gave me some really good feedback on that quickie read, and I think you’re really going to enjoy every bit and piece of it.

I’d like to give a shout out of thanks to the Story Orgy group: Lee Brazil, Havan Fellows, Em Woods, JR Boyd, and Jade Baiser, as well as a big thanks to Breathless Press for putting our words into print. Happy Birthday, Breathless Press, here’s to many more years of sexy, sultry stories.

Did you find a blue letter here on my blog post? Be sure to make a note of it and leave a comment for a chance to win not only a copy of my paranormal e-book Bounty, but the grand prize of a 50 book library!

Hop on over to the other blog hop participants and look for the blue letters to spell out the secret message. Don’t forget to leave comments on each blog for a chance to win each blog participant’s prize as well as qualify for the Grand Prize! Good Luck!

Breathless Press Scavenger Hunt Birthday Blog Hop Participating Authors:

DC Juris      Gayl Taylor      Em Woods      Havan Fellows      Leona Bushman      LB Shire      JR Boyd

Dianne Hartsock      Lee Brazil      Carrie Pulkinen Korts      Raven McAllan      SJ Thomas      Yazmin Subha

Kiru Taye      Doris O’Connor      Jamieson Wolf      Story Orgy Blog      Breathless Press Blog