3
" Rob opened the door, and a tiny kitten ran out. It stopped to sniff Rob‟s ankle and arched its back, spitting tiny kitty defiance at him. Rob scooped it up. The tiny black bundle barely filled his palm. Dark as ink, the only mark on it was a tiny white spot between its eyes. Rob looked up from the kitten to meet Jamie‟s wide-eyed attempt at innocence. "There was a cat in my closet."
"I can explain," Jamie offered.
Rob returned to the bed. He dropped the kitten in Jamie‟s lap, causing it to poke unfortunate things with tiny needle claws.
"Damn!" Jamie yelped, grabbing the kitten and putting a sheet between his delicate parts and danger. "I took out the trash yesterday, and there she was almost buried in a snow bank shivering."
"It was ninety degrees yesterday, and there is no snow." Rob sat down on the edge of the bed. "Aren‟t you supposed to hate cats?"
Jamie cuddled the tiny creature in his hands. It wrestled with his fingers. "That‟s dogs. I‟m not a dog, I‟m a wolf. There might not have been a snow bank, but it was dirty and hungry and very sad. "
― R.J. Scott , Shattered Secrets (In the Shadow of the Wolf #1)
6
" Unerringly locating Riley's dick in his loose dress pants, Jack grabbed it forcefully and leaned close to Riley's ear, hearing the quick indrawn breath from his husband. A spark of lust flashed through his own body as he contemplated what to do next. Finally he decided. He was tired of all the pussy-footing around, and the darkness of the hallway invited sin. He moved his hand on Riley's hard dick, listening to the groan in Riley's throat. Riley, you know who this belongs to? This belongs to me." He gentled the touch, twisting his hand. "I saw you flirting and sharing with those girls out there, and I'm telling you now, I don't share. No one else gets to see this.
No one else gets to touch it. No one else gets to taste it. Just me. It's mine for one whole year, and I have the contract to prove it."
Riley tried to form a reply as Jack moved his hand again. It was good to see the other man speechless for once.
"Don't worry though, husband.I'm gonna treat it so good. I've decided that I'm gonna make it,and you, feel so damn good you'll never look at another woman again. You only have to say the word, and I'll show you what you signed up for." His voice fell into a heated whisper, the words low and drawled. Now do we need to get out of here? I'm thinking I might need to take you home and show you who you belong to." Riley's eyes widened, his dick fully hard, iron in Jack's clever hands. "I can make you scream. You wouldn't even know your name when I finished with you."
"Jack—please."
Riley's voice was broken.
Everything Jack wanted to hear.
"Please?"
Riley blinked, unconsciously pushing his groin into Jack's hold. Jack knew what followed next was certainly not a decision Riley made with his upstairs brain. "Fuck, Jack. Let's get the hell out of here. "
― R.J. Scott , The Heart of Texas (Texas, #1)
7
" Riley paused, turning back to face Jack. "Just so you know, we are gonna need some definite PDAs tonight.
Think you can handle that?" There was irritation in Riley's voice, a subtle change, a certain stress. Jack imagined it was a manifestation of fear, and it made him feel better to think that. In answer Jack moved carefully past Riley, sliding a hand over the younger man's black silk shirt, his fingers brushing Riley's left nipple. He heard a hiss of indrawn breath as his hard thigh touched Riley briefly.
"I can handle anything you need, Het-boy," he said, his voice low and growled. "Just follow my cues."
Riley followed him to the top of the stairs, and Jack held out his hand. "Husband?" he smirked.
Riley took his hand, and they started down the sweeping staircase. "Fuck you, asshole," Riley forced out behind a covering smile.
"Not if I fuck you first," Jack said, fast and clear, smirking again as Riley stumbled on the next step. "
― R.J. Scott , The Heart of Texas (Texas, #1)
17
" Ecco. Il sogno di Corey era svanito. Andato.
Stavolta sì che aveva fatto un casino con i controfiocchi. La delusione era viscerale, spietata e gli spezzava il cuore.
Doppia K emise un rauco gemito e si aggrappò ad Angel, che non lo spinse via, ma lo strinse dolcemente.
Almeno non stava piangendo.
Corey invece avrebbe tanto voluto versare qualche lacrima.
Non perché fosse arrivato a tanto così dalla finale, ma perché era soltanto colpa sua, se aveva mandato a puttane l’audizione. Se solo fosse rimasto sui Kasabian, o magari su un altro vecchio pezzo di Bon Jovi, ce l’avrebbe fatta.
Nonostante tutto, Corey non pianse. Lasciò che dolore e delusione gli scorressero dentro, poi guardò lo stage manager, per capire cosa fare. Se le telecamere lo avessero ripreso in quel momento, avrebbero visto un uomo che aveva appena preso una bella batosta, ma che era ancora caparbiamente determinato a non mollare. "
― R.J. Scott , Boy Banned
19
" «Mi dispiace così tanto...» sussurrò Corey.
Che doveva fare, adesso? Lanciò ad Angel uno sguardo disperato, cercando in lui un indizio su come comportarsi, o qualunque altra cosa. Disgusto? Rabbia? Corey non ne aveva idea, cazzo, ed era a un passo dal dare di matto di nuovo. Tanto valeva battere in ritirata, finché era in tempo.
«Non dispiacerti.» Angel gli sfiorò una spalla per rassicurarlo. «Abbiamo tutti le nostre giornate no.»
Poi sorrise. Corey identificò il sorriso e il modo in cui arrivava fino agli occhi di Angel, inclinandogli le labbra. Era un sorriso buono, come quelli di zia Mim: non c’era una traccia di malizia. Di colpo, voleva toccarlo di nuovo, ma in modo molto diverso "
― R.J. Scott , Boy Banned
20
" Cosa poteva dirgli?
Oh, aspetta un attimo, Angel! Indovina, sono nello spettro autistico! A prima vista non si nota, a meno che non provi a farmi indossare qualcosa che mi fa male alla pelle. O finché non mi rinchiudi in una stanza con così tanti colori che non riesco a pensare, al di là del rumore. Se succede, ho bisogno di stabilizzarmi, di qualcuno che mi stringa forte e sistemi tutto.
Non poteva confessargli niente di tutto questo.
Perché le boy band potevano avere un membro gay.
Potevano avere il tipo sensibile che piangeva per un nonnulla.
Potevano avere il tizio tutto pelle e ossa con problemi di rabbia e un rosso che imprecava tutto il tempo.
Potevano anche avere il duro, il rocchettaro con il piercing e l’atteggiamento irritabile.
Ma un cantante con l’etichetta dell’autismo? Uno che andava in paranoia per delle cose che gli altri accettavano e basta? Non era nel manuale delle boy band.
Quindi, per il momento, Corey non disse nulla "
― R.J. Scott , Boy Banned