Thursday, August 17, 2017

Throwback Thursday: Zachary and TJ's Fantastic Beasts

Many of my Firsts and Forever couples hold a special place in my heart, including Zachary and TJ, the main characters in Who I Used to Be, book 12 in the series.

Love found them when they least expected it, and I thought the way they supported each other was beautiful. TJ was totally there for Zachary when he hit rock bottom, and toward the end of the book, they changed places. Zachary provided support to TJ when he needed it most, showing not only how strong they were as a couple, but how far Zachary had come over the course of his story.

I also loved the fantastic wind-up toys TJ taught Zachary to make. When I was writing Who I Used to Be, the upcycled animals and fantasy creatures were strictly a product of my imagination. But after the book came out, readers started sending me photos of what they imagined the wind-up toys to look like. More often than not, the work they sent me was that of artist Sue Beatrice of All Natural Arts, as pictured here:

I don't think all of Ms. Beatice's artworks are wind-ups, but the overall look, especially that dragon in the bottom photo, is very much what I pictured when I was imagining what TJ and Zachary might create. As I've mentioned before, I have a great deal of respect and admiration for people in the arts, which is why write so many artists. I also think there's something magical about starting with what others consider junk and turning it into art (as in the the scrap metal that Skye works with, or the obsolete electronics TJ scavenges for parts). 

Next week, I'll be talking about another, very personal aspect of Who I Used to Be. Thanks for reading!

Thursday, August 10, 2017

Throwback Thursday: The Big Guy in the Background

I've been hard at work on Quinn's story. It's called Take a Chance on Me, and I'm hoping to have it out by late September. As you probably recall, we met River's free-spirited roommate Quinn for the first time in All I Ever Wanted, the most recent book in the series, which came out in June.

Quinn's love interest, a police officer named Duke, had a small role in the last book as Cole's uptight roommate, but that wasn't the first time we've met him. He works with Finn Nolan, and as you may recall, Finn met and fell in love with Chance in Coming Home (book 9 in the Firsts and Forever Series).

Here's a quick scene with Duke from Coming Home, when Chance goes to the police station to return Finn's money before leaving town:

I went up to the huge, muscle-bound police officer with a crew cut behind the front counter and put the brown envelope in front of him as I said, “Could you please make sure Finn Nolan gets that? It’s important.”

He frowned a little as he got to his feet and said in a deep voice, “I can’t accept that for security reasons.” God lord, the guy had to be about six-eight.

“Oh! Shit, I didn’t think of that. Look, it’s not, like, anything harmful. That’s just something that belongs to him and I need to give it back.” I pulled out my wallet and showed him my driver’s license. “Here’s my I.D. If I was a terrorist or something, I wouldn’t show that to you. Please, just give the envelope to Finn. It’s really important.”

The guy glanced at my I.D. and looked surprised. “Your name’s Chance.”


“Finn mentioned you.”

Now it was my turn to look surprised. “He did?”

The cop nodded as I put away my wallet. “I don’t think he meant to. I’m not always behind a desk, usually he and I patrol together. He was smiling about something and staring out the window of the squad car a couple weeks ago. Looked like he was a million miles away. When I asked what he was so happy about, he said, ‘Chance.’ I asked who that was and he got really flustered and changed the subject. What are you to him?”

“A friend.”

The big officer knit his brows and studied me for a moment. Finally he asked, “What’s in the envelope?”

“It’s personal.”

He picked it up and weighed it in his hands, then said, “There’s a lot of cash in there.”

I hadn’t been expecting that, and no way was I going to tell him the envelope held twenty-two thousand dollars. There was just no explaining that much money. Instead I thought quickly and said, “You’re right. That’s nearly eight hundred dollars in small bills. Finn loaned me some money and I’m paying him back. You can see why I didn’t want to put it in the mail.”

The cop considered that, still studying me carefully, and asked, “What was the loan for?”

“A car repair. My Honda’s older than I am. It needed a whole new transmission.” I was completely bullshitting, but he seemed to buy it.

 After another moment, he picked up the phone and hit a button, then spoke into it, saying, “Come up to the front desk for a minute.” He hung up without waiting for a reply and told me, “Most people would have written a check. It’s not a good idea to carry a bunch of cash around.”

“You’re right.”

“Why aren’t you giving this back to him in person?”

“Because I’m heading out of town and won’t see him again before I go.” I actually got to tell the truth that time.

Someone came up behind the cop, and a familiar voice said, “We talked about this, Duke. Don’t just call people and then hang up without telling them why they’re being summoned. I mean, I don’t care, but it ticks off our coworkers.”

“Sorry,” the big cop said, turning and putting the envelope in Finn’s hands. “Your friend’s here. He wanted to give you that.”

Finn looked shocked when the cop moved aside and he spotted me, but he replaced it a moment later with a halfway decent poker face. “Thanks, Duke. I’m going to walk my friend out. I’ll be right back.”


But believe it or not, Duke goes back even farther than that in the Firsts and Forever Series! Here he is in a quick scene from Against the Wall, book 7. Christian is visiting his love interest Shea at the same police station on Christmas, and he brought a big box of Chinese food for all the officers on duty:

I popped a shrimp in my mouth before asking, “Is it always this quiet, or do the bad guys take time off at Christmas?”

“It comes and goes in waves. We were really busy earlier, and sadly, we’ll be extremely busy tonight.”

“How do you know?”

“It happens every year. Domestic violence always increases on holidays.”

“Wow, that’s terrible. Why is that, do you suppose?”

“A lot of reasons. The holidays are emotionally draining, for one thing. There’s a lot of drinking and plenty of stress, which just adds to the mix. Plus, people are home at the holidays, so there’s simply more opportunity for an incident to occur.”

“Wow, Christmas through the eyes of a police officer. Not terribly cheery, is it?”

“Cheery isn’t a word I’d usually use to describe my job.”

A huge cop with a crew cut came up to us just then and put down a paper plate with homemade sugar cookies. “I didn’t catch your name,” he said in a deep voice.


“I’m Duke. Thanks for bringing in that feast, it beat the hell out of the sandwich I’d packed for myself. Thought you guys might like some cookies, I made ‘em myself.”

“Thanks,” I said. “They look really good.”

“I called my mom for her recipe, but somehow they don’t taste as good as hers. Anyway, Merry Christmas and thanks again.”

“You’re welcome.”

When Duke left, Shea smiled at me. “That’s the most I’ve ever heard him say willingly. Normally, you can barely get more than a one-word answer out of him.”

“You should have plied him with Chinese food a lot sooner.”

“Apparently. Oh, and that’s one of the good aspects of my job, by the way.”

“Getting to work with giant men who bake cookies in the shape of tiny Christmas trees?”

Shea smiled at me. “The sense of camaraderie. Granted, everyone’s a bit cranky today because they’d rather be home, but still.”


It delights me to no end that this minor character, the big guy in the background, basically, is getting his turn in the spotlight! I always thought it'd be fun to develop his character and find out what makes the giant, baking cop tick, and now I have my chance! I initially paired straight-laced Duke with wild child Quinn because I thought the odd couple dynamic would be fun, but they've been surprising me in the best possible way. 

I think Quinn himself says it best in these lines from the upcoming book: "At first, I’d only seen our differences. But we were the same, in so many ways. Here, finally, was someone who might truly understand me. By the same token, I thought I understood him in a way few people could."

I'm looking forward to getting this book into your hands, so you too can discover how two men who seem vastly different find a kindred spirit in the most unlikely place. <3

Thursday, August 3, 2017

Throwback Thursday: When Nico Met Luca

Nico Dombruso is the main character in All I Believe, book 10 in the Firsts and Forever Series. Over the course of the story, he falls in love with art dealer Luca Caruso, who he meets while on vacation in Sicily. But it turns out the two men have met before. In fact, they were each other's first kiss back when they were teens, and neither has ever been able to forget his "boy at the fountain".

In the following scene from All I Believe, Nico has just returned to Sicily on a vacation with his grandmother, and he's looking out at the fountain from his hotel room in the middle of the night:

I leaned on the balcony’s iron railing and stared at the fountain for a while. Then on impulse, I checked my pocket for my room key and left the suite. The hotel was perfectly still. Downstairs, the lone clerk behind the front desk glanced at me before turning his attention back to a computer screen. I cut through the lobby, pushed open the heavy door and crossed the worn cobblestones to the fountain.

It had seemed huge when I was younger, and it really was quite large. Disproportionately so, actually, for that not particularly grand piazza. The round base was easily twenty-five feet in diameter. In its center, three bigger-than-life horses bucked and reared up on their hind legs, ridden by angels with outstretched wings. I sat on the wide edge of the fountain and ran my hand over it. The stone was smooth and cool to the touch.

All of it was familiar: the smell of the sea and of the baking bread in the shop just a few feet away, the light breeze on my skin, the sound of the water splashing in the fountain. It was exactly as it had been on another August night, years ago.

I’d been fourteen. My parents had talked about bringing my brother and sister and me to Viladembursa for years, since we had a lot of relatives there and a family history that went back to the town’s founding. There was always some reason the trip got postponed. Often it was because of my dad’s job, which didn’t give him much time off. But that summer, we’d finally made it. I didn’t know it would be our last vacation as a family at the time.

My fourteenth summer was when everything changed. That was when Dad stopped living with us. It was when I heard my mom cry for the first time, and my brother started getting in trouble at school and eventually was sent to live with relatives in New York. It was when my sister started caring about her friends far more than her family and turned into someone I barely recognized. But our trip to Sicily happened just before all of that, and had come to symbolize the end of my childhood. It also encompassed my most precious memory.

I’d gotten up far too early on the last day of our family vacation, the day we were going to fly home to Marin County. Dawn was just beginning to color the horizon as I slipped out of my family’s suite and went down to the fountain. I wanted to say goodbye to the stone horses. I had gotten attached to them during my two weeks in Viladembursa. I was weird like that.

I closed my eyes and remembered that morning twelve years ago. It felt exactly like this one, the same sounds and smells, the same breeze stirring my hair. I’d replayed it a thousand times and did it again as I sat in the town square, watching it like a movie in my mind’s eye:

“What exactly are you doing?” The conversation had begun in Italian, but when I replayed it, I heard it in English, a trick of time and memory.

I’d jumped at the voice behind me, and turned to face a tall, thin, good-looking boy with thick black hair and a quick smile that showed off a chipped front tooth. “Nothing,” I answered automatically, feeling a blush warming my cheeks.

“You were talking to someone, but no one’s here.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“Were you talking to the angels in the fountain, and if so, do they answer?”

“Of course not,” I’d said indignantly. “I was talking to the horses.”

Instead of laughing at me as I’d expected, the boy just asked, “Why?”

“Because I like them, and after today it’ll be a long time before I see them again.”

“So you’ve come to say goodbye.” I nodded and the boy grew serious. “Where are you going?”

“Home to California.”

He switched to perfect English at that point and said, “Oh. You’re American.”

I also switched to English. “Yeah. You too?”

He shrugged, which made one of the straps on his oversized tank top slip off his shoulder. I noticed three fairly prominent freckles in perfect alignment on his left collarbone, dark against his olive skin. “I’m not anything. I’m a citizen of the world.”

“What does that mean?”

“Mom and I travel around a lot. No place is really home. Or everyplace is, depending on how you look at it.”

“It’s too bad I’m leaving.”

His expression grew thoughtful, and I looked up into his eyes. They were light, but I couldn’t quite make out the color in the soft illumination from the street lamps that ringed the plaza. “Don’t you want to go home?”

I’d pushed my glasses further up the bridge of my nose and said, “I did. But, well, you seem like a nice guy and I have a feeling I would have liked getting to know you.”

“Based on what?”

“The fact that you didn’t laugh at me for talking to stone horses. Any guy that doesn’t make fun of me for something like that is clearly friend material.”

“But if you stayed, I wouldn’t want to be your friend.”

“Oh.” I stepped back awkwardly and looked at the cobblestones.

He went right along with me and tilted my chin up with a gentle touch until I was looking at him again. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant I’d want to be more.” As I tried to make sense of that, the boy cleared his throat and broke eye contact. When he looked at me again, he asked, “Would you find it weird if a guy told you you’re beautiful?”


Now it was his turn to step back, releasing my chin and dropping his hand to his side. “Sorry,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

“I wouldn’t think it was weird because a guy said it,” I quickly amended. “I’d think it was weird if anyone said that about me.”

He looked at me through thick lashes, and a little smile returned to his full lips. “You don’t think you’re beautiful?”

“Dude, what planet are you from that you’d think that, Krypton?”

The boy chuckled and lightly traced the frame of my thick, black glasses. “Clearly you’re the one from Krypton, Clark Kent.” He took them off and placed them beside us on the edge of the fountain. “Can you see without those?”

“Only close up. Everything more than a foot away is a blur.”

He stepped forward, so that our bodies were only a few inches apart. “Can you see me, Clark?”

I nodded and said, “If I’m Clark Kent, then who are you?”

“I always fancied myself as a Bruce Wayne type.” A slight British accent slipped in when he said that.

“Wow, modest,” I said with a big grin. “Rich, handsome, brilliant. Is that how you’d describe yourself?”

“Well, obviously!” He beamed at me and held his thin arms out to the sides, as if to display his worn out tank top, cut-off jeans and very Italian leather sandals.

“You’re a master of disguise, Bruce,” I told him. “No one will suspect you’re a billionaire playboy in that ensemble.”

“Barefoot boys in pajamas shouldn’t judge other people by their clothes,” he said, his eyes sparkling.
I looked down at my white t-shirt and plaid pajama pants and said, “I totally forgot I was wearing this.” 

“I like it. Makes you look a little like you just escaped from the nut house. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and all that. It’s a good look for you.”

“First you call me Superman, then you call me a mental patient. You have an interesting approach to making conversation.”

I started to reach for my glasses, but he caught my hand and held on to it. “No, don’t. Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s easier to see your eyes if you leave your glasses off. What color are they? I can only tell that they’re dark.”

“They’re brown,” I told him. “Like mud.”

“I bet they’re gorgeous and decidedly un-mud-like. You’ll have to stay with me until the sun comes up, so you can prove me right.”

I grinned again and said, “I have no idea what to make of you, Bruce. That sounds like such a line. I’d almost think you were hitting on me.”

“Almost? The fact that I’m holding your hand in the middle of the town square doesn’t make that a definitely?”

“You’re not really holding my hand, you’re just trying to keep me from my glasses.” I started to reach for them with my other hand, but he caught that too and held it.

“I’m doing both simultaneously.”

“I’ll take them off again when the sun comes up, if you’re actually interested in seeing my eye color.”
“That’s not the only reason I want you to leave them off. As long as you’re not wearing them, I’m literally the only thing you can see, right?” When I nodded, he said, “I like that. I like being your whole world.”

I chuckled embarrassedly. “You’re an odd person, Bruce.”

“I know.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot and said, “Since you don’t think it’s odd that a guy called you beautiful and seem to have no problem with him holding your hand, how would you feel about him kissing you?”

My heart leapt at that, and I looked around automatically. I couldn’t actually see the plaza, but I knew we were all alone. “Is that, um, I mean, are you planning on that?” I stammered, stalling for time as my thoughts and emotions ricocheted wildly. I’d always been pretty sure I was gay, but I’d never acted on it. I’d gotten the impression it was something I was supposed to keep secret, but here was this guy, talking about kissing me like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Only if I think it won’t result in me getting punched in the face.” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but obviously it held some real concern.

“It wouldn’t,” I managed as my heart raced. The conversation felt a bit surreal. I’d wondered at the time if I was dreaming. In the years afterwards, I wondered how much of it I misremembered as time passed.

The words might have been distorted and embellished over time, but there were two things I remembered with absolute clarity: the boy, and that kiss. As the sunrise colored the sky pink and orange, he leaned in and brushed his lips to mine, gently, tentatively. When I responded, he kissed me with a little more confidence as my heart pounded. He cupped my face between his palms, and my hands automatically went to his waist, holding on to him as if trying to ground myself.

It was my first kiss, and it was also the moment I knew with absolute, unshakable certainty that I was gay. It felt so right, so utterly perfect, that it left no room for doubt. The kiss went on for a long time, both of us melting into each other. It might have lasted for hours if we hadn’t been startled by the baker, who opened the side door of his shop and pushed a big, clanking metal rack out onto the cobblestones.

I stepped back quickly and grabbed my glasses, pushing them in place as a delivery truck bounced and rattled into the square. The boy stepped back too, blushing shyly. When he looked at me, I said softly, “They’re green. I’d wondered what color your eyes were.”

“Yours look like a wildfire, seen through a bottle of Coke. I knew they weren’t mud-colored.”

I chuckled at that description. We stood there awkwardly for a few moments, and then I murmured, “I have to go. My family’s probably awake by now and they’ll wonder where I am.”

“Not yet. Just five more minutes, please?”

“I really should get back.”

He grinned mischievously and took my hand. “You can’t go yet. You haven’t said goodbye properly.”

“Goodbye. It was great meeting you.”

“Not to me. To them,” he said, tilting his head toward the fountain.

I burst out laughing when he jumped into the water and started to drag me in with him. As I exclaimed, “What are you doing? We’re going to get in trouble,” I leaned back and dug my heels in.

“Totally worth it. Come say goodbye to the celestial rodeo.”

“It does look like a rodeo! I can’t believe I never saw that before!” He scooped me up in his arms, carried me into the fountain and put me down beside one of the horses while I flailed and protested. 

“Oh my God, the water’s freezing!” I shouted as it soaked into my pajama pants.

“You’ll get used to it after a minute,” he said. “Now tell me, what’s this horse’s name?”

I forgot the cold and looked up at the bucking bronco. “Zeke.”

The boy burst out laughing. “Why Zeke?”

“I dunno. Seemed like a rodeo name. The other two are Clem and Billy Joe Bob.”

“You’ve never been to a rodeo, have you?”

“Hell no. Have you?”

“I’ve been to a bullfight,” he said. “It’s kind of similar.”

“It’s not at all!” While we debated the parallels between bullfighting and rodeos, I waded around the fountain to each of the three huge horses and gave them a hug. I then splashed over to the side of the fountain and crawled over the wide ledge. When I looked back at my companion, he was leaning against one of the horses with his arm around its hind leg. I grinned and said, “Aren’t you coming out?”

“In a minute.”

“I really have to go. I don’t want my mom to worry if she wakes up and sees I’m not there.”

“I know.”

I hesitated and said, “I hate to say goodbye.”

“This isn’t goodbye, it’s just so long for now. I don’t know when or where, but I’ll see you again someday, Clark.”

“I hope you’re right.”

He smiled at me and said, “Oh, I am. I’m always right about everything. You and I are meant to be, I’m sure of it.”

“Think so?”

He nodded. “Absolutely. Who else besides Bruce Wayne would be good enough for Clark Kent?”


We got a brief check-in with Nico in Armor, the novella I published earlier this year, and he and Luca will both be back in a supporting role in Mike Dombruso's book, which I'll be writing after Take a Chance on Me. Quinn's book is coming right along, by the way, and I hope to publish it in late September. After that, it's time to turn the focus on the Dombruso family, with Nico and Luca as well as Gianni and Zan from Belonging all coming back for a substantial check-in.

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

Facebook Group

I have a fun little group on Facebook for readers of my Firsts & Forever Series, and you're welcome to join us! You can find the group here.

Thursday, July 27, 2017

Throwback Thursday: Felons in Love

I must confess, I'm a little bit infatuated with Andreo and Constantino. We first met them in All I Believe, and I knew right away they needed a story of their own. There was some mention of a long and complicated past, which I got to explore a bit in Hitman's Holiday, a Christmas novella I published in 2015.

I also revisited this couple in Armor, the novella I published earlier this year, and it definitely won't be the last time we see these two!

Here's one of my favorite scenes from Hitman's Holiday, followed by an amazing video a reader made for me, which beautifully and eloquently summarizes the book. In this scene, Andreo finally tracks down Connie, who stole something valuable from him after they spent the night together years before. The fact that Andreo had also stolen this object is beside the point. ;) One of the things I love about these two is that you never quite know if they're going to fight or fuck every time they get near each other!

It had taken me just short of three years to track down the man I at first knew only as Connie. Since my extended family was involved in organized crime, I had a lot of resources at my disposal. Even so, I hadn’t had much to go by, and the search had proven difficult.

But not impossible.

I looked around me as I climbed the open staircase to a sixth-floor walk-up in Brooklyn. The old packing plant was in the midst of a major renovation that was turning it into upscale condos with gorgeous views of the Manhattan skyline across the river. Most of it was empty, with only a couple lofts completed at that point. The rest was a construction site, and it was vacant this time of night. I had it on good authority that Connie, better known as Constantino Dombruso, was subletting one of the completed lofts on the top floor.

I’d been shocked when I discovered the identity of my coin thief. The Dombruso family and mine went way back, with a long-standing feud and a history of tension and distrust. But then, maybe it shouldn’t have been so surprising that I’d encountered one of them while committing a crime. The Dombrusos’ influence spread far and wide, and they had their hands in all sorts of pies. Apparently that even extended to pilfering rare coins, which I would have thought was beneath them.

But maybe Constantino hadn’t been working for his family, and his role in their organization was unclear. One of his cousins ran the family, and his father was an infamous contract killer, but I didn’t know much more than that, despite the fact that my family had been keeping tabs on his for generations. It was always wise to know your enemy, so I was annoyed that our intel had become spotty and had put one of my family members to work in order to remedy that situation.

When I reached the loft, I paused in the hallway to catch my breath and assessed the large door in front of me. It was solid wood and probably original to the building. It slid on a rusted track that looked like it might be original as well. No way would that door give way, but the track probably would.

I was in full you-fucked-with-the-wrong-guy mode, right down to my black leather jacket, mercenary-worthy cargo pants, black t-shirt and combat boots. To truly convey that message, I drew my leg back and kicked the door with all my might, my boot connecting solidly with the vintage pine. It sent a shockwave through my leg and hip and actually hurt like hell, but it was worth it, because the big door fell inward with a really satisfying crash as its metal track bent and tore away from its moorings.

I spotted Constantino immediately across the huge, oddly empty loft. He was sitting on a big, wrought-iron bed with a book in his hand, his dark eyes wide and startled. In the next instant he was in motion, and I was, too. Surprisingly, he didn’t try to run away. Instead, he headed straight for me.

Whatever thoughts, plans and ideas had gotten me to that point fell away the moment we reached each other. I grabbed him and crushed him to me as my lips ravaged his. He kissed me desperately as his hands grasped my jacket, pulling me to him.

I should have been furious. I should have hated him, and for a long time, I thought I did. But the moment I saw him again, all bets were off.

I picked him up and carried him to the bed, then threw him on top of the rumpled blankets and climbed on top of him. As I straddled his thighs, I grabbed his white t-shirt and literally tore it off him, then did the same with the pair of briefs he wore. He moaned as his cock swelled and bounced against his abs. I reached for it and he pushed my hand away, so instead I dove onto his exposed neck, licking and kissing it as he thrust his hips and rubbed his erection against me.

I needed to be inside him more than I’d ever needed anything in my life. I yanked my jacket and t-shirt from my body and threw them aside, then reached for my wallet and grabbed a condom and lube packet. I unzipped my cargo pants and pulled out my throbbing hard-on, and as soon as I was prepped, I got on my knees between his thighs, grabbed his legs and pulled them apart. He sat up a bit to watch what I was doing and exhaled slowly as I pushed into him.

As I began to move in him, he locked eyes with me. I drove myself into him so hard that the entire bed rocked, and he gave me a wicked little smile. I grinned at him and dropped down and kissed him before I began to absolutely pound him. He threw his head back and yelled, the sound almost bestial. Connie clawed my back as he pulled me closer and rocked his hips up to meet each thrust, slamming himself onto my cock, a sheen of perspiration appearing on his olive skin.

There was no rational thought, no discussion, nothing but pure, raw, primal sex. We took what we needed unapologetically. Like two starving men at a banquet, we feasted on each other, grabbing, demanding, civility completely forgotten. I clutched him to me and he bit my shoulder, then cried out as if he’d been the one bitten. I grabbed his hair and pulled his head back so I could get to his neck, his mouth, his shoulders, kissing and licking and nipping him.

Again and again I drove myself into him. The sound of my body slamming into his filled the empty loft, along with our yells. As my orgasm built, I pulled back and stared into his eyes, trying to burn him and that moment into my memory like a brand. He stared right back at me, his dark eyes wide, his full lips parted as he gasped for breath.

He climaxed a moment before I did, yelling as he shot all over his chest and mine. When he came, his ass clamped down on my cock, which detonated my orgasm. He crushed my body to his and I slammed into him as I came, my vision faltering. The force of my orgasm overwhelmed me, and I wrapped my arms around him as if he was all that was anchoring me to the earth. I shot into him repeatedly, my body almost convulsing, and by the time it was over there was almost nothing left of me.

I fell onto my side as aftershocks racked my body, and Connie carefully peeled off the condom and disposed of it somehow. I was too out of it to really notice what was happening. He pulled the blanket over both of us and wrapped his arms and legs around me, then began to dot light, tender kisses on my face, my lips, even my eyelids. I drew him into an embrace and breathed in his scent. His hair still smelled like tangerines.

When I’d stopped shaking and could finally talk again I murmured, “Why won’t you let me touch your cock?” There were a million things I wanted to ask him, but that had pushed its way to the front of the cue.

“None of your business.” He kissed my cheek and I brushed the hair from his face. Only then did I notice he’d pinned back his overgrown bangs with an old-fashioned, black bobby pin. It made me happy for some reason, maybe because it was so quirky. I was grinning as I fell asleep.


When I awoke, I was once again alone. I was also handcuffed to the iron bed frame. It didn’t particularly surprise me, though it did annoy me. I sat up and looked down at myself. I was completely dressed from the waist down. My pants were even zipped, which I didn’t remember doing.

The loft was emptier than it had been the night before, and there were no clothes in the big, open closet. In fact, aside from the bed, it contained absolutely nothing aside from my t-shirt, which was folded neatly on the floor across the room. My phone was centered on top of it.

I sighed and used my free hand to pick up my leather jacket, which he’d draped on the bed post. Then I grinned a little when I spotted the metal bobby pin clipped to the collar of my jacket. Connie wasn’t coming back, I knew that for a fact. But he’d left me a way out.

Apparently the cuffs had just been meant to slow me down so he could get a head start on me. I picked the lock easily with the bobby pin, then slipped it in the pocket of my cargo pants and went to use the restroom. After that, I did a lap around the loft, looking for anything he might have left behind. There was nothing though, apart from a few packets of soy sauce in a drawer in the kitchen and a half-empty can of diet soda in the refrigerator.

I put on my t-shirt and jacket, then picked up the door and moved it aside. He’d propped it up over the gaping hole I’d created when I announced my arrival. I leaned it back in place before I headed for the stairs.


And as promised, the amazing video for Hitman's Holiday,
 made by a dear reader, can be found here. Enjoy!