Paint It Black

by Amy Lane

  And like that, Blake remembered that Cheever had been both vulnerable and magnificent, a born performer, one who’d practiced a lot more than he’d ever admit.

  “You were so good,” Blake said, kissing his neck. It was never easy, doing that thing onstage. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be. “I was so proud of you. God, Cheever, you were so bright and shiny up there, like a supernova, but I couldn’t look away.”

  “Your songs,” Cheever said, grinding up against Blake’s thigh rhythmically. “They were your songs—your words, your music, your heart. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Blake’s arousal was ramping up, fueled by their bare skin, by Cheever’s tender kisses on the corner of his mouth, by his words, kind and generous.

  By the feel of the two of them, touching, complete.

  “God, I love you,” Blake breathed. “I love you so much. I can’t imagine what I did to have you like this in my life.”

  Cheever claimed his mouth, demanding now, urgent and hard. He pulled back and reached between them to stroke Blake’s cock tightly, smiling when Blake let out a gasp.

  “You just had to be you.” Cheever stroked him again and wiggled a little, so he sat between Blake’s spread knees. He let go and positioned himself, oiled and slick, and Blake groaned.

  “You gonna let me in?” Cheever asked, pushing forward.

  “Yeah.”

  “All the way in?”

  “Fuck me!”

  “Into your heart!” Cheever demanded, thrusting inside.

  “Love me!” Blake cried, undone by the burn, the ache, the overwhelming pleasure of the pain of having Cheever in his body.

  “Forever.” Cheever pushed the last few inches home, and Blake groaned. God, he was so big, huge, pushing out all the other things in Blake’s head, leaving no room for anything but the explosion of nerve endings, the fullness of Cheever Sanders in his body, in his heart.

  “Okay,” Blake gasped.

  Cheever pulled out and thrust in again, hard and without mercy.

  “Forever,” he insisted.

  “Forever!” Blake accepted. “Augh! God, Cheever! Fuck me forever!”

  Cheever’s chuckle, filthy and uninhibited, rumbled down where their bodies were joined, and Blake’s fingers dug into Cheever’s shoulders as he tried to hold on to himself.

  “I’ll love you forever too,” he whispered, battering into Blake’s asshole again. “I’m gonna fuck you right into now.”

  Oh God! Again! And again and again!

  Blake’s fingernails dug into his shoulder muscles, his back, as Cheever pulled Blake relentlessly into the here and now.

  Blake’s crest, when it came, crashed over him like a thunderclap, bowing his spine as he all but screamed his release into the air around them. His semen, splashing hotly between them, forced another cry, because it was vital and real, just like the man fucking him, buried in his ass, was as vital and real and perfect as any song Blake had ever known.

  Cheever thrust a few more times, swelling, trapped by Blake’s orgasm and shooting hotly into Blake’s body. Oh God. They were together—one. Blake started to shake as he came down, fine trembles taking over his body as his climax faded.

  They were together.

  “Baby?” Cheever asked, rubbing his lips over Blake’s sweaty forehead.

  “I’m okay,” Blake said in wonder. He could barely open his eyes, he was suddenly so exhausted, but this needed to be said. “I’m okay.”

  “I knew you would be,” Cheever murmured, keeping up the kisses, the tenderness, the soft touches. “You always were.”

  “You’re fucking amazing,” Blake mumbled, falling asleep, their bodies still joined. He fought it for a minute. “I got a green room call—”

  Cheever chuckled. “We got a green room call. Nap now. Don’t worry. We got time.”

  And the wonder of that was, they did have time. They had time to be together, to work together—even to work apart if they needed to. They had all the time in the world.

  Cheever slid out of Blake and rolled him into his chest.

  “God, I love you,” Blake said, because he couldn’t not.

  “I love you too.”

  “We really getting married?”

  “Yup. I’ll plan that later.”

  “Yeah. Today was pretty big all on its own.”

  Cheever laughed and held him, and for an hour Blake dozed, knowing he was as safe as he’d ever been in his life.

  THEY TALKED when he woke up, quietly, reliving Cheever’s performance, the things he’d need to pick up being with the band, the ways they could use him in Outbreak Monkey, how much he’d have to practice to stay.

  “Mackey doesn’t fuck around,” Blake told him, playing with his curls as Cheever lay with his head on Blake’s shoulder. “You sure you want a piece of this band thing?”

  Cheever nodded and looked up at him. “I still want to make art,” he said. “I can do that during the hiatus, while I practice and get good enough to really be part of the band. But I want to be a part of what you do, a part of what my brothers do. I know I’m lucky—but I want to work with my brothers, my husband. This family thing may be new to me, but I gotta tell you, I really love it.”

  Blake kissed his forehead. “Good. Your family is the best thing to ever happen to me. And you love me, and that’s the other best thing. And we get to have them all rolled up into one.”

  “Mm.” Cheever shifted and kissed his mouth. “We got time for one more round,” he purred. “Because if I’m your other best thing, I want my share of time.”

  Blake laughed but Cheever didn’t. This time Cheever straddled Blake, lowering himself slowly, head back, the long line of his throat exposed as he enjoyed every moment of Blake’s length.

  This time he rode Blake relentlessly, until Blake had no choice but to come.

  This time, Blake knew where he was, who he was with—and, as usual—knew that Cheever was in charge.

  Blake trusted himself in Cheever’s hands. Cheever would never let him down.

  Emotional Rescue

  THEY WERE showered and dressed and only running a little late as they charged backstage and to the green room. Blake was wearing the dress shirt, jeans, and boots he’d worn to the coffeehouse, because they were only a little rumpled. He’d told Cheever to stick with the white T-shirt and jeans.

  Well, simple, right, until Cheever had time to adapt.

  The guys rolled their eyes a little at their late entrance, and Mackey started bitching right off.

  “You think you’re a real rock star now?” he asked. “You did a cool thing and suddenly you don’t need to practice, no coaching?”

  “Sorry, Mackey,” Cheever said automatically. “We fell asleep.”

  Mackey rolled his eyes sourly. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

  “No! It’s true!” The second nap had caught them both by surprise. “I think it’s just been a rough couple of days.”

  “Yeah, well, sleeping on the bus is never a treat. Blake, you good?”

  Blake nodded, his game face in place, and Cheever suddenly realized he looked a little pale.

  “No, he is not. Dammit, we got any fucking Gatorade and ibuprofen back here?”

  Kell groaned. “That’s what was worrying me—yup. He’s got that look.” He stood and went to a mini-fridge in the corner while Mackey had Trav scared up some ibuprofen.

  Blake thanked the guys softly while he downed the Gatorade and the medicine. “You didn’t need to do that,” he said.

  “’Course we did,” Cheever told him, liking how at peace Blake looked, how solid, how focused. “Need to make sure you got some gas for the end.”

  “What happens at the end?” he asked.

  Cheever cupped his cheek and ignored Mackey, giving him directions that he probably sorely needed. “We don’t know yet. We still got a lot to go.”

  “That’s real wise fuckin’ words,” Mackey snapped, breaking into their little bubble. “But it’s ti
me to be rock stars now. Can we do that?”

  Cheever put his focus on Mackey. He had the tattoo—now he needed to earn it. “Yessir,” he said, no bullshit intended. “What’s the plan?”

  Mackey smiled, in his element. “Okay—we got the lineup written for you on the whiteboard. You’re out there offstage, watching for all of the green songs. The red songs are when we need you to either be ready or you’re singing them yourself. No blended instrumentals this time out. We’ll work up a couple of songs tomorrow during sound check rehearsal. Tonight, you’re just there for introduction, your songs, and we’ll play behind you, so don’t be surprised, and the finale, when you and Kellogg’ll double up on the part. You good?”

  Cheever grinned at his irrepressible brother, who’d cast such a long shadow he’d kept the scorch of life’s hells off Cheever’s back until he’d had time to grow.

  “I’m great, Mackey. I’m a fuckin’ Sanders. How bad can I be?”

  Mackey grinned, all teeth. “Baby brother, we can get real fuckin’ bad. But not tonight. Blake? You all doctored up?”

  Blake’s grin was just like Mackey’s. All teeth, all feral energy, all the kid who’d fought his way out of hell and was still throwing punches ’cause he liked the swing.

  “Ready to go get bloody, Mackey.”

  “Righteous. Reckon they’re about ready for us now.”

  The crowd roared, the sound filtering backstage, and the energy level in the green room spiked to “nuclear.”

  Cheever grabbed his guitar and followed his brothers as they headed for the stage, startled when Blake caught his elbow.

  “Cheever?”

  “Yeah?”

  “No matter what happens up there, I love you.”

  Cheever nodded soberly. “No matter what happens here, in real life, I love you too.”

  Blake grinned. “We’re gonna kick ass.”

  “And you’re gonna have some gas for the end,” Cheever said.

  “’Cause the end is just the beginning.” Blake nodded, and Cheever’s heart soared over the stage, over the zoo—they could smell elephant shit from the green room—and over Portland, all the way back home to LA.

  “Damned straight. Let’s go start something.”

  They hit the top of the stage, and Cheever’s mother was back there with Trav, overseeing the equipment and generally giving the guys their space. For a moment, Cheever couldn’t see anything backstage, though—his eyes were still adjusting to the brightness of the lights.

  That was their future up on the stage, the glorious unknown with a thousand places to go.

  His family there, like they always had been, trying to give him the world, and his lover with them, who needed Cheever to make sure he saw the same promise as Cheever.

  In his whole life, Cheever had never guessed there’d be so much to live for.

  He couldn’t wait to get started, with Blake by his side.

  Orange

  Amy’s Dark Contemporary Romance

  A Beneath the Stain Novel

  In a town as small as Tyson, CA, everybody knew the four brothers with the four different fathers—and their penchant for making good music when they weren’t getting into trouble. For Mackey Sanders, playing in Outbreak Monkey with his brothers and their friends—especially Grant Adams—made Tyson bearable. But Grant has plans for getting Mackey and the Sanders boys out of Tyson, even if that means staying behind.

  Between the heartbreak of leaving Grant and the terrifying, glamorous life of rock stardom, Mackey is adrift and sinking fast. When he’s hit rock bottom, Trav Ford shows up, courtesy of their record company and a producer who wants to see what Mackey can do if he doesn’t flame out first. But cleaning up his act means coming clean about Grant, and that’s not easy to do or say. Mackey might make it with Trav’s help—but Trav’s not sure he’s going to survive falling in love with Mackey.

  Mackey James Sanders comes with a whole lot of messy, painful baggage, and law-and-order Trav doesn’t do messy or painful. And just when Trav thinks they may have mastered every demon in Mackey’s past, the biggest, baddest demon of all comes knocking.

  Seth Arnold learned at an early age that two things in life could make his soul soar—his violin and Kelly Cruz. In Seth’s uncertain childhood, the kindness of the Cruz family, especially Kelly and his brother, Matty, gave Seth the stability to make his violin sing with the purest sound and opened a world of possibility beyond his home in Sacramento.

  Kelly Cruz has loved Seth forever, but he knows Seth’s talents shouldn’t be hidden, not when the world is waiting. Encouraging Seth to follow his music might break Kelly’s heart, but he is determined to see the violin set Seth’s soul free. When their world is devastated by a violent sexual assault and Matty’s prejudices turn him from a brother to an enemy, Seth and Kelly’s future becomes uncertain.

  Seth can’t come home and Kelly can’t leave, but they are held together by a love that they clutch with both hands.

  Seth and Kelly are young and the world is wide—the only thing they know for certain is they’ll follow their heartstrings to each other’s arms whenever time and fate allow. And pray that one day they can follow that string to forever… before it slices their hearts in two.

  Search and Rescue: Book One

  Survive the adventure. Live to love.

  Following a family emergency, snowboarder Tevyn Moore and financier Mallory Armstrong leave Donner Pass in a blizzard… and barely survive the helicopter crash that follows. Stranded with few supplies and no shelter, Tevyn and Mallory—and their injured pilot—are forced to rely on each other.

  The mountain leaves no room for evasion, and Tevyn and Mal must confront the feelings that have been brewing between them for the past five years. Mallory has seen Tevyn through injury and victory. Can Tevyn see that Mallory’s love is real?

  Mallory’s job is risk assessment. Tevyn’s job is full-on risk. But to stay alive, Mallory needs to take some gambles and Tevyn needs to have faith in someone besides himself. Can the bond they discover on the mountain see them to rescue and beyond?

  “I’ll do anything.”

  Staff Sergeant Jasper “Ace” Atchison takes one look at Private Sonny Daye and knows that every word on paper about him is pure, unadulterated bullshit. But Sonny is desperate, and although Ace isn’t going to take him up on his offer of “anything,” that doesn’t mean he isn’t tempted.

  Instead, Ace takes Sonny under his wing, protecting him when they’re in the service and making plans with him when they get out. Together, they’re going to own a garage and build race cars and make their fortune hurtling faster than light across the desert. Together, they’re going to rewrite the past, make Sonny Daye a whole and happy person, and put the ghosts in Ace’s heart to rest.

  But not even Sonny can build a car fast enough to escape the ghosts of the past. When Sonny’s ghosts drive them down and run their plans off the road, Ace finds out exactly what he’s made of. Maybe Sonny was the one to promise Ace anything, but there is nothing under the sun Ace won’t do to keep Sonny safe from harm.

  Fish Out of Water: Book Four

  A Fish Out of Water/Racing for the Sun Crossover

  Can a hitman and a psychic negotiate a relationship while all hell breaks loose?

  The world might not know who Lee Burton is, but it needs his black ops division and the work they do to keep it safe. Burton’s spent his life following orders—until he sees a kill jacket on Ernie Caulfield. Ernie isn’t a typical target, and something is very wrong with Burton’s chain of command.

  Ernie’s life may seem adrift, but his every action helps to shelter his mind from the psychic storm raging within. When Burton shows up to save him from assassins and club bunnies, Ernie seizes his hand and doesn’t look back. Burton is Ernie’s best bet in a tumultuous world, and after one day together, he’s pretty sure Burton knows Ernie is his destiny as well.

  But when Burton refused Ernie’s contract, he kicked an entire piranha tank of bad guys,
and Burton can’t rest until he takes down the rogue military unit that would try to kill a spacey psychic. Ernie’s in love with Burton and Burton’s confused as hell by Ernie—but Ernie’s not changing his mind and Burton can’t stay away. Psychics, assassins, and bad guys—throw them into the desert with a forbidden love affair and what could possibly go wrong?

  Readers love Beneath the Stain by Amy Lane

  “Beneath The Stain by Amy Lane is a journey of pain and love that is lost, found and rediscovered anew. It is the transformation of a group of boys into men whom one would be proud to call friends. It is truly storytelling at its best and I highly recommend this novel to you.”

  —Joyfully Jay

  “Beneath the Stain isn’t a roller coaster ride so much as it’s a life journey.”

  —Shameless Book Club

  “One of the best books I’ve ever read. I will never forget these guys, their pain, their love. Amy, you did good. You did better than good. Be proud of yourself, I know I am.”

  —Rainbow Book Reviews

  AMY LANE lives in a crumbling crapmansion with a couple of growing children, a passel of furbabies, and a bemused spouse. She’s been a finalist in the RITAs twice, has won honorable mention for an Indiefab, and has a couple of Rainbow Awards to her name. She also has too damned much yarn, a penchant for action-adventure movies, and a need to know that somewhere in all the pain is a story of Wuv, Twu Wuv, which she continues to believe in to this day! She writes fantasy, urban fantasy, and gay romance—and if you accidentally make eye contact, she’ll bore you to tears with why those three genres go together. She’ll also tell you that sacrifices, large and small, are worth the urge to write.

  Website: www.greenshill.com

  Blog: www.writerslane.blogspot.com