Love Is Proud

by JMS Books Authors

  Her assistant came back with the assurance that money was no issue. Of course it isn’t, Elsie thought, signing off on the tests she wanted. In the meantime, she had a sick cat in the last stages of renal failure that had just come in, and a bulldog that needed its stomach pumped after ingesting its mistress’s wedding ring. Her shift was far from over.

  * * * *

  By one in the morning, Elsie was dead on her feet, but the stray dog without a name was soundly sleeping off the effects of the anesthesia after undergoing surgery to repair the broken bones. As far as Elsie could determine from all the imaging she’d done, there were no other major internal injuries, just contusions and sprains. That little beagle was very, very lucky…or had a guardian angel—no, make that a pair of angels—looking out for him.

  She couldn’t put off meeting with the owners any longer. After asking Maria to bring them into another room, she went to the break room to pour herself a cup of cold coffee to steel herself against their charms. Only the carafe was empty, and no one had thought to brew another pot.

  Damn it, she thought, shaking her head. She considered making it herself, then glanced at the clock. Why bother? Another hour and she’d be headed home anyway. She didn’t need to stay awake; she needed to be winding down. She would be in bed soon enough.

  Outside the exam room, she rapped her knuckles on the door, then pushed it open without waiting for a response. Keith sat in the room’s single chair while Alex stood beside him. He held Keith’s cheek against the flat plane of his belly with one hand, smoothing down Keith’s blond hair with the other. They both looked up as she entered.

  “I’ve got good news,” she announced. Keith arched his brows, and Alex bit his lower lip. “You might want to think up a name for your pooch. He’s going to be fine.”

  Keith’s eyes closed in relief, and Alex sighed. “Thank God.”

  Stepping up to the exam table, Elsie set down the papers she was holding and turned them around so the guys could see them, too. “Here is the total cost for tonight’s visit. It’s a little high—”

  “We’ll pay it,” Keith assured her, rising from his seat to approach the table. He covered her hand with his, and she was surprised at how warm and heavy it was. “Thank you so much.”

  Looking past him to include Alex, Elsie said, “Actually, I’m going to comp my time, so you only have to pay for the tests themselves, the medicine and equipment we used, and that’s it.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Alex said.

  “You didn’t have to save the dog,” Elsie reminded him. “So think of this as my way of saying thank you.”

  Keith squeezed her hand. “Will you go out with us?”

  “I’m sorry, what? Where?” Elsie asked.

  The guys exchanged an amused glance. Something in the look they shared made Elsie’s stomach give a nervous little flip.

  “Wait,” she said. “Are you talking like a date? With both of you?”

  “Why not?” Keith asked.

  Alex added, “Would you rather go out with just one of us instead?”

  “Which one would you pick?” Keith wanted to know.

  With a laugh, Elsie cried, “Please, stop!”

  Alex’s full lips pulled into a suggestive pout. “Is that a no?”

  “That’s a…I don’t know,” Elsie admitted. “Do you do this often? Gang up on an unsuspecting woman and knock her off her feet with your good Samaritan act and swarthy looks, then—”

  “Swarthy?” Keith pointed to his chest. “Me? Seriously?”

  “Okay,” Elsie conceded, “you with your surfer boy charm and your partner, Mr. Swarthy. I mean, God, you practically stepped out of the pages of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog to rescue this poor dog, melt my heart in the process, tell me I’m gorgeous—”

  “Which you are,” Alex interjected.

  “And now you want to, what, fight over me, or something?” Elsie couldn’t believe it. Either she was too tired, or there was something she wasn’t getting, but nothing about this made any sense. “No, okay? No. I won’t pick one of you to go out with. There. You have each other, you’re obviously happy—”

  “Very much so,” Keith assured her.

  Elsie shook her head. “Then why ask me out? Why put your relationship at risk for a…a one night fling with me? Because I comped my time helping your dog? I can rerun the bill, you know. Charge you for my efforts.”

  Now Alex reached out and covered Keith’s hand, which still held Elsie’s to the table. “You misunderstand,” he purred. “We don’t want you to choose one of us. We’re asking if you’d go out with both. Together.”

  She looked from him to Keith and back again, not quite hoping he meant what she thought he meant.

  Then Keith said what was whispering through her mind, the one she didn’t dare let herself think. “You know, like a threesome.”

  Suddenly her knees felt weak. Her blood surged, her face flushed, and between her legs, the tender bud of her sex began to throb with a pleasant ache. “A…a…um…well,” was all she could manage to say at first. Her free hand ran through her hair nervously, tucking a loose strand behind her ear, then rubbed her shoulder. She stared at the calendar on the wall, the papers on the table, the stack of three hands clasped together, anywhere but at the two pairs of eyes watching her, waiting for a more definitive answer.

  Who am I kidding? I’d be stupid to say no.

  Keith’s thumb rubbed over the back of her wrist. In a soft voice, he murmured, “We haven’t done this before, I promise you. We’ve talked about it—”

  “About finding a woman,” Alex clarified, “to add to our relationship, but believe it or not, we usually don’t have the same taste when it comes to the ladies. We didn’t come in here tonight looking to pick up somebody, I promise you.”

  “You can say no,” Keith added.

  “I’m not saying no.”

  It sounded like someone else’s voice who answered, not her own. But once the words were free, Elsie felt a giddy relief shoot through her. How many women could say they were going out with two men at the same time? What would it be like, dating Keith and Alex together?

  And after the date is over? her mind whispered. What then? If things work out well between the three of you, and the relationship progresses, what would life be like with these two men? Spending the night, sharing their bed, waking in the morning sandwiched between them?

  She didn’t know, but if the date went well, she’d find out. Who’s the lucky dog now?

  * * * *

  ABOUT SHAWNA JEANNE

  Shawna Jeanne writes romance featuring saucy women who know what they want and aren’t afraid to take control in the sack. For more information, visit shawnajeanne.com.

  I Am by Iyana Jenna

  “I’m not gay.”

  “So what? Neither am I.”

  Carter Eagleton stares at his co-star, Andrew Bass, feeling incredulous. Here they are behind the closed door of the movie set getting ready for the next scene and all of a sudden Andrew grabbed his face and kissed him full on the lips. Carter rubs his mouth with the back of his hand—he still can’t believe what just happened.

  “What the fuck, Andrew. You kissed me. A guy kissing another guy is gay.”

  He watches Andrew’s eyes visibly enlarge as the man stumbles with his words.

  “I, uh. You. You look.”

  “What? I’m not gay and I have a girlfriend. For Chrissake, you do, too.”

  “So what. I’m not—”

  “What?”

  Pause. Another stumble. “I. She.”

  Right at that moment, the door opens. A cameraman shows up with a camera in his hands. Carter can see that it is turned on.

  “Fuck.” Carter glowers.

  “Sorry.” The cameraman retreats and closes the door after him.

  Not looking back at Andrew, Carter yanks the door open to go out himself.

  “Carter.”

  The voice is small and quiet and for a secon
d Carter hesitates. But he straightens his shoulders and leaves, shutting the door behind him, cringing to himself realizing he might have closed it too hard.

  * * * *

  After shooting that night Carter slips into a cab he called earlier. He doesn’t wait for Andrew, doesn’t wait for the driver to drive him home as usual. The kiss still disturbs him and he almost couldn’t look Andrew in the eye in between shots. He is angry, yet he is not. And even if he is, it’s not because Andrew kissed him. It’s more because Andrew kissed him—first. But…

  “I’m not gay, damn it,” he mutters to himself, and stops and looks away when he notices the cab driver’s raised eyebrow in the rearview mirror. He’s got a girlfriend—whom he never touches. Carter runs his fingers nervously through his hair. “S-stop the car. Turn around.”

  “What?” The driver steps on the brake and Carter slams forward.

  “Turn around. Back to the set.”

  Don’t let him have gone yet. Please don’t let him have left just yet.

  Carter jumps out of the car and runs toward Andrew’s trailer, waving distractedly at the security officer at the gate.

  “Andrew…” He knocks—no. More like banging his fist against the door to the trailer.

  The door cracks open. “Carter, what—”

  Without saying anything more Carter jumps in, grasps Andrew’s wet biceps—absentmindedly noticing Andrew’s half-naked state with a towel hanging low around his hips—and covers his damp mouth with his in a hungry kiss. Andrew’s lips quiver a little before they part, letting out a soft moan. Carter’s hands creep up to cup Andrew’s face and caress it. After some time he pulls back, but barely. “I’m sorry,” he whispers against Andrew’s mouth. “I didn’t know what came over me.”

  “But you’re not…”

  “Ssh.” And Carter closes the distance between them again. They’ll talk, that’s for sure. But not now.

  Not now.

  * * * *

  Andrew wishes he could stay there in Carter’s embrace, being kissed, forever. This is only the second time he has tasted Carter but already he loves everything about the intoxicating feeling radiating from Carter’s warm lips.

  But—he can’t. Andrew grapples with Carter’s chest, struggling not to pull him closer, and pushes him instead, wrenching himself away at the same time.

  “Go.” He sounds so rough, looking away as Carter seeks his eyes uncomprehendingly.

  “Andrew?”

  “You have no right to be here.” He’s tugging at the towel that almost slips off his waist.

  “Then let’s talk about it.” Carter rakes his fingers through his hair in a way that’s too painfully familiar. But Andrew tries to picture again the rage, shock, and disgust that shone through Carter’s eyes the first time Andrew kissed him. He misread the small touches and intense looks Carter threw his way. He’s not going to repeat the same mistake.

  “There’s nothing to talk about. You’re not who I thought you were. Now go.” He needs no more humiliation from Carter. Andrew turns around to get dressed. It’s getting late; it might even be morning already. He wants to go home and sleep, though he’s not sure if he’s going to be able to sleep anyway.

  “Hey, wait.” Carter grabs Andrew’s upper arm, startling Andrew. He jerks around, shaking Carter’s hand off his arm. But in the midst of everything his grip on his towel comes loose. Time freezes when the wide, soft piece of cloth slumps down into a heap on the floor, leaving Andrew as bare as a new-born baby.

  Andrew feels he’d rather die that very second. He clenches and unclenches his fists, knowing very well his face must be as red as seasoned tomatoes, and he turns away, tearing back into the shower, not wanting to imagine how his backside is flaunted for Carter to see.

  “Oh, Drew…”

  “Go away!” And he slams the bathroom door as hard as he can.

  * * * *

  Carter presses his head against the door. “Drew—”

  From inside the shower comes a soft thumping sound, then Andrew again tells Carter to leave.

  “I’m not leaving. I’m sorry I acted like a douche earlier today but that was—that was because…”

  Andrew continues softly, “Because you’re not gay. You told me that already.”

  “No, no. Christ. I mean, I might not…but—Jesus, Drew, why do you think I kissed you if I wasn’t even—a little gay for you? No, what I meant to say was you caught me off guard. I never thought you, you know, liked me that way. I kinda wanted to tell you first but you stole my thunder.”

  Not a single sound follows. Carter’s tightly clenched fist is still heavy on the wooden panel and his heart’s pounding harder and harder when no reply is forthcoming from Andrew.

  “Dude, please.” All right, so now he starts to beg. See if he cares.

  Carter feels like he’s been standing there forever when he hears a shuffle and then Andrew clearing his throat.

  “Carter?”

  “Yes.” Something feels like its grating in Carter’s throat.

  “Can I—could you get me my towel, please?”

  “Oh.”

  Carter looks around the trailer and finds the towel right where it was dropped by Andrew earlier. It briefly reminds him of the mouthwatering view of Andrew’s butt—but he must stop thinking that if he wants them to get straight with each other first. Absolutely no pun intended. He snatches the cloth and returns to the door.

  “I got it, Drew.”

  The door slowly parts and Carter half hates the way he holds his breath in anticipation. But this is Andrew, he reminds himself. He is worthy of every damn second Carter has to spend.

  Andrew’s hand appears from behind the panel and Carter gives him the towel.

  “Thanks,” Andrew whispers, takes the towel, and shuts the door again.

  * * * *

  Andrew doesn’t know what to do with the towel in his hand. He should wear it, of course, if he wants to be decent enough to look in Carter’s eyes.

  The problem is, he doesn’t want to look decent. When the evil cloth slid off his body just now, aside from shame, he felt giddy knowing how Carter mustn’t have been able to look away from his butt. Hell, Andrew was this close to wriggling it for his solo audience.

  An audience that’s waiting impatiently, Andrew bets, on the other side of the door. The one who has admitted to being a little gay for Andrew. Andrew silently thanks his girlfriend, aka best friend, who kept pushing him to declare his feelings to Carter. Turns out, she’s right. Andrew wonders how she’s going to react if Andrew tells her about this.

  Carter knocks at the door again. “Drew, you going to come out now?”

  “One moment.”

  “If you don’t open the door now, I’m going to break in.”

  Might as well, Andrew thinks.

  He grabs the doorknob and yanks it hard, sending Carter flying in—crashing right into Andrew’s bare chest.

  “Uhh!”

  “Carter.” Andrew presses his hands on Carter’s firm chest and runs them up to his face, tracing the pronounced jut of Carter’s jaw, and brings Carter close to him. He whispers Carter’s name into the man’s mouth before licking it, tasting it. He’s done it before, twice, and right now, he knows he won’t let him go.

  * * * *

  ABOUT IYANA JENNA

  Published with JMS Books, Evernight Publishing, and Fireborn Publishing, with some work translated into French, Spanish, and Italian, Iyana Jenna is an M/M writer. Her first short story was published in 2013. She’s had several titles become Amazon and All Romance eBooks best sellers.

  Volte-Face by Dilo Keith

  Michael woke with a face full of dark curls and an armful of firm, bare flesh. Smooth cotton sheets concealed the lines and contours, but not the animal warmth of the body he’d found so exciting the previous night. He knew little about this gorgeous, sexy man beyond the fact that Ethan—or was it Albert?—was a good friend of the party’s host and had been looking for a thorough thrashing. He
’d called the man “boy” most of the night. Before shackling Eliot—yeah, that was it, Eliot—to the cross, Michael had learned only as much as he’d needed to know about the man to play safely. However, they’d talked briefly after the scene and for a few minutes later in the evening, enough for Michael to decide that Eliot was smart, funny, and well worth getting to know better. Michael had invited him home, thinking that they’d continue their kinky fun even if nothing else developed. Most of the sex had turned out to be relatively vanilla, but not lacking in quality or quantity. The last thing Michael remembered was agreeing to a politely greedy request for “just a little more” of Michael’s cane.

  Michael caressed Eliot, following a winding path across his delightfully sensitive nipples, down his abs, and around to his fuzzy—not too hairy—and very fine ass. Still has my cane marks. Good. I can hardly wait to see them. He fingered the faintly ridged flesh with a touch not exactly intended to wake the sleeping beauty who had magically, it seemed, ended up naked in his bed. In all honesty, he wanted Eliot awake and aroused, wanted to bury his cock in Eliot’s hopefully still-willing body. Or give him another spanking. Or both.

  Even though Eliot had been both compliant and enthusiastic in his role, there was something different about him, something that niggled at Michael. He was normally good at reading subs, but couldn’t classify this one. According to Justin, the party host, Eliot had been in the scene for many years. He certainly seemed experienced and confident, perhaps even a bit too confident. Eliot had responded to all of Michael’s orders with eager obedience—nothing wrong with that, except that it had seemed almost too easy considering he and Eliot had just met. Their sweaty scenes and brief conversations hadn’t given Michael much insight into what made Eliot tick. More data, that’s what Michael would need to get a better sense of the man behind the plaything—after he’d had his way with Eliot again.