Guarding the Line Chapter 7 ~ The Monday Night Bleacher Report

Welcome back!

We've hit a rough patch in Atlanta.

(I know, I know. Please, someone, nominate that sentence for Understatement of the Year. I need the publicity.) While my fictional Brave's third baseman, Mike Reardon, thinks his luck has changed when he hooks up with Verity on the patio at Obsidian, the real-deal Braves have won only eight of their last twenty-two games.

Welcome to that time of year when I start to put some serious thought into what I wear on game days. Their pink Mother's Day bats didn't do much for the Upton brothers yesterday. Does that mean...(gasp!)  Has my lucky pink Braves cap lost it's magic? Say it ain't so, Joe. Should I not wear my lucky hat when we play the D'backs tonight? Do I need to find my Chipper Jones bobble-head doll, build it an altar, and sacrifice a live chicken? Will my neighbor miss their live chicken, or are they serious Braves fans, who might understand that their new rooster is driving me up a fricken wall  that true fans must do whatever it takes to help their team?

Believe it or not, that kind of fan-think was one of the motivations behind Guarding the Line. We all know someone--or are the one--who thinks our behavior can affect the outcome of a game. Or, maybe you have to live in the sports-crazy culture of the South. But I had the thought "What if there's no such thing as bad luck? What if the things happening in an alternate reality bleed through and affect humans day-to-day activities." A bit of musing on all the times I hunted a lost item, only to find it in exactly the spot when I searched most often, and voila! GTL got it's start.

Oh, so you caught me diverting your attention from the Brave's season, did'ja? Guilty as charged. So is Verity, when we last saw her, she'd been caught red-handed by her half-sister Sage, coming out of a curtained booth on the patio at Obsidian.

Onward:

Verity could've strangled her sister, but she kept her voice even.  At least she hoped it was even. “Going back to the VIP bar, Sage. I think my break’s over now.”

A wicked smile curved sage’s lips. She eyed Mike, then looked at Verity. “So, the fact that Avery came into work isn’t information you’re interested in?”

Verity felt her heart speed up, as if the organ wasn’t beating hard enough already. “I thought Avery was in Jamaica?”

Sage raised one shoulder. “And the lovely vacation turned into a spat. His lover picked up somebody else to love, so he’s back, and you’re off the hook. Poor man’s eying the tip jar like a drowning swimmer looking at a life preserver. Nothing like a bit of cash to soothe a broken heart.  I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I couldn’t believe it when Hanes said he saw you come out here, and Jeremy said you were…well, anyway.” 

Verity thought about sending her sister a bouquet of her special roses for the way Sage dropped her eyes to examine Mike’s…package. “Really, Sage?” She didn’t feel a single twinge of guilt for not telling Sage her suspension was up. The information had slipped her mind. For a week. Yeah, right. Closing her eyes, Verity quickly filled her mind with images of trivia…the dark curtains surrounding the patio, the beach at her front door, her front yard. The last thing she wanted was for Sage to discern information about her visit from the Triscaro. She’d tell Sage at some point, but until Verity figured out what Sage had done to warrant the punishment Verity suffered on her behalf, she wasn’t in any hurry to let her sister go back to practicing magic. And it would be best if Sage didn’t know how interested Verity was in the man standing at her side. Wasn’t it just like Sage not to show an ounce of compassion for Avery? How awful, to break up on vacation. Embarrassment made her thoughts whirl.

“Thank you, Sage, whoever you are.  I have plans for this woman,” Mike said, grabbing her hand. So much for secrets. “Let’s get you clocked out and go someplace else.”

“This is my sister, Mike. It’s her club. Sage, this is Mike…uh, don’t think I recall your last name.” Dammit, she was too old to blush.

“Reardon.  Nice to meet you, Sage.”

“Oh, no. the pleasure is all mine,” Sage purred. Before Vee could react, Sage stuck her hand between her breasts, bringing out a key. Removing the chain from around her neck, Sage pressed the small piece of brass into Vee’s hand. “Allow me to help you with those plans. Have fun, kids.” Verity curled her fingers around the key, watching Sage preen like a parrot through narrowed eyes. Sage smoothed her short hair and stuck out her breasts. Her eyes were still glued to Mike and Vee didn’t miss the avaricious gleam. If the guy had returned Sage’s look, Vee wouldn’t think twice about leaving, but he didn’t. A quick glance showed Verity he was looking at her. For now.

Vee swore silently.

“What’s the key to? Are there more, um, private places in this damn nightclub?”

Sage’s smile would’ve melted the Abominable Snowman. “A private elevator, the one that goes to an apartment in this building,” her sister informed her hook-up.

       “Give me that key,” he replied, reaching for Verity’s clenched fist.

“Not the trusting sort, are you?” Verity relinquished the object. “First the hair comb, now the key?”

He didn’t let go of her hand. “Come on, gorgeous. The gods answered my prayers. Let’s go. Call it insurance so you don’t change your mind without giving me the chance to talk you out of it.” 

He didn’t give Sage a second look. 
Maybe my luck’s changing.

****

They made their way around the dance floor. The crowd had thinned a bit, since it was well past midnight. Verity led him to a door marked Female Employees Only. Torn between necking in the hall and shoving her through the door so they could go wherever the key in his hand might lead, he was relieved when she twisted from his grasp and disappeared through the door.  He leaned against the wall after sending a text to Victor, to tell his teammates not to wait.  He shoved the cell phone back in his pocket, waiting impatiently, while visions of the things he planned to do with her danced like demons in his head. What was it about her that had him panting like a teenager, even though she’d just milked him damn near dry?  He hadn’t been able to take his damn eyes off her, not at the tattoo parlor, not tonight. With hundreds of women in the place, she was the only one he could see, despite the nearly identical sister. It had to be those amazing eyes, he decided. How weird was it to imagine something so beautiful, only to have it come true? He could barely wait to have her beneath him.

And me without a condom or four. Surely, little Miss Sage had some handy. There had been a large bowl in the men’s room, mounded with glossy black wrappers imprinted with the club name across the front. 

The door opened, and he shoved away from the wall.  He could see her nipples through the fabric of the tee shirt. What a hot little number.

“Do I need to duck into the men’s room for some condoms, or will she have some in her apartment?” he asked.

“There will be some upstairs,” she assured him.

“Let’s go.” Grabbing her hand again, he let her lead the way. She stopped in front of an elevator door, but he saw no buttons on the brass plate, just a small hole. He realized the carriage took a key, and fished in his pocket. The key Sage had given them slipped in easily. The polished black door slid open without a sound.

He found the key slot on the inside of the elevator door and once more fitted the key inside the lock. Gold-tinted mirrors lined the walls of the elevator, a relief from the unrelenting black.  The door closed obediently. Turning toward her, Mike pressed her against the back of the elevator, pinning her with his hips as he kissed her hungrily. He felt the elevator ascend. Odd, because he’d thought the club was on the top floor.

Before he could do much with her shirt, they stopped and the door slid open. Looking over his shoulder, he realized the elevator opened directly into an apartment. He reached for the key, but she put a restraining hand over his. After depressing a tiny button below the slot, she took his hand. They stepped into the apartment, leaving the key in place.

Mike let out an admiring whistle. During his time in the majors, he’d seen some fancy digs, but this place was right up there with them. The facing wall was floor-to-ceiling glass, overlooking the city. Through the sheer drapes, he could see a large balcony, complete with fire pit. Black-lacquered furniture studded the room. The upholstery had been done in black leather.  A kitchen sat to his left, tucked into an alcove. The black countertops were identical to the ones downstairs in the bar. Bright pottery decorated countertops and shelves. To his right, another alcove featured a massive poster bed. The covers were black, but pillows of turquoise, red, orange, and hot pink were piled at the headboard. The colors mimicked the crocks and jars in the kitchenette. Even the floors and walls were black. The flooring looked and felt like rubber. Squinting, he thought the ceiling was covered in the same material. Sound-proofing, maybe? The lighting was subtle, as was the music. The song playing wasn’t the hard-driving stuff from the club.

“Sage is fond of black.” She toed off her shoes.

“Does she live here?”

“No. If anyone asks, now you can tell them you’ve seen the real VIP lounge at Obsidian.”

Fuck gawking at the room like a tourist. Mike put his hand on her waist. Since their little adventure on the patio, every time he touched her, a strong sensation shot straight to his cock. “Show me that tat.”

(To be continued 5/20)

 Thanks for dropping in. Let's go see what fellow romance author Jennifer Simpkins has to say about her damn Yankees, shall we? 

Guarding the Line ~ Chapter 5

Wow, I was so busy last week, I don't think I saw a single game. Caught the end of yesterday's loss on the radio. The Brave's still have single-digit losses, and for now, still rest at the top of the NL East, but we have a long way to go.

Soft Sounds of Pleasure, compete with new cover art and a few hundred words lighter, should be available on Amazon again by May 1. All other outlets to follow in due time. I sometimes wonder if the people at iTunes read every word before they put something up. Still waiting on a couple of books to go live there. (sigh)

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she replied. “He’s harmless, but irritating. I hate it when guys just think it’s okay to—”  She cut off the sentence, staring at him.

“Touch you without an invitation?” he guessed.  She swallowed hard before nodding.  “Sure, I’d like a beer, thanks.”

He stared at her hungrily as she pulled the tap, lingering over the lush curves of her full breasts, and her waist beneath the form-fitting corset. The pants hugged her ass, showing off more curves he longed to touch.  He’d seen her without the pants, after all, seen her stretched out completely naked except for sinful lace panties. He knew long legs were hidden under that leather and he wanted them wrapped around him.  Stop, he scolded himself.  The last thing she wanted was some other asshole touching her without her consent.

She placed a coaster in front of him before sitting the glass down.

“So, it’s Vee, right? I’m Mike,” he added helpfully. “Thane introduced us.”

“I remember,” she said. “And yes, it’s Vee.”

“What’s that short for?”

“Verity.”  
He picked up the beer, still looking at her. “So, Verity, what are we doing on this break of yours?  How about a dance?”

She laughed, polishing the expanse of bar to his right. “It’s okay. I was just getting rid of Reno.  I usually hide out in my car. Staff’s not supposed to dance, or mingle with the guests.”

“You always do what you’re supposed to do?  That sounds kind of…lightweight to me.”  Damn, those eyes were fantastic.  He’d always hoped they’d turn out to be real.

She cut him a glance that made his heart stop in his chest. “So, a dance with you is supposedly worth getting fired?”

“Probably not. I don’t claim to be the best dancer in the world.  But, we could go somewhere and you could let me see that tat.”

She darted a look around and put one finger over her lips. “Shh, I haven’t come out about that yet, and I have relatives who work here.  The staff gossips like crazy.  It’s seriously a secret.”

“So, I get to see it, or I rat you out.”

“Blackmail’s not very nice.  I think I’d rather risk getting fired and see how badly you dance.”

“Vee, sorry we forgot about you back here. Go take your break, make it a long one.”

They both looked at the woman who appeared behind the bar.

“Thanks, Angie,” Vee replied. “Where’s Sage?”

“In her office, I think.  Do you need her?”

Vee laughed again, a sound he already loved. She glanced toward him, mischief in her eyes. “No, my customer here wants to dance with me.  I just wanted to know if the coast was clear.” 

“Like she’d fire you.” This new woman gave him an appraising look. “Besides, it’s packed out there. How would she see you in the midst of all that insanity?  Go. Take your time.  I got this.” 

The two women bent their heads over the register. Mike downed the beer before tossing a twenty on the bar.  He waited for her to approach him, and felt his heart start to pound as she rounded the bar and held out her hand. He took it, feeling the adrenaline of attraction speed through his veins.

As soon as they reached the crowded main room, the crush of bodies slowed their progress. She wound her way determinedly toward the center of the big dance floor. Talking was out of the question.  The music vibrated through him. She finally reached the place she wanted to be, smiling seductively before turning and beginning to move in time with the music.  She’d selected a place under one of the club’s spotlights, and she danced as if she knew that was where she belonged.

He could hardly tear his eyes away. He watched her hips move in time with the music.  She wasn’t looking at him.  Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back.  He stopped bothering to pretend he was dancing, only watched her. The crowd pulled back a bit, everyone around them watched her, too.  The way she danced was primal, slightly sinful in her complete lack of self-consciousness.  He saw her glance over her shoulders, caught the taunt in her eyes as she spun around, then moved closer to him, beginning a slow torture.

He felt her breasts touch his chest, saw her lean away, only to feel her hip nudge the erection her dance provoked.  He moved with her, but refused to give in to his desire to touch her, mindful of her comment in the bar.  Her hand slipped down his arm, hitting bare skin after skimming over the short sleeve of his t-shirt, tracing an electrifying trail down his arm.  Reaching his hand, her eyes never left his. She brought his fingers to her lips, pressed them to his index finger, just before she flicked her tongue over the rough pad.

He groaned as need throbbed in his cock. With a naughty look, she sunk her teeth into the place her tongue had laved. Shock waves of desire hit his groin. He fought the urge to throw her over his shoulder and find somewhere they could be alone.  He curled his free hand around her waist, underneath her hair, caressing the soft flesh above the low waistband of her pants and slowly drew her body to his.

Time, and even the music, disappeared as she melted against him. They barely moved, yet were never still. Her breath fanned his chest. He inhaled the scent of her hair, and reveled in the way her curves felt, pressed against him. Her head fit neatly just under his chin. Her nails raked the fabric of his shirt, up and over the muscles of his back, then down again.  He groaned again, and tightened his grip on her waist, pressing her less gently into his erection.

He felt her move, looked down to see her face tilted up to his, lost himself in those jewel-like eyes before allowing his gaze to settle on the soft, full lips.  He bent his head to kiss her.  Their lips touched, sending another ripple of need through his veins. Her lips parted, and damn, he wasn't going to miss this opportunity. She’d been seducing him for an hour. Time to give her what she’d been asking for.

And she didn’t simply kiss him back.  Oh, no, her silky tongue drove him to new heights of desire.  She tasted like sweet fruit, felt like wet silk.

He felt her stiffen and start to pull away. He let her go, regret singing in his veins. She turned, but not before giving the front of his shirt a tug. Again, she worked her way through the crush of bodies, but he saw several men look at him with envy. No doubt, they’d watched her dance.  His zipper was probably imprinted on his cock for life. He surreptitiously tried to adjust matters before they got off the dance floor.

She walked straight to the closest bar, signaling him to wait. Slipping behind the glossy black length,  pulled two sleek bottles—also black, everything in this joint was black—out of a cooler with a nod to the bartender.

“Let’s go outside.” She rose on tiptoe and spoke into his ear, placing one of the bottles in his hand.

“Been following you all night.”  More like looking for her all his life. Too bad his dreams never showed him what happened next. Guess that's up to me.

He followed her again. This time, she passed the table where his teammates were seated.  Victor gave him the thumbs up as they walked by. Mike grinned, giving them a cocky wave.

Once through the door, he gazed around, taking in the sight. The center of the glassed-in patio held mostly empty tables, each with a flickering candle at the center.  He saw Vee turn to her left, and realized she was talking to a man dressed in black, who stood behind some sort of podium.  He supposed she was getting them a table.  Looking around while the guy consulted a book in front of him, Mike realized the boundaries of the patio were defined by black curtains about seven feet high, draped from red-lacquered poles, above which he could see the lights of the city.  It was oddly disconcerting, that black fabric. She turned towards him, beckoning him again.

He followed, wondering where the hell she was going. Does she want to push back the curtains and look out at the view? Obsidian was on top floor of a building at the edge of downtown Atlanta. He supposed the view was worth looking at, but the scenery wasn't as interesting as the woman he was following. He glanced at his watch, wondering how much time they had before she had to go back to work. She stopped and pulled back the curtain to reveal piles of red and black cushions in front of small ledge set in front of a massive pane of plate glass. He felt his jaw drop.

He stepped inside. She followed, allowing the heavy curtain to swing closed behind her. She evaded his grasp and shoved aside some of the pillows, revealing an upholstered bench running the length of the counter. No fucking wonder his buddies had been grinning, assuming they knew what was out here. The music was muted, a faint throb in the background, allowing him to hear the sounds of lovemaking coming from the curtained hideaways on either side.

To be continued 5/6. Like the story? You can catch up on Chapters 1-4 here.

Kathleen's on vacation this week, but be sure to check in on Jennifer Simpkins. I have to admit, the Yankees are getting the job done, even with some pretty big holes in their lineup. Dang, I really wanted to yank Jennifer's chain this week...but it's early yet. And I'm the patient sort. :p

Thanks for dropping in! Have a great week.

A Hot Man and a Quickie #3 FREE READ (m/m)

First things first.

The Hot Man:

Male model John Quinlan modeling for Perry Ellis. 

You know a man's smokin' when he looks just as yummy clothed as not.
ATTN: Romance writers, John would love to be on top...of your next romance cover.

http://irishjohnquinlan.blogspot.com/

http://www.johnquinlan.org/

http://twitter.com/johnjquinlan

The Quickie:

Excerpt from Using Broken Wings to Fly
 Read this story now! FREE READ Written for the Love is Always Write Event, hosted by the M/M Romance group on Goodreads. Simply ask to join the group, and read the story for free! Send me a friend request while you're there :)

"Help me, George. I need you to come to me."

George curled into a ball. Squeezing his knees to his chest, he dug his fingers into his jeans, unable to close his mind to the horrific visions racing through his head. Not his usual visions, where he saw young soldiers he knew being blown apart by IED's, but every bit as sickening.

"I guess the gay porn channel was asking too much?" he groaned. Then everything went black.

In other news, Soft Sounds of Pleasure received a 4.5/5.0 review  from Tyra's Book Addiction.