by Vivica Dorn
“This is the last of the kitchen stuff,” he said before standing and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. The strong June sunlight streaming into the apartment caught in Finn’s dark curls and illuminated the slight glow of sweat on his skin. Lance had never seen something so pure, so perfect. Finn turned towards him, his lovely mouth dropping open and his long-lashed eyes widening.
“Holy shit! You look... amazing,” he stuttered, blushing fiercely.
Lance breathed out, steadying himself. If they didn’t have to leave for the ceremony soon, he would have torn every strip of clothing off of Finn’s body and bent him over their couch right that second.
“So do you,” he said appreciatively.
Finn frowned, looking almost comically annoyed.
“Whatever, I’ve been packing all day! I still have to shower and get changed.”
Though Lance had just exited the shower himself not long ago, the thought of getting back in with Finn was immensely tempting. He groaned and shook off the thought, nudging Finn in the direction of the bathroom.
“Then you better get going. You’re the one who was so worried about getting a good seat.”
“Oh my god, you’re right,” Finn replied, looking suddenly panicked as he turned back and noted the time on their stove’s digital clock. “I got so caught up with the moving stuff I wasn’t paying attention to the time.”
Lance smiled, then brushed his thumb over Finn’s smooth cheek. It was endearing, seeing Finn work so hard in preparation for their move. They had found a perfect townhouse downtown – one close enough to campus for Finn to still be able to walk to class, and only a short drive away from Lance’s new office where he would start his new engineering position next week. Everything was falling into place in a way that Lance had never dreamed possible. And he had never been more content. He bent down and brushed his lips against Finn’s, and when Finn’s lips parted automatically, he deepened the kiss, his hands moving to Finn’s waist. Finn sighed into him, then made a sound and pulled back, laughing. He disentangled himself from the embrace.
“Ok, for real, time to get ready. I’ll be out in a sec!” Finn called over his shoulder as he jogged to the bathroom, stepped inside, and closed the door. Lance shook his head at the closed door, then sat on the couch, one of the few things left in the otherwise empty room.
And so he sat, staring at the door Finn had just gone through. He waited patiently for his love to return, ready to take his hand and move forward together into their new life.
END
Thank you for reading THE SHARK, sequel to THE TA! I hope you enjoyed Finn and Lance’s story. Stay tuned for the next instalment of the Kingston College series, THE FARMBOY (more info below), which features the Texan swimmer Greg and his best friend’s younger brother, Jeremy. To stay up to date with my writing and be informed of all new releases, sign up for my newsletter here.
THE FARMBOY
Two things have been constant in Jeremy Evans’ life – his love for horses, and his love for his older brother’s best friend, Greg. He’s been chasing after Greg for his entire life – always just a little too small, a little too young, to keep up. When Greg turns 18 and leaves to go school out of state, Jeremy swears he will use that time apart to grow up and become someone impressive, someone worth really noticing, someone worth loving back. Even though he knows Greg isn’t gay. Even though he knows this can only end in heartbreak.
The last time Greg Davidson saw Jeremy, he had been a scrawny 16-year old, somewhere halfway-between the whiny little brother his best friend, Darren, was always dragging around, and a man. So when Jeremy shows up at Kingston College after Christmas break, transferring from his home college after being scouted for the wrestling team, six feet tall, bearded, and built like a tank, Greg can’t help but be simultaneously shocked and impressed by how the boy grew up. And when Jeremy comes out to him, his respect for the freshman only grows – he knows it couldn’t have been easy to grow up gay in their conservative hometown.
But things get messy when Jeremy confesses that the long-held object of his desire has actually been Greg. And when their relationship suddenly morphs from one of neighbourly childhood affection into something physical, confusing, and very much adult, Greg struggles to put some distance between them, trying to figure out how much of what he now feels is nostalgic, platonic love for his best friend’s little brother, and how much is something new entirely.
He’s positive he can’t give Jeremy what he wants. He’s straight, after all.
Isn’t he?
~
If you are interested in stepping outside of the world of Kingston College and into the underworld of the Russian mob, check out UNDERHANDED GAMES, available now!
Anthony Colton is a survivor. Poor and orphaned, yet fiercely determined, the young bike messenger barely makes ends meet by completing deliveries on his bicycle in the pulsing heat of the city. Ever since he was hit by a car on a delivery two years ago and suffered a concussion, he's had to work twice as hard to recover both his memories and his financial standing.
Obscenely rich banker by day and mobster by night Dmitri Volkov quietly watches over the confident delivery boy from afar. He’s kept his eye on Anthony since the day of his accident, never stepping out from the shadows, never making himself known. That is, until he sees a chance to draw Anthony into his world.
When Anthony gets caught up doing a job for the Russian mob, he doesn't know how he is going to disentangle himself from the strange and dangerous situation he finds himself in. Dmitri, right-hand man to the mob leader Mr Solokov, offers Anthony a deal: 10,000 dollars a month to work exclusively as his errand boy in return for protection from the mob and its enemies. Anthony, feeling trapped and yet somehow drawn to the darkly familiar Dmitri, agrees. What Anthony doesn't know is that this isn't the first time Dmitri has saved him, and there's a reason nostalgia settles deep in his gut whenever he looks at the stern, sharp-jawed face of the mobster. As their relationship devolves into something carnal, something toxic and inescapable, Anthony is plagued by half-formed memories and feelings of deja vu, coming back to the same question again and again, the words beating in his chest like an anthem: who are you, who are you, who are you?
Anthony knows that Dmitri holds the key to the missing pieces of his past. But will the cruel billionaire ever admit that he's really the hero of Anthony's story? Or will Dmitri only tighten his iron grip, unwittingly pushing Anthony away and losing the only thing he’s cared about for the past two years forever?
Read on for an excerpt of UNDERHANDED GAMES below.
UNDERHANDED GAMES
Anthony looked up at Dmitri’s face in the light of the hall, realizing with surprise that he recognized the man, but unsure why. There was something about the short, deep gold hair, the exceptionally sharp jaw, the stern set of his steely grey eyes...
Unable to figure it out, he blurted, “do I know you?” He had never had much of a filter.
Dmitri turned to him then with a withering look. His grey eyes bored deep into Anthony. Without reason or explanation, an electric current coursed through Anthony, lighting up every vein and artery with exquisite fire as those extraordinarily dark, serious grey eyes locked on to his. He gulped, cheeks flushing. What the hell?
“You don’t know me,” Dmitri said firmly, turning his eyes ahead once again. He fished a key out of his pocket, much like the doorman, and unlocked the elevator’s release. The doors opened once again and the two stepped inside.
When the doors closed Anthony found himself drawn to the taller man’s face once again. He stared at it in the mirrored surface of the inside of the elevator doors. Something about him really was familiar... but why? He traced the outline of Dmitri’s face with his eyes, moving downwards to the huge shoulders and chest, the tapered waist, the strong legs.
Dmitri turned back to him again, mouth set angrily.
“What? What are you looking at? Your eyes are on me.”
“I just...
I’m sorry, man, I just really feel like I know you from somewhere.”
Dmitri clenched his jaw. Something flickered in his eyes, but then it was gone. He turned away without saying anything else, just as the doors opened and released them into the extravagance of the lobby. Anthony assumed that Dmitri would return upstairs immediately, but instead he followed him out of the elevators, prowling like jaguar behind him. Patrons of the hotel and staff alike fell away from the huge man, shivering, whispering. Who the hell is this guy? Anthony questioned, stealing a look back over his shoulder. He noticed that Dmitri’s intense grey eyes were burning deep into him once again. He sucked in a breath and whipped his head back to the front, speeding up, almost running to the doors and out into the night, feeling like prey.
He breathed the night air into his body like a cure. A cure for all the strangeness of this evening. About to shake off the bizarre dream of the night, he realized he didn’t know where his bike was. He had given it to another doorman when the first doorman had led him inside. Frantically spinning around, he collided directly with the massive wall of Dmitri’s body. He stumbled back from the impact, almost falling, when Dmitri caught his wrist in a grip both fierce and strangely tender. Anthony flushed, and Dmitri released his hand after holding it for a split-second longer than necessary. At Dmitri’s side, looking hysterically small, like a toy, was his bicycle.
“Oh, thanks,” he murmured, reaching for it. Dmitri didn’t budge. His carved face was totally inscrutable.
“It’s late. The darkness makes it dangerous. You don’t have reflective clothing. I will drive you.”
Anthony stepped back, waving his hands in front of him. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to run, run from this strange, huge, unreadable man. But Dmitri had his bike. He needed his bike.
“It’s ok, I can ride, I know what I’m doing.”
“You’ve been hit by a car before.”
Startled, Anthony paused, at a total loss for words. He had been struck by a car, almost two years ago now. He had been exceptionally lucky to come away with only a fractured wrist and a concussion, but the medical bills still followed him. How did this stranger know?
“What? How -”
Dmitri’s expression shifted, as if he knew he had said something he shouldn’t have. He cleared his throat and looked away silently, mouth pressed tightly.
“Don’t ask questions and don’t argue. The car is here.”
A valet was just pulling up in a long black Mercedes. He exited the vehicle and bowed to Dmitri, handing him the keys with reverence. Anthony could tell that this hulking man was someone respected. Someone feared.
Dmitri tossed the bike into the trunk and got into the driver’s seat. Anthony hesitated, unsure of what to do. But, my bike... His bike was his only source of income and his main mode of transportation. Swearing, he climbed into the passenger seat. As he shut the door, he felt like he was slamming it on all the safety and familiarity of the world he knew.
As they drove, in silence, Anthony’s eyes wandered over to Dmitri again.
Dmitri clenched his jaw.
“Your eyes are on me again,” he turned towards him, his grey eyes black in the night, “Anthony.”
The way he said his name shot a spark of ecstatic fury zinging down Anthony’s spine. His face felt hot though he wasn’t sure why. He suddenly realized that they were heading towards his apartment but that he had never given Dmitri directions.
“How do you know where we’re going? How do you know my name?”
Anthony knew he should be more scared than he was, but he was starting to get annoyed. Really annoyed. How did this monster of a man know so much about him?
Dmitri’s hand tightened on the steering wheel and he turned his hard gaze back to the road, saying nothing.
Anthony felt his earlier uneasiness completely fading away. His unbeatable toughness, his confidence, was returning.
“No, don’t look away from me. How the hell do you know who I am? I know that I know you from somewhere, and you know my name and where I live. What the fuck, man?”
Without warning Dmitri swerved onto a dark and quiet side street, out of the main flow of traffic and turned off the engine. Fuck, Anthony thought with a grimace. I’m going to get murdered and no one will ever find my body. I’ve finally pissed off the wrong guy.
Seriously expecting to get shot or strangled, Anthony was not in the least prepared for when Dmitri’s mouth fell upon his with a vengeance. Anthony cried out but it was inaudible against the iron force of Dmitri’s hungering mouth. Anthony raised his hands to push back, but Dmitri caught him by the wrists and forced his hands above the headrest of his seat with barely any force at all, as if Anthony were a child. Heat coursed through Anthony, concentrating in all the places Dmitri was touching him – his mouth, his aching wrists. He could barely breathe against the ferocity of the unexpected onslaught. Dmitri forced Anthony’s mouth open, pressing inward with his ardent tongue, exploring every part of Anthony’s wetness. Begrudgingly, through the strange mix of sensations and emotions running though him, Anthony had to admit that Dmitri was a good kisser. He was confident, brutally so, sure of his movements, so sure, in fact, that he knew exactly how much pressure to apply with his mouth and teeth to cause Anthony a frisson of electric pain before softening a little and letting Anthony relax a bit.
After what seemed an eternity Dmitri pulled back, just a bit, his face still a breath away from Anthony’s, still pinning Anthony’s hands above his head. Dazed, Anthony began to wriggle once again trying to get free. Dmitri tightened his hold on Anthony’s wrists. Anthony looked directly, deeply into Dmitri’s eyes, once again struck by the intensity of the familiarity he found there.
“Who... who are you?”