Polar Reaction

by Claire Thompson

  All they can do is trust that love will somehow bring their gypsy-hearted lover home again.

  Warning: Explicit, erotic m/m/f passion. Double penetration takes on a whole new meaning—the hot and sensual combinations will leave you needing a cold shower!

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Our Man Friday:

  Turning on her heel, she dashed up the stairs. “Last one up's a rotten egg,” she called, laughing.

  Ian turned to Kye with a grin. “That girl"—he shook his head in mock dismay—"always has only one thing on her mind."

  Kye raised his eyebrows, aware of his rising erection. He glanced pointedly at the bulge swelling in Ian's jeans as well. “We could always stay down here and talk some more."

  Ian nodded sagely and they stared at one another with serious, manly expressions for all of three seconds before they burst out laughing. Suddenly they were shoving and pushing each other, stumbling up the stairs as fast as they could, tearing off their shirts as they ran.

  Cassidy was lying on the bed, wearing only a pair of black silky panties. Ian entered the room, pulling off his jeans and kicking them, along with his underwear, aside. With a laugh, he bounded onto the bed and turned toward Kye. “Come on. It's your bed too."

  Kye felt an odd shyness, though his cock was straining hard at the sight of the handsome couple. Cassidy's breasts were sheer perfection, the rosy-pink nipples perking toward him. Her creamy skin looked soft as satin and he knew from his own experience that it was. His fingers actually itched with the desire to stroke that lovely flesh.

  He turned toward Ian, drinking in the sight of his broad, smooth chest and hard cock rising from a nest of dark blond curls. After a diet of regular sex with these two gorgeous creatures, the self-imposed celibacy of the last week made him ache all the more. Hurriedly he stripped off his shorts and underwear, aching for both of them.

  He moved into their waiting arms. They kissed for several minutes. Kye buried his head in Cassidy's luxurious hair, reveling in the sweet, familiar scent of her. When he could bear to let her go, he turned toward Ian.

  The shyness between them downstairs was gone. Pulling back from a kiss, Kye licked a line down Ian's cheek and throat, tasting the salty tang of sweat, which mingled with his woodsy aftershave. Ian clutched Kye's cock and Kye groaned.

  Kye tilted his head back toward Ian's face and they kissed again, tongues at first lazily exploring each other's mouths, becoming more insistent as they stroked each other's cocks. He turned to find Cassidy on his other side, watching them with shining eyes and parted lips. Eagerly he tasted her sweet mouth while Ian continued to massage his cock.

  He sought her nipples, taking them one at a time into his mouth and suckling them. Ian moved behind him, spooning him, his hard shaft pressing between Kye's cheeks. Kye was like a kid in a candy store, one who couldn't decide which delectable treat to taste next. He rolled onto his back, extending his arms on either side to draw them both close.

  As if they'd planned it beforehand, both Cassidy and Ian pulled away. Kye sat up, confused. He needed to feel their bare skin on his, their lips on his mouth, their bodies hard against his. “Hey ... what?"

  "Lie back.” Cassidy's voice took on a sultry quality. “We want to take care of you.” Ian nodded, pressing Kye back against the pillows. He complied with a happy sigh as Cassidy slid down to take his cock in her long, cool fingers. Warm lips closed over his shaft and Cassidy began to do amazing things with her tongue and the lightest grazing of her teeth. His eyes narrowed with pleasure and then fluttered shut. He groaned, surrendering himself to her skillful touch.

  He was vaguely aware of Ian maneuvering nearby, reaching for the condoms they kept in the nightstand. He heard the familiar tear of the plastic wrapper. After several delicious minutes, Cassidy released his cock and sat back. He opened his eyes, watching as Ian, already similarly prepared, rolled a condom over his wet, hard cock.

  Cassidy lay back on the pillows beside them. Her cheeks and chest were flushed, her eyes a vivid green and burning with lust. She didn't have to ask—he knew what she wanted.

  Still not entirely sure of his role in this sexual dance between three, he turned to Ian, silently asking for direction. “She wants you. I want you. We both mean to have you.” Ian nodded toward the lovely girl, who had let her long, slender legs fall open.

  Kye got to his knees and moved between her thighs. Using his fingers, he opened her carefully. She moaned. “Yes."

  Ian leaned close to her and whispered into her ear. She nodded and flashed a devilish smile in Kye's direction. Then she rolled over and lifted herself to her hands and knees.

  Cassidy turned to him, her long, ginger hair falling in a sweep over her back. “Take me, Kye. And Ian will take you.” Kye glanced at Ian, who nodded. Until this moment, he'd received Kye, but never penetrated him in turn. Kye could see the lust burning bright in his eyes.

  Ian opened the tube of lubrication and smeared some over his cock. He squeezed a bit more on his fingers and stroked the head of Kye's cock, coating the condom that sheathed it. Kye shivered at his touch. He was on fire, desperate for Ian's hard cock, filling him while he filled Cassidy.

  He was surprised to see his hands actually trembling with his barely contained desire. He used Cassidy's hips to steady himself, positioning his cock at her sex and rolling forward until he filled her. Cassidy moaned, pushing herself back against him. He swiveled in slow circles, reveling in her sensitive response. She shivered and sighed and he felt powerful, like a snake charmer, and she the cobra, at once mesmerized, tamed and ravished by his movements.

  Ian positioned himself behind Kye, sandwiching him between the two. Ian's finger, gooey with lube, slipped into Kye's ass. After a moment, a second finger eased its way in. Kye was ready for him, eager for him, desperate for him.

  The fingers were withdrawn and replaced with the head of Ian's cock. Ian penetrated him, the thud of his heart beating against Kye's back. “You okay?” Ian's voice was a hoarse whisper.

  "Aye. Better than okay,” Kye answered. Ian began to move, his rhythm matching Kye's and Cassidy's. Ian filled him, stretching him, consuming him, using him as a conduit to Cassidy with each sensual thrust. It was as if the three had literally become one. The vibrations of their movements penetrated Kye's muscles, pulsing in waves until they rattled his bones and made his heart thrum. The sensations were flowing in one unbroken circle between the three of them, any distinction superfluous.

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  What would you dare for a freefall of desire and passion?

  Falling in Controlled Circumstances

  © 2008 Pepper Espinoza

  For four years, Gregory Jackson and his partner, Cambridge police chief Phillip Baker, have enjoyed a committed relationship. Neither suspect there's something missing in their lives. Until one fateful day when Phillip has a close call while on duty ... and Gregory's flat tire puts him squarely in the glide path of dangerously charming American pilot Jim Tennant.

  While Jim's in town to fly prototypes at the local air force base, Greg struggles to keep their relationship platonic, but Jim is an irresistible force. At the moment a transgression seems inevitable, Phillip surprises Gregory by encouraging him to take exactly what he wants. That night, all three of them really learn what it means to fly.

  Gregory's pleasure is tempered by two serious concerns. Why is Jim interested in a relationship with a couple? And why is Phillip suddenly willing—even eager—to invite another man into their bed?

  Warning: This title contains shameless flirting, playful banter, hot sex between two men, super-hot sex between three men, rule breaking and having fun.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Falling in Controlled Circumstances:

  "What is that sound?” Phillip asked, without lifting his head from the pillow.

  Gregory cracked an eyelid open enough to ascertain that it was midmorning. “What sound?"

  He was answered by a steady thump thump. Like somebody p
ounding on the...

  "That sound,” Phillip said. “It's somebody at the door."

  "Oh."

  "Are you going to answer it?"

  "No."

  "That's fine then."

  Gregory dropped his head back to the pillow and closed his eyes. He couldn't force himself out of bed. Not with Phillip spooning him and the sun caressing his face. He wanted to wake up slowly, and then turn over and get his mouth around Phil's morning erection.

  Except the knocking returned.

  "Were you expecting somebody?” Phillip muttered.

  "No. Why would I expect somebody on a Sunday morning?"

  "I heard there were some Mormons in the neighborhood."

  "You think it might be them?"

  "Who else would it be on a Sunday morning?"

  "I can't argue with that logic.” Gregory rolled out of bed. “I'll go get rid of them."

  "You're not going to get dressed?"

  "I'll give the lads a thrill."

  Gregory stumbled out of the bedroom, his eyes still half shut. The clock that hung above the stairs chimed eight times as he walked. Eight wasn't a very good lie-in, as far as Gregory was concerned. The descent to the front door was slow going because he hadn't grabbed his glasses, and the world was an interesting blur, broken up occasionally by solid objects inches from his face.

  He threw the door open without checking the peephole first. The world swam in front of his tired eyes, but not before he noticed that there wasn't a pair of young men standing on his stoop. It was only one man. And he wasn't holding a Bible. He was holding a brown paper sack.

  "Well, good morning to you too,” said a familiar, laughing voice.

  "Oh ... bloody hell.” Gregory tried to slam the door, but Jim put his hand out and stopped it before it met his face. “What are you doing here?"

  "I'm bringing you breakfast."

  "Why are you bringing me breakfast?"

  Jim pushed the door open further and stepped into the house. “I thought you might like some. I also thought I'd find you out in the garden."

  "Why?"

  "I thought you mentioned that you two worked in the flowerbed."

  "Who is it?” Phillip shouted from the top of the stairs.

  "Jim."

  "Jim?"

  "We were staying in bed this morning,” Gregory explained.

  Jim dragged his gaze up and down Gregory's body. His pulse quickened at the frank appraisal. For a moment—for a mere second—he forgot Phillip was waiting upstairs. The world zeroed in to Jim Tennant's hazel eyes, his golden hair, his white smile, and in turn, Gregory felt like the only person on the planet. He was the only person who mattered, because he was the only one Jim was smiling at.

  "Did I interrupt anything?"

  "What? No. No, we were asleep."

  "Late night?"

  "Phillip didn't get in until after three."

  "Oh, I'm sorry. Why don't we let him sleep and share these sausage rolls?"

  "I'll ... I'll go upstairs and see if he wants to come down and join us."

  Judging from the look on Phillip's face, he did not want to join them. Gregory quietly shut the door behind him and smiled apologetically. “I didn't know he was going to show up."

  "You didn't invite him? Or mention seeing him again?"

  "No. We shared a few pints, he walked me home, and that was the end of that."

  "Clearly not."

  Gregory ran his fingers over the ridge of Phil's shoulder. “Why don't you come downstairs and have breakfast with us? He's a nice guy. I don't think he meant anything by coming over this morning. Maybe that's a common American thing."

  Phillip snorted. “No, I'm sure this is rude wherever you're from."

  "Come down to breakfast anyway."

  "Fine. But then we're sending him away."

  "I can live with that."

  "With the understanding that he's not to show up here unannounced or uninvited again."

  "Absolutely."

  Phillip kissed the corner of his mouth. “Then I guess we better not keep our guest waiting."

  Gregory dressed quickly, excited to get back downstairs. He wasn't sure the source of his excitement, and he wasn't sure he wanted to think about it, either. But now that he was more awake, and dressed, he thought he wouldn't mind being on the receiving end of another of Jim's smiles.

  Gregory found him in the kitchen, staring at Phillip's kettle with a look of confusion. “I still haven't figured out the whole tea thing."

  "We drink coffee in the morning."

  "You do?"

  Gregory pointed to the coffeepot. “I'll get it started."

  "Is Phillip coming downstairs?"

  "He'll be down in a bit."

  Gregory filled the coffeepot, studying Jim from the corner of his eye. He looked at ease. Not just at ease. He looked like he owned the entire kitchen, and Gregory was the interloper. He had the feeling that was how Jim Tennant moved through life. It was the sort of comfort and grace Gregory never felt in his own surroundings.

  "Do you usually answer the door in your birthday suit?"

  Warmth crawled up Gregory's neck. “No. I thought you were..."

  "Who?"

  He kept his eyes trained on the coffeepot. “Missionaries."

  "You were going to flash missionaries?"

  "I know. It's awful. It seemed like a good idea when I was half-asleep."

  "Are you kidding?” Jim chuckled. “I think that's the best idea I ever heard. Maybe I should pretend to be a missionary more often."

  "Nobody would believe you're a missionary."

  "What's that?"

  "You're not exactly a choirboy, are you?"

  Jim leaned against the counter, his long legs stretched in front of him. “I actually was a choirboy. Do you believe me?"

  "No."

  "Would a choirboy lie to you?"

  "I don't know what you'd do. I don't really know you that well, do I?"

  "You know me well enough to have breakfast with me."

  Gregory shook his head. “You're lucky I answered the door and not Phillip. He's not so tolerant of strange men coming around on Sunday mornings."

  Jim turned to face Gregory, propping himself up on his arm. “I'm not a strange man."

  "Yes. You are."

  "We spent most of yesterday together."

  "You could have been lying to me most of yesterday too.” Gregory flipped the coffeepot on. “We never discussed having breakfast plans, did we?"

  "I was hoping you'd find breakfast with me so enjoyable, you'd agree to do it again sometime."

  Gregory turned away from him to open the fridge. The innuendo seemed obvious, but at the same time, who would have the sheer gall to make sexually suggestive comments to a man while his lover was in the house? It was too insane to consider. Not realistically, anyway.

  "Gregory isn't a big fan of breakfast,” Phillip said as he entered the room.

  "Didn't anybody ever tell him that breakfast was the most important meal of the day?"

  "I guess not."

  Gregory took three mugs from the cupboard.

  Jim shrugged. “Maybe he doesn't work up enough of an appetite at night."

  Gregory opened his mouth, but before he said anything, Phillip cut in. “No, it's not that."

  There was a long pause. Gregory didn't turn around, but he imagined Jim's gaze traveling up and down Phillip's body, the same way it had raked over his form earlier. “No, I guess it wouldn't be that."

  The drawl in his voice made Gregory shiver. He glanced over his shoulder to see if it affected Phillip the same way, but his lover's face was as impassive as ever. Of course, he'd be impassive to it. Phillip wasn't as easily swayed, or impressed, as mere mortals.

  "So, Mr. Tennant, where do you live?” Phillip asked.

  "It's Jim, please. And I actually don't live too far from here, as luck would have it."

  "And you don't have any friends or family to pester on Sunday mornings?" />
  Gregory looked up sharply. “Phil."

  Jim laughed. “It's a fair enough question. No, I haven't. I moved here from California. Really, just last weekend."

  Gregory felt a stab of sympathy for Jim. He would never have the fortitude to pick up and move to the other side of a planet. Not by himself. Even if he got over the fear of flying, living alone would be far too daunting.

  "Gregory was the first friendly face I've met since I arrived in England."

  Gregory poured three cups of coffee. “Do you take cream or sugar?"

  "No. Just black, please."

  "You sure?"

  "Very sure."

  Phillip accepted his coffee from Gregory—with two sugars and no cream—and smiled a little. “Gregory was the first friendly face I met when I moved here too."

  "Is that so?” Jim took his coffee and sipped from the mug. “Did you rescue him on the side of the road too?"

  "No. I arrested him."

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  Immovable object? Meet the irresistible force.

  Collision Course

  © 2008 K.A. Mitchell

  Paramedic Aaron Chase doesn't have anything against love. It just comes with a lot of responsibility, like when he had to raise his sister and brothers after their drug-addicted mom took off for good. Now that the last one is off to college, Aaron's anticipating enjoying life on his own terms. He certainly wasn't expecting Joey Miller to accidentally drop into his life.

  Joey's sexy, funny and annoyingly optimistic, and his tendency to get into trouble keeps sending him Aaron's way. Even the fact that Joey works for the hated social work system isn't reason enough to keep him out of Aaron's bed.

  Joey knows all about love. He's fallen in it ten times—he thinks. It's not that he can't tell the difference between sex and love. All that experience has to count for something, right? With Aaron it's different. Maybe because there's something to fight for.

  This time Joey's fallen for good. He's not going to let number eleven get away.