Here is a list of all the authors flashing this week, along with a brief snippet from their latest free work. Click the link after the snippet to be taken to the complete story on the author’s home page.
Don’t Look Back #50 (9.7) by Julie Lynn Hayes
Their first time together began with exploration. Lee encouraged Marshall to touch him in any way he wished in order to become comfortable with Lee’s body before they did anything else. Marshall was more than happy to comply. He’d dreamed of this moment for such a very long time. He moved to his knees so he could skim his fingers over Lee’s skin with feather light touches, caressing and discovering and learning. He lapped at Lee’s chest, loving the way he tasted. Then he licked Lee’s nipples until they became dusky nubs, and he sucked on each one, thrilling to the effect he had on Lee.
He found secret spots on Lee’s body that made Lee catch his breath when he touched them, and he mentally filed this knowledge away so he’d remember what pleased Lee. He’d wanted to taste Lee forever, and he was determined to do it, here and now. Even if he knew Lee wouldn’t come in his mouth. This time.
Fortitude: Part Thirty-three by Cia Nordwell
“Varket.” I tried to keep the surprise out of my voice, but I’m sure I failed. “To what do we owe this honor? Are you here to attend the games?”
“No,” he said shortly. Then he smiled, an unctuous disturbing expression. “Unbeknownst to most of the attendees, the king was present at the concert last night. He heard of our little discussion, and he was fascinated with your take on the architecture’s impact on the music. He’s been undertaking some structural improvements to the city buildings—I’m sure you’ve noticed some of the decline in areas.” Varket could barely hide
Foster bolted upright. He’d been having such a pleasant dream—what a rude and frightening awakening.
He heard a pounding noise, as if Napoleon’s army marched on the roof of wherever he was. Dear God, please let—
He couldn’t help himself. A pathetic whimper escaped his mouth even as his body began to shake uncontrollably. His mind drifted to that horrible night—the night when he fought through darkened depths, trying to break through the surface and suck in a lungful of fresh air, not a mouthful of seawater.
“…you’re okay. I’ve got you.” A voice broke through…
Evans Woodworking: Chapter 6 by Jim Dunaway
They had all seen enough medical dramas to note the stress that always appeared on a doctor’s face when he was about to give bad news was absent. “Are you relatives of Ethan Evans?”
“Yes, he’s our brother,” Chris responded. “How is he?”
“Why don’t we all sit down over here?”
Alison gasped at the suggestion. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Well,” the surgeon began slowly, “it’s neither good nor bad. It just is.”
“Would you please explain to us how he’s doing?” Chris asked.