Guest Post, Excerpt, and Giveaway: The Countdown to GayRomLit 2015 with Katey Hawthorne

We’re so please to welcome back Katey Hawthorne on the GRL Celebration blog tour today. Enjoy Katey’s guest post, then be sure to click on the Rafflecopter widget below for the chance to win an e-copy of a book in her Superpowered Love series, winner’s choice.

Good luck!

Hello, hello, and thanks to TNA for letting me drop in and squee about this year’s GRL. People who are going: have you decided what to wear to the Hooray for Hollywood costume party yet? I’m debating a Jedi knight, personally. Oh, what, like everyone didn’t already know I’m a huge nerd.

Speaking of, how ‘bout them superpowered books, right? Last year I had so much fun doing a reading from my Riot Boy, aka my Superpowered Love series, that I signed up for another one this year. To go dirty again, or not to, that is the question? Here’s last year’s, more-or-less:

What passed for a dressing room was more like a large walk-in closet or perhaps a dorm room. Not much but a ragged couch passed down from the seventies puking up its own guts, a vanity groaning under the weight of ancient makeup, a bunch of overstuffed clothing racks, a changing screen in the corner, and a long, cluttered counter along one wall. There must have been a door at one time, but not even the hinges remained.

He fell back into the couch and started taking off his boots. I noticed his little stuffed fox and scooped it up, then hugged it in the crook of my arm.

He said, “Behold the secret life of a suburban rock star.”

“What happened to the door?”

“Dunno, never seen it.” He nodded at the fox. “That’s George.”

I squeezed George once more before respectfully returning him to his perch.

“Think your sister liked the show?”

“Yeah. I think she liked you.”

“In spite of my shirt.” He stuck the tip of his tongue through his teeth.

“Lucy liked the shirt. Not as much as me, but she liked it.”

He’d kicked off his boots by that time. The moment he stood, I kissed him, then backed him up against the counter. As usual, he acquiesced to perfection, licking at my teeth and pulling me against him hard.

I said, “Can’t be a real groupie till you’ve made out in the dressing room, right?”

He replied by hopping up onto the counter so he could wrap his legs around me. I assisted, then laid one hand on his thigh and brought the other up to his face; our mouths found each other again quickly. At first it was just kissing, kind of slow and hot, like usual. His fingertips, artificially cold, toyed with the hair at the nape of my neck and slipped downward to tickle my spine. His ass scooted forward until he was wrapped around me tight, his bare feet hooked behind my back. I was just thinking how lonely it would be that night—tasting his tongue and knowing I’d miss it later—when his fingers started pulling at the button of my fly.

I laughed into his lips and moved off just enough to say, “The door doesn’t even exist, let alone lock.”

“Fuck it. I need this.” In case I was wondering what, exactly, his hand snaked down the front of my jeans and rubbed my swelling cock.

“Ah.” I leaned into him, knees going weak. “Oh my God.”

“Come on, Etienne,” he whispered. “I made the shirt and everything.”

I chuckled. “We can’t do it here.”

“Aww.” He reluctantly pulled his hand out of my pants.

“It’s got to be somewhere I can do the job thoroughly.” I took his face in both hands and kissed him, long and openmouthed, until he melted against me again. “Somewhere you can swear as loud as you want.”

He grinned and squirmed against me. “Handcuffs?”

“Anything you want.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Anything.”

“That’s worth waiting for. But while we’re here anyway…” He slipped off the counter, wedging himself between it and me and rubbing off on me at the same time. “Come on, I’ll be fast. Almost came in my pants just now.”

I laughed again, which he took for agreement. He wasted no time dragging me behind the changing screen in the corner. A quick glance over the top to check for passersby, and then I undid his belt and yanked it free in one quick motion. I went for the zipper.

No underwear.

“Jesus Christ, Brady.”

“Ah, I thought you’d like that.”

More laughter. “You planned for this?”

“Of course I fucking did. You gonna give it to me, or what?”

I turned him around to face the wall in reply and dragged his jeans down over his ass.

He wriggled out of them and leaned forward, palms against the wall, leaving me staring at him—still in his FUCK ME, ETIENNE T-shirt but bare-assed and waiting.

My fly was still undone, and I couldn’t resist kicking off my jeans and leaning against him, arranging my dick—straining through my shorts—in the split of that remarkable ass. I kissed the back of his neck and wound my arms around him. His response was to rub up on me, opening up a little farther. I took his stiff cock in one hand and started out slow; he squirmed on my dick and voiced a little moan, then, “Unh, yeah.”

I stroked him, kissed him, and he angled his ass to give me a thrill with every jerk, until my cock was so hot I could’ve come just like that. But no, I didn’t make that mistake anymore—it was all about him. I pulled back a little, spit on my fingers, and rubbed them in a tight circle around his asshole.

He shuddered, his hands curling into fists against the wall, and arched his back sharply. “Yeah, ah fuck…”

I picked up speed, pressing my still-thickening cock into the back of his thigh as I went. His whole body caught my rhythm. I milked it from both ends, pushed every button I knew at once to get it out of him, fast and hard.

“Oh, yeah, mmmnnnn…” He hit the wall with one fist and came with a sigh.

I held him tight, kissing him while he finished and recovered. When I finally let him go, he shook himself a little. I rearranged myself against him, laughing as I looked down over his shoulder. “So much for the wall.”

“It’s probably seen worse.” He laughed too, breathless. “Your turn.”

Before I could respond, he was on his knees, ripping down my shorts. He pushed me back against the opposite wall and went straight for my cock, swallowed it. Jesus, had to be halfway down his throat.

I groaned at the white-hot thrill and let my head fall back, eyelids fluttering. God, he was incredible. He was magnificent. He was—

“Brady?” said an alien voice.

My eyes snapped open; I tried to pull away.

His fingers bored into my hips as he went down again, causing tiny stars to explode behind my eyes. Then up, then down. Never broke his rhythm.

I peeked over the screen to see Tyler at the dressing room entrance. He had one eyebrow cocked but didn’t seem too concerned to find me alone where I had no business being. He asked, “Have you seen Brady around? Bass player, jacked-up hair, tattoos?”

“Um, he—”

Brady chose that precise moment to start stroking my balls, still sucking me off fast and hard.

“Uh…” I blinked, trying to clear my head, face on fire, but Jesus, he was—

Tyler took an inquisitive step into the room. “You okay, man?”

I had no idea what I was trying to say. “He…uh…”

A wave of heat burned through me. His mouth was so hot, and he was so, so good at that, and—

Brady backed off, leaving my dick standing there, dripping and pink. He looked up, making the most hilariously annoyed face, and said, “Goddammit, Tyler, I got a cock down my throat here. Can it wait?”

Tyler closed his eyes. “You must be Etienne.”

“Um…” I would’ve had an answer, but Brady licked me at the strategic moment, so all I got was, “Unh—yeah. Hi.”

I was going to die of embarrassment. As soon as I had a little blood in my brain, anyhow.

“Yeah, nice to meet you.” Tyler turned his back, but before he escaped into the hall, he shouted back at us, “Hey slut-bag, when you’re done choking on a dick, we have a meeting.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Brady went down on me again, shoving me straight back into his throat.

I laughed and burned and groaned, clawing at the wall behind me. Rational thought or trying to sort out the appropriate emotion for the situation had to wait until I finally came down his throat. My knees shaking and my body thrumming, I practically slid down the wall when he let me go.

Following which event we both laughed so hard we ended up in a half-naked, well-spent pile on the floor.

Of course, I also had the t-shirts last year, so that was part of the choice, I confess. Still, what do y’all think? Go sexy, or just silly? Or both like last year? It can’t be serious. I will laugh and ruin it. My srsface is terrible.

 

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