Mostrando resultados por autor "K.M. Neuhold" en Todas las categorías

The thing about guys is that we communicate on a physical, primal level. A hearty slap on the backside just means “good game, bro”. Some good old fashioned roughhousing just means we’re comfortable with each other. Some late night stress relief? Just dudes being dudes… Right? We’re just friends. Just roommates. Just a couple of guys doing what guys do. So what if I can’t stop thinking about kissing him? Is there a way I can “no homo” my way out of this? If I'm really honest with myself, I don't think I even want to. So… maybe YES, homo?

So, your gorgeous boss Maverick and his yummy husband Ari are letting you stay with them while you get back on your feet? Here are a few simple tips: Don’t call his husband "Daddy". I know it’ll be difficult, but seriously, don’t. Don’t leave a pair of red, lacy panties in their bed. If you hear interesting noises from their bedroom in the middle of the night, don’t peek in. Don’t. And most importantly, don’t fall in love.

Was pretending to sleep with tons of men to keep my crush from hooking up with them a Dirty Trick? Sure. Do I regret it? Not one bit. Telling Boston I have a thing for him would’ve been the logical thing to do. Unfortunately, logic hasn’t always been my strong suit. I decided to go the—“get under his skin until hostility turns into affection”—route instead, and I think it’s finally working.

I thought I had one chance to kiss him, and I blew it. We were 16, and I was an idiot. But now, here he is, standing right in front of me, looking at me with that same expression of awe and adoration that I never lost my addiction to.

Sometimes, I’m so lonely I swear I can’t breathe. I bring men and women into my bed to chase away the ache, but it never seems to help. I want something real, something lasting, but I’ve never been more afraid of anything in my life. If I have nothing else in my life I can count on, at least I have my best friend, Cas. If I have nothing else in my life that feels solid, at least I have Cas. Until one sad smile from a beautiful man tilts my world on its axis.

Austin never realized he was painting his life with shades of gray, until Keaton came along and injected a rainbow of color. Keaton is a tornado of chaos and paint, which turns out to be more exciting than I ever would’ve imagined. I love my organized, predictable life...or at least I thought I did. But what started as a casual hookup is slowly becoming so much more, and I find myself loving the beautiful mess more than I expected. Can two people so different really make it work once feelings get involved?

Of course, I've noticed Angel and Devil noticing me. I've felt their eyes and the deep pulse of their heated wanting. I've also seen plenty of men coming and going from their house all summer long, year after year, and I don't want to be one in a long line. The energy of Palm Island is so strong, it's hard not to get swept up in it sometimes. Temporary lust, the hedonistic thrill of excess I'm only human after all. But something stops me every time I want to give in and let go.

In my defense, Saxon is a gorgeous, successful, big-d**k Daddy with a million SUBscribers drooling over his Daddy Cam. He probably has 10 boys a week on their knees...or over his. And I’m nothing but his nerdy roommate and oldest friend. Except, the way he looks at me never makes me feel that way. The way he looks at me makes me think that maybe he sees me too.

That Feeling when the man you just robbed and left tied up and blindfolded turns out to be in the mafia… I'm not proud of the things I've had to do for money to pay off my dad's debts and put my younger brother through college. But I'll never regret it. What I do regret is accidentally robbing a Moretti. Having to look over my shoulder and ducking every time a car backfires is bad enough, but when the man in question starts costing me business? Yeah, I think we’re going to have a problem.

Polyamory. The first time Riot says the word, it feels like everything slots into place. Maybe I’m not greedy for loving both of my best friends at once. For most of my life I didn’t think I could ever have the kind of love I’ve been dreaming of, but somehow a sexy bartender with a major sweet tooth is making it all seem possible. Maybe Riot is right, our capacity for love is bigger than most people let themselves see. But will Leo and Hudson feel the same? Will they be willing to try to build this beautiful, complicated life with me?

It started with an anonymous post by someone who didn't want to live anymore. I read it over and over again, unable to get it out of my mind. What if my brother Johnny had posted something like this before he'd taken his own life? Would someone have been able to save him? I've been living a lie for 16 long years, and I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to keep it up. And when a beautiful, broken man walks into my tattoo shop asking for a second chance at life, I know I'll never be able to turn him away.

When half your face is covered in a big, blotchy birthmark, you get used to the staring and the whispers. You get used to feeling unwanted. Until he walks into my bar.... Tall, gorgeous, and all kinds of out of place. And the way he looks at me ain’t like no way I've ever seen before.

Sex has never been my main priority. Not what people expect to hear from someone who’s been head camera man for the single best studio in the kind of industry I work in. I thought I’d seen it all working for the Ballsy Boys, but helping to build the Kinky Boys from the ground up seems like it’s going to be an eye opening experience. A man has never turned my head before, so why can’t I stop checking out Daddy? Sex might not be the height of excitement for me, but watching subs kneel for their Daddies certainly has me wondering....

Most of the guys on Palm Island call me the token straight guy. The truth is, I'm not so much straight as I'm just… nothing. Asexual, demi, the label doesn't make much of a difference to me. And living on an island that's nothing but parties and nudity half the year… well, let's put it this way… I'm the guy who sells clothes.

He hated me from the second he laid eyes on me, and I don't have the first clue why.... But, if he wants to hate me, I'm happy to give him a few reasons: mowing the lawn at dawn on the weekend, leaving garbage cans in front of his driveway, renting a petting zoo for my backyard...making a list of ways to drive him crazy is half the fun.

I never thought a night out could change everything. All I wanted was to dance, drink, maybe take a cute guy home for a night of fun. I met the guy, but the night ended as a nightmare. Screams and blood and tragedy haunt my dreams. I'm alive and I owe it all to the gorgeous marine who refused to leave me for dead. But how can I start a new relationship when I'm not even sure who I am anymore?

It took me over 35 years to admit to myself that I’m gay, another seven to find the courage to say it out loud to anyone else, and exactly 30 seconds to develop a massive crush on my daughter’s music teacher. It’s really not my fault. Have you even seen those cute bowties he wears? After everything it’s taken to get here, am I going to work up the nerve to come out to my ex-wife and my best friends?

Pete doesn’t think he’s fit for island life, but he doesn’t know Palm Island like I do. He might think it’s all drinking on the beach and bed-hopping, but maybe if I can show him the beauty and freedom underneath it all, he might decide to stay.

I’ve been living under storm clouds since my honorable discharge, but Julian’s the sun. I’ve tried everything to deal with my PTSD, but nothing seemed to help. So when my brother suggests a service dog, I figure I don’t have anything to lose. The last thing I expect is for the dog to come with a cheerful, quirky trainer I can’t get out of my head. I’m too screwed up for love, but a chance to explore a side of myself I didn’t realize existed until recently is too good to pass up.

Casual fun with my emotionally stunted, overgrown frat boy roommate slash co-worker should be perfect, right? Shep seems to be just as allergic to commitment as I am to emotions, but that doesn't mean we don't need our stroker rods serviced, if you catch my drift. Now if he'll just stop looking at me with those dopey puppy dog eyes while I'm elbow deep in a diesel engine, and making my stomach flip with that smile of his, that would be great…