This is the first time I've partipated in this, but once I read last week's version over at Sexy Erotic Xciting, I had to give it a whirl. So my contribution is coming from an upcoming m/m release from Decadent. His Just Desserts will be coming out August 2nd but I thought this would be a good place for the world to meet Sean and his sexy chef Isaiah. I hope you enjoy it. :D Now I'm off to go and visit the rest of the blogs on the linky.
“Baby? Everyone is gone, and they told me to tell you again how great the meal was….”
He came to a sudden stop when he spotted the dining room table. Gone were the ivory linen tablecloth, silver candlesticks, and ornate flower arrangement he’d used at Isaiah’s insistence. In their place, a plastic tablecloth, a steaming teapot, several silver bowls, a couple of towels, a razor, shaving mug and a…basting brush awaited him.
“Strip, Counselor.” Isaiah appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, his suit jacket gone, his tie poking out of his slacks pocket. His ivory silk shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, sleeves rolled up to expose his dark, muscled forearms. Sean wanted to moan and did when the other man crossed his arms. “I want you naked like thirty seconds ago, and I’m not waiting. Either you do it, or I will.”
He didn’t protest. He obeyed. Despite his recent solo session with his fist, he shook with need. He kicked off his loafers then unbuckled his belt. Yanking it free of his slacks, he let it clatter to the floor. Fumbling to open the tab at his waist, he jerked down his zipper. When his pants pooled around his ankles, he freed the tail of his dress shirt. No doubt a sight to see in his socks, tighty-whities, and dark blue shirt as he kicked the pants away, he couldn’t care less. Struggling with his tie, he managed to loosen it enough to rip it over his head, still tied. He would have tossed it to the floor with the rest of his clothing, but Isaiah stopped him.
“No. Give it here.” He held out his hand.
Without contemplating what would happen if he did as requested, Sean tossed the wadded up material to him. Slipping the shirt’s buttons through their holes, he held Isaiah’s gaze. When the chef arched an eyebrow at him, he tore at the material, ripping off the buttons in his rush. His desire to give up his control consumed him.
Soon he stood in nothing but his socks and underwear. He looked to Isaiah for direction.
“All of it, Counselor. I didn’t stutter.” The prominent bulge in the front of his slacks assured him Isaiah found the play arousing.
©Dakota Trace All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.