Prism Book Alliance would like to thank Nya Rawlyns for taking the time to talk with us today.
Title: Pumping Iron (A Bad Boyfriends Novel)
Author: Nya Rawlyns
Publisher: Self Published
This is a tough question to answer because, as with most bibliophiles, my favorite character tends to be the one I’m reading right now. For this exercise, I’m going to stick with male characters (for obvious reasons, I write M/M).
>Atticus Kodiak, from Greg Rucka’s series of the same name: Atticus is a bodyguard, canny, strong, with skills that sometimes work in his favor, sometimes not. Over the course of the series, he morphs from the role of protector to near vigilante, each book taking him one step closer to becoming the person he fears most. This is a character worth investing in.
>Elvis Cole, from Robert Crais’ series of the same name: Cole is a P.I. with a sharp wit and a great deal of insight into the human condition. Elvis is a straight-shooter who gets bent when cases sometimes go sideways. L.A. Requiem is my personal favorite in this set since it also focuses on Joe Long, Cole’s enigmatic friend. Crais wrote for Hill Street Blues so the dialogue pops with authenticity.
>Mr. Darcy of Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen: this character is arrogant, haughty, very much a man of his time who cares deeply, albeit selectively.
>Martin Dixon, from My Favorite Uncle by Marshall Thornton: Uncle Martin is a middle-aged gay man who has largely accepted what life’s handed out. He’s a loner, comfortable in his own skin until his nephew shows up on his doorstep and changes everything. Laugh-out-loud funny, filled with wry observations about the human condition, this book has become one of my all-time favorites.
>A man with no name, The Next by Rafe Haze: paying homage to Rear Window, the author builds a tortured soul who exists in a world dominated by a disconnect of mind and body. It is a character study of perception and failure and final acceptance.
>Jack McQuire, Tulagi Hotel by Heikki Hietala: set during and after WWII this book is a homage to the Greatest Generation. The character of Jack McQuire captures that time when the world no longer needs a warrior, leaving a man to redefine who and what he is and what he can become.
>Ravindra, the Morgan Selwood Series by Greta van der Rol: arrogant, privileged, haughty and used to getting his own way, this Admiral is hormone-attacking, drool-worthy and lust-inducing. This is space opera with pizazz and flair.
>Takahashi Yoshi, the Shinobi Saga by Sessha Batto: bound by honor to a life of service to his clan, Yoshi is a character in an epic saga of betrayal and abuse. Corrupted by honor, enslaved by duty, Yoshi must find his way from self-loathing to acceptance. Transgressive homoerotic lit, this is a journey that will break your heart.
>Qhuinn and Blay, Black Dagger Brotherhood series by J.R. Ward: two of many sigh-worthy characters who are flawed, self-absorbed, arrogant, tortured… We all waited for their eventual pairing with bated breath. IMHO, Ward didn’t do it justice but that doesn’t take away from a most excellent story arc.
>Eric Northman, the Sookie Stackhouse series, Charlaine Harris: I have a long list of favorite vampires of all time, Eric is at the tippy-top of that list. Close second is Jeanienne Frost’s Bones. Oh yeah, baby, bite me.
Sequestered at a beach house in the Hamptons, charged with keeping Lovett Junior occupied while his law firm does damage control over Junior’s peccadillos, Mike and Sean find it difficult to grab some private time.
Junior’s little secret was that of all the splendid things one could do with one’s time, watching young men fucking each other, in the flesh, was the ultimate viewing experience, and the only way Junior had a chance of coming. It was hit or miss, the coming part, but the watching for pleasure apparently hit the spot all the time.
If he had even the remotest clue we were going at it hot and heavy, he was going to guilt us into letting him voyeur his way into my checking account. My take on ten large per diem wasn’t insubstantial, and there was the added bonus for keeping him happy and off Boston’s upscale, high end streets until Monday earliest.
It wasn’t going to buy me financial independence but it feathered a nest in desperate need of new options, including paying off a debt that had driven me to Bad Boyfriends in the first place, hocking my cock and acting abilities while hiding in plain sight.
My mini-meltdown had taught me one thing: I could act my way out of a paper bag but that didn’t make me a good card player.
“You done?” Mike was standing, cock at full alert, arms crossed. It was a good look on him. It would look even better with me hammering his ass until he cried uncle, something I suspected wouldn’t happen all that easily.
“Don’t say it.” He smirked. He was thinking it … I think too much. Apropos of nothing, I observed, “We’re naked. How do you propose to do this?”
He pulled me off the bed and dragged my bare assed carcass to the door, opened it and pointed through the wall of trees.
“What the hell am I looking at?”
“Stairs to the upper deck.”
He tiptoed along the sandy path, his junk bobbing with the exaggerated movements. Putting a finger to his lips, he shushed me, then made a dash across the open space to the near side of the house and an attached ladder leading up to the second floor deck. He was up and over the railing before I’d even taken the first step. Not sure if I was supposed to wait while he secured the booty, or follow him and Tarzan my way up the ladder, I hesitated. He waved me to come up and join him.
Cottage. Single bed. Jerking off alone. Or king-sized bed, high thread count, condom and me buried deep into nirvana fucking a man I might be falling in love with? No contest. I dashed, I climbed, I conquered.
Giggling like schoolgirls, we barged through the patio door, with Mike sprinting to the bathroom. When he came out, I was sprawled on the bed, wallowing in comfort, stroking myself because it fucking hurt not to. He tossed a wrapper to me. It landed on my belly. I ignored it, liking the look in his eyes as he watched, eyes so filled with lust it damn near derailed me.
Taking pity, I said, “Lie down. I want to see your face when you come,” and made room on the bed while tearing at the wrapper and making quick work of rolling the damn condom on. I almost came right then and there. From the grimace on Mike’s face, he was so close it was clear this first one was going to be a quickie, for both of us.
He tossed the lube and drew his knees up, exposing himself to my tender ministrations, my finger easing in carefully. If it had been a while, he needed prep and not me going in like a battering ram, though everything inside my gut screamed for me to do just that.
You’re a professional, Rourke. You can control yourself. Do it right. Do it slow.
Mike hissed, “That’s enough. Just fucking do it already.” So I did, inch by slow inch and when he groaned, “Oh, fucking hell, Sean, fuck that’s good,” I moved, moved in the hot channel, lava hot with him clenching my cock tight, so tight I near exploded at the sensation.
Stretching his legs back, bending him almost in two, I watched his face, his eyes rolling back, felt him tense. And from the corner of my eye I caught Junior staring through the glass panel, drooling.
I rasped, trying to catch my breath, “He’s watching.”
Mike clenched his teeth, wadded the twelve hundred thread count Egyptian cotton in his bear paws, and bellowed, “Then give him his fucking money’s worth.”
So I did.
What does it take to bring a slow simmer to a rolling boil?
Sean Rourke is hiding in plain sight as a Bad Boyfriends A-list escort, hoping to dodge the bullet from a few career missteps.
Mike Douglas’ financial backing and very special negotiating skills have him partnering not-so-silently at Bad Boyfriends, as well as running a training center for athletes and gym rats.
Eying each other at a distance is all they’ve allowed themselves until a joint special project at a seaside retreat in the Hamptons, entertaining a wily Boston attorney, shows them exactly how well they fit together, in more ways than simply business as usual.
About the Author:
Crossing boundaries, taking no prisoners. Write what’s in your soul.
It’s the bass beat, the heartbeat, the lyrics rude and true.
Nya Rawlyns is the pseudonym of a writer who cut her teeth on sports-themed romantic comedy and historical romances before finding her true calling in the wilderness areas she has visited but calls “home” in that place that counts the most: the heart. She writes M/M erotic romance because her good friends deserve to have their amazing stories told.
She has lived in the country and on a sailboat on the Chesapeake Bay, earned more than 1000 miles in competitive trail and endurance racing, taught Political Science to unwilling freshmen, and found an avocation in materials science.
When she isn’t tending to her garden or the horses, the cats, or two pervert parakeets, she can be found day dreaming and listening to the voices in her head.
Her published works include:
Curling Iron (A Bad Boyfriends Novella)
Pumping Iron (A Bad Boyfriends Novel)
Ash & Oak (A Crow Creek Novel)
Pulling Leather (A Crow Creek Novel)
Strapping Ash (A Crow Creek Novel)
Sorting Will (A Crow Creek Novel)
Flankman (A Crow Creek Novel)
The Wrong Side of Right
Good Boy Bad
Cajun Gothic (Blood Haven)
The Strigoi Chronicles: Penance, Fane, Michel, Dreu
Acid Jazz Singer (Hunger Hurts)
The Guardians of the Portals
Dance Macabre (short story)
Finish Line (novella)
The Christmas Toast
The Valentine Toast
The Shadow of This World
Website: Romancing Words
The Men of Crow Creek: http://the-men-of-crow-creek.weebly.com/
Nya Rawlyns has kindly offered 2 Lucky Commenters will win a Ebook Bundle (Curling Iron and Pumping Iron) epub, mobi
Contest will end 7 days from original posting date (or as stated on the Rafflecopter) at 8pm CDT. Must be 18 or older to enter, void where prohibited.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
I have a number of paperbacks, most of which are signed, to giveaway. Over the between now (11 Mar 2017) and 31 Mar 2017, every comment on the blog (this post and all other new posts), will be entered to win 1 of these paperbacks. There are also some misc swag items, so there will be a few packs of these to give away as well.
Thank you so much for your support over the last 4 years. Prism will be closing its doors on 1 April 2017. All content will remain available, but no new content will appear after 31 Mar 2017. As such all request forms have been turned off. Again Thank you,
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