I would like to thank Grace R Duncan revealing the cover of her newest Dreamspinner title, No Sacrifice, here on Prism. The book is in the hands of Optimist There is also a giveaway, so stay tuned for that.
Cover artist: Paul Richmond
Title: No Sacrifice
Author: Grace R. Duncan
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
PATRICK DROPPED his backpack inside the door of the tiny studio apartment he rented when he was in LA. He tossed his keys on the little table he kept by the entrance and kicked the door shut. It’d been another exhausting day out in the burning desert once more for filming.
But despite how miserable the heat and filming had been, the day had improved dramatically when he’d managed to talk to Avery before his son went to bed, so that was something. His conversation, such as it was, with Emily had been less than encouraging. She’d been her usual brief self, refusing to say much of anything and nothing at all about love. He really missed the ease they used to have with each other. He tried to remember when that had ended but couldn’t seem to point to a particular time.
Avery, on the other hand, had been full of chatter about preschool, Legos, and something to do with a Transformer. It’d done good things for Patrick’s heart to hear his son go on and on. Avery had even managed an “I love you, Da” before he hung up.
He was also grateful they’d been filming a fight scene that day, even with the heat. The makeup was heavier on days like that, which itched like a bitch, but that was better than the weirdness and confusion that came with the kissing and intimate scenes he had to do with Rhys. Despite the heat and other discomfort, he’d take those over another kissing scene any day.
It wasn’t that he minded kissing Rhys. And that was precisely the problem. He didn’t mind it at all, and in fact, had once or twice found himself looking forward to another scene with Rhys. He didn’t really understand why he was feeling like that, but he’d been too busy and tired to figure it out. He just accepted he was anticipating it—though paradoxically still grateful when it didn’t happen—and hopeful he wouldn’t embarrass himself again. He pushed the rest of the worries aside to figure out later.
They had had one kissing scene since the one he’d reacted to. Thankfully, he hadn’t gotten hard the same way, but he chalked that up to the fact that it hadn’t been nearly as personal or intimate as the other one had been. There’d been more going on around them at the time, more people in the scene besides them, and even more crew around. On top of that, Jack had been insistent on directing every single move. With the “tilt… a little more… a little more…” since the sound could be overlaid later, they hadn’t had the same opportunity to get quite so intimate and, thus, uncomfortable.
Patrick stripped as he went through his spartan apartment. He’d never gotten around to doing much with it since he did little more than sleep and shower there. His computer was a laptop for portability. He did have a television so he could catch footballgames, which meant, of course, the requisite supercomfy couch. A bookshelf held the books he’d brought from Hawai’i and the others he’d collected since, as well as his music and movie collections. But even the kitchen was mostly bare, save some paper plates, a couple of bowls, and a few things to drink out of. And a coffeemaker. He couldn’t survive without coffee.
He sighed in relief as he got naked bit by bit. He stopped to drop his clothes into the basket in the tiny space between the bed and bathroom, then took the two steps to the shower/tub combo, which had been what decided the apartment for him. That and the rent, which was reasonable… and controlled for Los Angeles near Hollywood. His contract for that season wasn’t exactly the most well-paying gig in Hollywood. It wasn’t bad, but he couldn’t live in a hotel on it.
While he waited for the water to heat in the ancient pipes, he tried to think through why he was reacting, thinking, wanting this with Rhys the way he was. The night after the first disastrous reaction, he’d realized he hadn’t had sex in months. He still hadn’t managed to dig up the energy to masturbate since, to possibly prove or reject the theory that lack of sex caused it. Maybe that was the thing. Maybe he needed to just take care of himself and that would bring his brain back to where it needed to be. And away from Rhys.
He stepped under the hot water and let it wash over him for a moment to get out the kinks in his muscles as he tried to work through the question in his head. He didn’t know if it would help his problem with Rhys, but it was worth a shot, and hell, it was never a bad idea to masturbate—assuming he had the energy.
That decision made, he focused on carefully washing his hair—he couldn’t wait until it grew out and he wouldn’t need the extensions anymore—so he wouldn’t run out of hot water. Then he scrubbed off quickly and shut off the water. He ignored the mirror on his way out, not wishing to see what his reflection would mock him with, dried off quickly, and settled into bed.
He briefly thought about getting his computer so he could watch a bit of porn, but when he brought the image of his naked wife into his head, his cock twitched, and he decided not to waste the time. He wouldn’t need it. He grabbed the small bottle of lotion he kept on the bedside table and poured a bit out, then wrapped his hand around his length and started slowly stroking himself.
Fuck, that feels good. It’d been way too long since he’d done anything, if that was all it took to get him going. With his free hand, he cupped his balls. Before he could do much with the fantasy in his head, his hand was already moving faster, the pleasure building quickly. He let a quiet grunt out into the empty room, too focused on the incredible feeling growing in his balls to notice or care that he was making noise, though he knew his walls were paper thin. He heard his neighbors almost every night.
He let himself get lost in his fantasy, working to remember the last time he’d been with his wife. The memories were fuzzy, but he had a good enough imagination to fill in where they lacked. He let it take over as he moved his hand faster, teasing his taint a little more with his other hand.
His balls started to tighten as he worked, and he rocked his hips, thrusting into his hand. Behind his closed lids, he saw himself running those hands over soft skin and thrusting into tight heat. Another groan escaped, this one much louder, when the pleasurespiked. His hand flew over his length, cock rock hard now, the tip bright red and precum dripping.
He could feel himself getting close, so he slowed down a little, wanting to make it count. Buried under the need for orgasm and through the haze of lust was the reminder that he may not be up for doing this again anytime soon. So he slowed his hand, then let go. Instead, he ran both hands over his thighs before teasing his balls.
But the frustration, the months of nothing, were a little too much for him to delay himself as he wanted, and a moment later, his hand was flying over his cock again, his mind firmly lost in fantasy. He cupped his balls and teased his taint with his fingertips, then gave a slight twist before dragging his palm over the tip of his cock.
It was just enough. With a garbled shout, he lost it, his orgasm much more intense than his solo endeavors usually gave him. He coated his stomach as the climax took him and stretched out, lasting quite a long time. He continued moving his hand, drawing out the pleasure as much as he could as it faded slowly.
It wasn’t until he started to catch his breath and relax that he realized something. The image in his head when he came hadn’t been Emily. It hadn’t been a curvy female body. It hadn’t contained breasts.
No, the vision that had brought on his orgasm was Rhys. It was hard planes and taut muscles. It was the feel of a stubbly chin against his own and strong hands on his body. It was dark eyes and the crooked-fangirl smile. He stared at the ceiling in pure shock.
He was in so much trouble.
From the Publisher:
Patrick has taken his acting talents from high school all the way to a role in a major television show. But as the show progresses, his life of absolute certainties crumbles when he finds himself reacting to the kisses of his male costar. He refuses to accept it, reminding himself he’s married and a father—and thus, straight.
One night he goes to drink his worries away, meets Chance Dillon, and can’t take his eyes off the man. After having a little too much alcohol, he spills his problem to Chance, who helps him realize there’s something other than gay and straight. Patrick’s new understanding of his bisexual identity helps him sleep better—until the next day, when he discovers Chance is a sound technician on the same set.
As their friendship grows and Patrick’s marriage ends, he recognizes a possibility for much more with Chance. But Patrick isn’t ready to be out the way Chance has been for so long, and when the matter is taken out of Patrick’s hands, he pushes Chance away to spare him the mess Patrick’s life has become. By the time he realizes his mistake, it may be too late.
About the Author
Grace R. Duncan grew up with a wild imagination. She told stories from an early age—many of which got her into trouble. Eventually, she learned to channel that imagination into less troublesome areas, including fanfiction, which is what has led her to writing male/male erotica.
A gypsy in her own right, Grace has lived all over the United States. She has currently set up camp in East Texas with her husband and children—both the human and furry kind.
As one of those rare creatures who loves research, Grace can get lost for hours on the internet, reading up on any number of strange and different topics. She can also be found writing fanfiction, reading fantasy, crime, suspense, romance, and other erotica, or even dabbling in art.
If the above doesn’t work, you can use:
Blog Tour Info
Don’t Forget to join us in June for the No Sacrifice blog tour! I will also be doing a bigger giveaway, starting in June to go with the tour with a couple of unique prizes and a paperback, as well as backlist e-book copies. (US/Canada only, I’m afraid.)
One e-book version of any backlist title to a random commenter
Contest ends 28 May 2014 at 11:59pm CDT
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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