Publisher: TRIPLE A PRESS; 1 edition (May 16, 2015)
Book Length: 623 pages
Genre: Gay, Romance, Action/Adventure, Mystery
Posting Date: July 3, 2015
Exclusive Excerpt for GGR:
Michael gets a surprise visit during his workout at the dojo.
“You speak English.” Michael kept his tone free from accusation even as part of him wondered if the boy had enjoyed his prank. “How’s the arm?” he questioned, stopping about six feet away. The teen looked up and Michael felt the full impact of his luminous eyes.
The answers to Michael’s inquiries were given in an indifferent tone. The boy stared coolly at Michael for a moment before dropping his eyes to the floor. His hair slid forward to curtain his face.
So not a lost fawn, just a snotty brat. At a loss as to how to proceed now that the kid stood before him, Michael hesitated. A spark of irritation rose at his seducer’s casual attitude. Squashing it, he held out his gloved hand and spoke formally. “We really haven’t met. I’m Michael Black. I’m sorry about your arm.”
When the boy simply stared at him, ignoring the offered hand, Michael shrugged, bowed slightly and turned away. “I’ve got to keep going or I’ll cool down.”
So, no name, no explanation or anything, huh? Michael yanked his gloves more firmly into place. Maybe he’s daft? Giving his irritation free range, he headed for the bags, determined to ignore the churlish youth and continue his drills. Suddenly, he felt a tug on his hair. “Hey!” He spun around and froze. The kid was less than a foot away. Guileless, golden eyes held Michael captive before they dropped to the boy’s open palm, which held a broken elastic. Tossing the tie to the floor, the boy reached out and began pulling the loose strands of Michael’s hair back around his face.
What the hell? Too stunned to move, Michael dropped his gaze to the slender feet approaching his own. Beautiful, high-arched feet with—some serious calluses? Michael stared at the bruised knots of flesh, absently wondering what kicks created them. All questions ceased when Kiyoshi’s lips pressed against his.
Warmth speared his abdomen as the boy leaned up, nipping then lapping at his mouth. A slick tongue probed the seam of his lips and Michael automatically parted them, allowing the searching appendage to tangle with his. The simple concession was all it took for his spark of anger and confusion to morph into something else. He gasped when the amorous tongue alternated neat cat-like swipes with luxurious strokes in a thorough exploration of his mouth.
Senses reeling, Michael slowly slid his hands down the boy’s back to cup a taut, muscular ass. The sweet pull between them intensified as the faint scent of apricots made itself known. Groaning, Michael pulled the boy closer suckling at the nectar of his tongue with an urgency that bordered on desperation. The pliant body arched against him, a stiff member lightly brushing his own.
Welcoming the confirmation that he wasn’t the only one experiencing the insatiable need, Michael crushed the teen fully against him. He maneuvered the youth until their cocks nestled, his damp drawstrings and the Kiyoshi’s worn denim barely a barrier
to their growing swells. Knees nearly buckling at the waves of passion possessing his body Michael struggled to retain reason. This is crazy, I’m burning up! We can’t do this—JJ and the white belts are right next door—Sensei is way overdue! Feverishly clawing at the soft strands trailing down the supple back, Michael had the brief thought that he had been bewitched, that some kind of spell had been cast on him. Then his body simply ignited. A zillion prickles of apricot-scented pleasure liquefied into a focused stream that rushed to his balls and threatened to erupt from his cock. Michael groaned, heard an answering moan and then panic overrode the passion burning through his body.
What the hell is happening? I don’t—I don’t even know this guy! his brain stammered, torn between sinking into the mind-blowing sensations the youth’s touch wrought, and abject humiliation at his desire to rut like an animal on the floor of his sensei’s dojo. Attempting to regain control Michael gripped the teen’s shoulders and pushed him away. More forcefully than he’d intended, perhaps, as the move caused Kiyoshi to crumple to his knees.
The youth sat there looking up at Michael, his glistening ruby lips slightly parted, his golden eyes heavy with passion, utterly beautiful in his submissive posture. Insides blazing, Michael backpedaled, pumping his palms out to warn the boy off.
“Who the hell are you?” he whispered harshly. “And what the fuck are you doing to me?”
Twenty-three-year-old, Native American, Michael Black’s well-ordered life is disrupted one evening when he is ambushed at the dojo he frequents by a mysterious Japanese youth who goes by the name of Kiyoshi.
Soon circumstances have the gorgeous teen staying with Michael at his apartment. The gifted nineteen-year-old is an intriguing mix of angst, innocence and crafty intelligence, but Michael is honor bound by a promise to his sensei to keep his distance. Michael tries to keep his desire in check, but what can he do if the exquisite teen keeps kissing him?
Volume two finds Michael in deep water when, in trying to help Kiyoshi, he is persuaded by his sensei to participate in a joint government undercover operation to bring down a Yakuza lord.
Before long Michael is immersed in beautiful men, martial arts and espionage all to gain the trust and love of Kiyoshi. Secrets, lies, sex and action combine in this racy, romantic, adventure of two men, Michael Black and his sensei, Ichiro Kimura, navigating a dangerous path for true love.
Michael groped for the light switch, a smile of triumph playing at his lips. Damn, I did it! I beat him! Flicking the switch, he turned, eager to view his skilled opponent and to bask in the accolades that he was sure to receive from Sensei Kimura.
His triumph descended to dismay in a flash. Who the hell is this?
A slight figure lay crumpled at the center of the practice room. Cautiously approaching the limp form, Michael’s heart sank even further. Lying unconscious on the gleaming bamboo floor was a Japanese boy. He looked to be about five-foot-seven, was very pale, and quite young.
“A kid? I beat up a kid?” Quickening his pace, Michael knelt beside the slim figure. Jesus, he’s like fourteen, fifteen? Beautiful. He looks like Ichiro. Better, actually, Michael admitted, surprised at his internal betrayal of his long-held crush on his sensei. He continued to stare down at the slight, fragile boy, eyeing the long blue-black hair that trailed sensuously around the figure’s unfamiliar gray karategi.
Who the hell is he? Why would they have me beat up a kid for my test? Puzzled, he glanced around the room, noting that he and the boy were alone. Ignoring his impending alarm, he gazed back to the unconscious figure.
The youth’s face was truly beautiful. Michael’s inner artist drank in the smooth, pearly skin, the long, sooty lashes, and the pale apricot color blushed across the boy’s delicate cheekbones. God… An aching hunger preceded the lurch of Michael’s cock, which nudged his lower abdomen telegraphing its interest. Get it together. He’s like … twelve! Suddenly realizing that the boy showed no sign of regaining consciousness, Michael snapped from his trance and shook his opponent’s shoulder.
“Hey!” He leaned over the placid body, hand stretching toward the longish neck for a pulse. The telltale thump throbbed beneath his fingers, but his proximity to the boy’s face had him pausing to stare at the youth’s sculpted lips. Christ, get away from him before you do something you’ll regret. Frowning, he started to shift upright when a relentless grip clutched his hair.
Caught off guard, Michael fumbled helplessly as his head was tugged abruptly toward the face beneath him. The beautiful mouth claimed his lips, stealing his breath and muffling his gasp as a hot tongue invaded his mouth. The agile member eagerly caressed its counterpart, igniting Michael’s senses. The tantalizing scent of ripe apricots surrounded him, dizzying him with sensual promises, and urging him to surrender.