GENRE: Gay Interracial Erotic Romance
LENGTH: 11,335 words
Garth Talent could never forget Peter Nightrider, his best bud from high school, or the one drunken night they shared exploring each other's bodies. He's spent fifteen years with that memory and has never found anyone to erase it.
Now Garth is a high-priced attorney and Peter is a celebrity, heading an exciting Native-Pop music group. But Peter is in serious trouble and Garth is the only one who can help him.
Garth is on edge when Peter arrives...will his friend remember that wonderful night? Will the spark still exist between them? Ethics say Garth can't have an affair with a client, however, even if it turns out Peter is willing.
Will those old memories get in the way or will Garth and Peter find themselves making new ones? Garth plays by the rules, but to Peter, rules are meant to be broken. Who can win in this struggle of wills and wants?
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.
The first yank dislodged Garth's tie, a tug hard enough to snap his neck. The next sent buttons flying off his silky broadcloth shirt. They scattered to the carpet without a sound and vanished into the pile. The third took his shirt off, almost ripping the fabric away from his body. The white shirt fluttered to the floor, just a piece of unwanted distraction.
Garth dropped his suit coat beside the shirt as Peter's hands raced over his upper torso. The calluses on Peter's guitar player's fingertips abrading Garth's skin. Each touch felt like a match had been struck at the spot. Sparkles of heat and energy, rife with sexual incitement, danced over Garth's body. He went rock-hard in seconds.
No longer content to be the passive recipient of Peter's attention, Garth reached back to seek some contact himself. He found Peter's ass and dug his fingers into one muscled buttock, feeling the heat and power through Peter's jeans. As Peter pressed close behind him, he could feel Peter's cock, stiff as his own, nudging against his butt although separated by layers of denim and soft flannel. Excitement too volatile to contain flared through him. Yes, oh yes. This is Peter and he's here. We're finally together.
Still holding one another, they stumbled a few steps until Garth was stopped by Melanie's desk. They released each other long enough to fumble with belt buckles and zippers, desperate to get their trousers out of the way.
For a moment, choking panic stopped Garth dead still. He remembered how big Peter's cock was. Since that long-ago night, he had known others from small to large but none that quite matched his memory of Peter's. Lube. We need some kind of lube!
As he bent forward across the cleared surface of the desk, a tube of his secretary's hand cream caught his eye. It certainly wasn't meant for the purpose but it would do a lot better than nothing. He made a grab for it and held it back to Peter. "Here, I don't self-lubricate like the ladies. We're gonna have to use something."
Peter gave a bray of laughter. "Oh man, you're too funny. Okay, I wouldn't want to ream you a new one, not really. I hope it doesn't smell too flowery, though."