Title:
King Consort
Blurb:
Avoiding sleeping with women was my
specialty, an art form even. As the future King of England I couldn’t be caught
sleeping with men. My whole life played out in front of the paparazzi, and they
didn’t miss a thing.
I had a carefully crafted womanizing
persona to maintain. My life came with rules, all of which I broke when I
couldn’t resist a one night stand with the enemy: A beautiful paparazzo with a
heart of gold. He may be the only person who doesn’t want me for my title, and
he can never be anything more than my secret.
But secrets have a way of coming out
and not only will they scare him away, but they’ll lose me the crown.
Teaser:
He sat back keeping
the camera in his lap. “How much liberty are you giving me?”
I mirrored him and
looked him over, taking my time with my answer. “Why are you asking.”
Lust crossed through
his gaze. “Take off the shirt.”
I obliged him, slowly
working my fingers down the buttons. I slid it off and set it aside. He looked
me over, hungry. My cock stirred at the look. I’d never felt so desired by
another person. He slid forward on the seat and brought the camera back to his
face. I stayed as I was until he told me to move.
“Sit on the edge of
the table,” he said breathless.
I was glad this was
getting to him as much as it was me. It was entirely foreign to give someone
such a thing over me. To allow someone to take these photos. It was daring and
exhilarating. I’d have to be careful or I’d get addicted to the acting out like
some bored teenager.
I sat on the edge to
the table closest to the fire and he moved back to take a few shots. I looked
up when he hadn’t said anything in a few moments to find him just watching me.
The fire illuminated his scar, and I wanted to kiss the length of it, from his
brow to his lips. I licked my lip and my chest rose as I inhaled fully, trying
to calm myself. He snapped another photo.
“What do you see?” I
asked unable to stand wondering a moment longer. I wanted to know how he saw
me.
“I see hunger,” he
said as he came closer. “The way you look at me.” The camera hung at his side
as he stalked closer.
I wanted to reach out
for him. To shove him into the chair he’d occupied and climb on top of him, but
I refrained because more than wanting him, I wanted to see what he did.
“Take your pants off.”
I raised a brow but
didn’t say more.
Author Bio: When not staying up all night writing,
J.R. Gray can be found at the gym where it's half assumed he is a permanent
resident to fulfill his self-inflicted masochism. A dominant and a pilot, Gray
finds it hard to be in the passenger seat of any car. He frequently interrupts
real life, including normal sleep patterns and conversations, to jot down notes
or plot bunnies. Commas are the bane of his existence even though it's been
fully acknowledged they are necessary, they continue to baffle and bewilder. If
Gray wasn't writing…well, that's not possible. The buildup of untold stories
would haunt Gray into an early grave, insanity or both. The idea of haunting
has always appealed to him. J.R. Gray is genderqueer and prefers he/him
pronouns.
Connect with J.R. Gray: Website | Twitter - Personal | Twitter - Books | Facebook | Facebook Group | Tumblr | Mailing List | Amazon Author Page
