For weeks, college student Casper has been the victim of sail-by goosing and groping. The problem is that Casper would very much like to get more than groped by those wonderful, big, hot hands. With a journal full of clues, he sets out to discover who his mystery groper is. However, he may be in serious trouble once he discovers the ominous identity, and it’s not because of the light bondage the groper seems to like.
Excerpt for Hot Hands:
I try to act casual as I walk down the empty hallway, plotting a way to counter Joey’s attack. But when I stop by a small dark space ready to twist around and tackle back, I get pushed into the darkness with speed I didn't know Joey possessed. My school bag drops to the floor with a thud.
“Joey!” I yelp in surprise as my face is pressed against a wall.
“Joey?” a deep voice vibrates from the back of my neck.
I gasp out loud. This isn't Joey. Joey’s voice is much higher.
“What do you want?” I ask through rattling breaths and a heart that’s ready to pop.
“What do you think I want?” he growls into my ear.
Oh God, when he says it like that, it’s pretty clear. I can’t believe this is happening right here in school. With my mind going numb, I try to escape, but he’s a good six inches taller than me and he’s strong. He pins my wrists to my back and pushes me into a dark room. I’m about to scream for help, when I feel his big hand on my ass. Hot and gentle.
I take a few calming breaths as he pushes me against another wall, his front firm to my back. All I can smell is detergent and his tantalizing cologne mixed with his own unique man-smell. The combination has my mind reeling.
When I try to twist around, he covers my eyes with his big hand.
“I want to see you,” I complain, still panting after my initial shock with the cold wall pressed against my cheek.
“I’m not ready to be seen,” he says in that drool-worthy voice of his, so deep and sensual. “Would you like me to leave?”
“No,” I nearly shout. “Please, I need to know who you are.”
He doesn't answer, but instead pulls a strip of cloth over my eyes, obscuring the little I could make out in the dark.
“Do you mind?”
His whisper in my ear makes me shudder.
“No,” I try to say firmly, but the insecurities make my voice tremble.
Hot-Hands ties the strip behind my head and brushes his soft lips against my bare neck.
“I’ll need to tie your hands too,” he whispers.
I don’t struggle while my wrists are being secured with the soft fabric.
As he runs his finger from the top of my spine to the small of my back, my body convulses in shudders. Instinctively, I try to free my wrists. I hear his deep chuckle, but there’s no way I can get free.
Hot hell, what have I done? I've given a complete stranger permission to tie me up and now I’m at his mercy. I have no way of defending myself. Although the thought sends winged beasts of terror fluttering in the pit of my stomach, my heart is hammering with an odd thrill as well.
When College professor Daniel Corrigan was brutally kicked out of his home after revealing his true sexuality to his wife, he had to make a whole new life for himself. For the first time in two years Daniel’s main heartache isn’t the none-existent relationship with his two kids, but the fact that the grade-A-sex deal with his student Troy Anderson is about to expire. After a whole semester of office fun, Troy has managed to squeeze his way into the core of Daniel’s soul. Daniel, however, is positive he’s nothing more to Troy than a teacher who can modify a grade.
Excerpt for Grade-A-Sex-Deal:
Troy Anderson pokes his beautiful face into my office, swings his slim, athletic body inside and locks the door behind him.
“Come in,” I say calmly to the young kid who only ever wears skin-tight jeans and sleeveless tops. My guess is that he does it just to tease me. I can’t take my eyes off his thin waist and nicely toned biceps and whenever he catches me ogling, he shoots me a smirk.
“What can I do for you, Troy?”
“You can give me an A on that exam you’re making,” Troy replies in his low, seductive voice. His blue eyes scan the table in front of me. Out of habit I pull a folder over my notes.
“And why would I do that?” I ask in my monotone teaching voice.
Troy’s full lips quirk into a smirk. “Because we have a deal.”
He walks to my desk and traces the edge with a long finger. My eyes follow that finger where it slides off the wood and lands on his growing bulge.
“The deal’s off,” I state matter-of-factly.
An old magazine lies on top of my screen. I grab it and pretend to sink my consciousness in the wonders of the South-American rain forests while everything within me is fantasizing about what he keeps hidden in those jeans.
“No way,” Troy says with a confident smile in his voice. “I haven’t been coming to see you every week for you to bail out now. The exam is next week.”
I count down a full minute before I lower the magazine to answer. “I’m very well aware of that, Mr. Anderson, but you didn't show up last Monday night. You broke the deal.”
“Oh come on, I was studying,” he says and for the first time I hear a crack in his resolve. It surprises me so much that my eyes fly up to meet his. That gorgeous, sandy-blond hair half covers one of his blue eyes and sweeps the curve of his neck. His slender jaw flexes on his tanned face as he swallows.
“What do you propose?” I ask calmly, trying hard not to reveal how much he affects me. His mere presence is enough to have me jumping hoops. Yes, we do have a grade-A-sex deal, but the more we meet the more I like having him around.
He resumes his calm nature, leaning over the end of the desk with his perky little ass in the air. “Well, I’m here now. You can do me twice.”
He has my undivided attention for a few seconds before I toss away the magazine, grab a pen and start flicking through the Webster’s.
“Oh come on,” he murmurs, edging himself a little farther towards me. “I know you have other guys knocking on your door every night. It’s not like you didn't have anyone to play with. How many guys have you fucked this week?”
“Several,” I reply with a shrug. “How many teachers have fucked you this week?”
“Several,” he echoes with a carefree grin and adjusts his perfectly shaped elbows on my desk.
Those white teeth, that full, hot mouth around my cock has me gasping for air every time. The reason this Adonis is so skilled at giving head is that he fucks around a lot and has done so for years. Troy’s not even discrete about it. He tells me about his conquests every week after our meetings. Teachers, students, career men, club guys. Basically whoever he thinks is hot – and Troy, being so impossibly hot, can pretty much have whomever he wants. It has always bothered me, even at first, when all I felt for him was deep dark lust.
Looking down at my dictionary, I mumble to myself, “If you used the time to study, instead of fucking, you’d be able to earn your A’s the right way.”
Even if that meant I wouldn't be having these magnificent hours with him every week. I’d trade it all if Troy would just settle down a little and stop messing around so much. I even find myself glaring at guys in the hallway, wondering if they've fucked him.
Troy sighs and rustles with his belt. I glance up from my volume. He buttons down his jeans and slides them off his hips, thrusting his tout ass further up.
I take a few calm breaths before allowing myself to fully rest my eyes on the glory that is Troy’s perfect ass, all without moving my head an inch.
He places his head in the palm of his hand with a smile and uses the other to pluck off my thick-rimmed glasses. I allow him to lean over and press his lips to mine. The feeling of the soft, slippery texture of his skillful tongue is euphoric. My brain is plunged into a cloudy haze. It becomes hard to think straight. I take his face in my hands to pull him closer, diving him into a deep, lingering kiss before breaking for air.
“Please, fuck me, Mr. Corrigan,” he whispers breathless against my lips. “You don’t have to prepare me, just shove it in and take me hard.”
Now, how am I supposed to say no to such a request?
Short and scrawny college student Harley Santos has a strange relationship with the guy on the other side of his bedroom wall. For weeks, the two have been masturbating to each other’s voices, but they have never met in person.
When Harley’s roommate (Ryan) is asked out on a date by one of his neighbors, Harley is devastated that his wall-mate mistook not-hot Harley for super-hot Ryan. Helping Harley through his heartache is Tasha Novokov, the other neighbor, who is tall, dark, and impossibly handsome.
Excerpt The Walls Have Ears:
I had been dreading going off to live with some stranger in the deep, dark forest that is Philadelphia. The rustle and bustle of city life was scary for a small-town boy like me. It didn't help that the people I knew, who’d been to Philly, took great joy in stuffing my head full with stories of serial killers, mobsters, and nasty dorm mates. That last part scared the hell out of me, because I was a green-horned little girly-guy. I was sure I’d be pushed down and fucked by the first guy to cross my path. Of course, the idea of being fucked wasn't all that unappealing, but I didn't want to be made into the dorm’s butt boy or anything.
Naturally, nothing of the sort happened and I really hit the jackpot with my roommate Ryan. We don’t really run in the same circles. It’s not that he wouldn't hang out with me if I asked; it’s just that he’s a very busy guy with his sports and other multiple after-school activities. The guy is so busy he barely stays in our small dorm apartment, so it’s almost as if I have it all to myself, which is another plus.
However, it isn't Ryan who’s moaning so deeply on the other side of the wall. There’s a whole living room-slash-kitchen area between mine and Ryan’s rooms. No, the neighbor is one of the two smoldering hot guys who live in the apartment next to ours.
On my first night here, I was just about to fall asleep on the wooden bed, under my green comforter, when I heard these low, sexy grunts coming from the other side of the wall. He wasn't alone. In between his deep groans were low gasps and moans coming from another guy. My cock immediately perked up at the sweet sounds. I jerked off as quietly as I could and came hard just about the time the owner of the deep voice did.
There were more nights like that. The guy had a lot of partners, and sometimes it was just him alone. Lately it’s just been him and me. See, one night, about a month ago, we were both getting off on each side of the wall. When he let out a particularly long and sensual groan, my own voice slipped with a low moan. I practically heard him stop for a few seconds, but then he continued and groaned again, only a little higher this time. I was curious, embarrassed, and thrilled all at the same time. Instead of stopping, I kept at it and let out an experimental moan. My neighbor’s voice grew louder and from the sound of things he was definitely masturbating. We ended up fisting our cocks, vocalizing our pleasures with moans, groans, grunts, and gasps until we climaxed. I hid under the comforter after that with a mind spinning like a hula hoop. I thought he’d want us to talk and that would only get me embarrassed, but he never said anything. We did, however, repeat the game every night after that.
With knees pressed in the thick mattress, I lean my head against the red wall with labored breaths. I yank on my cock so fast my vision goes blurry. He breathes equally hard on the other side. His forehead bumps against the wall, right against mine with only the thin wall between us.
“Fuck,” I whisper when the wonderful tightness in my balls gathers in a knot.
He groans deeply in response, which coaxes out a moan from me just before I cry out my groin-twisting ecstasy. His lovely voice lets out a series of deep grunts as he comes. We know each other’s voices so well now that we automatically tune in on each other’s rhythm and almost always come at the same time.
After my boneless body slumps down on the bed, I reach for tissues to wipe myself off. My neighbor runs his fingers along the wall and rustles about, maybe wiping himself off too or getting comfortable on the bed. When all is quiet again, he strokes the wall and whispers good night to me.
“Good night,” I murmur back just before curling up and dozing off.
About the Author:
As a teen, Erica spent hours at a time lying in bed. Some would have called her lazy (though her very supportive parents never did), but she’d disagree. It’s not like she wasn't doing anything, she was busy daydreaming! You’d have thought the daydreams would lessen as she got older, but that wasn't the case. Since these are the kind of dreams that can’t really come true, Erica decided to make them come alive on paper.
She lives in Iceland with her adorable little twin boys, and is happy with what she has. She often says that her real name sounds like Klingon to foreigners. Seriously, if “Eyjafjallajokull” looks like someone fell asleep at the keyboard, Erica’s real name could leave a non-Icelander in a zombie-like stupor for days.
She’s been writing for several years, or ever since reading became an obsession. Aside from a business degree, Erica has taken English courses at the University of Iceland and gulped down anything that might help her in her career as an author. She takes great interest in English, but will break every single grammar rule for the sake of the voice.
Erica loves hearing from her readers. She’s a friendly, easy-going (if a bit silly) person who doesn't mind talking about herself in third person.