I just adore love stories where one person secretly holds a torch for the other, and in the end they get to be together.
This one is a true story: A son tweeted about his parents’ unusual love story. Make sure you flip through the pictures with the son’s tweets to see their full story unfold.
Here’s another selection in my “Favorite Scenes” series. It’s from MORE (More Book 1).
Why I chose this excerpt: Selecting an excerpt from this book was actually much harder than I thought it would be. There were several I wanted to share. I decided on the following moment because I love that Luke is finally asking the question he wondered the very first night he met Richard: how did Richard get the scar on his chest. It takes Luke a long time, but he’s also finally able to open up and say he wants to live with them.
This excerpt is NSFW.
Richard jerked back. “I want you both to move in with me, permanently.”
It took a moment for my swimming head to shake off the desire. “Stay?”
“Stay. Indefinitely. Stop pretending you’ll be looking for an apartment at some point. Move all your stuff here. No talk of this place as mine anymore. It’ll be ours.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I know this is a huge thing for you.”
I stared at my hands. No tensing. No freaking. No desire to run. “Okay.”
“What?”
I looked up at him. Hopeful green eyes gazed back at me.
“It may not seem like it, but I’m trying. I want to stay here. I want to make this work.” I want to believe nothing will make me leave. Not me. Not my father.
Richard flung himself at me. The force sent me sailing over the side of the chair. I landed on my back with him on top of me.
“Oh God. Luke, are you okay?”
“Yeah. Ow. I think so.” I laughed and rubbed the back of my head.
His fingers explored my scalp.
I brushed his hands away. “I’m fine.”
He smiled at me, and his lips covered mine again. He rolled us around on the floor, tickling my sides. I laughed more, letting the ease and comfort wash over me.
I attempted a dodge of his movements. My hips and ass wiggled, but his solid body pinned me in place. He unbuttoned the top of my pants and slid a hand in. I was still laughing as he grasped my dick.
He didn’t relent with his hand or his mouth. I thrashed my hips into his touch. He knew how to work me with his big fist. I could smell my own need.
My hands grazed his bulge as I went for his pants, and he groaned. I lowered the zipper, pushed down his underwear, and released the red, swollen prick. As it always did, his cock firmed more with my touch. I considered taking him in my mouth, but his next words stopped me in my tracks.
“God, Luke. I need to fuck you.”
I stilled. “Maybe we should leave the clothes on.”
Richard threw his head back and laughed. “I’d hope I can have at least some control.” I stroked his cock. His eyes rolled back and he pumped his hips. “Uh…okay. Let’s leave the clothes on, but let me at your dick.”
He undid my pants and lay on top of me. We rocked in swift jabs, sliding our dicks together, and came fast. We lay on the kitchen floor, breathless, our shirts lifted, our stomachs slick with our spunk, and our spent cocks lying free.
Some goddamn humping, and it was one of the best fucks of my life.
Richard reached for a kitchen towel and wiped us clean before he fell back onto the floor beside me. “Shit, never thought you’d say yes.”
“Me neither. When you first asked us to stay, I thought I’d be moving to Walter’s after two days.”
He rolled onto his side and propped his head on a bent arm. “That was my fear. It only grew the more I got to know you. At first I didn’t want to see you leave before you gave us a try. Then I didn’t want to see you go because I didn’t think I could take you walking out on us.”
I pushed him over and straddled his hips. I drove my lips, my body, my hands against him, letting him feel me, showing him I had no intention of leaving.
I swept my hands under his shirt. I’d never get over the addiction of his skin. My fingers brushed over the scarred flesh. “How’d you get this?”
A laugh rushed out of him. It was almost Matthew’s giggle. It took a moment before he could form words. “Matthew asked me that the first week you were here.”
“I never said I was one for heart-to-hearts.”
He lifted a hand to my face. “I never asked you to be.” His fingers stroked my cheek. He dropped his hand and snaked it under his shirt to the edge of the scar by his nipple. “Some homophobic asswipes attacked me at a college party. One of them had a knife.”
“Oh God.” I unbuttoned his shirt and ran my fingers through the blond chest hair, over the firm pectoral muscles. His flesh jumped. Small bumps rose up. The color of his tan skin darkened. My fingertips examined the raised line of flesh.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Luke.”
I traced the scar to his underarm and back.
“I’ve never liked anyone touching me there but you.”
Heat rose in my cheeks. “It was bad?”
“I was in the hospital for a week. I lost a lot of blood, and there was an infection. It was full of dirt and glass from the beer bottles. They dragged me pretty far.”
“What happened?”
“I’ve never hidden who I prefer to sleep with. My junior year I lived in a frat house on campus. Some of the brothers didn’t like knowing a gay guy slept in the same house they did. They wanted me out, and beating the shit out of me was their best plan. I lost the fight.”
“That’s hard to imagine.”
“It was me against five. I knew I’d never win. Not when I saw the knife. But I couldn’t back away. I couldn’t let them push me around.” He laid a hand over mine. “No one bothered me again. The rest of the fraternity respected me for fighting—for staying when it would have been easier to leave.” He moved our combined hands along the scar until my palm lay over his heart. “They sent me to a plastic surgeon, but I didn’t want it fixed. I wanted the scar.”
“Why?”
“To remind me no matter where I go in life, someone could always have an issue with me. For whatever reason. Because I’m well-off. Because I’m opinionated. Because I’m gay. I can’t let people get in my way or I’ll never succeed. I’ll never get what I want.”
“What do you want, Richard?”
“Right now? I want you to move in with me.”
(c) Sloan Parker, 2010. All Rights Reserved.
The full story is available at: Amazon US | iBooks | B&N | All Romance eBooks | Kobo | Google Play
Here’s another selection in my “Favorite Scenes” series. It’s from MORE THAN JUST A GOOD BOOK.
Why I chose this excerpt: The relationship between Scott and his father was a special part of this story for me. I wanted to show that the most important man in Scott’s life had always been his dad. Until he met Mark. His dad and Mark could’ve ended up fighting over Scott’s attention, but that wasn’t the kind of man I wanted his father to be. When I was writing the scene below, I knew that a dad who so deeply loved and cared for his son could’ve attacked Mark as soon as he saw those bruises, before listening to Scott. But Scott’s dad was the kind of man who typically listened first, then reacted. I love how this scene showcases that. Of course his dad wants to immediately take Scott out of the situation, but he also stops to find out the truth, find out what his son wants and how he feels about it.
Please note: Amazon currently has this title listed as part of the MORE series. It is not. We’re working with Amazon to get that information corrected.
“Your roommates said you’d moved out. Owen at the coffee shop told me where to find this place.” He threw a heated look Mark’s way. “I’m guessing it was your idea that my son lie to me?”
“No,” Scott said. “Dad, I—”
“Not telling me you’re living with someone is lying. The kind of man who encourages you to lie to me is not good enough for you.”
It wasn’t hard to miss the clench of Mark’s jaw. He didn’t react, though. His voice was neutral when he said, “I should go put on some clothes.”
“Yeah, you do that.” Scott’s dad turned his back on Mark.
Mark gave Scott a look, part apology, part worry, part support, then headed for his bedroom.
After the bedroom door shut, his dad opened his mouth as if to say something else but gasped instead. He gripped Scott by the elbows and held his arms up, examining one wrist, then the other. The slight bruising was almost gone, but it was still obvious enough, even in the low light of the candles. And with the way the marks had faded, they looked like fingerprints wrapped around Scott’s arms.
“Did he do this to you?”
“It’s not—”
“Go get your things, Scott. You’re not staying here.”
A flash of lightning lit up the room, immediately followed by a crack of thunder that tore through the small apartment.
Scott stood frozen in place. He’d never heard his dad sound so pissed off.
“Dad, it’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” He reached for Scott’s arm again. “He’s hurting you.”
“No!” Scott kept his gaze locked on the floor. He so didn’t want to explain this. “Please don’t ask.” That was when the lights decided to turn back on. Perfect timing. Out of the corner of his eye, Scott could see his dad intensely watching him.
“Is he hurting you?”
Scott shook his head.
“Is someone else?”
“No.” He crossed the room and dropped onto the couch. His still-heated ass stung with the action. He held back the wince.
His dad came to sit next to him. “What happened?” He examined Scott’s wrists again, more closely this time. “This is from being tied up.”
“Please. Can we just drop it? You’re my dad.”
“That’s why I have to know.”
“But it’s embarrassing talking about this with you.”
“I’m sorry about that, but we are not going to drop it. Mark did this to you?”
Oh God. What was he supposed to say?
“He ties you up?”
Scott nodded.
His dad didn’t say anything more right away. Hopefully he’d decided to let the completely embarrassing conversation go.
Or not.
More softly he asked, “It’s something you want him to do?”
Yet again, Scott couldn’t find the words.
“I have to know, Scott. Is this from him doing something you wanted?”
“Yes.”
“It’s something you enjoy?”
There was no getting out of admitting the truth. He swallowed, then spoke again in a rush. “Yes.”
“Does he hit you?”
He could still feel the warm sting of Mark’s hand on him. He searched for the right words. “He doesn’t hurt me.” He dropped his head and buried his face in his hands. His next words were muffled. “Can we not talk about this?”
There was a long pause, and then his dad said, “It’s okay.” He ran a comforting hand over Scott’s back, then sank back farther on the couch. “In fact, your mother liked that sort of thing.”
“Dad!” Scott lifted his head but still couldn’t face him.
“Oh, I forgot. Parents don’t have sex.” He could tell his dad was smiling now. “She was a wonderful person. Having a lot in common with her is not a bad thing.”
“I know.” He always loved when his dad compared him to her. He wouldn’t let what they were talking about change that reaction.
“I should’ve guessed when I saw those marks. She bruised easily like you. It’s just… I worry about you.”
“Mark is a really good guy. He cares about me.”
“I can see that.”
Scott looked at his dad for the first time since moving to the couch. He was staring off toward the end of the hallway.
Mark stood there, now fully dressed, concern evident in the confused expression on his face. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Scott tried to keep his voice even, despite the awkwardness of the moment. “Everything’s fine.”
Mark nodded. “Okay. I’ll let you two talk.” He hesitated like it was taking all his effort to walk away. He gave Scott another nod and headed back down the hall for his room.
After the door closed, his dad said, “I trust you. I trust your judgment. But I need you to promise me one thing. That you’ll never let him or anyone else do something you don’t want. No matter what you feel for him. And if it becomes too much, if it’s changing into something you don’t want and you don’t know how to walk away, you’ll come talk to me.”
“I promise. Can we not talk about this anymore?”
(c) Sloan Parker, 2013. All Rights Reserved.
The full story is available at: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon DE | iBooks | B&N | All Romance eBooks | Kobo | Google Play
Here’s my third selection in my “Favorite Scenes” series.
Why I chose this excerpt: This moment illustrates for me just how special being in that hotel room is for Sean and Gavin. For the first time, Sean feels like he’s getting a look at the real Gavin in a way he never had before.
Gavin hit mute on the TV, tossed the remote aside. “Where’d you grow up?”
“Just a dinky little town. It’s nowhere special.”
He lowered to the bed on his side, his head propped in his hand. Something about that action and the quiet stillness of the room around us gave the moment a different feel from any other we’d spent together.
More private.
More real.
Which was odd. Sometimes I’d felt completely alone with him when we were surrounded by men at the shelter.
Or at least, I’d thought that’s how I’d felt. Maybe I’d never been alone with the real Gavin. The one who was watching me now.
He reached out and laid a hand on my right thigh. “You came from there, so yeah, it is special.” He paused as if he wanted to make sure I got his meaning.
I wasn’t sure I did.
“In Ohio, right?” he asked. He rubbed my thigh, his hand so warm I could feel it through my jeans. The only time he’d touched me even close to the same way had been about warming me up after I’d trudged through the snow to the warehouse from the park in a worse snowstorm nearly a year ago. That touching had been clinical. Or at least I’d tried to pretend it had so my heart wouldn’t be crushed when he rolled over to go to sleep.
I nodded, my next words catching in my throat. I swallowed and tried again. “Angola, Ohio. This time of year, every house and all the shops lining Main Street are decked out in Christmas lights. There are giant stars on the telephone poles and reindeer pulling a sleigh in the town square. Like someplace you’d see on a postcard.”
“Pretty?”
“I guess. More like it has this quiet, polite normalcy. But you have to look close to see the real place. I mean, the kinds of people who actually live there.” I pulled at a loose green thread on the bedspread beside me. The thread kept on unraveling. Maybe I could pull all those ugly weeds out and leave behind something plain but more beautiful. “The people—they’re not so pretty.”
His hand stopped moving. “Like your parents?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you ever tell them or your grandparents you were gay?”
I gave up on the weed whacking and crossed my arms over my chest. “Thought we were gonna catch a movie?”
“Right.” He removed his hand from my leg, and I immediately regretted my words as he returned to the end of the bed and reached for the remote. He pointed it at the TV but paused before clicking on the sound, his back to me. “You are, though, right?”
“What?”
“Gay.”
“Me?” I choked out a laugh. Was he serious?
Apparently so. He clutched the remote like it was a grenade, and if he let go, the room—and the two of us—would explode into a thousand pieces. I wasn’t sure he was even breathing.
“Oh, God yeah,” I said. “I’m gay. It’s why I left home.”
He sighed and eased up on the remote. He started changing channels again, stopping when he hit some action, one of those low-tech time-travel movies with the former governor from California.
Gavin kept the sound muted, and the time-traveling cyborg guy didn’t seem as threatening without the sounds of his guns going off. It’s amazing what silence will do to a moment.
“Gavin?”
Slowly, he looked back at me over his shoulder.
“Are you?” I asked.
His mouth turned up at the corners. “Yeah, I’m gay.”
(c) Sloan Parker, 2012. All Rights Reserved.
The full story is available at: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon DE | iBooks | B&N | All Romance eBooks | Kobo | MLR Press
There’s also a free read featuring Sean and Gavin on my website: It Says Love.
An oldie that reminds me of Grady and Mateo from I SWEAR TO YOU.
When Christian admits what he feels for Olli:
Watch the video on YouTube