At long last, after much waiting and hopefully some anticipation, the Shifting /Sands anthology is available in ebook from MLR Press.
Featuring stories from Jet Mykles, Kimberly Gardner, Ally Blue, Willa Okati, Brenda Bryce and J.L. Langley this collection has something for everyone who loves sexy shifters.
And now to celebrate the book’s release, I’d like to share an excerpt from my story, Snake Charmer.
Copyright 2010 by Kimberly Gardner, all rights reserved.
Cyrus Malone felt the first sign, an almost imperceptible wriggling under his skin, just as he was about to plunge his dick into the sweetest, tightest little ass this side of San Antonio.
Keeping his hand on the hip of the slim, young owner of said ass, Cy glanced over his shoulder and up into the night sky. Dusk slid rapidly toward dark and the moon would soon rise. It would shine, bright as a silver dollar, its cold, clear light spilling over everything. It would light up the narrow alley behind A Bar Named Sue like it was midday. Cy could already feel it, and for just a moment he was sure he heard Yi’s shriek—that hellcat Daniel had married—as she cursed them all to this god-forsaken fate. If only…
“Cy? Something wrong?”
Shoving the memory away, Cy turned from the moon’s pitiless glare, a smile ready on his lips. “Nothing’s wrong, darlin’. Just got distracted a minute.” Realizing how that sounded, he added, “Thought I heard someone comin’.”
Large gray eyes peered at him over a slim, denim-covered shoulder. The warm breeze wafting down the alley ruffled the young man’s auburn curls. A pink tongue slipped out to wet full lips, still swollen from Cy’s kisses.
“Somebody be comin’ soon enough, I hope,” Bobby Lee drawled, his Arkansas accent as thick and sweet as warm maple syrup. Still braced against the wall, he thrust his bare ass back against Cy’s crotch and wiggled.
The wriggling sensation intensified, crawling up Cy’s spine and inching down his legs even as his cock swelled to near painful fullness.
Fuck if he was passing this up on account of that she-devil’s curse. No fucking way.
Grabbing his sheathed cock, Cy lined up and pushed.
Bobby Lee whimpered and shoved back, impaling himself to the root. They both stilled, their breaths drowned out by the twang of steel guitars that still managed to reach them from inside the bar.
“C’mon, Cy, fuck me, man.” Bobby Lee did that rippley thing with his insides, the thing that made Cy crazy, the thing he thought of when he was alone in his bunk with only his hand for company.
He pulled out almost all the way then shoved back in, giving Bobby Lee what he asked for, fucking that sweet little ass for all he was worth. It was pure, sweet heaven.
“Ah shit, baby,” Cy groaned, his fingers digging into his boy’s slender hips as he slammed his cock in deep.
“Feels so good, Cy. Ah, God.” Bobby Lee rocked back, meeting Cy thrust for thrust. He bore down, squeezing Cy’s dick like a velvety vise, dragging Cy’s orgasm closer and closer to the surface.
And with it, other things came closer, too.
Another thrust, another moan from Bobby Lee and Cy knew he wasn’t going to last. “C’mon, darlin’, I can’t wait. give it up. Come for me.”
Cy’s hips sped up, his movements turning short and sharp as the crawling under his skin got all mixed up with the tingle in his balls. He reached around and gripped Bobby Lee’s cock, hot and hard, like silken steel in his hand. Pre-come dripped from the slit and he imagined the taste of it on his tongue as he used it to slick the shaft.
“Harder,” Bobby Lee moaned. “Do me harder. Fuck me deeper. I want it. I need it.”
Cy tightened his grip on Bobby Lee’s prick as his lover’s channel sucked him deeper, working his cock with those internal muscles, like to rip the orgasm right out of him.
Sweat dripped into Cy’s eyes and he blinked it away. How much longer did he have? And would it be enough?
“Now, Cy, now. I’m coming now, baby.”
The muscles around Cy’s cock clamped down, the dick in his hand pulsed as hot come spilled through his fingers and the smell of sex filled his nostrils.
Cy’s dick swelled as his orgasm rushed over him and his beast reared up.
His incisors lengthened, curving into long, lethal fangs. His tongue split as the rush of blood in his ears turned to a deafening roar.
He bit down on his lip to keep from saying the words aloud and tasted his own blood. Then he was coming. Thrust in to the hilt, he filled the condom with pulse after pulse of spunk.
Bobby Lee’s ass milked him steadily, prolonging the pleasure, drawing it out the way only he could.
Cy sagged. He felt like a wrung out dishrag. His knees gave out and he collapsed against Bobby Lee’s back. But the man was stronger than he looked. Good thing, too, because right then Cy could not have stood if someone had offered him a million dollars to do it.
Panting, he fought to pull himself together, but his legs refused to work. That gummy, melted rubber-band sensation stretched from ankle to ass and was quickly climbing up his spine. Sure as hell it wasn’t just the orgasm doing that.
Grabbing the base of his cock, he pulled out and dropped a kiss on the back of Bobby Lee’s neck, careful to keep his fangs away from his lover’s skin. He had no clue if his bite, even an accidental nick, could be poisonous. “I got to go, Bobby Lee. I’m sorry, darlin’.”
Bobby Lee straightened and turned, yanking his jeans up and putting himself away as he did. His eyes widened. “Cy, baby, you all right? You don’t look so good.”
“Don’t feel so good.” Cy staggered back, first one step, then another.
Bobby Lee’s hand shot out and gripped his arm, supporting him. “C’mere, baby, before you fall down.”
Cy leaned against the wall, the vibrations of the music from the bar-band tingling along his spine. Or maybe that, too, was something else.
“I got to go.” Cy fumbled at his fly but couldn’t make his fingers work. He swore.
Bobby Lee brushed his hands aside. Removing the condom, he tied it off, then pitched it toward a nearby garbage can. With a touch as gentle as a mother’s, he tucked Cy’s cock away and did up the buttons on his jeans. Their eyes met and Bobby Lee’s were filled with worry.
“Maybe we should go back inside and sit—”
“No,” Cy snapped. Gentling his voice, he tried for a smile. Somehow he managed it. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get home.”
The line between the other man’s pale brows deepened and he bit his lip. “You sure? I don’t like letting you go like this.”
Yeah, and you’ll like what happens next even less.
He forced a laugh. “Don’t be such a mother-hen, baby.” Mustering the last of his control, he pulled Bobby Lee close and brought their mouths together. The kiss was sweet, if way too short, and left him feeling even worse as he released his lover and stepped back. Pulling himself together, he patted Bobby Lee’s cheek and turned to go.
Somehow he managed to keep his strides steady until he rounded the corner of the bar, well out of sight of his lover. He broke into a run, staggered and nearly fell.
Please, Cy prayed, please don’t let it happen here.
A few more lurching steps brought him to his truck. Gripping the handle with fingers he could no longer feel, he yanked open the door and threw himself inside. He flailed a hand out behind him, missed the handle then caught the edge of the door, jerking it closed just as he lost his grip on control.
He felt the elongation of his muscles, the dissolution of bones, or imagined he did. The others said it didn’t happen like that, but Cy thought different.
“It won’t be so hard if you don’t fight it so much,” Judson had told him once. And on the few occasions when he’d managed not to fight it, the change had gone a little bit easier. But only a little. Cy didn’t think it would ever be easy.
A shaft of moonlight pierced the windshield. As sharp and cold as a knife slicing through him. Suddenly it was over and he was lying on the driver’s seat, his serpent’s body tangled inside a heap of his own clothes. He writhed, not sure how to move, still not entirely comfortable in his new form. It was always like this right after the shift. Then something clicked over in his tiny serpent’s brain and he slithered free of the clothes. He slid down to the floorboards and curled up under the seat to wait it out.
Written by Kimberly Gardner
As early as the seventh grade, Kimberly remembers slashing her favorite rockstars and reading romance. So it’s not surprising that her two passions, romance and putting pretty boys with other pretty boys, should come together in her writing. Moliere said, “Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, then for a few close friends, then for money.” Kimberly is delighted to finally be doing it for money.
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