Hi guys! We have Meg Harding stopping by today with her new release Contour, we have a great excerpt and a brilliant giveaway, so check out the post and enter the giveaway! <3 ~Pixie~
Jamie “Roxy” Albright has one great love in his life and room for no other. He lives and breathes makeup. Men are nothing more than temporary distractions and romance… well, that isn’t worth his time. With a burgeoning career as a YouTube makeup artist opening doors to never before dreamed of opportunities, time isn’t something Jamie has and distractions aren’t something he can afford.
Instagram model and shirtless wonder Tyler Jackson is quickly falling for elusive Jamie. How it went from a seemingly innocent message to feelings, he’ll never know. Their chemistry is instant and fiery hot, and Tyler’s never been that good at self control. The challenges are endless, though. There’s Jamie’s walls to break through and a country worth of space between them. And just when things are starting to look up, life throws a wrench in the works.
It was still dark when I felt Jamie move, sliding out from beneath my arm. “What’s wrong?” I mumbled, attempting to keep him in place. He was comfortable against my side, a line of warmth that I didn’t want to leave.
“Bathroom,” he whispered. “Let go.”
“Ugh.” I rolled over and closed my eyes.
I woke again when he came back to the bed, faint light beginning to peak through the curtains. I held my arm out and he situated himself alongside me once more, wrapping his arm around my waist. His fingers played with the hair of my happy trail, scratching the skin and causing me to shiver. He slung a leg over mine, slotting mine between his. The semi-hard line of his cock rubbed against my thigh.
I squinted down at his ducked head, pressed as it was against the curve of my shoulder. His lips were on my skin, his breaths fanning over it. His hair, all I could really see from this angle, had been brushed. It’d been tangled and wild when we went to bed last night. “You brushed your hair?”
Pressed as he was to me, I could feel the way his body tensed. “Yes. I didn’t want it to knot.”
I glanced to the bedside clock. 7:05 a.m. I turned back to Jamie, inhaling deeply. The scent of watermelon faintly lingered. Realization dawned. “You got up and put makeup on.” He had to have been in the bathroom for an hour at least. All so I wouldn’t see him without it.
Jamie groaned. His hand went lower, cupping my morning wood. “Can’t you just believe I woke up like this?”
My eyes crossed as he gave a lingering stroke to my cock. “That’s playing dirty. You’re distracting me.”
He squeezed and my eyelids fluttered shut for a heartbeat.
“Who says I’m playing?” He bit at my jaw. He rubbed his thumb over my tip, gathering up the pre-come already starting to leak. “Can I blow you?”
I rocked into his grip, moaning. “Fuck, yeah.” We could talk later.
He was between my legs in the next breath, the covers tossed to the end of the bed. His ass waved in the air as he knelt between my legs, his hands on my thighs, fingers spread and nails digging in. His mouth was on me in the next moment, sucking my tip inside, his cheeks hollowed. His tongue laved me, leaving nothing untouched. He took his time sinking down, and my thighs were tense with the effort to stay still. This was Jamie’s show. His mouth squelched around my cock, spit slicking down my shaft. I had to close my eyes and grit my teeth to maintain control. He pulled off with a loud slurping sound. I made the mistake of looking at him then, and I couldn’t hold back my groan as the sight of spit trailing from his lips to my dick. He licked his lips as I watched, breaking the string. His lipstick was already smearing, and I knew my cock would have the ruby red color smudged all over.
“Put your hands in my hair.”
I sank my right hand into his hair, curling the strands around my fist. Jamie’s eyes went half-lidded, his lips parted, breath coming faster. I brought him back to my cock like that, and he went eagerly, opening for me.
He was slack around me, and I let loose, thrusting up. He let me choke him, driving deep, my cock pounding the walls of his throat. He whined around me, looking blissed as all fuck as he took me in to the root. It was messy and uncoordinated, and I pulled free at one point to rub my cock over his face, smearing spit and pre-come liberally. He tried to turn his head to take me back in, mouth gaping. I teased him for a long moment before shoving back inside, watching him sink down on me like it was easy as breathing. His throat convulsed around me, but he didn’t let up.
I kicked my head back, jaw tight. I was going to go off at any second between the filthy sounds coming from the two of us, the feel of Jamie tight around me, the sight of him slick and messy with me.
It was all too much in the best way. I tugged him off, panting heavily. I held him still, gripping my cock with my free hand and moving quickly. I came after only a few strokes, stripes shooting over Jamie’s upturned face. He stuck his tongue out midway through and I angled my cock so the final few spurts landed there.
“Jesus,” I gasped, collapsing onto the bed, cock twitching uselessly as Jamie made a show of swallowing my come. He grinned, fingers collecting drops of come from his face. He licked them clean as I stared. “You’re killing me.”
His laugh was low and sultry. He crawled up my body to kiss me, sharing the taste of my come between us.
I reached for him, but he batted my hand away. “You don’t want…?”
“I already did.” His voice was rough and throaty, husky after what I’d done to it.
In my addled state it took me a minute to grasp his meaning. He’d come just from blowing me. “You—without being touched?”
“I rubbed off on the bed.” He draped himself over me. “That was hot.”
Hot was an understatement for what that was. “You’re….” What was Jamie? Perfect? Amazing? Could any word truly describe what he did to me? “You’re something else.”
Jamie snorted against my neck, breath warm and muggy. “You have lipstick all over your junk now.”
It was my turn to laugh. “That’s a hell of a way to wake up.”
Jamie perked up, looking undeniably smug. “Now you can go make me breakfast.” He nipped at my chin. “Hop to, soldier.”
Meg Harding is a graduate of UCF, and recently completed a masters program for Publishing in the UK. For as long as she can remember, writing has always been her passion, but she had an inability to ever actually finish anything. She’s immensely happy that her inability has fled and looks forward to where her mind will take her next. She’s a sucker for happy endings, the beach, and superheroes. In her dream life she owns a wildlife conservation and is surrounded by puppies. She’s a film buff, voracious reader, and a massive geek.