Sex Type Thing
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by Jade Falconer
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Romance
Description: It doesn't look good for one of rock's most famous faces to cause a wreck, especially if he's been drinking. Yet Ian Jeffries does just that, right into another man's car. Musician Tony Simpson isn't amused by the damage, despite being taken by tabloid magnet Ian. Ian's willing to do anything to keep away more bad publicity. Luckily, Tony's willing to see the good in the rock scene's latest bad boy.
eBook Publisher: Phaze, 2009
eBookwise Release Date: October 2009
23 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [31 KB]
Reading time: 15-21 min.
It happened in slow motion. One second he was following a swerving Honda, the next he was slamming on the brakes. Too late--he'd only looked away for a second, but the car in front of him had braked hard, and he couldn't stop in time. His BMW's antilock brakes did their best, keeping Ian from losing control, but there just wasn't enough room to stop. With a deceptively muffled crunch, he hit the car in front of him.
Surprisingly, his airbag didn't deploy, which meant he'd hit at a relatively low speed. But he'd still hit the Honda. The ramifications came to him after everything settled and he assessed the situation. He was unhurt. He'd been drinking, but was not legally drunk. He hoped. And he'd just gotten his license back after it was suspended for reckless driving. He didn't need this kind of publicity again.
He'd had a drinking problem, but he'd been through rehab and was getting his life back on track. If this had happened to anyone else, no one would care. But he was Ian Jeffries, bad boy rock star, and people loved it when celebrities fucked up. This would be all over the Internet by morning.
He got out of the car. They were on a relatively deserted stretch of road, which was fortunate, but another car could come along at any moment. He toyed with the idea of just taking off, but he had to be sure the other driver wasn't hurt.
He walked toward the other car and winced at the damage. The BMW had slid partially under the Honda's bumper, and both vehicles would need repair.
The driver's side door of the Honda opened slowly, and a man stepped out, rubbing his forehead. He leaned against the side of the car and folded his arms across his chest. "In a hurry?" he asked, scowling.
Ian's gaze drifted automatically over the man, registering bright blue pants so tight it was more than obvious he wore nothing underneath, and an equally tight, sleeveless black shirt that showed off toned arms. The man's dark brown hair was stylishly cut, short in the back and longer in the front, with streaks of blond. Warm, deep brown eyes set against sharp features studied him, strong yet giving off an air of delicacy. He appeared lightly muscled, more so than Ian's wiry body, but with a slight frame.
He pushed aside the rebellious, lustful thoughts like he almost always did, and annoyance took their place. "Are you all right?" he asked. Then he added, "Was there a reason you felt the sudden need to stop in the middle of the road?"
The other man's frown deepened. "I try not to murder small furry creatures if I can help it. Do you usually crawl up someone's ass so far you don't have time to stop?" he asked, pursing his lips.
Ian smirked. The man's tone and his clothing suddenly became clear. He stepped closer and saw he wore quite a bit of makeup. "You were driving kind of slow," he observed. "I really am sorry. Do you need an ambulance?" He tried to temper his tone.
The man smirked right back. "No. I don't need an ambulance, thanks. I did bump my head on the steering wheel, but it's fine." His eyes narrowed. "Wait, you look really familiar." He reached for his cell phone in his back pocket.
Ian sighed. Here it comes. He stepped even closer and said softly, "Look. If you're not hurt, we don't have to involve the police, do we?" A light breeze swirled around them in the warm night, whipping his already open shirt away from his body.
The other man's gaze fell to the prominent hip bone exposed by the sudden light gust, just as Ian had intended. He looked back up at Ian's face and sniffed. His expression turned smug. "Oh. I'm getting the picture now. You're Ian Jeffries, aren't you? And you're drunk."
"Yes and no," Ian said, trying to sound reasonable. "I'm Ian, but I'm not drunk." It sounded ridiculous, even to him. He knew he had a reputation, especially here in LA. "I've had a couple of drinks, but I'm nowhere near drunk." He eyed the Sidekick in the man's hand with rising desperation. He'd noticed the man looking at him, though. Maybe he had a chance to convince him.
"Well, if you're not drunk, it doesn't matter if I call the cops, right?" he asked, flipping the screen open.