Excerpt of Through Neon Eyes: Control by Michael Barnette
Book Two of the Through Neon Eyes monthly series
Released February 2007
Available from Mojocastle Press LLC


David Jessman has found his lover, what he’s lacking is control of himself, the situation he’s in and the blond gunwhore known to him only as Bells. Bad as that is for a man used to being in charge, he’s finding that losing control may not be that terrible after all.

Dark lust-lit eyes in a passion flushed face stared up at the slender blond who favored Jessman with a cool stare before his lips-- far too sensual and kissable lips-- twitched into a knowing smile. He beckoned to the older man, fingers telling him, ‘follow me if you dare’ giving a wordless invitation that Jessman was only too willing to accept.

Willing hell, he was eager and more than ready to do whatever the gunwhore had in mind.

Jessman leapt out of bed, almost tripping on the trailing edge of a sheet in his enthusiasm. He walked toward the illusive Bells, the blond backing away toward the bathroom. Bells reached the billowing clouds of steam, the swirling mist obscuring him partially until he looked like some sort of mythical being, an elfin prince come to life.

Jessman groaned at the picture his paid lover made as he vanished into the roiling steam. Like an ethereal dream, something not quite human.

But Bells was flesh and blood as much as any man.

One with desires that Jessman knew they’d barely tapped.

And the dark-haired researcher wanted more. So much more of those untapped desires, even if it meant slipping into the darkness lurking inside the recesses of his own mind. A darkness he was only too ready to embrace if it meant keeping the blond. If it would mean Bells would keep coming back to him he’d gladly suffer any agony, any torment.

Bells was everything he wanted and needed.

An addict, Jessman already craved the drug of the other man’s touch, his kiss, his cock more than he’d ever wanted or needed anyone or anything in his entire life.

Stepping into the steam shrouded bathroom, Jessman searched for any sign of his lover. He was just reaching for the closed doors of the shower stall when he felt something strike his legs, taking him off his feet.

He was falling, the hard tiles of the floor rushing up at him.

Panic seized his heart and Jessman waited for the fatal blow, sure the gunwhore had changed his mind and decided to carry out the contract for his murder, waiting for the impact of a bullet, knife or even just the hard floor. Instead hands grasped him and he was spun face up, steel-strong arms embracing him, keeping him from a painful impact with the cold tiles of the floor. The slender blond held him as easily as Jessman himself would have cradled a child, and he was no lightweight. He kept himself in shape and had a nicely muscled physique to prove it, but there was no sign of strain, no real effort evident in the face that was so close to his.

The blond kissed him, holding him there and exploring his mouth almost savagely until they were both panting for breath, hearts racing in the rhythm of lust. Just as easily as he’d taken control of Jessman’s body Bells returned the taller to his feet and stepped back.

Jessman caught a handful of braids and drew the blond to him, pleased to hear a soft gasp that changed to a shuddering moan. Pain or pleasure it didn’t matter, he knew the gunwhore would enjoy what he’d done with the certainty of someone who’d shared mental contact with him, someone who’d taught David how to dance to the music of the Sweet Sisters. Bells had led him across the threshold where Pain became Pleasure. While Jessman only had the barest glimmer of insight into the gunwhore’s real desires, his deep seated needs, it was enough to show Jessman what would incite desire in Bells. He put his free arm around the smaller man and held him tightly, very aware that if the smaller man wanted his freedom there wasn’t a damned thing Jessman could do to prevent his escape.

He leaned down and kissed Bells making no effort to hide his own pleased reaction when the blond responded to the forceful kiss by pressing closer to him, his erection grinding into Jessman’s thigh with enough force he knew it was feeding the kiss of pain to Bells.

Bells broke the kiss but he didn’t pull away. “Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice raw with desire.

The tone in Bells’ voice brought a smile to Jessman’s eyes, but he carefully schooled it from his lips. Struggling to keep from grinning like a fool as he said, “You.”

He didn’t get a chance to say anything else. Strong hands, steel-cable strong arms manhandled David into the shower, pinning his body to the water slicked tiles. A cock teased his ass, the head penetrating the crack between his ass cheeks. Warm water sheeted over his sensitive skin, burning across the welts on his back and thighs, the scattering of the whip’s caresses that sprinkled his belly. They stung. The warm heat of renewed pain fanned Jessman’s lust to a feverish pitch. Shuddering he spread his legs slightly in invitation, feeling the gunwhore’s hands on his hips, caressing their way upward over his waist to his lower ribs. The hands moved, one to his back, the other to his belly, the teasing caresses brushing across the welts, lightly, teasing, hurting.

Jessman moaned, the heady mix of pain and the gentle touches driving him back to the place he’d gone last night. A place where there wasn’t any pain, only the unrestrained ache of need, of desire so powerful nothing could equal it. Jessman was already anticipating the things the blond would do to him. The man’s touch as intoxicating as the kiss of the whip had become, or perhaps it was partially the memories of what they’d done last night that fueled David’s reactions.

Purchase Through Neon Eyes: Control. Also available at Fictionwise and in print from Genre Connections.