#Throwback: Not That Type of Guy

 When CIA assassin Aiden Jackson is trapped between a bathroom wall and a hard man, he chooses the hard man, much to his surprise. Aiden doesn’t want to admit he’s gay, but his first stumble into man love leaves him disoriented, searching for answers and desperate to find the truth. He covers his real desires by dating an ultra hot girl, but it’s the guy sitting a few tables away that draws his attention.

Super nice and attractive Doctor Trace Williams is so special he seems like an angel to Aiden. Their first kiss blows Aiden away. That Trace sees into his soul, even when Aiden is trying to hide everything, pisses him off. Aiden needs Trace in his life, but once Trace finds out the truth about Aiden’s job, will they have any part of their relationship left?

What would you do if your lover ripped apart the very foundation of what you believed?

Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This book deals with difficult subject matter, including abduction, abuse and murder. It also includes amazing sex between incredibly sexy men, masturbation and an engaging story. Enjoy!

Aiden pushed open the bathroom door, surprised when Chuck grabbed his hand and yanked him into the back stall. Chuck turned the flimsy lock on the door, closing them in the small space. Chuck’s hands were on Aiden’s chest, caressing his nipples through his shirt. Anger brewed deep in Aiden’s belly. His phone screeched and he turned it off, checking his watch for the time.

Chuck’s tongue teased Aiden’s nipple through the cloth. Aiden wanted to yank Chuck’s blond wig, pull him away and ask what the fuck he was doing, but the main bathroom door swung open, and the clip-clop of dress shoes echoed in the tiled room.

Was it the guy following them?

Chuck gazed into Aiden’s eyes, and a small smirk tilted his lips before he slanted his mouth across Aiden’s.

What the fuck?

Aiden froze. The extensive shit he’d suffered through in SEAL training, and then with the CIA, helped him keep his cool as the guy invaded his space, kissed him and touched his body like a girl would. Chuck’s tongue probed Aiden’s lips, demanding entrance. For a moment, Aiden wavered on accepting the kiss. He couldn’t do it. It went against everything he’d fought to keep hidden.

His darkest desires were playing out in this kiss. The lust he’d kept in check, the dreams that haunted him, all here, wrapped up in this one fleeting moment of joined lips that was a joke to Chuck, but a fulfillment of desires for Aiden. His breath came in halting gasps as Chuck licked at the slit of his lips. It felt so good. Aiden opened his mouth, admitting Chuck’s thick tongue.

A hint of spice and dark chocolate fired on Aiden’s taste buds, drugging him with the heady clutch of Chuck's embrace. The kiss deepened and Aiden felt a bubble of excitement build in his chest. Mother of God, I fucking like this!

Where the prosthetics weren’t disguising Aiden’s features, the scrape of Chuck’s beard made his skin tingle. A rush of desire flooded his body and zipped straight to his cock. Their tongues warred as Chuck pulled him in close, trapping him in a cocoon of unfamiliar lust and desire.

Aiden barely registered the footsteps of the guy chasing them. He didn’t pay attention to the man outside the stall and when the door burst open from a solid kick, Aiden jumped.

Chuck broke the kiss, his glare deadly. “Do you fucking mind?” he spit out at the intruder.

Aiden kept his face adverted as shame burned through his veins. He should look at the guy, but embarrassment flooded him. Keep it hidden, deny everything. At the last minute he glanced at the guy, trying his best to keep his face covered with his hand as he studied the man following them. His muscles tightened and his cock brushed up against Chuck’s belly, leaving him confused. The shame almost overwhelmed him as his father’s bigoted accusations came back to haunt him.

Chuck pushed the door closed and fumbled with Aiden’s zipper. Cold air shocked Aiden’s senses as Chuck reached in and scooped his dick out of his-body warmed underwear.

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Writing is Sara York's life. The stories fight to get out, often leaving her working on four or five books at once. She can't help but write. Along with her writing addiction she has a coffee addiction. Some nights, the only reason she stops writing and goes to sleep is for the fresh brewed coffee in the morning. Sara enjoys writing twisted tales of passion, anger, and love with a good healthy dose of lust thrown in for fun.

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