Hmmm. I’m finding a lot of my snark is a bit bitchier than I realized. What does that say about me? (Maybe that the coffee mug “I’m not really a bitch, I just play one in YOUR life” is a little more apt than it should be?)
Anyhoo – this weeks bit-o-snark comes from Liar, Liar, my Don’t Read In the Closet contribution at Goodreads. It’s free. Get it HERE.
As always, be sure to drop in to Marie Sexton’s blog for the linkities to the other folks playing in this sandbox!
Tim is trying to drink away the memory of his closeted ex – and his ex’s WIFE – when long-time crush Rio finds him at Candyland.
“What are you doing, pretty boy?”
Oh, that bastard.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m getting fucking shit-faced drunk. Gimme.” He held out his hand as if he actually expected Rio to return his drink.
“Tim, babe, whatever it is, getting shit-faced isn’t gonna solve it.”
“Nope. But it’ll let me put it off a day or two.” He snapped his fingers, wondering why he was provoking the man. He knew damned well all he was doing was poking the bear – and he knew Rio knew he knew it. And fuck if he wasn’t confusing himself with who knew what. Clearly, he needed another drink. “Now hand it over.” Rio just shook his head. Of course.
Tim slid off his stool, rubbing down Rio’s body all the way. Hard muscles under damp cotton. He’d been dancing. His scent surrounded him, and now it surrounded Tim, too, and it was having a predictable effect. Tim felt his cock twitch, start to fill. And fuck him if Rio wasn’t getting hard, too.
“And what’s up with the Princess? Pretty boy? Babe? Really, Sweetcheeks?” Tim leaned in, reaching for his drink, which had the happy side effect of making him rub all over Rio again. Yep. The man was definitely hard. “You don’t want me. You give me shit about the man who does want me.” Never mind that Stephen didn’t want him anymore. “So what’s with the pet names? Do you just enjoy the mind fuck, since it’s the only fuck you’ll give me?”
He had his drink now, as well as the full body experience of pretty much everything Rio had to offer. Not that he was offering it to Tim.
For his part, Rio looked more startled than cynical for a change, and that was ridiculously gratifying. Then the light dawned, as obviously as if it was tattooed on his forehead, and Rio gave him a sympathetic look.
“Ah, shit. The jackass finally showed his true colors, did he?” Rio cupped his cheek almost tenderly with one big, hot palm. “I warned you, Princess.” Blue eyes blinked slowly. “Um, Tim.” The correction sounded so awkward that Tim might have been amused if he hadn’t been so damned incensed.
This is the picture Blaine chose that inspired Liar, Liar:
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VJ Summers Writes SMUT! 
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