Tuesday Tales – FINGERNAILS

It’s time for Tuesday Tales!

Today we have the final snippet from Draw, Overtime #3. This final book in the trilogy is all about Jack Kalinski and his forever man, Martin. This week we get to see when our two leading men lock peepers for the first time!

This story may have gay erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by! 

Head down, anger bubbling, I ended up ruining the sketch I’d been working on by erasing too hard along the hemline. Maybe that was a good thing though, as it took me until the little kids were done to redraw the spring gown to my exacting demands. To say I was a perfectionist would be putting it mildly. I personally saw nothing wrong with wanting the things in my life to reflect my love of color, lines, and beauty. Leaving the hemline as I couldn’t decide on if it should blind hem or a double fold or a zig zag, I lifted my sight from my red carpet gown and locked eyes with the most perfect man I had ever seen. 

He was massive, sporting a new gold and black Bruisers sweater. His hair was cut short, almost militarily so, and was a gorgeous shade of pewter. His eyes were a shimmering pear green, framed with dark lashes that told of a head full of thick black hair at one time. He had a sharp, cut jaw, and a neck like a linebacker. The man had to be mid-forties judging by the lifelines around his incredible eyes and lush mouth. Everything I’d ever dreamed of in a man was now ten feet away making love to me with his stunning eyes. Sparks of desire danced over me. Even my painted fingernails were tingling. 

 I wet my lips as the rest of the team did their warm-up laps. This man, whoever he was, was standing on the other side of the boards, water bottle in hand, looking right at me as if he wanted to devour me. My heart thudded against my breastbone, my dick plumped up instantly, and the two frappes in my belly began to churn. He lifted the water bottle in a jaunty kind of greeting, tossed it to the assistant coach, and then skated out to make a few laps with the team. McKittrick was the name above the big 2 and 0 on his back. I stood up and pounded on the glass. Dad gave me a look that could have stripped bark from a tree. He hated glass pounders. 

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