We are thrilled to welcome Karen Stivali to Sinfully as she reveals the cover of book #5 Moment of Fate in her hugely popular Moments in Time Series.
Moment of Fate (Moments In Time #5) by Karen Stivali
Release Date: 24th February
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance
Bryan Dane’s been living the dream—photography student by day, up-and-coming rocker by night. His summer goals are to earn his last few credits, graduate from NYU, spend as much time in the recording studio as possible, and survive the next few months without sex so he can complete his yearlong goal of self-imposed celibacy. Everything is on track, until he meets Oliver Newcastle.
For years, Oliver planned a marriage of convenience with his high school BFF, but now that she’s fallen in love for real with someone else, it’s no longer convenient. So Oliver came out to his family, quit his job, and left small-town New England for NYC, an intensive summer study program, and a chance to find his own happiness.
From the moment they meet, the sexual tension between Bryan and Oliver sizzles. But Bryan wants no part of a relationship, and Oliver wants to sow his wild oats—he just isn’t sure how. Oliver seeks Bryan’s help navigating the NYC gay scene, which throws them together in increasingly more sexual situations until they can no longer deny they’re hot for each other. Bryan is desperate to keep things simple, but fate may have other plans.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
Moment of Fate is a standalone full length novel set in the Moments In Time world. You do not need to have read any of the other books in the series to enjoy this story. For those who have read the previous books, you'll remember Bryan as the musician who was a housemate of Collin and Tanner's during the summer they spent on Fire Island.
Other books in the Moments In Time series:
MOMENTS IN TIME
(a compilation of Books 1-3)
As much as I wanted to get work done, I spent most of my time glancing at the clock and listening for any sound of Oliver’s arrival. My leg bobbed like I was a nervous teenager waiting for a prom date, and I shook my head at my own ridiculousness. When the buzzer finally went off I practically launched myself at the door to hit the button and let him up.
“This day.” He shook his head, hair swinging from side to side, hypnotizing me.
“I’ve got a critique to do for tomorrow’s class, and it’s fucking killing me.”
“It’s a sex scene. I don’t have a fucking clue how to critique a sex scene.”
I laughed, and he shot me a dirty look, which made me laugh harder.
“It’s not funny.”
“It really is.”
I got two beers out of the fridge and handed him one as he settled himself in what I’d come to think of as his spot on my sofa. I sat at the other end, turned to the side so we were facing each other. Our positions. As if we lived together and this was our couch, and this was our nightly routine, because at this point, it kind of was.
“Let me hear it.” I took a swig of beer and settled back.
“Sure. Go for it.”
Oliver’s eyebrows rose, and he shook his head. “If you say so.” He pulled his laptop out of his bag and balanced it on his lap, clicking around. “You’re sure?”
“Of course. How bad can it be?”
“Okay.” He started to read.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but the words coming out of his mouth were so graphic, it was better than porn. It didn’t take long for me to get lost in the haze of what he was saying. Between the sexy text and the seductive croon of his voice and the way his lips moved as he formed the words, I was gone. Toast. Crispy. Sex bacon, well done. It didn’t matter one bit that it was a het seduction scene. With Oliver reading it, it was the hottest thing I’d ever fucking heard.
“Calia’s hips rock in time with David’s, and they groan, panting against each other’s neck. She shakes uncontrollably, her whimpers becoming more high-pitched as his fingers dig into the flesh of her hips.”
My own hips were about to start rocking in time with theirs, so I forced myself to break the spell. “Is this the kind of description usually found in screenplays?”
“Well, that’s the thing. Usually there’s a lot more dialogue scattered throughout it, but since this is a sex scene, there’s not much talking, mostly action. How do you think it reads?”
“Sounds pretty hot to me.”
“Uh, yeah.” I shifted and tugged at my jeans in a way that would leave him no doubt of my sincerity.
Oliver’s eyes trailed to my crotch, and he grinned. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, you look downright chagrined.”
The smile grew broader. “Thanks for listening. I think I’ll tell her the scene should stay as is.”
His gaze returned to my crotch, and he cleared his throat. “What are you working on tonight? Or are you up for a, uh, break?”
My eyes narrowed. “What kind of break did you have in mind?”
His cheeks pinked in that way that made me want to lick them.
“It’s been like three days.”
“Jesus. Your roommate fucking sucks.”
“That's an understatement.”
I laughed and reached for my laptop, then paused. “Unless you want to watch something on yours?”
“Why not?” I didn’t want to admit how curious I was to see what he’d pick as his favorite. My dick practically broke its way through my jeans to see what Oliver had in mind for us to watch.
He clicked around, opening and closing windows until I was ready to take the damned laptop and scroll through his collection myself.
“This is one I’ve watched a few times when I was thinking about going to one of the NY Jacks….” He scrolled until he found the video he wanted. “This dude gets off while watching guys jack on his big-screen TV, so you get to watch him while he watches them and you can watch along with him. It’s very meta.”
He breathed out a laugh that sounded equal parts nervous and aroused. I focused on the aroused part, noting that his breathing was already faster and his legs had fallen a bit more widely apart. My brain stuttered, trying to juggle all the fantasies bombarding it while somehow managing to construct some reasonable strategy that would result in him being comfortable enough to take his pants off this time. Nothing came to mind, so instead I tried to focus on the video, attempting to keep my eyes straight ahead and failing miserably. Oliver seemed fixated on the screen, and even through my eye-straining sideways glances I could see the bulge growing in his jeans. Jesus. Do us both a favor and touch yourself, would you please?
He must have heard my silent plea. The slow drag of his hand from the safety of his hip to the center of his crotch made my dick pulse, begging for the same attention. I obliged, mirroring his movement, and caught the quick sideways glance he gave me and the deepening flush of his cheeks. Fuck. I needed to get a grip, and not just on my cock. I focused on the screen, because somehow watching multiple guys jerk off there didn’t even come close to being as stimulating as the one guy palming himself on the couch next to me. I’d been thinking about this since the last time and didn’t want to miss a second.
“Is the volume too loud?”
His voice was gravelly with need, and I knew he was trying to make conversation to distract from the fact that his fingers were poised above the button of his jeans.
“Nope.” In hopes of upping his comfort level, I eased my hand inside my pants, an exercise in self-control because I could have come on contact or whipped my dick out so fast Oliver might have freaked. Sure, he’d suggested this, but I had no illusions that he wasn’t still hesitant and jumpy. I moved in slow motion, stroking, realigning, letting my fly fall open wider, drawing my balls up out of the confines so they rested at the open V of the zipper, cushioned by my briefs. My boxers were black, tastefully hiding the ginormous wet spot that glistened in the light of the laptop.
On screen, no less than a half dozen of the big-screen guys had shot their loads, but the main voyeur was still going at it, having moved from his hand to a Fleshlight, the squelchy sound filling the room along with the moans of the guy he watched hump his bed.
I tuned all of that out in favor of picking up any sound Oliver might utter. He moved slowly with his own zipper, and I tried not to quiver in anticipation as he shoved his jeans open and slightly down his hips. He hissed as he slipped his hand inside his fitted briefs—bright blue this time. Fuck. That sound. Holy hell. Just knowing he was touching himself was enough. The sounds he made nearly did me in.
My fingers curled around my dick, slowly, attempting to keep this all casual, like it was no big deal. It wasn’t, right? It’s not like this was even the first time I’d jerked off watching porn with him. The world hadn’t ended last time. It meant nothing. Except somehow it seemed like maybe it did. The same way our casual dinners kinda seemed like dates, this seemed like a little more than just two buds jacking it together. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. I’d seen to that with every conversation. Right?
It’s just the hiatus. It’s fucking with my brain. Two dudes watching porn. Nothing more. Maybe if I said it enough times I’d believe it. I stroked slowly, trying to focus on the action on the screen but unable to keep my eyes from drifting in Oliver’s direction. His dick was still picture perfect. In a matter of seconds I’d imagined it in my hand, in my mouth, in my ass.
Maybe I was too fucking horny to deal with this like a rational human. Maybe I should tell him this was a bad idea. Then he gave a little moan, and that one small sound got me so curious to hear if he’d make any others I threw every thought of ending what was happening right out the window. Fuck. I replayed the moan in my head. How could one little noise be so fucking sexy?
He did it again, and my cock responded with a pulse of precome generous enough to slick my fingers as I continued stroking. Oliver’s breathing grew more ragged, and I sneaked a peek at his face. Flushed cheeks. Hair clinging to his forehead in damp strands. Mouth hanging open just enough to make me think about kissing him, about what he’d taste like, about what that full lower lip would feel like against mine, or better yet, with my cock sliding over it.
The desire to see more of him grew in intensity. Thinking maybe if I went first, he’d follow suit, I shoved my jeans down and kicked them off. “Too fucking hot in here.”
“Is the city always like this in the summer?”
He still hadn’t made a move to remove his jeans. “Pretty much. The buildings hold the heat.”
He shifted, and my heart stuttered as I silently pleaded with him, chanting in my mind, Take them off.
I don’t know if he heard my psychic wishes or just got sick of being overheated, but he lifted his ass and shimmied partway out of his pants. I’d seen him in shorts, but this was the first time I’d gotten a good look at his thighs. Tightly muscled, covered with a scattering of brown hair that looked as silky and enticing as the rest of him. I ached to touch him, wondering if I could casually bump into him and make it look like no big deal.
We both turned our attention back to the screen, but my brain was busy playing an Oliver montage. The guy on the laptop could have been done and I wouldn’t have noticed.
I needed to come, but I didn’t want to go first. I wanted the sight and sound of him coming to be what pushed me over. Selfish? Maybe. But I didn’t care. I’d gone first last time and regretted it. Tonight it was his turn. Judging by the quickening pace of his arm I guessed he didn’t mind being first. I also guessed he might be pretty close.
Oliver spread his legs wider, hips arching as he sank lower on the couch. Christ. The more he moved the more I pictured myself in various positions on top of him. Inside him. Under him. There was no end to the list of things I wanted to do with this guy. I squeezed my dick harder, willing myself to hold off as his breaths came faster, shorter. The air in the room had become downright tropical. Hot and sticky, filled with the scent and sound of our arousal.
The guy on the screen groaned loudly, yanking away his Fleshlight and stroking himself to a gushing climax. Oliver seemed to like that a lot. With a muffled grunt his head snapped back against the couch, fist flying as he shot his load.
I didn’t even pretend not to watch. Looking away wasn’t an option. Every pulse of his dick was answered with a throbbing response from my own, and before he’d stopped coming I joined him, spilling all over my stomach in hot blasts.
“Shit,” he said. “I got your couch. Sorry.”
“No worries. That’s why it’s a leather couch.”
He gave me a sheepish smile that had me wanting to sprawl on top of him and lick the come off him, the couch, and anything else it had splattered. Instead I pulled off my T-shirt and offered it to him for cleanup.
He shook his head, yanking off his own shirt and swiping it across the mess. “I skipped the gym today, but I have a change of clothes with me.”
“Boy Scout level preparedness.”
The sound of him laughing did things to my stomach as I catalogued each rising and falling note. It was unfair how sexy everything he did seemed to me. He stood and stripped out of his jeans, then tugged on a pair of athletic shorts. In my postorgasmic lack of cool, I’m pretty sure I just openly stared. I hoped I didn’t drool.
He thumped back onto the couch and shoved his balled-up clothes into his bag. “You wanna watch a real movie?”
Or I could just continue watching you. “Sure.”
I did both for the rest of the night.
Meet Karen Stivali
Karen Stivali is a prolific writer, compulsive baker and chocoholic with a penchant for books, movies, and fictional British men. She’s also the multiple award-winning author of contemporary and erotic romances. Her lifelong fascination with people has led her to careers ranging from hand-drawn animator, to party planner, to marriage and family counselor, but writing has always been her passion. Karen enjoys nothing more than following her characters on their journey toward love. Whether the couples are m/f or m/m, it’s guaranteed that Karen’s novels are filled with food, friendship, love, and smoking hot sex—all the best things in life.
When Karen isn’t writing (and often when she is), she can be found on Twitter attempting witty banter and detailing the antics of her fruit-loving cat, BadKitteh. She loves to hear from readers (and other writers), so don’t hesitate to contact/follow/like her. E-mail: email@example.com