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Identical twins. Unique love stories.
Bleu Balls
(Balls to the Wall Series #7)
By Tara Lain
Blurb:
Double trouble. The McMillan twins, Robin and Bobby, are renowned for their talents—both as fine artists and for thrilling the various men who catch their eyes. As different in style and personality as their DNA is identical, they’re nonetheless best friends who divide and conquer, with Robin doing the serious painting and Bobby adding the sunny salesmanship.
But when their most important client decides Bobby must wield the paintbrush, the brothers revert to childhood tactics and switch places. Then along comes Micah, a handsome doctor who’s attracted to Bobby but invites Robin out to try to please his homophobic brother, and Paolo, the pain-in-the-butt client who thinks he’s wooing Bobby when he’s actually after Robin. Paolo harbors his own hidden pain that weirdly intersects with Robin’s, but pride and privacy conspire to produce what will either be a masterpiece—or end up as Dogs Playing Poker.
(Balls to the Wall Series #7)
By Tara Lain
Blurb:
Double trouble. The McMillan twins, Robin and Bobby, are renowned for their talents—both as fine artists and for thrilling the various men who catch their eyes. As different in style and personality as their DNA is identical, they’re nonetheless best friends who divide and conquer, with Robin doing the serious painting and Bobby adding the sunny salesmanship.
But when their most important client decides Bobby must wield the paintbrush, the brothers revert to childhood tactics and switch places. Then along comes Micah, a handsome doctor who’s attracted to Bobby but invites Robin out to try to please his homophobic brother, and Paolo, the pain-in-the-butt client who thinks he’s wooing Bobby when he’s actually after Robin. Paolo harbors his own hidden pain that weirdly intersects with Robin’s, but pride and privacy conspire to produce what will either be a masterpiece—or end up as Dogs Playing Poker.
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Also Available in Paperback
Excerpts
“Hey, gorgeous, want to dance?”
Bobby looked up at the attractive guy who’d been
eyeing him for the last hour. “Oh, I don’t know—”
“Come on, Bobby, go. Go!” Rodney pushed Bobby out
of the chair.
He smiled, but it took some effort. “Okay, so I
guess yes.” He followed the man’s trim ass in nice summer-wool slacks toward
the tiny dance floor in the lounge at the Rose. Jerry and his honey, Mick, were
already dancing. The two big firefighters took up more than their share of the
available boogie space, but they looked so happy it made Bobby tear up.
The guy turned and pulled Bobby into his arms.
Clearly he intended to lead. Okay with
me. “I’m Aaron, by the way.” The guy had nice hazel eyes and carefully
brushed brown hair.
“Bobby.”
He started a not-very-complex box step. “You’re
an artist, aren’t you?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“I saw you at the Sawdust. I really like your
stuff. Very unique.”
“Thank you.” Come
on, be charming. “What do you do?”
“Stockbroker. Let me know if you need any
investment tips.”
Bobby laughed. “Believe me, artists need tips on
keeping their rent paid, although I’ll admit, we’re having a good summer.”
“We?”
“Me and my brother. We paint together.”
“Oh. Interesting. Keeping it in the—holy shit!”
Bobby looked up at Aaron and followed his line of
sight to the door—where, sure enough, Robin had just walked in. Bobby waggled
his fingers and called over the piped-in music. “Hi, dear.”
Robin waved back.
Aaron said, “But you two are identical.”
“Yes, of course. We’re the McMillan twins.”
Bobby felt Aaron react—somewhere between a jerk
and a laugh.
“What?” Bobby looked up into a face that had been
pleasant and now leered.
“Fuck, why didn’t you tell me you were Double
Trouble?”
Bobby frowned. “Was I supposed to?”
“Shit, yes. I mean, what does it take to get some
backroom action from you two? Hell, I can pay.”
“Pay?” Bobby pressed his hands against Aaron’s
chest and shoved. “Get your hands off me, you pervert.”
“What?”
Bobby turned his tail and flipped it back to the
table—but his insides rolled with anger and nausea.
Robin saw his face and sprang up. “What’s wrong?
What happened?”
“Nothing I don’t deserve. He saw you and realized
we were Double Trouble. He said he’d like to pay us.” Robin clenched his fists,
but Bobby put a hand on his arm. “You can’t blame him for getting the wrong
idea.”
“Oh? Watch me.” Robin stared pugnaciously across
the dance floor.
He uncovered the paints he’d left on his huge palette. Plastic kept
them wet so they could be used a second day.
Funny how he hadn’t minded pretending to be Bobby all that much.
The world looked different when people expected him to be nice.
Clearing his mind, he faced the wall and began to paint.
A second later—maybe more like an hour—the scaffold began to shake.
Okay, get ready to be your brother.
Paolo’s perfect face popped over the top, and he gave Robin a half
smile that reminded him of himself. Robin plastered on the huge, pearly Bobby
face. “Hiiiii!”
Paolo swung himself up and gazed at the wall. “Man, you made some
progress. But you covered over some of the light parts. Decide against them?”
Robin planted a hand on his hip. “Yes, I didn’t think it deserved
to be too sunny.”
“I like this better.”
“You would.” He arched a brow, and Paolo snorted a laugh.
“So did you get the pieces mailed?” Paolo kept staring at the
canvas.
What the hell? “Uh, yes.”
Those piercing eyes stared at Robin. “Was Robin there when you went
in?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, he was.”
“So he went to the post office?”
“Uh-huh.” Robin daubed some paint on the mural. What the hell was
Paolo talking about?
“So you sent off that coat and jacket?” Paolo stood. Robin could
feel the movement more than see it as he stared hard at the wall.
Well, shit. Coat? “Right.” Try
to look engrossed.
Strong hands clasped his shoulders, and he was physically turned.
Okay, Robin was pretty strong, but Paolo stood a good five inches taller and fifty
pounds heavier, plus Robin wasn’t fighting. Paolo gave him a narrow-eyed smile.
“I thought we could take up where we left off last night.” He leaned in and his
lips captured Robin’s with an intensity that spoke of dark bedrooms, not narrow
wooden platforms in the sky.
Do not give a shit. Those lips are heaven.
Robin dropped his brush—God knew what it did to Paolo’s $300
jeans—and wrapped his arms around Paolo so tight he could have been arrested
for kidnapping. Paolo’s tongue scoured the secret hiding places in Robin’s
mouth, and for a moment Robin forgot try to take charge. He just enjoyed and
let one leg float up Paolo’s hip. Five inches doth not a solid contact make,
but Robin humped Paolo’s thigh and pressed the heel of his hand against the big
bulge in Paolo’s pants. Oh yeah, that got a moan of enthusiasm from Mr. Hunky
Architect.
Robin slid his hands over Paolo’s hard-as-iron butt—What does he do with that thing?—and
squeezed and released. Damn, if they lay down, could they fuck here? No, no
lube or condoms. But a good blowjob could still be in order.
Robin released Paolo and started sliding to the floor. It took work
to inch down Paolo’s fly over that mighty erection, but finally he achieved
release and reached into a pair of baby blue boxer briefs to free the
inhabitant.
“My oh my.” Long, sturdy, cut, and straight as an arrow.
Paolo just breathed—really loudly.
“Mine.” Robin licked the fat head and got a slow, soft moan from
Paolo. Ah yes, encouragement. Wonder how
far Bobby went last night? He laved the sides of the shaft, then, counting
on the element of surprise, thrust that solid eight-inch dick into his mouth
and down his throat in one smooth move.
“Holy shit!” Paolo locked his hands in Robin’s hair. Pushed and
pulled back, pushed and pulled back. Robin’s tongue reveled in the smooth
firmness of the shaft, the silk of the head, and the intrigue of secret
crevices. “Oh man. Oh.” Steadily, Paolo pushed Robin in farther and farther—then
suddenly, with a yank, he pulled Robin’s head away from his cock until he
looked down in his face.
“Why’d you make me stop? You don’t appreciate talent?” Robin
grinned.
Paolo gazed at him. “I do appreciate talent, and you’re loaded with
it on every level. What I don’t appreciate are liars, and you sure as fuck
aren’t Bobby.”
The Balls to the Wall Series
Volley Balls
Bk #1
Available to purchase at
Kindle | Nook | Kobo | iTunes | Dreamspinner Press
Fire Balls
Bk #2
Available to purchase at
Beach Balls
Bk #3
Bk #3
Available to purchase at
Snow Balls
Bk #4
Available to purchase at
FAST Balls
Bk #5
Available to purchase at
High Balls
Bk #6
Bk #6
Available for purchase at
Prefer paperback?
The first and second book are now available in paperback!
About the Author
Tara Lain writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in LGBT erotic romance novels that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her first novel was published in January of 2011 and she’s now somewhere around book 32. Her best-selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Paranormal Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, Best Gay Characters, and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm. She often does workshops on both author promotion and writing craft. She lives with her soul-mate husband and her soul-mate dog near the sea in California where she sets a lot of her books. Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!
