GENRE: Contemporary, Erotica, Interracial, Romance
LENGTH: 11,846 words
BLURB: Former teen actor Joey Angel is all grown up, and now he's trying to make a name for himself as a singer. His pop album was a big hit with female fans, but he wants street cred, and to get it, his agent books a session at Killa Whatz Studios with DJ Key.
DJ Key, a.k.a. Key Jay, a.k.a. Kian Jordan, is only one of the biggest names in hip hop. Joey's been a fan of Key's forever, and is thrilled -- and a little intimidated -- to be asked to collaborate on a new song with the myth, the man, the legend. Things get off to a rocky start when Joey discovers he isn't the only guest in the studio. The two other rappers aren't pleased to find a white kid crashing their air time, either.
Key manages to smooth things over, but Joey finds it hard to concentrate on the song after such a bumpy start. When Key gets him alone for a little one on one in the studio, can he help Joey relax enough to make their collaboration a success?
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When they’re finally alone, Key turns back to him, that grin slipping a notch or two. Joey can’t quite meet his steady gaze. In a low voice, Key purrs, “So what’s the sitch here, Joe?”
Joey shrugs. He can’t say he’s hot for the guy; he can’t say his own libido’s distracting him. Jesus, he knows he would be in deep shit if that got out to the paparazzi. There are enough internet haters and trolls (and some fans, he can’t deny it) who already question his sexuality, but if word went around he was hard for DJ Key? Hell, no. How to destroy a budding music career in one fell swoop. He can almost see the headlines now.
Key isn’t making things any easier, either, leaning in close, keeping that damned hand of his on Joey’s thigh. His fingers rest on the inseam of Joey’s jeans, mere inches from Joey’s crotch. Suddenly Joey’s heart seems to drop down into his belly, and he feels the beat of it hammering in his cock.
The sitch is I want you. He stares at Key’s hand so he won’t have to look into those golden eyes. If he did, he’d say something stupid, he knows it. He’d fall into their clear depths, forget who he is and why he’s here, give himself over to this man completely, and he can’t do that. He’s a professional. He can’t get distracted ...
I want you in every way one man can another. I’ve wanted you for years, with nothing more than a fanboy crush, but now we’re finally in the same room at the same time and it only makes me want you all the more. I can’t concentrate with you beside me. I can’t focus, my mind goes blank, my throat dries up, my dick is about to explode. I want you, I do, that’s the sitch.
And there’s no way on earth I’m going to tell you, even if no one else is around to hear me say it out loud.
Key leans forward into Joey’s personal space, the heavy scent of his cologne swirling in after him a moment later. “I know what’s happening here,” he murmurs, his voice so low, Joey has to lean in a little, too, just to hear it.
“What?” Joey whispers.
The hand on his thigh finally makes its move, sliding all the way up his leg and into the fold of his hip. Key’s fingers press down on Joey’s sheathed dick, rubbing the outline through his shirt and jeans. His smile widens, his teeth flash. Giving Joey’s cock a faint squeeze, he says, “We both know what this all about, don’t we?”
Key leans in closer still and cuts Joey off with a kiss. It’s unexpected and quick -- a press of lips, a hint of tongue, nothing more -- and before Joey knows what’s happening, it’s over.
“You feel it, too. Don’t front wit’ me.” Key’s breath is soft against Joey’s cheek. He steals another kiss, this one a bit firmer, with more tongue. “Well, I got rid of the others so it’s finally down to just you and me. So let’s do something about this before the others come back.”