Title: There's Something about Flying
Series: There's Always Something. Book Three
Author: Schuyler L'Roux
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: January 7, 2019
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 13100
Genre: Contemporary, Contemporary, Second chance, HEA
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Synopsis
After walking away from Gerry, Thom is back home in Minnesota living his best life. He’s flying through the air, embracing the sexual power he reclaimed in a lonely dungeon with Gerry. Yet when Gerry arrives unannounced and full of inexplicable hope, Thom has another choice to make. Does he let Gerry go and finally close the book on their tryst? Or does Thom open up his heart to the reality of their past and the potential of their future? The third and final chapter of the There’s Always Something trilogy stays true to form: there’s always an ending.Excerpt
There’s Something about Flying
Schuyler L’Roux © 2019
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One: Falling
Thom gave a thumbs up and fell face
first to earth.
His hands gripped his parachute harness
as he tipped forward. He could feel his tandem partner behind him let go of the
plane, because suddenly they went from the relative safety perched on the edge
of the plane, as safe as you get 12,000 feet high, to emptiness.
The surge of adrenaline was pure
ecstasy. At least, that’s what Thom told himself since there was nowhere to run
and nothing to fight. All he could do was enjoy the coursing flood of hormones
and blood as he ripped through the sky, succumbing to gravity.
Thom did remember what his instructor
told him to do fifteen minutes ago when they were still earthbound. The tall,
skinny, dark-skinned man was standing in front of him, the large parachute pack
in between them.
“When we’re first out of the plane, I
need you to arch your back and lean your head into my chest. You’re going to
want to look down, but you need to resist that urge, OK?”
“Sure,” Thom said, ridiculously aware of
the overlarge blue and orange wind suit he was wearing. “But if my head’s back,
how will I see anything?”
The instructor smiled and slapped Thom
lightly on his shoulder. “My man, when the parachute goes out, you’ll have all
the time in the world to see what you’re going to see. But for free fall it’s
all about feeling, not seeing. Now when we fall, are you into spinning or would
you like me to keep it stable?”
“You mean, outside the falling?” The
instructor, who looked far more attractive in his red, formfitting wind suit
than Thom felt in his trash bag aesthetic, laughed and nodded. “I’m here to
fall out of a plane,” Thom said. “Anything else you want to do, I’m game.”
“Good man.” He picked up the heavy pack,
hefting it to one shoulder. “Then let’s get hooked up.”
“Careful what you promise,” Thom said
with a smirk, at ease with his newfound ability to flirt.
“Oh, I know what I said,” the instructor
said over his shoulder. “And call me Tay, all right?”
Thom arched his back and pressed his
head into Tay’s collarbone as they dropped. The wind roared in Thom’s ears,
filling his body with a pressure he’d only ever experienced on the inside, not
out.
Even though the wind was deafening, Thom
could still hear Tay’s loud voice telling him they were going to spin around
before popping the parachute.
Thom didn’t have a chance to reply
before Tay took them on a dance through the light-blue sky. Thom’s stomach did
lurch, but that was the only moment of hesitation, and after it passed, there
was a nothing but lightheaded giddiness. Thom flew past everything on the
ground, however momentarily, and he rejoiced.
Tay tapped him on the shoulder. Thom
struggled but finally saw Tay was trying to show him the red altimeter. The
needle was dropping fast, steadily approaching the 2,500 feet mark, which was
where Tay had said again and again they’d open up the parachute. Thom nodded as
best he could, quickly trying to prepare for the sudden rush to be over.
He didn’t want it to end. Not after the
summer he’d had—the strange amazingness and awfulness of Gerry. Thom wanted to
be stuck in the clouds, falling and flying with nothing waiting for him and
nothing to run from. It was a ridiculous wish, but it’s what he wanted. And
Thom was trying to be OK with accepting what he wanted. Wanting Gerry. Not
wanting him. Walking away. Forgetting Gerry.
Struggling to forget. If he’d been
successful, Thom doubted he would’ve been hurtling through an almost empty sky
right now, strapped in with a stranger. A handsome stranger with a beautiful
smile but still a stranger.
Thom squeezed his shoulder harness hard,
anticipating the sudden pull of his parachute. But he wasn’t ready for the jarring
stop. His head snapped forward, wanting, Thom was sure, to fall off and
continue the headlong drop toward earth. But his head stayed attached, and he
remained tethered to Tay.
The parachute unfolded above them with a
massive sound, like a giant shaking out the wrinkles of a flat sheet before
making a bed. Once the chute opened, Thom’s free fall shifted effervescently
out of control to a moderate forty miles per hour rush back to earth.
The wind still raged, but the
inevitability of catastrophe was gone, and with it went Thom’s giddy peace. All
of a sudden, the same problems and turbulence Thom thought he left back on the
plane came back to him. It was disappointing, though at least he had found
sixty seconds of peace in the free fall.
And then Tay tapped him on his shoulder.
“Smile for the camera,” he shouted.
Thom looked to his left. He’d forgotten
Tay was wearing a GoPro on his left hand. It snapped Thom out of his depressive
reverie. He smiled and meant it. He wasn’t going to let what was waiting for
him influence his experience of this magical thing.
This floating. This flying.
Thom let out a yell as he looked out
onto the flat, patchwork earth beneath him. Rivers crisscrossed roads and farms
and fields filled with either cars, buildings, or animals. He could see all of
it, imagining all those lives and experiences carrying on beneath him. His
imagination gave Thom a titanic feeling like he had old power in the seconds
that were trickling out of his hands like the sands of time.
Thom whooped again, this time Tay
joining him. The adrenaline, almost threatened by the dam of worry, was still
there. But so was the joy. His voice was already hoarse after the two yells, so
he gave away to grinning stupidly.
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Meet the Author
A Southern boy deeply proud of his Welsh heritage, Schuyler L’Roux is a writer who passionately believes in the power of sex—funny, world-changing, scratch-the-hell-out-of-my-back sex. He’s a new author and cannot wait to join the world of erotica with his own brand of thoughtful characters engaged in meaningful interactions and entertaining situations. With lots and lots of sex, of course. When he’s not traveling, Schuyler currently calls Germany home.Website | Twitter | eMail
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