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Shaken Up
Shaken Up
Shaken Up
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Shaken Up

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Little Earthquakes: Book One

Tim Myers is the flamboyant and overly fastidious owner of the adult shop Little Earthquakes. In his spare time, he moonlights as a sub for his friend's BDSM classes, and while he'd love to find a Dom to cater to his domestic servitude kink, he's wary of exposing his body and his heart. When Jae Seong comes into Tim’s shop and asks him for help with a wax play demo, Tim is turned off by the idea. Jae is nothing if not persistent, though. He’s a skilled Dom and soon finds out why Tim is so protective of his body, his neck, and his heart. Over a series of play dates, the two grow close, and it dawns on Tim that he might be looking at a match made for collaring.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateFeb 25, 2015
ISBN9781632164995
Shaken Up

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    Shaken Up - Nicole Forcine

    Chapter ONE

    IT WAS 3:30 in the afternoon, and Timothy had to talk fast to prevent a possible relationship meltdown.

    No, no, no, my dear Keisha. While I like your idea, and I love that you’re open enough to try this, the execution will fuck you right up.

    The dear Keisha in question, an early-twenties woman with elaborate dark twists in her hair and skin that reminded Tim of the café au lait he didn’t get around to finishing before the store opened, frowned her plump lips and cocked her head. It will?

    Tim tut-tutted and rested a hand on her shoulder. Your man’s 100 percent straight, yeah?

    Yeah.

    Never had any kind of action in the back door, yeah?

    Her cheeks darkened as she looked away for a second. "Well, he likes my back door a lot."

    Tim laughed and patted her shoulder reassuringly. Nothing to be embarrassed about. We don’t do shame here. So, he likes your back door, but he’s not had anyone go knocking on his?

    Nope. Which makes it really funny that I found that pegging porn on his laptop. I never knew he was interested in that sort of thing.

    Tim sighed but kept his smile. He’d had so many versions of the How do I get my manly-man, straight as an arrow boyfriend/husband/ lover to take a strap-on conversation, it was second nature to him. It was the nature of his work at Little Earthquakes.

    I am so very, very glad you came to me first, because I’m going to do something that is going to sound shocking coming from the owner of this shop. I’m going to tell you to turn around, go home, and talk to your man.

    What?

    Surprised? Listen, some straight dudes have this crazy idea that there’s some button up their butts that turns on the insta-gay if anything—finger, dildo, dick—touches it. Not true, and you may have to reassure him of that, no matter how many pegging vids he beats off to. But if he has no idea that you know what he’s been wanking off to, and you come home with a strap-on and a dildo that looks like a dick, he’s gonna freak right the fuck out.

    His customer blanched, and he added quickly, What I mean is, go home and talk to him and see if he would want to try it with you, and then come back. With him.

    There’s no damned way Robert’s going to come in here. She shook her head, looking around. Tim could almost understand. The space was well lit and clean, but it was still an adult sex shop. A very fine, upscale, noncreepy sex shop, but it was still a place where people bought the kind of toys one couldn’t get at Toys ’R’ Us. It took incredible balls to walk through the front door.

    That’s what most men say, and then they show up. Let me tell you what is going to happen. I’ve seen it a thousand times. Tim motioned to the door of Little Earthquakes. First, he’s got to own this desire of his, and then figure out if he wants to realize it with you. If he’s a go about getting his hole pegged by you, he’s going to walk through that door with you. Tim walked Keisha around the store as he spoke, pointing out choice sections of the shop. We’ll get introduced, and then I’m going to direct him to the insertion toys, tell him to look around, on his own, get a feel of things, find one he could be comfy with. On his own, so he can get over some of the freaked out-ness he’s gonna feel. While he’s getting his bearings, you and I will head over to where we keep the harnesses, and we’re going to find something that is going to make your ass look awesome.

    Keisha laughed, and Tim reveled in how relaxed she sounded. He was doing his job right.

    Now, he’s probably going to grab the smallest, least realistic looking insertion toy we’ve got, like a butt plug if he’s got no idea what they’re actually for. I’ll explain why that’s not gonna work—it tends to pop out of the harness in midstroke, stopping the party—and make him go back for something a little bigger. Together we all pick out compatible lube, I ring you up, and you two go make beautiful music together. How’s that sound?

    It sounds good, if I can get him here. Keisha chewed on her bottom lip, but that flush still clung to her face. Tim didn’t even have to ask her if she thought the idea of pegging her man was a turn-on. He knew.

    Tim rounded the counter and flipped through the brochures next to the till, pulling out one about the basics of anal sex. Here, this is for you. You’re gonna be the one with the dick, so to speak, so it’s gonna be on you to make it safe and good. Read up first. I’ll put my card in here too. If you just want to talk strategy for how to bring it up, call me. If Mr. Robert wigs out at showing up during business hours, I also do private consults.

    After giving her the brochures and watching her leave, Tim bent down and grabbed his travel cup of coffee. Thank goodness, it was still warm. It was going to be a long Saturday night.

    When Tim moved to California to get away from a big ol’ mess of a scandal back in Atlanta, his idea of starting up and running a sex shop was met with surprise from his father and all of the friends he managed to keep. Everyone had an opinion.

    Why not just open a bathhouse? You’ll get the neighbors to hate you just as quickly.

    Don’t most people buy their toys online nowadays?

    No woman’s going to take sex advice from a swishy little queen like you.

    That last one had been Poppa, and while he was smiling over a Scotch and soda when he’d said it, it still hurt a little. Not as much as when Tim told him why he wasn’t going out to the local Eagle for his weekly shits and giggles (not to mention what he was doing there in the first place); that hurt was grief.

    Well, fuck ’em all. He knew sex, read the books and the right advice columns, and had done most of it all and lived to talk about it, candidly. He had a decent chunk of change from his nana’s passing, and by God, he was going to spend it on something to give back to the world, if only to help people not make his mistakes.

    Little Earthquakes was in a pretty eclectic neighborhood. He lived upstairs in the tiny apartment, a hippie organic grocery store was across the street, his neighbors were a yoga studio on one side, and a bookstore famous for its selection of LGBT fare on the other side. The vibe was good and despite his poppa’s warnings, most of his customers were straight women, like Keisha, some only slightly bent, some just looking for the newest vibrating toy to rock their socks off. Tim knew names and faces and preferences, and he’d heard more confessional stories in a weekend than most priests did in a month.

    Even with the steady straight and vanilla clientele, Tim insisted that the place be queer and kink friendly, stocking a variety of high-end toys and tools for a lot of tastes. For what he hadn’t done or couldn’t give experienced advice about, he had resources. That all meant that his shop, open Thursday to Monday from two to midnight with earlier hours by appointment only, was booming.

    Every day when he unlocked the door and waited for customers, he felt pride. It was a metaphorical kick in the balls to what he escaped back in Georgia.

    Four hours after Keisha left on her quest to get her boyfriend to open up, so to speak, Tim was wiping off the counter after a quick dinner of hummus and veggies, waiting for his able assistant Gloria to arrive. She would handle the inventory he wasn’t able to tolerate, and she did it with good humor. For those who

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