Rainbow Gold Reviews is happy to host the Cover Reveal for ‘I Wish I Were Special’ by Julia McBryant. Release date September 25, 2019. However the first chapter will be available August 30, 2019 at Prolific Works.
Cover art by: Germancreative
Quinn wears a linen suit this time. It’s bespoke, goddamn this boy has money, and a nice apartment too. “Where are we headed?” Quinn asks sweetly as he slides into the front of Ellis’s black Mercedes. Ellis glares at him pointedly, and doesn’t take the car out of park until Quinn buckles his seatbelt. “Sorry,” Quinn says, and lowers his eyes.
So he’s going to try to play it that way. Fuck. This’ll be a hell of a lot harder to resist than the smart mouth. Ellis loves a sweet little submissive. Quinn acting the sweet boy for him —
Ellis shoves it down. He tries so hard to keep that tamped down, to stuff it somewhere else, to leave it alone. He knows what they call what he wants, and it’s not … okay.
“I thought we might hit up Loki,” Ellis says. “The duck confit nachos are spectacular.”
“I’d like that,” Quinn says. “If this is a date, do I get to hold your hand?”
“No,” Ellis says without thinking. He doesn’t want to give in to the innocent act, for his own sake, and he wants to teach Quinn not to manipulate him.
Quinn looks crestfallen. Ellis can’t tell if he’s faking it or not. So when he tosses his keys to the valet, he picks up Quinn’s hand. “Changed my mind,” he says briskly. “I’d rather everyone know you’re with me.”
When he glances over, he sees Quinn smiling a little. Not a lot, but a little bit, and to himself. He doesn’t seem to realize Ellis is looking.
They get a good table, one in the back, darkish and against the wall. No one else around, and they can speak without being overheard. Quinn doesn’t talk much. He keeps his eyes down. Ellis’s dick stiffens under the table. Fuck, but he looks adorable this way, so sweet, lips pouted out, ready to do what someone (Ellis) tells him to. “What’s with the innocent act?” Ellis finally asks, after several attempts at conversation veer off into nowhere.
“What d’you mean?” Quinn looks up without raising his chin. Fuck. Everything. Jesus god. He even holds his hands folded nicely in his lap, on top of his napkin. And that three-piece linen suit does look delicious on him; he’s wearing a lavender and white flowered tie. When he looks up, Ellis can see how big his eyes look. They change color, he’s noticed; the lavender turns them a beautiful gray.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t play dumb with me.” If Ellis acts aggressive, if he pushes, he can break through this and relieve the tension that’s murdering him right now. He grits his teeth and leans his elbows on the dark wooden table.
“I don’t know what you mean, though.”
“Except you do.”
“No, I really don’t.” Quinn blinks innocently, baby deer eyes. Christ Almighty. His hands stay folded. A little angel, so well-behaved, so sweet, so ready to do whatever Ellis wants. He senses Quinn likes the game as much as he does, and the idea hardens him further. Sweet Christ, this boy is killing him. He’s falling harder. He wants to take Quinn home, put him on the couch, feed him, cuddle him, take him upstairs, and fuck him. Then cuddle him to sleep. Just the idea of it all, of holding Quinn and kissing him and fucking him — Ellis will be jerking off tonight.
“Where’d that smart mouth go? What’s with the lowered eyes and the sweetness, huh? You think that’s gonna trick me into fucking you? Tell me what you want to eat.”
Quinn asks for a truly enormous amount of food — oh well, he is in his teens — and when the waiter appears, Ellis orders for them. Quinn doesn’t bitch or moan. “Didn’t that piss you off, that I ordered for you like a girl?” Ellis taunts him.
“No,” Quinn says. But Ellis sees his jaw grind, just a little. Ellis smirks. He only has to keep pushing; Quinn’ll drop that innocent bit and the brat’ll come back. Nice to know he can behave if he wants to, though. That knowledge makes Ellis’s dick stiffer and he pushes it to the side.
“You’re not sweet and innocent. You’re a brat. You’re just pretending because you think it’ll get my dick in your ass tonight.” He’s intentionally vulgar, seeing if it’ll elicit a reaction. But Quinn isn’t the only one who wants that. God, he’d be so good to have pinned to the bed and begging for it. Such a delicate frame, he’s probably tight, no matter how much fucking he’s done.
Quinn keeps his eyes down.
“You are going to wait,” Ellis tells him. If he tells Quinn this, he tells himself the same thing. But he allows him to trace his thumb along Quinn’s lips, uncertain by now which of them he’s tormenting. “And you are going to wait. I know you can fix your life up. I believe you can fix your life up, Q. And we can wait until you do it.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Quinn finally bursts out. The innocent act drops suddenly, almost violently. His face changes from lowered eyes to angry, narrowed ones; his mouth shifts from a slight smile to a tight twist. His brows furrow and he pushes his blond hair out of his face.
“Stop failing out of SASA.”
“Get rid of the coke in your pocket.” That’s a wild guess.
“What the fuck?” But a good one, apparently.
“Stop picking up random guys. Every goddamn weekend, Quinn? Really?”
“I don’t —” Now he’s going to lie about it. Even worse. Ellis’s stomach flips.
“You do. Act like a normal human. Dress for dinner. Stop saying ‘fuck’ all the damn time.”
“Act as smart as we both know you are. You got into SASA, for god’s sake. You’re no idiot. Oh, and I expect to see your pretty face out cub-hunting every morning. The hounds go out, you go out. You need to learn to wake up instead of partying.”
“I’m sorry, have you mistaken me for Eliza fucking Doolittle?” Quinn snaps.
“See? My Fair Lady reference. You are smart.” Ellis can snark with the best of them, and Quinn’s about to see it.
“And why the hell are you doing this?” Quinn demands. “What the fuck do you get out of it? Some kind of weird kink?”
Ellis ignores the kink comment. He’s not discussing that. He does his best to ignore it and so far he’s been successful. Ellis has managed to always push the impulse off onto something else, something more — acceptable. He knows what they call the thing he thinks about all the time, and it’s not something you talk about in polite company. “No kink. Savior complex.”
Their nachos arrive, the perfect moment, and they both quiet for a second. Ellis picks one up, blows on it so it’s cool, and holds it out to Quinn. Quinn takes it delicately from Ellis’s hand, a gentle crunch, so sensual without either lips or tongue touching him. Ellis immediately hardens again. Quinn’s wide eyes tell him no one’s ever done that for him before, that he wants more. “You liked that,” Ellis says, letting his voice go silky. “You liked that a lot. You want that all the time, honey? You like to have someone take care of you. That’s all you want. You want someone to fuck you and pet you afterwards, Quinn. I just told you what you have to do to get it.”
“But what if I can’t —”
“You can. Your cock’s hard enough to pound nails right now, by the way.”
“How the fuck do you know?” the brat roaring right back when Ellis pushes too hard.
“Lucky guess,” Ellis says. Because he knows he’s certainly stiff, thinking about Quinn in his bed to play with all night and then cuddle and fuss over. “If you’d done all those things I just told you to do, I’d take you home, play with you until you were exhausted, tell you how good you were, tuck you into bed with me, and cuddle you until you fell asleep. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? You want me to hold your cock while you drift off? I can do that, too.” He leans over and lets his hot breath tickle Quinn’s ear. “You know you’d love every second of it. On your knees. Getting fucked. I’d always make sure you got off, unless you were very bad, and I’d never, ever do anything you didn’t want me to. You’d be completely safe, honey. You’ve been waiting for this your whole goddamn life.”
Quinn bites his lip and shifts in his chair. His eyes drop again.
Quinn would never know it, but he certainly has Ellis. Ellis’s craving this. He wants Quinn approximately sometime yesterday, sweet and well-behaved for him, good for him, to tell him what a sweet boy he is and take care of him. It’s so fucked up. Ellis tries hard not to care how fucked up. He wants to cuddle Quinn to death. He wants to fuck him. He wants Quinn, most of all, to need him, to reach for him in the night, to want him in return. He wants it so much it almost chokes him.
Julia McBryant lives in the prettiest city in the whole world with her roving nebula of German Shepherds and adopted greyhounds. Southern born, Southern bred, and when she dies, she’ll be Southern dead, Julia loves crafting all the things, especially with gold glitter; horseback riding; looking for fossils on the beach; and hiking in the mountains of North Carolina.