Saturday, March 19, 2011

Excerpt - Little Boy Lost: Abandoned

Copyright 2011 (c) - J. P. Barnaby



This excerpt is from the second Little Boy Lost book - Abandoned. Because the book is still in the preparation process, this passage is unedited.

         Christmas morning dawned bright and clear, and I couldn’t help the sadness that invaded my heart. It should’ve been my first of many Christmases as Jamie’s boyfriend. Instead, I was lying in bed alone, feeling the nearly suffocating weight of his absence as I looked up at his picture in its frame. The night before, I’d trimmed it neatly to remove the two boys, because after Adam had told me of their suspected involvement in the murder of that boy, I could not stand to look at them anymore. It was as if their presence poisoned the beauty of the setting and of Jamie, and I did not want anything to taint my memory, or image, of him.
We generally didn’t go all out for Christmas at the Schreibers’ as some families did. I remember Jamie feeling particularly disgruntled on my behalf when he found out that my foster parents had only bought me jeans and tennis shoes for Christmas when we were twelve. The Schreibers didn’t have a lot, and the clothes were something that I had really wanted. Jamie, of course, had gotten a new bike and a ton of other toys, which he promptly declared to be “ours.” Even then, even before we had any idea just how much we’d meant to each other, he’d been generous and kind. Since then, Richard and Carolyn had moved from stuff that I needed to stuff that I wanted, like different kits or parts for my models. Jamie had been satisfied with that but still decided that his best gifts would be stuff we’d share.
I wiped away the wetness from my face as I remembered those years with Jamie, before the world had changed and grown dark.
Lying quietly as the sun rose outside my window, I listened to the silence from the other rooms in the house. Richard and Carolyn apparently weren’t up yet, and I wasn’t surprised. When he was working, Richard had been up early most mornings and enjoyed being able to sleep in after all those years. Not wanting to disturb the tranquility, I stayed in bed with my eyes trained on Jamie’s brilliantly captured smile. Still resting back against the pillows, I closed my eyes and pictured him in my head. His soft hair under my fingers as I stroked it, his warm skin under my lips as I kissed it, the heady sound of his ragged moans as we lay hidden in our sanctuary.
Listening once again for any signs of movement in the house, I sat up and pulled off my T-shirt, letting it fall next to the bed. As I settled back, an image of Jamie came into my mind, a memory from one of our forbidden nights together. It was the closest we’d ever come to making love until that last night together before we were discovered. Lost in the heat of the memory, I ran my hands lightly over my stomach, up my chest, and stroked one of my nipples.

It began the way most of our lovemaking started, with slow, deep kissing as he lay above me. The sensations of Jamie’s hand caressing my face while his other arm was around me made me feel cherished and loved. I tried to express every bit of the burning love, the need I felt for him in the kiss because I wanted him to feel it too. His lips were warm on my neck, his quiet, deep breaths soft in my ear as his hand slid from my back and began caressing my stomach under my shirt. I reached for his shirt, my desire to feel his naked skin against mine nearly overwhelming. Jamie pulled back, and I used the opportunity to push him down onto his back, smiling as I pulled his T-shirt over his head. The smooth lines of his chest were visible in the pale moonlight coming from the open window. Running my hand down over his chest, I watched his eyes close as my fingers moved gently over his stomach and then across his thigh. He sucked in a sharp breath as my hand encountered his swelling cock trapped in the confines of his jeans.
Focusing my attention on his chest, I kissed his shoulder, my tongue traveling an indistinct path over his pecs until I reached the pebbled nipple, which was my destination. I sucked on it, listening to the sweet sound of his moan as his fingers weaved into my hair. Moving my lips to the other side of his chest, my hand caressed the soft skin of his stomach. As I bit down on his sensitive nipple, he grabbed my hand on his stomach and moved it down until he was using it to rub his erection through his jeans, seemingly unable to control the impulse. I sighed quietly into his chest, laying my cheek against his warm skin as I rubbed him, stroking his cock through the thick denim. His hips came up to meet my hand as his body strained, lifting into my touch.
Jamie’s uncontrolled sounds, the groans and whimpers, were like a fan to the passion that was welling in me. I moved up so my face was cradled against his shoulder, my lips pressing into his neck. Letting go of my hand, he reached up, and we parted as he pulled my shirt off. I loved the feeling of his hot, naked skin against mine. He pulled me down on top of him so that his legs were on either side of my hips as our stomachs and chests were flat against each other. I felt his heels against my thighs and wondered briefly how it would feel if my cock was buried deep inside of him. Desperately I whimpered against his lips as we kissed and my hips ground in sensuous circles, my cock rubbing along his.
“Tell me what you want,” I half-moaned, half-whispered into his ear as I covered his trembling body with my own.
“I…,” he started, but faltered as his face flushed. I could feel the heat of it against my cheek and saw his neck begin to suffuse with red. Even shy, he was so incredibly sexy.
“It’s okay, baby, it’s just me,” I encouraged in a low whisper. “I want to hear you say it.” Taking a deep breath, Jamie pulled me tighter against him so that he could bury his face in my shoulder, hiding. I stroked his hair gently and then felt his lips move against my neck.
“I… suck me… please, Brian.” His whispered plea sounded almost desperate.
Fuck, I felt every single word as they ignited in my groin. Without another word, I began to slide slowly down his beautiful body, kissing and licking each tender spot as it met my mouth. Concentrating my efforts on the delicate curves of his stomach, I unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. His hands moved from my shoulders to his waistband, and I moved back as he pulled his jeans and boxers down. After I helped him get them down over his calves and feet, I set them on the floor next to the mattress. Looking up at him, for just a moment I marveled at the true beauty of his body, from his broad shoulders to his slender hips; everything about him was perfect to me.
As he lay vulnerable before me, I knelt between his feet and ran my hands slowly along the insides of his legs. The higher my hands moved, the faster his breathing became, and when I grazed his balls, he let out a short gasp followed by a long, low moan. Pushing his legs apart, I lay down, nestled between his thighs, and kissed every inch of the crevice where his leg met his hip. Jamie moved my hair back from my forehead as he watched me kissing and licking his skin. Moving to the other side, I first nipped his hipbone before kissing all around the very spot where he desperately wanted me to be.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

My Brother Benjamin

Copyright (c) 2011 - J. P. Barnaby




The hammer shook in Jamie Duncan’s tiny hand. The job of putting it back on his father’s garage workbench was forestalled by confusion and fear. Eight years old, he did not have the frame of reference needed to process what he was seeing. The frayed and battered tennis shoes, the ones his brother Benjamin wore every single day, were suspended about a yard from Jamie’s frightened face. Surprised amusement had surrendered quickly to shocked disbelief as Jamie noticed the white socks still peeking out from below his brother’s jeans, just above those beloved red canvas shoes.

A strangled scream, drowned in his panic, erupted from him as nothing but a strained whimper. Reaching out, Jamie touched his big brother’s leg, alien in its stillness. The younger boy could not remember a time when Benjamin had ever been so still; it was almost worse than the silence. Staggering back several feet, Jamie continued to stare at the cherry colored sneakers, terrified to look any higher and see his brother’s face.

“Benji?” Jamie whispered, his voice small and scared, it was almost as if he were trying to wake his big brother, like he did after he’d had a bad dream. In his heart, the little boy wished as hard as he could. In fact, some may have even called it prayer. He wished that Benjamin would wake up and tell him that there was nothing to be afraid of.

“Benji, I’m scared.” He thought about how his brother would sigh and pretend to be mad when Jamie woke him in the middle of the night. In the end, the older boy would always pull his blankets back, inviting his little brother in so he could protect Jamie from the monsters.

Jamie looked up to see his brother’s staring, unseeing eyes and he knew that the monsters had finally gotten Benji.

Standing as high as his little feet would allow, Jamie stretched up and pulled at his big brother’s T-shirt. He wanted to make Benji mad, to make him yell – because even yelling would be better than the silent blank stare. A crumpled piece of notebook paper fell from his brother’s slackened grip and dropped to the grungy floor. Not taking his eyes from those red sneakers, Jamie bent and scooped up the note.

Slowly, he sounded out each word like Mrs. Martin had taught him. Reading the words around the damp smudges, he thought maybe his brother had been writing in the rain.

Their hatred burns like fire, scorching, consuming
The very air blisters my lungs
I can’t breathe
Acrid smoke blocks out the sun
I can’t see
Roaring Flames engulf my soul
Everything lies in ruins
There is nothing left

I’m just so tired. I can’t fight anymore.
They tell me I’m going to go to hell for being a fag and maybe I am, but it can’t be any worse than school.
I’m so sorry. Please tell Jamie that I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be there to protect him but how can I do that when I can’t even protect myself?

Clutching the note against his chest, Jamie sank to the floor and pulled his knees up trying to protect himself from the weight of his brother’s confession. He knew what it was like for kids at school to be mean. Joey Thompson had pushed him off the bars at recess a few days ago. In his child’s view, he couldn’t understand why Benji didn’t tell a teacher. They had to have teachers in the tenth grade, just like they did in third.

The reality of his brother’s death became more real for Jamie as he held the note in his hand. He wanted to run, he wanted to tell someone, but he just couldn’t leave his brother alone. In that note Benji sounded so scared. Benji would never have left Jamie if he were feeling scared.

Jamie continued to sit on the cold concrete floor below his brother’s body and waited for someone to come.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Excerpt - Little Boy Lost: Enlightened


Little Boy Lost: Enlightened now
available at Dreamspinner Press
 Little Boy Lost, Book One

Little Boy Lost is the story of Brian McAllister, the boy next door.

Brian goes to school, does his homework, and helps his foster parents around the house. Brian also has a secret: he is in love with his best friend, Jamie. But in Crayford, Alabama, being in love with another boy is the worst kind of sin.

Brian and Jamie will discover just how deep their emotional bond runs, and at what cost. What will they do if their secret is discovered? From fumbling through their first sexual experiences to hiding all aspects of their relationship from everyone in their lives, Brian and Jamie battle for the one thing that is truly theirs—love.

Story Excerpt:
As I watched, his expression softened, the fear and the shock replaced by a different emotion. He kept his eyes on mine and leaned forward ever so slightly and then hesitated. If I hadn’t been watching him so intently, I wouldn’t have noticed that he had moved at all. When I didn’t punch, scream, or even back away, he leaned in a little closer—an unspoken question in his eyes.

Do you feel it too?

I felt his warm breath on my face; he was so damn close. My heart rate accelerated wildly, and I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. He whispered, almost too softly for me to hear.

“Please… please don’t hate me.”

Then, in the lightest of touches, soft but unyielding, his lips pressed against mine. My eyes closed, and I felt a rush of emotion, sexual tension, something, building within me. As his mouth molded over the contours of my lips, we reveled in the untamed surge of passion that flowed between us. The kiss was delicate, sweet, and lingered just long enough to make me want more. I had waited my whole life for my first kiss, and while it wasn’t exactly how I’d pictured it in my youth, it was perfect. His lips were warm and smooth as they moved against mine, causing a swelling tension in my stomach. The rain continued to pound the tree house roof as my arms nearly ached to go around him. I was scared to break the spell that had enveloped us. It was everything that a boy’s first kiss should be.

Only it wasn’t with a girl.