Monday, June 10, 2013

The story behind "Blackout", the novel

Today for Open Mic Monday, I'm thrilled to host author Joey Jameson who's sharing what went into the novel, "Blackout". This is a gay erotic thriller, something a bit different, and I must say it sounds like a brilliant story full of intrigue. He's stopping by on his virtual book tour with CBLS Promotions. There's a giveaway so check out the rafflecopter below the excerpt. Thank you, Joey! 

Behind the scenes of "Blackout"

Writing Blackout was a lot of fun. It originally started off as a short story that was actually my first thing ever published. I had the idea of writing a story about a stripper named Dice and what a night in his shoes would be like. I’ve always been slightly obsessed and intrigued by strippers and wanted to write an explosive piece that would put the reader right there in the front row, experiencing it all first hand.
The story literally wrote itself.
After it was finished, although I was content with the way it came to a close, I liked the main character too much to just let him off that easy.
The novel was born.
I wanted Blackout to be dark, gritty, glamourous and seductive all at the same time. The main protagonist, Dice Valentine, is sex on two legs. I created him out of my own personal fantasies and wanted people to see at least something in him that turned them on. Whether it be his looks, his confidence or his sex appeal. There’s something in Dice for everyone. In the beginning, it seems like he has it all; the job, the body. His life is ruled by hedonism and satisfaction and is almost too simplistic to last. But then I wanted to turn all that on its back and deal him a few bad cards, so to speak.
Blackout’s main strength lies in the descriptions. The stripclub scenes are my favourite. They rely less on dialogue and more on sensation. They’re dark, loud and sexy. Dice is a killer dancer and when he gets on that stage he commands it; all eyes are on him and there’s not a dry seat in the house. I wanted the reader to feel every move he makes and almost be able to hear the bass thumping in their heads. That, and hopefully get turned on.
The main theme in Blackout is mystery, but amidst all the intrigue there’s a story of a man who feels lonely and who yearns for a way out. The sex in the book, although graphic and hard, was not meant to be gratuituous, rather a cry for help and attention from the last person you’d ever expect to feel alone and looking for love. 

This book is definitely on my "to be read list", Joey. I love your last sentence "not meant to be gratuitous, rather a cry for help and attention from the last person you'd ever expect to feel alone and looking for love." Excellent! Thanks for sharing. Now let's take a peek inside "Blackout".

Book blurb...
by Joey Jameson
Gay Erotic Thriller
Publisher: Chances Press, LLC
Release Date: April 1, 2013
Heat Level: Sizzling
Word Count: 73,000

Available at:

He’s the one you dream about.

He’s the one you obsess over.

He’s the one you’d kill for.

Dice Valentine was born to strip. With the body of a god that drips with sex appeal, his dance moves leave his male clients breathless and begging for more. But lost in a dark world of hedonism and indulgence, Dice is beginning to want out. That is until a night of mind-blowing sex with a mysterious lover takes a grim, shocking turn, and he finds himself in a desperate attempt to clear his name…as the hunter becomes the hunted.

Blackout is a haunting dark tale of sex and betrayal that raises doubts about what exactly is the truth.

Warning: This title is intended for readers over the age of 18 as it contains explicit sex scenes and/or situations and adult language, and may be considered offensive to some readers.

As I pulled open the back entrance to the club, I was still buttoning up my shirt. I kept it untucked from my ripped jeans; cool, casual. Flip-flops on my feet, and hair ruffled, I felt the epitome of understated sexiness. My heart was pounding in my chest, reverberating in my ears. Fuck, I was so horny. Sheer excitement mixed with anxiousness coursed through my veins.

As I stepped outside, I stopped for a second to let my eyes adjust to the surrounding darkness of the alleyway. I was breathing heavily as I squinted to make out any shapes. It was a cool evening for August, the light breeze making my nipples hard, pressing up against my tight white shirt.

It was then that I saw him. He was leaning up against the far wall of the alley, one leg bent at the knee, heel resting on the wall behind him, hands tucked in his jean pockets. He wore a dark shirt, the top of his tanned and sculpted chest visible above the deep V-neck plunge. The image of the moonlight illuminating his skin in the darkness made my mouth begin to water. He didn’t move at first, and neither did I. We just stood there, taking in the appearance of the other, mentally undressing each other with our eyes. I opened my mouth to say something, then stopped myself, suddenly unsure of what words were about to come out of my mouth.

I wasn’t sure how long we stood there. The expression on his face was hidden in the shadows. The anticipation was killing me, but I was rooted to the spot, almost as if his gaze was keeping me still. I couldn’t move until I saw his eyes and they told me I could.

At last he did. Pulling his hands free from his jeans, he shifted his weight back on to both feet and took a few slow steps towards me. I stayed exactly where I was. As he moved, the shadows disappeared and the dim light of the sky finally hit his face. He was even more beautiful than I had remembered. Totally the opposite to me; dark hair, cropped short around the back and ears, almost black in this light. His face was stubbly, adorned with short neatly trimmed hairs the same colour as the ones on his head. As he moved, his muscles reacted simultaneously, flexing through the confines of his shirt to the point where the material screamed out as if it was about to split. I could see the contour of his perfect pecs. He was more muscular than I was, and the cool night air was obviously having the same effect on his round, hard nipples. My eyes trailed down to his snug-fitting jeans. They were slung so low I could just about see the top of his neatly-trimmed pubes poking out.

He’s hard, too.

I licked my lips without even knowing it as my eyes focused in on the bulge that appeared before them in his trousers. I was sure that if it could speak it would cry out to be released and tended to. I wanted nothing more than to sink to my knees then and there and service that cock like I had before in this very same place. No shame, no words, just complete and utter pleasure. But I couldn’t move. I was totally powerless as his dark eyes held me there, staring back at him, a battle of the wills almost as we saw who would be the one to break first. The tension between us and the anticipation of the sweet release that was inevitably about to occur was almost too much for me to bear. I was afraid that I was going to cum in my pants right then and there, just from looking at him in front of me.

But he broke first.

Before I could react his hands were on me, so sudden and intense that my breath got caught in my throat. Both of his hands were instantly on my wrists, lifting them above my head and holding them together as the weight of his pelvis against me sent me reeling back against the brick wall behind us. For a moment he just held me there. I didn’t struggle against his grip; instead I gave into it, my body relaxing at his mercy. His face was inches from mine. I let my lips part without closing my eyes, begging for him to kiss me. Those lips…full, bee-stung and sensuously shaped. I immediately remembered what it was like to run my tongue over them, and what it felt like to have them all over my body. His breath was warm against my face, sweet and slightly cinnamon scented. As if of its own accord, my face moved towards his, only to be rejected teasingly by his own. A grin played with the corners of his mouth; he was enjoying torturing me. He began to move his hips slightly, pressing his crotch up against my own as if greeting it. We stayed like that for what felt like hours, staring each other down and dry-humping each other through our jeans. Each thrust of my cock against material made me harder. Our erections were the only language necessary. We never spoke more than a few words to each other when we met. This meeting was like my dance personified; I lived for the tease, I performed it on stage almost every night. And now, this; this silent seduction must be what it feels like to just watch someone else on stage. A feast for the eyes, but without physical release.

I couldn’t take any more. The effect of his body against mine was too much, and suddenly our clothes were a barrier between us that we couldn’t get rid of quickly enough. Without letting go of my eyes, he freed my hands and backed away from me just enough to reach above his head, grab the back of his shirt and tug it off. The dark smooth material fought against his muscular physique. My eyes drank in his appearance as he let the shirt fall to the ground at our feet. In the moonlight, his smooth hard chest appeared almost like granite. He had the most perfect pecs I had ever seen; full, pert, and with perfectly formed nipples that were fully erect now in the cool night air. His narrow waist encased a deep sculpted six-pack of abs whose grooves were even more defined in the shadows of the alley. His only chest-hair was a light treasure trail of dark thin hairs that disappeared down into his tight fitting jeans. He let his arms rest at his sides, almost mimicking my stance from when I was on stage a few minutes earlier. He rested his weight on one foot; the classic underwear model pose.

Cheeky git.

He was mocking me. I tore my eyes away from his chest to see his eyes grinning back at me. Before I could protest, he reached at my shirt, helping it over my head, and wrapped his strong arms around me in a tight embrace. It was then that our lips finally touched. The pillowy feel of his soft lips against mine made my cock even wetter. His hot wet tongue was in my mouth, lapping and battling against my own. I closed my eyes and let my mouth do the talking. The passion I had bottled up for him suddenly exploded, and I literally lost myself in the moment. I didn’t think, all I wanted was to touch and caress and lick every inch of his body.

I pulled away from his mouth and my tongue found his neck. I traced a line with it down from his ear lobe, before resting it in the crook of his collar bone. He tilted his head back, obviously enjoying the sensation. My hands found his perfect pecs, and caressed his smooth flesh as my tongue followed their lead. I gripped each nipple gently with my thumb and index finger, giving them a pinch, before opening my mouth and devouring first the left and then the right. His skin was freshly washed and smelled like soap and musky after-shave. My tongue couldn’t get enough of his hard nipples, licking and sucking gently, each in turn as my opposite hand tweaked the other. I looked up to see his expression; a look of pure lust plastered across his face. His lips parted in an o-shape, his hands rested lightly on my broad naked shoulders. Returning my gaze to his chest I slowly slid down, tracing the contours of his tight stomach with my tongue. I took my time on his abs; licking them up and down. They were so tight and profound that I swear I was afraid I might cut myself on them. My hands stroked the skin on his sides as I continued to slide further down his body until I was safely on my knees. I looked up at him and again met his eyes that were now slightly closed, anticipation showing on his face. This was such a vulnerable moment. Right before the revealing of the cock. Each at the utter mercy of the other. With expert ease, I unbuckled his belt and then unfastened his button, all the while keeping his eyes on mine. He let his hands fall loosely to his sides, as I carefully slid his jeans and pants down inch by inch, until finally the prize was fully revealed.

About the author...
Joey Jameson is Canadian born and bred, but currently living in Brighton, UK. He can usually be found either on the beach walking his two gorgeous dogs, or sipping swanky cocktails in his local haunt. He is also the author ofCandy From Strangers. Ever the fan of all things decadent, for an insight into his daily life, you can follow him onTwitter. You can also visit his Facebook page for a sneak-peak of new work to come.

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1 comment:

k said...

I found your great blog through the WLC Blog Follows on the World Literary Cafe! Great to connect!

You can find me here: Thanks!

Loren Mathis