Stroke of Luck

By Alex Winters

Mason Jaspers is a virgin, but that's about to change. At least, he hopes so. Then again, it all depends on his longtime crush and current tutoring student Owen Fairchild.
 
Owen is everything Mason is not: the confident jock to Mason's insecure nerd, taut and toned where Mason is long and gawky, tan and ruddy where Mason is pale and smooth, and far from a virgin. Owen is GSU's resident cock of the walk: openly gay and eagerly slutty, sleeping with any guy he can, as often as he can, before moving onto the next. And the next and the next ...
 
Because this summer will be spent rehabbing an old farmhouse as part of their Residential Real Estate course, and the two opposites must share the same house, for better or worse. And when Mason walks in on Owen pleasuring himself, things escalate in a way neither can deny, let alone prevent ...

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Jul 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781685504816

Alex Winters

Alex Winters is the pseudonym of a busy restaurant manager whose curious young staff would love nothing more than to follow him around the dining room reading his steamiest, most romantic passages aloud! When not writing romantic holiday stories of various heat levels, he enjoys long walks with his wife, scary movies and smooth jazz. Visit him at www.awintersromance.com to see what stories are brewing up next!

Book preview

Stroke of Luck

By Alex Winters

Published by JMS Books LLC

Visit jms-books.com for more information.

Copyright 2023 Alex Winters

ISBN 9781685504816

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Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author's imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

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Stroke of Luck

By Alex Winters

Chapter 1

Mason

Are we there yet?

Mason Jaspers chuckled dryly to himself as he studied the bumpy, one-lane road ahead. Next to him, Owen's fingers gripped the steering wheel of the grumbling Jeep, tan and ruddy like the rest of him.

The driver gave a playful little growl, lips curling beneath his mirrored sunglasses, the ones that hid his soft brown eyes and made him look, vaguely anyway, like a fighter pilot on a secret mission. Mason, so help me God...

Mason held his hands up in playful surrender, enjoying the way the soft summer breeze caressed his flushed face. They'd been on the road for hours, leaving straight from the campus of Georgia Southern University and barreling straight for Grey Lake, their home away from home for the next ten weeks.

He wasn't really complaining. Sitting next to a hunky jock like Owen wasn't exactly a hardship, even if he'd had a stiffy for half the ride, causing him to shift in his seat every few minutes. Owen thought he was just restless. If he only knew, Mason thought to himself, not for the first time. And not just about hard-ons...

I'm just saying, Mason murmured, gritting his teeth after another series of nasty potholes brought them closer to their destination. Those beers back in the cooler have been calling my name for the last twenty miles.

So crack one open then. Owen's rolling hand gesture was as impatient as his grunting tone.

Mason was all but mortified. While we're driving?

Owen gave a meaty little chuckle. Mason was pretty sure he rolled his eyes, too. Not that he could see them, of course. You're not driving, Mason. And besides, out here? He waved a sinewy arm outside the open driver's side window, indicating the miles and miles of tree line they'd been following since they turned off the main road a few miles back. I doubt the cops even know this place exists.

"That's what they want you to think, Mason teased, licking his lips as if he could almost taste one of the frosty cold ones they'd picked up at a Quick Pick convenience store during their last pit stop. This place is probably crawling with cops. It's always the places you least expect it, you know?"

Owen gave him another one of his casual glances, the ones that always seemed to linger a moment or two longer than they should. The only thing this place is gonna be crawling with is mosquitoes, Mason. Wasps, probably, too. Gnats, chiggers and all kinds of other wriggly no goods, sure. But cops? Not cops.

Still, I like to have a goal, you know? Cold, refreshing beers are for when we're all unpacked, we've picked out our rooms and settled on the porch, looking out over the lake in a couple of Adirondack chairs, you know?

Owen gave him a quick tut-tut. God, you and your goals. We're not in class anymore. You can let your hair down for a few hours at least, can't you?

Mason gazed down at his faded maroon GSU T-shirt and khaki cargo pants, even wriggling the toes in his flip-flops. I'm relaxing. See? Don't I look relaxed?

Owen glanced away from the road, looking like a glossy poster for some fast-paced race car movie with his mirrored sunglasses and feathery black curls and serious expression. For you? I suppose. Still, a beer wouldn't kill you.

Mason wriggled nervously in the passenger seat, pleasantly uncomfortable in Owen's sultry gaze while another throbbing semi threatened to slither along the poor front panel of his already strained boxers.

Don't I know it, he enthused, already tasting that first, heady sip and desperately hoping it would quiet the butterflies that had been doing a jitterbug in his belly for the entire drive out to the lake. And I'll have one, just as soon as--

I know, I know, Owen interrupted playfully, full lips teased into that crooked grin and growl as sexy as those mirrored shades of his. Just as soon as we're nestled on the porch, each of us in his assigned Adirondack chair, gazing across Gray Lake just in time for sunset...

Mason blushed to feel so seen by his cocky, jock-y driver. Then again, he didn't mind Owen's teasing. In a way, he secretly enjoyed it, much as he enjoyed so many other things about Owen: those feathery black curls fanning out from the brim of his faded ball cap, those thick eyelashes, those soft brown eyes and long, tan fingers and...

He cleared his throat, as if to jerk himself out of another sexy daydream starring his favorite athlete. Make that, former athlete. You can tease all you want, Owen, but you and I both know my little scenario sounds superb.

No doubt, Owen relented, turning back to gaze out the windshield just in time to avoid another pothole in the rutted country road. But need I remind you, our project this summer semester is to rehab this lake house and make it presentable for the Realtor Studies Program. Emphasis on rehab, so...it might not be the movie set you're imagining in that big old noggin' of yours, Mason.

Mason felt the first twinge of reality intrude on his carefully crafted fantasy world. But, there'll still be a porch, right? I mean, it's still a lake house, my God...

Owen chuckled merrily, clearly enjoying himself at Mason's expense. Look, I'm not trying to piss on your picnic, I just...look, there she blows. We're about to find out how much work we've got in store for us this summer, after all...

As if on cue, a lake house, two stories tall, faded white paint chipping off the sides, loomed into view. Mason sat up for a better look and he wasn't alone. Despite Owen's carefully crafted sense of being too cool for everything, he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and sat up a little straighter.

As the Jeep rumbled forward, stadium rock blaring through the tinny speakers the same way it had since they'd blasted out of the business school parking lot after picking up the lake house keys from Dean Brewster, both boys were practically pressed