In a Gilded Cage
Publication date: October 21st 2016
Genres: LGBTQ+, New Adult, Romance
Lucci Grimley is indeed alluring—crowned with a mane of long blond hair, and blessed with an enchanting musical talent that draws a brave rescuer to a high tower hidden in the forest.
However, this modern-day Rapunzel is a young man, sold as a child to the wealthy and childless Damien Gotham for the price of a fast car and a pile of cash. And Lucci’s heroic prince is William “Prin” Prinzing, a handsome college student and star soccer player, hired to care for the grounds of the lavish Tower Estate. Prin climbs an extension ladder rather than a long golden braid to gain access to Lucci’s second floor bedroom window, ultimately penetrating the secrecy surrounding the cloistered young man.
Friendship, and soon romance, blooms. The tower captive eagerly gives his loving innocence to his brave rescuer, which sends the strict and reclusive Gotham into a frenzy of jealous rage. With Prin, Lucci gets a taste of real life, and he wants more. Together, the young men must face Gotham’s ruthlessness and pay the price of liberating Lucci.
When we reach the spot off the shoulder of the road, I’m angry enough to scream, but I don’t want to take it out on Lucci. He’s a victim in this situation … but he doesn’t have to be.
“You don’t have to take it from him anymore, you know. You’re a man, not a boy.”
“This is all I know of life.”
“This is not all there is…” I sigh, knowing that he’s not gonna listen to me. But I need to calm myself somehow, and I decide the only way I can do this is with my hands. I need to touch him. “Let me look at your knees, Lucci. I want to see if they’re better than before.”
Lucci is obedient. He immediately unbuckles his seat belt and bends to roll up his tan pants.
“Lay your legs across my lap.”
He does as I say without question. My hands are drawn to the smooth skin of his bare ankles, and I run my fingers along his shin until they reach the light purple grate pattern on his knees. I touch the markings gingerly and notice that he squeezes his legs together.
“Does it hurt you anymore?”
Lucci’s eyes are wide, and he swallows noticeably. “No. Not unless you press upon it.”
“I won’t.” I push my hands up under the folded cuffs of his pants and I stretch my fingers as far as I can get them on his thighs. He doesn’t ask me what I’m doing. He doesn’t move to stop me.
Lucci’s breathing gets faster and he squirms, but continues to stare into my eyes as if for reassurance. I can’t miss that his dick is hard and pressing against the thin cotton of his pants. And I don’t miss that I feel like more of a man now than I was when entwined with Bethany on the dance floor at Fall Ball, with her boobs pressed to my chest.
The slow movement of my hands, simply massaging his slim lower legs, is all it takes to get him going. I pull one hand from under the leg of his pants and place it on the small bulge. When he gasps, I gasp.
I want to press on him to see if he lifts his hips from the seat of the truck to push into my palm … but I don’t. I pull my hand away, which breaks the spell. Lucci looks away.
I’m not officially gay.
Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—all named after saints—and five nonpedigreed cats—all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive subject.
Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young men and their relationships, and she believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to Dreamspinner Press for providing her with an alternate place to stash her stories.
Mia is proud of her involvement with the Human Rights Campaign and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of marital equality. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.