End Scene

Nicky James

Chapters (22)

End Scene

(a touch of taboo)

By Nicky James

End Scene

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover Artist:

Nicky James

Editing:

LesCourt Author Service

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author

The author recognizes all Trademarks

Table of Contents

End Scene

WARNING

NOTE TO READER

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Atti and Ash’s End Scene Playlist

Other Titles by Nicky James

WARNING

This book contains content of a taboo nature which some people may find objectionable. The two main characters are consenting adults, but their actions may be regarded as disturbing or unnatural to some readers.

Proceed with extreme caution.

NOTE TO READER

As a reader and writer of MM romance, I like to envision a future where gay romance is as mainstream in a bookstore as any other genre, regardless of sexual content or theme. Imagine a world where even taboo fiction has its place and doesn’t have to be hidden away and shamed.

So, for this story, I’ve taken those liberties and created just such a world.

Chapter One

Dear, Mr. Charming.

We have reviewed your application for the Ontario Student Assistance Program and regret to inform you, you do not meet the requirements for a student loan at this time for one or more of the following reasons:

Net annual family income exceeds our threshold of $150,000 …

I CRUMPLED THE LETTER without reading further and launched the wadded-up ball of paper at the far wall.

“Motherfucking fucker!”

I kicked my desk chair, sending it clattering onto its side and scrubbed at my face.

Perfect. This was just fucking perfect.

I didn’t ask to be born into one of the top ten wealthiest families in the province, nor did I ask to come flying into this world, waving a rainbow flag. And I certainly didn’t ask for two prudish parents who were appalled by any sex that didn’t involve a man and a woman in strictly the missionary position.

Christ, they probably had a sex calendar in their bedroom that outlined their sex schedule. Tuesdays and Thursdays at ten fifteen sharp. Ten minutes of lackluster foreplay, no more no less, ending with two moderate, snore-inducing orgasms. Postcoital showers? One hundred percent compulsory and separate. Heaven forbid sex be a messy venture.

Eww… Why am I thinking about my parents having sex?!