Get your rocks off however you want at Club Desire. We’re not easy and we’re not free, but we are discreet. Find your fantasy in the Club.
Lonely hearts will find a way to mend and grow, especially with cuffs involved.
Jake Charles rules the Toy Box room of Club Desire. Whatever toys the doms want, he supplies. He’s happy with his job, but wants more—especially with Master Tony. There’s only one catch. Master Tony hasn’t noticed him. When the Master comes calling for toys, Jake’s got to decide if he wants to keep his happy but lonely existence or put himself in Master Tony’s arms and gain the desire he desperately needs.
Jake made his way down the corridor. The thick carpet muffled his footsteps. The dim light made the deep blue paint on the walls seem softer, almost like velvet. He stopped in front of Master Tony’s door. Being in the blue corridor meant the dom had been at the club awhile and had earned a special room. Jake knocked on the door and waited.
“Come in,” Master Tony said from within the room.
Jake twisted the knob and opened the door. Master Tony’s space had been decked out with the same thick carpet and blue paint. “Here you are, sir. All the toys you’ve requested as well as the lube and rubbers.”
“On the table.” Master Tony stood beside the leather-upholstered table. Plastic had been stretched out under the furniture. He rocked on the balls of his feet, making the plastic crackle with each movement. “I assume you brought everything.”
“Yes, sir.” Jake left the tray on the table then stepped away from Master Tony. “Anything else, sir?”
“Yes. Do you wish to play?”
Jake wobbled on his feet. He couldn’t believe his ears. Master Tony wanted to know if he wished to play? He hadn’t thought Master Tony was interested. The last thing he knew, Master Tony had a sub. Although Jake had been hurt before, he wanted to open his heart to the dom.
“I asked you a question.” Master Tony stepped up to Jake. He stood about five inches taller than Jake, but the difference seemed greater when they were next to each other. “Well?”
Jake’s heart hammered. He could say no and keep his situation uneventful or he could accept a chance to change his life for a few hours and submit to the man he craved.
Jake nodded then bowed his head. “Yes, sir. I’d like to play.”
Get your rocks off however you want at Club Desire. We’re not easy and we’re not free, but we are discreet. Find your fantasy in the Club.
Two wounded souls in love, but is their love enough to go the distance?
Jake Charles knew the moment he met his dom that they’d have a future. Granted, they’re relationship consisted mostly of scenes and a few conversations, but he knows his heart. He’s in love with his dom and determined to do whatever it takes to prove his devotion to Master Tony.
Master Tony doesn’t deal well with deviation from his norm, but he’s staring down the barrel of a few massive changes. He’s in love with Jake, but will love be enough? Tony will have to worry about more than just himself—he’s now a father. Can this dom become the man he needs to be for his son and his sub or will he have to leave life at the club far behind?
Jake made sure each playroom had the right toys or equipment for the night’s activities. He loved his job because it kept him close to Master Tony, but it also gave him space.
He checked the clock. Time to meet up with Master Tony. Per the master’s instructions, he removed his G-string. His master liked him in nothing more than his ass-less chaps and thick boots. Tonight, Master Tony had asked him to use a set of handcuffs and to walk through the main playroom.
Master Tony had sworn he’d only show off Jake in private, but lately, he’d become more territorial. Was he testing Jake? Jake wasn’t sure. He secured the cuffs around his wrists then locked the door to the Toy Box and wandered through the playroom.
He noticed a few new couples in the room. One of the women looked particularly spooked. She kept her hands folded and her head low. She appeared to watch the players but wasn’t participating. Was she shy? Scared? Uncomfortable?
He understood feeling uncomfortable. Before Master Tony, he wouldn’t have been so bold as to walk through the playroom. He’d have kept to himself in the Toy Box.
Thinking about Master Tony sent heat through his veins. He liked his dom. They hadn’t been together long, but they’d forged a fun time. Master Tony had lived up to his bargain he’d given him a temporary collar and served as Jake’s only master. He’d been nothing but attentive to Jake’s needs and served him up with many sensual punishments. Jake snorted. From the beginning, Master Tony had sworn they wouldn’t have anything permanent. He hadn’t given an explanation, just the declaration they’d be temporary.
Jake could be replaced. His heart squeezed. Had he fallen for Tony? Maybe a little.
But freedom was good, too. If he found someone else, he didn’t have to stay with Master Tony. He could find his own way.
He liked doing things in his own fashion and time. Jake marched down the hallway to the elevator and pressed the buttons on the key pad. Master Tony didn’t seem to have a problem with his desire to be different. He’d never questioned Jake about his tattoos or asked Jake to hide them.
The doors finally, shut and Jake’s thoughts turned to his last boyfriend. Donovan hated tattoos and had expected Jake to keep them hidden. When he’d worn his lavender shirt, Donovan had a fit. The man refused to wear his sexuality out front—Jake showcased his desires.
The bell dinged for Master Tony’s floor and forced Jake to focus on his Master. He was there to please Master Tony, not to dredge up the past. Once he stood outside Master Tony’s door, he pressed the button.
“Enter,” Master Tony said from his side of the door.
Jake twisted the knob and made his way into his dom’s private space.
“There’s my boy.” Master Tony trailed his fingers down Jake’s cheek. “Do you wish to play?”
“I do, sir.” Oh man, did he want to play. He had so much pent-up tension he needed to relieve.
“Tell me your safe word.” Master Tony threaded his fingers into Jake’s hair and pulled. “Boy?”
“Eagle, sir, and I don’t want to use it.” Jake smiled. He looked Master Tony in the eye, knowing he’d earn a punishment. He hadn’t been spanked in a while and deserved to have his ass reddened.
“Cocky today.” Master Tony grabbed Jake’s cuffs and led him across the room. “Arms up.” He hooked the chain between the cuffs on a hanger above Jake’s head. “I like seeing you on display. Did you enjoy your stroll through the main playroom?”
“I did, sir.” Cool air wrapped around Jake. His nipples peaked, and his cock heated. The tingles started low in his belly and spread down his limbs. He gasped for breath. Although he kept his gaze low, through his peripheral vision he still saw Master Tony move across the room.
“You liked having other people look at your cock? Or did you feel shame?” Master Tony strode up to him and wrapped his fingers around Jake’s dick. “Who does this cock belong to?”
Jake shivered. “You, sir. My cock and the rest of me belongs to you.”
Get your rocks off however you want at Club Desire. We’re not easy and we’re not free, but we are discreet. Find your fantasy in the Club.
An actor with a mega-sized ego? Check. The role of a lifetime playing a submissive in a major motion picture? Check. A Dom with unlimited patience? There could be a problem with explosive results.
Dylan Tyler isn’t used to being told no. He’s the hottest actor in Hollywood with a long list of films to his credit. His specialty includes taking risks for his roles and immersing himself in the characters. He’s about to portray a submissive for his latest flick—except he knows nothing about the lifestyle. He’s at Club Desire to learn, but the line between performance art and life is blurring fast.
Ansen Moran knew from the beginning that Dylan wasn’t a typical client, but he’s the only Dom willing to tame the actor’s larger-than-life personality. He’s also not fond of actors. Ansen has his heart guarded from Dylan’s charms, but even the best laid plans blow up when emotions take control.
Dylan’s got one shot to learn from the best. Will he manage to please his Dom and realize the role of his life or lose everything in the process?
Dylan scrubbed both hands over his face. Fuck. He was so in over his head. He never should’ve accepted the role of Patrick in Drowning. All his dreams of being the dominant were crap, but he didn’t think portraying a submissive was wise, either. He couldn’t spank another human being—not even in fun. Wrapping someone in tape? Not going to happen. Could he handle those activities being done to him? He shuddered. Probably not.
“Dylan?” Master A dipped his head to look Dylan in the eye. His spiky hair glinted in the light. “What are you thinking? I can’t help until I know what’s going on in your mind.”
Dylan sighed. The relationship wouldn’t work with one-sided communication. He’d have to give a little. “I’m scared. Stupid as that sounds, I’m freaking terrified.”
“Of?”
“For one, you ask a thousand questions and I don’t know how to answer all of them. Two, I read something about hard and fast rules. I understand them, but I can’t wrap my head around what I saw. People actually call those activities pleasurable? I don’t get it. Three, I’m supposed to do some of this stuff on camera. I must be out of my God damned mind.”
“You’re an actor. You’re playing the part of someone who has been in that situation. It’s perfectly normal to be scared. I wasn’t perfect at my job for a long time.” Master A smiled. “It takes some getting used to and discovery. You won’t know some of your boundaries until you’ve played awhile.”
That made sense. He wasn’t necessarily jumping headlong into the lifestyle, but researching it. What scared Dylan the most was his growing desire to be in the place of the girl being spanked. He wanted to feel Master A’s hand on his ass and the burn of being hit. He’d always liked handcuffs and losing his sense of sight to a blindfold. Still…he needed a connection with Master A—something besides just a working relationship.
Get your rocks off however you want at Club Desire. We’re not easy and we’re not free, but we are discreet. Find your fantasy in the Club.
Coming clean and accepting what you want has never been this sexy.
Jordan Brody commands the landscape on the football field. His punt returns are legendary. What’s not so legendary? His sexuality. The hulking football player likes to be spanked and dominated, but he’s not comfortable explaining his needs—until he visits Club Desire. The visit just might signal the game changer he’s been looking for.
Simon Blue knows how to dominate and how to read people. The moment he sees the sexy football player, he’s transfixed. Taking on a sub isn’t in his game plan, but there’s something about Jordan that calls to Simon’s soul. He’s convinced that a little spanking, some rope and a lot of patience will help Jordan seek the peace he desires—if he can convince Jordan to trust and submit.
Will these two wounded souls charge down the field in the ultimate score or fumble before the game begins?
Article by article of clothing, Jordan stripped himself bare. Being naked didn’t bother him. The locker room afforded no privacy. After a win, the guys routinely slapped each other on the ass, back and chest in congratulations. After a loss? The rookies tended to bear the brunt of the frustration and anger. Anyone with less than two years in the league was hazed by the older players. Jordan had been with the Wild Cats for five years and had never participated in the hazing, but he’d been on the receiving end a couple of times. He’d had his locker stuffed with soiled uniforms, his belongings hidden from him and the inside of his locker plastered with pictures of naked women.
He’d laughed and brushed off the incidents, knowing he’d gotten off easy. The taunts lobbed at the rookies could be harsh. Sometimes there were scuffles. He’d kept his head down and focused on his football career.
But he wasn’t at the practice complex. He was in the middle of the club with Simon. No one would be making fun of him here.
Jordan folded his clothing and placed the garments in a neat pile on one end of the couch. He sat on the cushion. What was he supposed to do while he waited until Simon returned? The chilly air in the room wrapped around his body, and his balls tightened. His nipples hardened, and he fought off the desire to touch himself. Simon hadn’t said a word about masturbating.
Anticipation slid through his veins. He’d never been with a Dom before, but from what he’d seen in porno movies and what he’d heard from Rocke, a Dom wasn’t a bad thing. The man in charge would demand the events of the evening were on his terms.
Jordan could handle taking orders. But for how long? When would his sense of pride enter and scream to take over? When would he realize he was being a pansy by letting another man spank him?
Shit. He hated when the dark thoughts entered his mind.
Behind him, the door creaked. Jordan bowed his head. Did Simon expect him to show respect that way? Or should he drop to the floor on his knees? Was Simon even behind him?
“You’re quite colorful.” Simon placed his hand on Jordan’s back. His breath warmed Jordan’s skin. “Soon, I’ll have you explain each marking.”
Oh? He’d never told anyone about the art—not all of it. Even his tattoo artist didn’t know the meaning of many of the images.
Simon stroked his fingers up and down Jordan’s spine. “Interesting.” He strolled around Jordan, giving Jordan a chance to look at him again. Instead of the tight black T-shirt, Simon wore a black tank top. He crouched in front of Jordan.
“I can see the wheels turning in your mind. You’re not sure what’s about to go down. You’re keeping yourself guarded in case you do something you believe is stupid.” He curled his fingers under Jordan’s chin, forcing him to look Simon in the eye. “When we play, I have rules. Rule one is no secrets. Tell me everything. If something feels good, bad, hurts, makes you mad, whatever, you tell me.”
“Yes, sir.” Was he supposed to call Simon by his name or sir?
“Rule two is how you will address me. In a scene, you will call me S. Out of a scene, you may use my name.”
“Yes, S.”
“Good boy.”
Boy?
“Rule three is the boundaries. I will abide by your boundaries, but I reserve the right to push you when I feel you’re ready. I am here to make you happy and give you the release you desire.”
“Yes, S.”
“Rule number four concerns trust. I need your total trust. I respect you and will do my best to give you what you need. You must trust me that if I push, I’m doing it for a reason, not out of some perverse pleasure. You control what we do and when. Understand?”
“Yes, S.” Actually, he wasn’t sure he got what Simon meant. He’d been under the impression that the Dom ran the show. According to what Simon had said, the control was more or less in Jordan’s hands.
“You don’t look convinced.” Simon swiped his thumb across Jordan’s bottom lip. “If you use your safe word, we’ll stop. I respect you and your wishes. If you can handle offering up your control to me, I offer up mine to you, as well.”
“Thank you, S.” Jordan shivered. At least, he’d found a man who wanted to play equal. “What’s my safe word?”
“String bean.” A smile twitched on Simon’s lips. “Do you wish to back out?”
“Not a chance.” Hell, being under Simon’s care seemed like the most natural thing in the world. “I accept, and I’m grateful. Thank you, S.”
Get your rocks off however you want at Club Desire. We’re not easy and we’re not free, but we are discreet. Find your fantasy in the Club.
Mix one lanky shortstop with two brawny Doms and what do you get? A white hot good time.
On the baseball field, shortstop Rocke Houseman commands the crowd. They cheer as he makes plays and hits home runs. He loves his job in professional sports, but there’s something missing. He wants to be true to himself. When he tears up his knees during a critical play, his whole life is thrown into chaos. He turns to the one place he knows to find balance—Club Desire.
Carson and Jeremiah are a packaged deal. You deal with one, you deal with both. When the gutsy sub comes into Desire and wants a Dom, they step in to help him out. Rocke fits their bill—he’s athletic and lanky, but knows how to take direction. Can they help him work out his issues one ménage at a time? Or will the passion exploding amongst them be the final out?
The two men—he wasn’t sure who was Jeremiah and who was Carson—took him down a long hallway to a room. When the taller one opened the door, bright white light spilled into the darkened corridor.
“This is our room. First we talk then we play. Do you think you’re able to keep up with us?” The shorter of the two men leveled his gaze at Rocke. He stood only about an inch shorter than Rocke’s six foot frame. His jaw flexed as he stared at Rocke, and a tiny bit of scruff glimmered on his cheeks.
At this point, Rocke didn’t have anything to lose. He’d been pushed away by all but the last two Doms in the building. Rocke sighed and dipped his head. “I’d like to play.”
“Very well.” The taller one ushered him into the room. Unlike the other rooms, this particular room more resembled a bedroom. No BDSM bed or bar contraptions. There was just a plain bed with white sheets. Thick carpet muffled their footsteps as the Doms led him to a leather couch and armchair. The room reminded him more of an apartment than a play place.
“Before we get down to business, my name is Carson.” The taller one extended his hand. “This is my partner, Jeremiah. We’ve been together for eight years. We don’t take many subs, and when we do, it’s only one at a time. You are Rocke Houseman, correct? Sit.”
Something in Carson’s voice made Rocke want to comply. He debated sitting on the chair but only for a moment. This was a test—had to be. He knelt on the floor at their feet and bowed his head. Fuck. His knee screamed with pain, but he ignored the hurt. He’d never get better if he kept giving in to his injury.
“Very good but we don’t want you on the floor. Sit in the chair.” Carson perched on the edge of the sofa, and Jeremiah stood behind him with his arms folded. Where Jeremiah seemed to be covered in sleeves of tattoos, Carson was all pristine muscle. Carson leaned forward. “We could read the tablet and find out what your boundaries are, but we’d rather hear them from you.”
Rocke’s gaze vacillated between the two men. Most Doms didn’t want to talk. They read the dossier and went right into play. Rocke wobbled to his feet, careful not to wrench his knee, then sat on the armchair. The shards of pain subsided, and he laced his fingers together. Hopefully, Carson and Jeremiah hadn’t seen him wince.
“Go on,” Jeremiah prompted. The harness he wore bit into his muscled chest.
“I’m not a heavy player in the BDSM world. I’ve never tried most things. No inclination to.” Rocke shrugged. “My biggest kink is threesomes. I like a dick in my mouth and one in my ass. You can use a cock ring, cock cage, handcuff me, nipple clips or spank my ass red…I’m game. But no permanent marks. I can’t have anything that’ll show in the locker room.”
“Why?” Carson prompted.
Rocke shifted in his seat. The leather creaked beneath him. They’d find out sooner or later—don’t leave marks if you don’t want to have to explain them to everyone in detail. The locker room was worse than a newsroom. They had to know everything. But he needed to trust Carson and Jeremiah. Something about the pair made him want to take a chance. They didn’t seem like others in his past who’d wanted to exploit his waning celebrity status.
“I’m a professional baseball player. I’m the shortstop for the Falcons. Eight years with a .285 batting average—well, until I blew out my knee. ACL injury three games from the playoffs and we’re in first place in our division. Sucked.” Rocke groaned. He’d given away a lot of info.
“We saw that play. You’re lucky to be standing without crutches.” Jeremiah rounded the sofa and sat beside his partner. “And you still got the double play.”
“I did.” The tips of his ears burned. They’d seen him on the field? “I have to ask—who’s your favorite team?”
“Grizzlies,” Carson replied. “The team that took you out.”
“Ah.” Maybe, this wasn’t such a good idea. Rocke sank down in his seat. “They’re a formidable team. I wish I hadn’t gotten cocky.”
“You had to. It’s who you are.” Carson rubbed his chin with his index finger and thumb. “Who was your Dom before? We noticed you took a shine to Zane.”
“Everyone here.” Rocke snorted. The harder he’d tried to please a Dom, the faster he pushed them away. “You’ve probably heard all about me. I’m difficult.”
“How so?” Jeremiah reclined on the sofa and draped his arms across the back. “Details.”
Did they want to shame him? Jesus. “I like to talk. I don’t want to be demeaned. I’m not wild about wax and shit on my body.” His voice cracked, and the fury deep within him came to a head. “I want to be tied up and fucked. Use me like the God damn media does.”
He’d lost his temper. Fuck.
He couldn’t breathe. Rocke rested his head in his hands. “Sorry. I’m good at following orders, but I tend to top from the bottom. I’m hard to control, I guess.” They’d boot him just like the others. He might as well get up and leave…once his knee decided to cooperate. He closed his eyes and focused on controlling the pain in his soul. If he pushed the searing hurt deep, it wouldn’t bother him.
“Hard to control is in the eye of the beholder.” Carson placed his hand on Rocke’s thigh. “You may be one of the more challenging subs, but it’s not a death sentence. It simply means you haven’t found the right Doms—until now.”
Get your rocks off however you want at Club Desire. We’re not easy and we’re not free, but we are discreet. Find your fantasy in the club.
Ford Gehrig likes everything hard—his racing and his sex life. His career driving stock trucks is riding high. He’s a top performing rookie. Club Desire fulfills his needs for pain in his pleasure. But even a strong man has his breaking point. His wounds run deep and won’t be easy to overcome. Will the club be his salvation or his downfall?
Master Zane knows the rough side of the club well. He’s been at Desire longer than many of the Doms. Few subs turn his head like Ford. He wants the hot blond on his table, against his cross and in his bed. Nothing at the club comes easily, but Zane’s not one to give up. Will he be able to pierce the protective walls around Ford’s heart, or will his own past be the barrier he can’t destroy?
Only time, some cuffs and a few spankings will tell if this tied desire is meant to last.
“Stand. I want you to sit on the couch with me.” Zane offered his hand.
Albeit tentatively, Ford cooperated. He rose and followed the Master to the oversized leather sofa. For the first time since he’d entered Zane’s private space, he glanced around. Instead of the stark look of T’s room, this one was decorated in rich burgundys and navys. A couple floor lamps provided light. The standard bondage bed and a mattress on a platform completed the otherwise lush look.
“We need to talk. Please sit.” Zane’s words forced Ford to look at him. “Were you happy with T?”
Ford eased down beside Zane, not touching the larger man. Should he answer honestly? Might as well. “I enjoyed our time together.”
But I’d rather he’d have been you. Oh shit. He couldn’t admit that.
Ford allowed himself to ogle Zane. Full muscle in every part of his body, his arms were both sleeved in tattoos and a thick leather X crisscrossed his sculpted chest. A barbell decorated his right nipple. His leather pants molded around his strong legs.
For the first time since Ford had come to Desire, he looked Zane in the face. Scruff darkened his thin cheeks and dark lashes ringed his eyes. His black hair stood in spikes and twin earrings dangled from his left ear. He didn’t have telltale smile lines around his mouth. Didn’t the man grin at anything? Ford doubted Zane could be sad with all of the sexy men and women at his disposal.
Zane’s brown eyes narrowed, and the crinkles formed at his brow. “Somehow, I don’t believe you enjoyed being with T.” He trailed his fingers down Ford’s cheek. “He claims you get off on name calling and degradation. I don’t buy that. I can see you getting off on the power shift, but not the other. You seem too timid—in a good way—for that harsh of treatment.”
Ford pressed his lips together to keep from gawking. In less than a minute, Zane had read him well. “You’re correct, Sir.”
“I want to start there. I’ve watched you in action. I know what you like and don’t like, but I want to hear you tell me your boundaries.”
“No needles or blood. I’m squeamish. Don’t choke me or abuse me. I can take pain, and I’ll use my safe word when I get to my limits.” Ford held his head high. “I enjoy the paddle, being restrained and sucking cock.”
“Very good.” Zane curled his fingers beneath Ford’s chin. “What’s your safe word?”
“Biscuit, Sir.”
“Nice.” Zane nodded. “Since T has seen fit to toss you back into the submissive pool, I’m stepping in. You’re mine. Do you wish to play?”
All of Ford’s desires and fantasies were coming true. Sure, he hadn’t wanted to part with T, but if he could spend time with Zane, then perfect. Ford wished he’d worn appropriate clothing for a scene, but who cared. He didn’t. Time to channel his sorrow into something sexy.
Ford placed the still full beer bottle on the floor, folded his hands and bowed his head. “Yes, Sir. I’d like to play.”
Can love spark from the ashes of a past relationship?
Jon Fox has given up on love. He’s a writer who loves his privacy and his need to create his art. He has the perfect life, a breezy penthouse and the need to dominate, but he’s alone. He’s got a crush on Ainsley, but he can’t date the best friend of his ex-boyfriend, can he?
Ainsley Carter is in Cleveland for the summer to create the sets for a local production of Romeo and Juliet. He can’t wait to see Jon again. He yearns to be dominated by Jon and kindle the sparks he feels every time he sees him. He’s got the key to the penthouse, but will he also land the key to Jon’s heart?
He’s got all summer to find out.
Reader advisory: This book contains reference to an attempted suicide.
“The thing is, I’m staying at a hotel downtown, but it’s expensive. Leo, in his infinite wisdom, decided he had a better idea and gave me the pass to park in your building as well as your penthouse key. He said I should stay with you because it’d be cheaper.” Ainsley tensed. “He practically begged me to take the key.”
“Uh-huh,” Jon said, repeating himself. He didn’t doubt Leo would push Ainsley, but he did wonder why Leo would push him and Ainsley together. Maybe he’d better call Leo.
“I’d rather stay with a friend than a hotel,” Ainsley said.
Ainsley wasn’t a helpless man. Not by a long shot. He freelanced in the theater circles doing lighting and sets for whatever production needed him. Hell, he was in high demand because his sets were always so realistic without being expensive. He knew how to run a business and keep his bills in check. Jon stared at him a bit longer. Ainsley might not be helpless, but looking at him in the harness and jockstrap, he seemed so sad. Part of Jon wanted to say no. He’d turned the spare bedroom into his own dungeon and the den was his office. Besides, he liked his privacy. But… Ainsley wasn’t a stranger and wouldn’t be shocked by the room of toys and floggers.
“I’m sorry. I’ve overstepped.” Ainsley stood. “Forget I asked.”
“Did you come here to see me?” Jon said, his voice firm. He needed to know Ainsley’s motivations.
“No. I came here for stress relief. Good God. People don’t understand I can direct them with sets and give them plans for the lighting, but I can’t do everything and I’m not a miracle worker. They have to help and I needed a break.” Ainsley snorted. “I hoped I’d run into you, but the odds weren’t in my favor.”
“I guess not.” Ainsley had bruised his ego just a tad.
“I understand if you don’t want the pain in the ass.” Ainsley shook his head. “Forget I asked. I’ll give Leo the key and pass back.”
“Slow down.” Although he wanted to continue the conversation, seeing Ainsley so subservient and hot in his harness and jockstrap made concentration almost impossible. “I could be convinced.”
“Jon?” Ainsley’s eyes widened.
“I have rules, you know.”
“I’m listening.”
He snorted. Their conversation reminded him of negotiations before a scene. “I spend a lot of time on the patio and I prefer to sleep naked. I write naked, too.” He dipped his head once. “I need privacy.”
“Meaning?”
“No unexpected guests.” He hated having to get dressed because someone had decided to visit.
“Understood.”
“I turned the guest room into a play space and my office is the former den. All I can offer you for sleeping space is the sofa in the living room,” Jon said. “Is that viable for you?”
“I can do that.”
He wasn’t arguing? Good. “So Leo gave you the key?”
“And the parking permit.”
Jesus Christ, he could kick Leo. “You really need a place to stay?”
“Yeah. The hotel is eating up my paycheck. I’ll gladly kick in for rent and food.” Ainsley laced his fingers together. “I know my place.”
He should argue and barter more, but he wanted someone there. He saw possibilities with Ainsley. “Fine.”
“You’re okay with me being there?”
“Yeah. I’ll manage.” He tamped down his giddiness. He’d wanted Ainsley alone for so long. Having him over could be good and allow them to get closer. “Why don’t you come over tonight and we’ll get you set up?”
Ménage, M/F/M, M/M/F, M/M, BDSM, Toys, Spanking, Bondage, Anal Sex
Novella
Clint Jordan has been the oddball in his family. He’s the oldest, but has no desire to run the family business. He’s in love with Ronan, despite his mother’s determination to find him a wife. Plus, he wants to share a sub with Ronan. Is there someone out there who can fit their needs and bring them together?
Zari’s running from a past that won’t go away. She needs stability and two men who will cherish her… while giving her a good paddling. When she meets Ronan and Clint, she’s convinced they’re meant to own her. Will these two committed men have space in their life for her?
Ronan got more than he bargained for when he became Clint’s lover. He’s not only with Clint, but he’s under the rule of the Jordan family. Once Zari enters the equation, he’s forced to admit his true feelings for Clint and accept what he needs from Zari. But things aren’t always the way they seem. Zari comes with baggage, and Clint’s determined to make the triad work. Will Ronan accept their terms or walk away?
Peter Pan was supposed to be the boy who never grew up. Then Neverland blew sky high. Now he’s very much an adult and playing adult games. There’s one woman he wants for his bed, his cuffs, his toys… yeah, he’s ready to do all sorts of naughty things to Wendy. If he can find her.
Wendy Darling never expected Peter to come back. She’d grown up and moved on — to write white-hot BDSM tales. Can her perfect Dom be the one man she never thought she’d see all grown up?
“Is that a trick question?” Her resistance blew all to hell. She’d keep her heart behind a wall, but she’d let him have his way with her body.
“I’ve got a better idea.” He pulled her into his lap, having her straddle his thighs. “I’ve been away for too many nights. I owe you so much more than just a tour of a sex club for the Fae to fuck humans. I want you to see I’m all grown up. I want more than a business partner or a lover. I want you.”
Wendy trailed her fingertips down his chest. The heat in his groin matched the need settling between her legs. She had to say something to test him one more time. “Don’t say what you don’t mean. You’re not dressed to stick around.”
Peter tugged the elastic from her hair and combed his fingers the tangled strands. “That’s better. I land on my feet, remember? I’ll manage.” He sniffed the air. “Do you realize you smell like lemon?”
“Toilet cleaner. Sexy, I know.” She rolled her eyes. “If you’d showed up half an hour later, I’d probably smell like the peony shower gel I use.”
“I don’t know. Lemon can be very sexy on the right woman.” He brushed a lock of her hair from her eyes. “You wear it well.”
“I do?”
“You wear it very well.” He threaded his fingers in the hair at the base of her neck. “Very, very well.”
His breath warmed her skin, and she fisted his shirt in her hand. Peter captured her mouth in a kiss. The tingles shot from her lips to her heart, to her toes, and back. His tongue speared between her lips. Wendy sucked on him, simulating sex with his tongue.
Peter broke the kiss first, but didn’t relent from her. “You taste like sin,” he puffed.
“Sin has a taste?”
“Considering you write about sex, I’d think you’d know.” Peter swatted her ass with the flat of his hand. “Take off your shirt. I want to see you.”
The tingle on her ass combined with the grit in his voice and resonated to her core. She yanked the shirt up over her head and tossed the discarded garment across the room.
Peter buried his face in her chest and groaned. His day-old whiskers scraped against her lace-covered breasts. Cream slickened her panties. He reached behind her and flicked the clasp on her bra. “I want this gone.” He heaved the bra in the same direction as her shirt. “That’s better. If I had my way, you’d never wear one again.”
The chill of the night caressed her bare breasts. She shivered. Peter rubbed his cheek on her chest again and bit down on her nipple. Streaks of pleasure-pain ripped through her body. She tensed and smoothed her palms along his arms. Absorbed in the moment, she rocked on his lap and whimpered.
“Stop.”
Wendy froze. Anticipation ricocheted through her veins. This was the part she loved — her lover exerting control and her not knowing what he’d do next.
Dashiell “Dash” Jordan runs the city of Shaker with an iron fist. Whatever he wants, he gets — except the woman he craves, who hasn’t been available. He’s waited long enough, and nothing will stop him, not even her bastard ex-husband or her con artist father. But once Dash sets his sights on her, will she allow herself to be owned, or will she walk away a second time?
Christy Lane never loved anyone the way she did Dash. She knew the danger of being with him, but she didn’t care. Then Dash left her. She tried to put her life back together, but that life included marriage to a perpetual cheater, being thrown out of her father’s church, and working in the only job she can get — stripping. Then Dash reappears. The memories of their life together rush back — the scenes, the passion and craving. She doesn’t want to be a plaything, but he’s offering her the world. Will she allow him to own her or end their second chance before she’s hurt again?
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Dash turned the paper over without really looking at it, then flattened the page. He noticed the photos of exotic dancers in an advertisement for one of the clubs. The girls weren’t his type of woman, but he appreciated beauty. Maybe this week she’d be one of the featured dancers.
“Well, they want two hundred thousand, but because it’s vacant, we can talk them down,” Clint said. “A hundred-fifty thousand is more reasonable.”
“Why, if you know what to do and can get the price down, aren’t you negotiating? Clint, I’m one of your only clients.” None of the dancers caught his fancy, but he kept looking. He’d found proof Christy was stripping in one of the clubs, but hadn’t come across her yet. “Well? You should be in the business with me. We should be a team.”
“Because I don’t want to live with the danger. I like being legitimate,” Clint said. “But I’m already negotiating. They’re coming down on the price, so stay tuned.”
“Danger isn’t the only thing I live with.” He doubted Clint got death threats or was shot at on a regular basis. He turned the page of the paper. A slew of ads for strip clubs decorated the space. He looked over the images of the dancers for the one he wanted. There she was, right where he’d expected her to be — Chastity Lane at the X-Caliber Club. Time to visit. “Do you know the X-Caliber Club?”
“Dash.” Clint groaned. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you? And no, I don’t. I’ve never been to a strip club. Father made sure my handlers didn’t take me to one. Why?”
“I heard nothing past a hundred-fifty thousand. If you can get the deal going, do it,” Dash said. “I’ve gone to a couple clubs, but not the X-Caliber.” He remembered how his father sheltered Dash’s oldest brother. Their father wanted Clint to stay clean and be the face of the family. Good for public relations, but bad because the family had never left the nightclub business. Clint had a head for real estate, but not running the string of entertainment hotspots.
