Howling for More by Bailey Bradford
General Release Date: 14th December 2021
Word Count: 37,200
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
MÉNAGE AND MULTIPLE PARTNERS
Bowen’s used to life as a lone wolf. He has the occasional hook-up, but rarely with the same man twice. Chiz is an exception to his rule, and one night’s adventure that neither of them expected forces Bowen to see Chiz as more than just a pretty sub he can scratch his itch for rough sex with.
Chiz has his own rules for getting off with guys. His secret crush on Bowen was supposed to remain just that—a secret—until the one night that changes everything, and hiding things is impossible.
Then there’s Dare, the big tough bar owner who has questions for Bowen and Chiz and whose attraction to them is too strong to resist…and is just as powerful as the feelings Bowen and Chiz have for him.
But giving in to the overpowering sexual pull makes Bowen lose control of his wolf—an act that changes not only his fate but Chiz’s and Dare’s too.
Can their relationship survive what they unleash?
Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence and death, references to non-nurturing parenting and a scene of turning into a shifter without prior discussion.
Publisher’s note: This book was originally published as Bowen’s Battle. It has been revised to become the first in a new shifter series for Pride Publishing.
Sex. The scent of it hung heavy in the air of the club’s restroom—which was probably a good thing. Bowen sighed as he leaned against one wall, nearly bumping elbows with the guy on the left of him.
Kneeling at Bowen’s feet was Chiz, one of his occasional hook-ups when neither man had someone else to fuck around with.
Bowen had been in a dry spell for a few months. Work on the ranch had taken up all his time, the birthing of the foals and caring for the horses more important than his own libido.
But tonight, he needed to get off with someone else rather than all alone, and Chiz obviously felt the same way.
Chiz opened his mouth and sucked the tip of Bowen’s cockhead in while looking up at Bowen through thick blond-tipped lashes. Chiz flicked his tongue, and Bowen bit back a moan. He wasn’t going to last long tonight, not after how long it had been for him, and now with Chiz’s very talented mouth working his dick.
Bowen braced one hand on Chiz’s shoulder, the other on the wall and began to thrust, knowing it was okay to do so. Chiz’s lashes fluttered, then he closed his eyes and sucked Bowen off with an enthusiasm that likely made every other man getting sucked off in the bathroom jealous.
Bowen clenched both hands, wishing he could just grab Chiz’s blond hair and use it to hold his head still. Bowen liked wielding control while having sex, but it wasn’t something he did often. Certainly not with one-night stands.
Though, he had messed around with Chiz a handful of times, at least.
Still, they weren’t friends, just two guys getting off together.
But would it hurt to—
Bowen shut off that stream of thought. Now was neither the time nor place for him to decide to get all…whatever. He hissed as pleasure raced throughout his body. His balls drew tight, and his groin burned with the beginnings of his climax.
Chiz deep-throated him again, and that was it. Bowen let go, let his orgasm burst free and shoot in hot jets down Chiz’s throat.
“I think we’re gonna have us a turn at that mouth and ass.”
Bowen’s eyes had almost closed when he heard that comment. He slipped his hand from Chiz’s shoulder to his nape, the automatic need to protect rising quickly and stomping out any lingering sexual bliss.
The bathroom had grown less crowded—except for the three men standing in a half-circle, blocking off the exit.
Bowen growled and didn’t give two shits about his own cock flopping free as he tightened his clasp on Chiz. “Whatever you dumb fucks are thinking, unthink it. You ain’t touching him.”
The biggest man, a grizzled, ugly guy who looked like he needed a shower or three, smirked at Bowen. “And who says we was talking about him?”
Well, Bowen would rather avoid a fight altogether, but if those three shitheels were going to be coming after either him or Chiz, Bowen would rather be the target.
“Aw, Earl! That guy can suck dick!”
“Shut up, Killer.” Earl didn’t look away from Bowen.
“Killer?” Chiz muttered against Bowen’s shaft. “Seriously?” He tried to turn his head.
Bowen’s fight instincts were engaging. He had a feeling there’d be no easy-outs tonight.
And his daddy had always told him to get in the first punch.
The scent of danger was in the air, and Bowen couldn’t ignore it, not that he would have tried. Instincts existed for a reason, or at least his did.
In a second, he had Chiz behind him and was lunging at Earl, the leader of the pack of idiots. Bowen managed to get his dick tucked into his underwear while swinging hard with his left hand.
He was fast, too fast for a burly, out-of-shape man like Earl to escape. His fist connecting with Earl’s jaw felt pretty damned good.
Sex and violence…the two were linked sometimes. Bowen wouldn’t examine that very closely, not if he could help it.
Earl’s head jerked to the side. Blood and spit flew from his mouth as all hell broke loose in the restroom.
And maybe Bowen should have thought out his attack a little better, because Earl didn’t go down, and his two buddies shot past Bowen.
He had to protect Chiz—Chiz was small-boned, almost delicately built, and all three men were…none of those things.
Bowen kicked Earl in the balls, and the big fool went down with a high-pitched screech. Bowen spun around and grabbed both men by the backs of their shirts. He pulled and ripped the material, then had to grab at them again.
One of them—Killer, he thought—went flying backward. The other, Bowen clutched at, spun around then punched in the gut.
Bowen caught a flash of Chiz shooting up and lunging away. At first, Bowen thought Chiz was running for the door.
But no. Killer was flung against the wall beside the man Bowen was trying to take down.
Chiz was there, moving so fast with punches and martial arts moves that Bowen couldn’t keep up with what he was doing.
Especially not when Bowen nearly got kneed in the balls.
He focused on the fight he was in, avoiding damage to his family jewels, taking a hard slug to the ribs, then elbowing his opponent in the gut before using an uppercut to finally take the fucker out.
By then, Chiz was standing, hands on his slender hips, tapping one foot.
Bowen looked at him head-on.
Chiz nodded. “Wasn’t sure if you’d need help.”
Bowen almost laughed at that. He’d held back a lot of his strength since he didn’t want to end up in prison for murder.
Chiz scowled at him. “I can take care of myself. I’m not some delicate flower, here.”
“Yeah, I get that, but maybe we should leave before these fuckwits regain consciousness?” Bowen suggested. His knuckles burned, the skin raw and abraded, but it’d be healed up in no time at all.
“Probably.” Chiz wrinkled his nose as he glanced at the men. “Ugh. I hope they aren’t thinking they’ll be regulars here.” Then he canted his head and grinned at Bowen. “And I didn’t get to come. I’m pretty sure you’re not a psycho-serial killer, so, um, if you want to go back to my place, we could do that.”
Bowen’s first impulse was to say no, but he checked it. First things first—he and Chiz needed to get out of there.
“Come on.” Bowen took Chiz by the elbow.
“Not a delicate flower,” Chiz muttered, but he didn’t pull away.
“Nah, you kicked ass. What were you doing?” Bowen asked as he led Chiz out of the restroom.
“Fighting,” Chiz replied. “Duh.”
Bowen cut him a narrow look. “Anyone ever spanked you?”
“I refuse to answer that,” Chiz drawled, “on account of I’d have to explain where the bodies were. Hypothetically, of course.”
That startled a laugh out of Bowen. “Is that so? ’Cause I think you’d like it.”
“Right. The younger, delicate little twink—”
“You got a hang-up over that delicate part,” Bowen observed, interrupting Chiz while opening the restroom door. “Don’t ya?”
Chiz sniffed and pulled his arm free. “Do not.”
Bowen laughed again. How was it he hadn’t known Chiz was so feisty?
’Cause all I’ve ever seen him as is a way to get off. Wow. I’m an asshole. Though, to be fair, I don’t think Chiz’s seen me any differently.
The club was still packed, but several people looked their way when Bowen and Chiz left the restroom. Bowen’s anger sparked. “Those fuckin’ assholes watching us knew we were gonna be jumped.”
“Probably,” Chiz agreed. “A pox on all of them. May their urethras be inflamed and burn with the stings of a thousand wasps.”
“Fuck.” That made Bowen’s dick ache.
Chiz grinned. “I could flip them off, if you want to fight some more?”
“Rather not.” Bowen’s pulse escalated, not at the idea of fighting, but at the mischievous way Chiz was acting. He was interesting, not just attractive.
Chiz shrugged. “Okay, your call. You wanna come back to mine? I’d like to get off a few times tonight.”
Oh damn! A few times? How stupid had Bowen been, not chatting with Chiz more until now?
“Yeah, let’s do that.” Bowen licked his suddenly dry lips. He’d just come not five minutes ago, and he was already close to getting hard again.
Chiz winked at him. “Cool. Maybe I’ll let you slap my ass a time or two.”
That was a gauntlet thrown down. Bowen ghosted a hand over Chiz’s ass. “Maybe I’ll let you beg me to.”
Chiz narrowed his eyes at Bowen. “Beg you to?”
But Chiz’s pulse sped up. Bowen could see it fluttering at the base of his neck and he noted the flare of Chiz’s nostrils and the beginning of an erection pressing against the fly of his pants.
“What the hell’s going on?” roared someone from the back of the club. Literally, Bowen thought, from the back, where there might be offices or something. He didn’t know. He just came there to get laid and wasn’t buddies with anyone.
“Seems like a good time to split,” Chiz said. He grasped Bowen’s hand. “Because that sounds like one pissed-off man, and I’ve heard stories about the guy who owns this place.”
“Oh?” Bowen was curious, but Chiz tugged, and Bowen followed.
“Yup, and you don’t want to fight any more tonight, right?”
“Right.” Bowen would much rather fuck, and Chiz was…interesting.
About the Author
A native Texan, Bailey spends her days spinning stories around in her head, which has contributed to more than one incident of tripping over her own feet. Evenings are reserved for pounding away at the keyboard, as are early morning hours. Sleep? Doesn’t happen much. Writing is too much fun, and there are too many characters bouncing about, tapping on Bailey’s brain demanding to be let out.
Caffeine and chocolate are permanent fixtures in Bailey’s office and are never far from hand at any given time. Removing either of those necessities from Bailey’s presence can result in what is known as A Very, Very Scary Bailey and is not advised under any circumstances.
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