Lissa prefers reading to cutting loose, but is willing to do whatever it takes to get the juiciest assignments for her job at a major travel magazine. Her chance finally arrives. She’s set to experience a posh Caribbean resort, a dream article and review except for one huge problem. It’s the anything goes theme week where nudity is expected and lusty hook-ups make threesomes look downright tame. Holy Hell. What has she gotten herself into?
Precisely what resort owner Jon Thorne thinks. Tall, dark, and luscious, he fears the randy male guests will eat her alive, resulting in a lousy review. His only option is to serve as her guide for every decadent delight from nude body painting to Dom’s Den where submission and punishment rule. Unless she wants to call the whole thing off…
And lose her chance with him, plus give up this gig? Dream on. Tempted beyond anything she’s known, she matches his passion and then some, surprising him during a sexy adventure like no other.
Shelby entered first, model tall and slender, dressed in a light green sheath that complemented her long, blonde hair. Her pretty face could have graced a teen magazine, the faint freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks adding to her youthful appearance.
She stepped aside.
A young woman stood behind her, her hair shoulder-length and partially pulled back. Several tresses hung free from her ponytail. The chestnut color proved rich, a contradiction to her pale complexion.
While her clothing…
Her loose-fitting beige pants and long-sleeved white top weren’t on par with the “anything goes” theme week, but the extensive material didn’t completely hide her curves.
He dragged his gaze back up to her glasses. They gave her an intelligent and serious vibe that also didn’t belong on this island.
She regarded the tan marble and gold trimming in here, graceful eyebrows arching.
The opulence was more than he preferred but impressed the partners. Confused as to why she’d followed Shelby inside, he glanced at her and mouthed, “who is she?”
She mouthed, “The writer.”
No way. He’d expected a guy. In fact, he needed an uber-extroverted one for a great review during the anything goes week, which got down and dirty fast. Not a woman who dressed like a librarian attending a spiritual retreat.
As a rule, he never judged. Taking a second look, he was surprised to find her pretty, her brown or hazel eyes and pouty mouth holding promise as to the possible fire smoldering inside. Possible being the operative word. She hadn’t breezed into here confident and ready for sin. Not a good sign for her enjoying the intimate events at the resort.
Shelby cleared her throat. “Lissa, this is Jon Thorne, the owner. Jon, this is Lissa Nelms, the writer from Exploration magazine.”
Lissa regarded the plush leather chairs, sofa, and his massive desk, then met his gaze.
Her cheeks pinked up, as they hadn’t earlier, lips parting, surprise or wonder flooding her features.
He wasn’t certain why her reaction to him was so intense … except it looked genuine. Maybe. Ever since Mackenzie had put one over on him, after the years they’d spent together, he couldn’t be sure about anything. Remembering his manners, he stood.
After taking him in from top to bottom, Lissa returned to his mouth, then his eyes. “Good afternoon.”
Her voice was surprisingly throaty. Sexy as hell.
His face and chest heated, a first during a business meeting or with any woman. Even those who’d been attracted to him hadn’t shown the same awe she did. Flattering, sure, but still… “Hi.” He rounded his desk and offered his hand.
She gripped it firmly, her fingers softer than a rose petal, her fragrance subtly sweet, gold flecks in her hazel eyes.
Nice. He stroked her thumb.
Her face flamed.
Time to stop touching her.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tina is an Amazon and international bestselling novelist who writes romance for every taste – ‘heat with heart’ – for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly,Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three of her erotic novelswere Readers’ Choice Award winners. Another three were named finalists in the EPIC competition. One of her erotic contemporary romances was chosen Book of the Year at the French review site Blue Moon reviews. The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love Loves Books was created specifically for one of her erotic romances. Two of her titles received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition.Another two won second place in the NEC RWA contest (different years). Tina is featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.
When Chloe inherits her Great Aunt Antonia’s legacy — a mysterious trunk filled with lovely lingerie — her life takes an unforeseen turn. The beautiful old undergarments have magical powers — and a mind of their own. For the first time in her life, Chloe finds herself irresistible to men. But there’s only one man Chloe wants — and that man just happens to be world famous rock star Slade Brandt — Sam Brandenburg, her high school crush.
Fame has its price, and Sam has his own demons to battle. Caught up in his own myth, he can’t seem to escape. The way things are going, stardom may cost him his sanity — or his life. He’s slipping farther and farther into the dangerous underground world of freaky BDSM role-playing — and he’s about to sacrifice himself to a cult of real life wannabe vampires. Chloe knows she’s his last hope. Can she save Sam from the thing Slade’s become?
Chloe Carlyle stared at the man who moved across the club as if he owned it. Slade Brandt walked the walk of someone who knew who he was and where he was headed — straight to the top.
And why not? He’d always been that way, even back in high school, when he was known as Sam Brandenburg. It was just Sam’s nature to be assured and cool. He’d been cool enough to set up a garage band and practice until they got it right. Smart enough to change his name and enter a Battle of the Bands contest sponsored by the local radio station. And though his band didn’t win, he’d been savvy enough to get noticed and land a contract based on both talent and raw sex appeal.
Oh, yeah, Slade Brandt definitely qualified as a babe magnet. Even in high school when his looks were adolescent and stringy, he’d still been a catch. He’d had some intangible magnetism that inspired a girl’s hormones to flutter.
Back then Chloe had been a bookworm, complete with glasses and watery faded blue eyes. Her body had matured late and never quite lost its baby fat. Sam was two grades ahead of her and out of her league even then.
The first time he’d noticed her, she’d humiliated herself. She’d dropped her books. When he handed them back, Chloe was so surprised she gasped, and her gum fell on his shoe! She’d mumbled a garbled “Thanks” that came out more like a burp.
Some impression she’d made…
Eight years later, Slade Brandt’s latest single was number two on the charts with a bullet, his last album had gone platinum, and he traveled with his own handpicked musicians now… and naturally, the groupies. But he hadn’t forgotten his roots. When he wasn’t on tour he always came home to visit his family.
And Slade still frequented the club that had given him his break.
Now he was about to honor that very club with a performance — a nod to his beginnings — and the place was packed. In a standing room crowd only, Chloe ended up plastered against the wall, hoping something about her would stick out, light up — somehow attract Slade’s attention. But why would it? She’d never lost that baby fat. She still lacked the sparkle and shine that attracted a man’s attention.
So Chloe had to make do with watching Slade as he leaned back, casually lounging in his booth of honor, an eager groupie tucked under each arm. The blonde on his left scooted closer and Chloe just knew her thigh pressed against Slade’s. The dark-skinned girl to his right was older. She turned her eager lips to Slade’s neck, nuzzling him. He obliged by giving her a French kiss that was blatantly for show. His tongue moved slowly into her mouth, then enthusiastically worked to and fro.
Chloe hated both girls. She didn’t know them, but that didn’t matter. She hated what they represented — the perfect body, heavy in the boobs, small waist, tight ass. They wore barely anything and Slade let them slobber and hang all over him. He probably fucked them both, too — at the same time. She’d read in one of the tabloids that he liked his girls two on one.
Chloe watched him finish the kiss with the dark brunette and turn to the blonde. Slade’s long dark hair fell to his shoulders. He pushed it back and bent to nuzzle at the busty young woman’s chest.
Someone snapped a picture and he laughed. Another flash went off and a bodyguard stepped in front of Slade to keep it from becoming a paparazzi feeding frenzy. Chloe wondered what it would be like to have her picture splashed under a headline for anyone to see in a checkout line. “Slade’s new girl. The love of his life, he vows.”
Chloe chuckled and sipped her piña colada. Fat chance. Even if both girls hanging onto Slade stitched their clothes together, she still wouldn’t fit into them. She heard the announcer give Slade his intro. The blonde scooted out of the booth and Slade slipped out, his faded jeans sinfully tight on his buff physique. Oh, he’d changed since high school — and all for the sexier. He oozed a fucking pheromone that made all the girls wet. Chloe knew it. Her own panties were sopping despite the cotton absorbent crotch.
She wished she could wear those wispy little thongs that women always threw on stage for Slade to pick up. If the panty donor looked particularly buxom or beautiful in that naturally sexy way Slade preferred, he’d sniff the undies and grin wolfishly. Then a bouncer would approach the lucky lady and escort her backstage for Slade’s own session of fan appreciation.
Oh, yeah, she knew how it worked. She’d dreamed of being one of those women since Slade had been plain ol’ Sam, but even back then, she hadn’t stood a chance. Now as he stepped on stage and the crowd roared, she sure as hell didn’t have an ice cube’s chance in Hell.
Ciarra Sims is one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for. She lives a plain and simple life in Southern California with her pets, and tries to stay out of trouble. Her writing may be comedic or scary, depending on her mood… or it may sway toward a Regency or even a western… whatever tickles her fancy at the time. Ciarra’s writing philosophy is: “Not to fall into a rut. Keep the reader and yourself wondering, ‘What’s next?'”
For those with the courage to surrender completely, Monique’s elite BDSM club offers the freedom to explore the darkness within.
Don’t Let Go: Troy’s ex called his desire to be dominated twisted. Divorced, shamed, and stripped bare of his assets, Troy is gifted with a three-day pass to Monique’s, Baltimore’s elite BDSM club. He hopes to discover the depths of his desires, not fall for Jaycie, the Domme with a turbulent past in her eyes.
Don’t Give In: The dominance in the stranger’s eyes reminds Stacey Lahren of her secret, dark desires, and the lifestyle she once dreamed of. One she refuses to give in to. Will Stacey have the courage to surrender herself to Devon, or will her need for a safe life keep them from the one thing they both long for?
Don’t Hold Back: Kelly secretly crushes on the man who rides the elevator with her every morning. Jamison holds his own dark desires. He wants a collared sub, a woman to enjoy the mutual pleasure his ropes bring. He knows he can set Kelly free, but can she find the courage to submit her body — and heart?
I knelt in the middle of the dungeon-like room as I’d seen on the countless BDSM websites I’d been studying the past month, exactly like they’d shown us new subs at the introduction class the evening before. Butt naked, dick already at half-mast because I finally had the chance to explore the darkness inside of me that had killed my ten-year marriage.
As CEO of a prominent software company, I took pride in my self-control and stoic nature. Being a bastard had gotten me up the rung to where I sat comfortably behind a glass desk with windows overlooking Baltimore’s skyline. It had also earned me a nasty divorce a year earlier when my ex-wife took over half of what we owned, leaving me with a broken heart and near-empty bank accounts. At least a constant work load since then had gotten me closer to where I’d been before she’d attempted to wipe me out.
I studied my hands resting on my bare thighs. Springy hair tickled my palms. While the hair on my body remained a dark blond, the previous two years of hell had shot gray through the thick strands on my head and the scruff I couldn’t keep from lining my jaw.
Forty-three and already fucking gray. Wouldn’t help my chance at dating — if I ever got the balls to put myself out there again. I’d been celibate for over a year. Dead inside, unable to give two shits about anything but work, unable to get it up, too. I also didn’t have the energy to get involved, let alone think of dating.
Familiar exhaustion tugged on my eyelids, and I let them close while waiting for the Domme the club’s owner had booked me with for the night — Mistress Jaycie. A woman I’d never met, a woman I was going to let control me in whatever way she wanted.
Time to give over. Time to explore my lust for pain and hopefully float into that mysterious subspace I’d been reading about.
My dick twitched at the thought of pure, empty-headed euphoria.
Would the Domme I’d been paired with have a heavy hand? Would she be beautiful? Did I even care? I just wanted — craved — submission, the type that would erase the shit in my mind for a while and maybe get my rocks off.
My ex had been vanilla, same as I’d always been, and when I got the urge to introduce something new in the bedroom, she’d looked at me with disgust. Hell, I’d only suggested handcuffs and ropes, hoping she’d agree so we could eventually move on to what I really wanted.
No such fucking luck.
I breathed deep and exhaled my thoughts along with the lungful of used-up air. The silence coating the dim, private scening room at Monique’s club in downtown Baltimore soothed me. Even if it turned out the BDSM lifestyle wasn’t for me, I’d at least have gotten to experience a semi-hard dick again.
A click sounded as the door opened, and I kept my head and gaze lowered as I’d been instructed in the class. Awareness crept over my skin like an electrical charge as heels clicked on hardwood. My heartbeat accelerated. The subtle scent of oranges hit my nose as black leather stiletto boots came into my line of sight.
Hot as fuck. I bit back my groan as my cock thickened. I swallowed against sudden nervousness, something I hadn’t experienced since my teenage years.
“Hmm…” she murmured. The boots rounded to my left, disappearing in my periphery. “On your feet, slave.” Her low, husky voice prickled my skin, bringing my dick to full attention.
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of hot romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
There’s a shift of power happening in Hell, and nothing will ever be the same.
Kerr has been with High Demon Horatio’s household since his age of majority. A natural submissive pleasure demon, for the last seven years he has been untouched by his master Horatio and his job has morphed into a more managerial role. Still, it’s a shock when goons from Master Belial’s house arrive at his doorstep to inform him he’s been sold and his new master expects him to come immediately.
Lost by Horatio in a card game, Kerr finds himself in the Belial household, where Ceris, Master of the Harem, takes Kerr under his wing. Kerr is not only honored and used as he was made to be, but he is given a newly acquired demon, Harmony, as his own to train. The three pleasure demons have a rocky start, but they have all the time in Hell to figure out how to work together, and it isn’t long before they begin to care for one another.
Meanwhile, Belial has waited for thousands of years for Horatio to admit he’s actually a submissive. When it appears that’s never going to happen, Belial arranges for his best friend to lose a card game in which he’s offered himself as the prize. Horatio can’t believe Belial would do this for him, but the council puts their seal of approval on the bet, and he has no choice but to offer himself to Belial, who immediately gets to work convincing Horatio that he’ll be so much happier as Belial’s sub.
Will Kerr and Horatio find joy in their places in the Belial household? Only time will tell.
Publisher’s Note: The novel Once You Go Demon by Sean Michael was available briefly from another house.
Kerr stared at the paper the incredibly well dressed goons at the door handed him.
Sold?
Him?
He’d been sold into Horatio Liverage’s house to act as the man’s submissive since he was of maturity, and now, after so long, Horatio had sold him without a word? Without a note?
Nonsense.
Utter nonsense.
“There must be a mistake.”
The goon pointed one clawed finger at the insignia at the bottom of the page. “What does that signify?”
“Horatio Liverage.” He couldn’t deny it was his master’s seal.
“Then there isn’t a mistake. Bring us Kerr, and we’ll be on our way.” The teeth on the guy doing the talking brooked no argument. Neither did the tufts of smoke coming out of Silent and Scary’s ears.
“I’m Kerr. I have to gather my things, make arrangements…” Right? Didn’t he get that much at least?
The lower demon looked at the contract again. “It doesn’t say anything about belongings here. Let’s go.”
“I have precious things that hold my family name, and it doesn’t say that I can’t bring them. I am not resisting, simply gathering my stuff.” He could bargain with the best of them. He knew he had to convince them, though, as either one of them could pick him up and toss him over a shoulder without even trying.
Henchman One turned to Henchman Two, who shrugged.
“Is your master here? He can decide.”
“He is not. He’s away. As such, I am second in charge of the household.” He held no illusions that he was beloved or even a lover, but he was well trusted with finances and with all aspects of Horatio’s life. “I shall return in moments.”
He began to pack — the stash of jewels he had been collecting for years, his few precious books, his favorite clothes, and the music and computer that were his. He grabbed his toiletries, the hologram of his sire and dam, and the fragile glass orb that throbbed with a sweet, gentle light.
Both goons were frowning when he came back, pushing the pallet of his things.
“We won’t be party to you stealing from your master.”
“I haven’t stolen a thing. These things are my own and now go with me to my new master.” Fuckers. Horatio might be able to sell him on a whim, but these were his possessions and they were going with him.
They looked at each other again, shrugged, and turned, heading down the walk toward the truck at the end of it. “We’re not toting anything,” the talker called back over his shoulder.
“Not yet,” Kerr muttered.
He wasn’t some pointless goon. He was a highly trained, highly useful sexual submissive and house servant. Soon he would find a place with whomever the fuck the asshole prick that never made love to him anyway, dickhead, had sold his papers to, and then this mouth breather would do what Kerr said.
The goon opened the back door and just stood there, watching him putting his things in. “You’re riding back there, too.”
“Thank you so much.” He rolled his eyes, pushed his hair behind his ears, and climbed in, telling himself that he wasn’t hurt, that he was nothing but property, that he shouldn’t cry. One day, that might even work.
The door closed with a loud clang, leaving him in the dark, the engine starting up moments later. The truck lurched forward, sending him falling onto his ass.
He did cry then, silently, heartbroken. He’d lost his home, his job, his master, and no one had so much as warned him. Someone had written up that paperwork, someone had made the arrangements, and someone had thrown him away.
He couldn’t believe Horatio had done this to him, and without any warning at all, not a word to him.
The truck stopped abruptly, the brakes squeaking loudly. The door opened again, the dull grey sky seeming bright after the darkness of the truck.
Two little slaves popped up into the back and began grabbing his stuff.
He lifted his chin and firmed his lips. He was well trained, valuable. Special in his own right. Men begged to be wealthy enough to own him.
“Come, come,” murmured one boy, motioning for him to get down from the truck and follow. He couldn’t see the two goons. “You’re going to be in the salle, honored one. Your groom is Ceris, and he is the Salle Master.”
Finally, someone realized how important he was, what his stature was, even if he was a slave. He followed the lad through a side door and along a winding hall of stone. This place was much brighter than his mast — than his former master’s, more marble than rock on the columns and floors, white and light blue shot through with silver and gold.
When they arrived at the harem, the whole place still felt luxurious and gilded, as if the master lived back here as well as the front of the house. Well, his new master was very rich, there was no denying that.
A huge bald man stood as he walked in, bowing to him solemnly. “Honored one. I am Ceris, your groom. Boy, put the things in the gold room, then call for tea.”
The lad who’d guided him here bowed and went running with Kerr’s things, deeper into the harem.
“Welcome to Lord Belial’s harem. We were very excited to learn he won you and that you would be joining us.”
Lord Belial? Bel? Horatio had sold him to his best friend? Seriously?
“Thank you for your welcome.” He bowed automatically, his training taking over immediately.
“Tea is coming. After that, I imagine you’d like a bath. Perhaps something light to eat.”
Ceris was a handsome demon. The bald head exposed the little horns completely, and they glowed in the light. His bare chest was beautifully muscled, the gauzy pants exposing strong legs and hinting at a heavy cock. There was a heavy spiky gold tattoo covering Ceris’ ridged belly, marking him as Master Bel’s, Kerr was sure. Marked, but lovely.
“I… Yes, of course.” He was developing the world’s worst headache.
A lad, different than the first two, he thought, came in with a tray holding a teapot and two teacups. He left them on a low table, bowed deeply.
“Thank you, Totz. You can go.”
The boy did, hurrying off like he had somewhere to be.
“Please. Sit.” Ceris waved toward the benches that surrounded the table.
“Thank you, Ceris.” He and Ceris were equals, and he refused to treat the man with less respect than he deserved. “I was not aware I was to be transferred. Not until the papers arrived at the door.”
Transferred. Traded. Discarded.
“That’s unfortunate. Were you able to collect all your things?” Ceris asked, pouring out the tea.
“I brought the things that were special that I could carry. What will my duties be here? In my former home, I acted as valet and head of household — finances, staff management, that sort of thing.”
Ceris shot him a confused look. “I was led to believe you were a trained submissive, honored one.”
“Yes, I was. My former master chose not to use me in that regard.” Not for many years and not often when he had.
“Perhaps that’s why he wagered you in the game of chance he played with our master last night.” Ceris leaned forward and spoke quietly, confidentially. “He’s still here, sleeping it off. It got very loud and much was imbibed. I’m very sorry for the way it happened, but maybe it’s for the better. There is no where else in all of Hell that I would rather be.”
“I will thrive wherever they wish me to be.” He hoped. He had no choice.
Ceris looked him up and down, gaze almost like a physical touch. “I’m sure you will.”
Writing under S. Michael for Het Ménage and Sean for signature M/M titles, Sean Michael leads a classic double life.
Often referred to as “Space Cowboy” and “Gangsta of Love” while still striving for the moniker of “Maurice,” Sean Michael spends days surfing, smutting, organizing an immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs.
While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and perusing the Kama Sutra by channeling the long lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to “Chicago.”
A long-time writer of complicated haiku, currently Sean is attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate spinning and soap carving sex toys.
Barring any of that? Sean’ll stick with writing stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark.
Warning: This title contains explicit sex scenes, BDSM, and anal sex
What’s a person to do when they discover everything they’ve believed is nothing but lies?
I grew up wealthy, a spoiled rich kid some would say, blessed with a natural athletic physique and erotic good looks that could get me into the panties of just about any girl I set my mind to.0
1I wanted … what I wanted.
And that meant one thing: the beautiful brunette from study hall—but she left me high and dry.
Today, I have a heart made of stone. I’m angry, a professed lifelong bachelor, and a sexual sadist.
My soul is a cold river.
Eight years later, she’s back in my life and holding secrets that are ruthless, unforgiveable.
I want to punish her, make her cry, watch her suffer. I want to hate her for what she’s done.
But I want my hands on her.
Mine. All mine.
I simply want … Ava Montgomery.
EXCERPT
I ached for him with such a depth that it was a visceral kind of pain. I wanted his hands on me, touching me everywhere, taking me to that place I’d fantasized about for years.
“It’s your decision, doll.”
“Are you going to tear up my butt? Leave bloody marks on my back? Ruin my nipples? Are you…” My voice faded into silence as I stared at his focused expression that was so sure, so certain, his eyes that sent shimmers down my spine, his body that made me cave with pleasure every time it came near me. Heat flowed through my veins. “Yes. God, yes. I want to know everything. I want you to…”
Before I finished the words that were caught in my throat, his lips were on mine, crushing his mouth against me with a scorching kiss that felt like he was ravenous. His hands twisted fiercely through my hair, my body arching into him as he licked into me, purging deep, kissing me for long minutes like he wanted me more than any one thing in his existence.
I wanted this so badly that it hurt.
His lips fell to the sweet spot just underneath my ear. “You wouldn’t happen to still have that blindfold by any chance?”
Another whimper rose up my throat as I collapsed into his chest, turning to soft liquid and ceding in submission.
Of course, I still had the blindfold. I’d stared at it a dozen times. Fantasized about what it would feel like being bound, in the dark, his hands on me, oblivious to his next move, and if all my daydreams were a reality … or a fool’s paradise.
“Yes,” I breathed, captivated.
“Grab it, kitten. And follow me.”
Blistering heat flooded my core as he trailed kisses across my neck.
“And, Ava,” he added in a hard tone, “before the night ends, my marks will be all over you.”
Lacee Hightower is an American writer and romance novelist, referring to her style as contemporary romance with a nice big pinch of kink. Living in the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex, she describes herself as a foodie that can’t cook, a large lover of fashion and shoes, and an enormous hopeless romantic. Since she was old enough to know what the word meant, she loved the whole concept of romance and happy endings. Even though she has always enjoyed writing, life got in the way and she never really thought of pursuing it seriously until she decided to write her first book after both her children were grown in 2017. Now with a nice glass of wine in hand, or not, she is learning to love bringing the characters in her head to life on paper for those who enjoy peeking into another world.
Almost a decade ago, Marcus Grimes worked as a bodyguard to a man who didn’t deserve the woman he’d had. When she finally left, Marcus vowed to eventually find her and make her his.
The time is now.
Marcus runs into Gabi at a BDSM club, indulging in a different partner every week but never really exploring beyond the mere superficial. She doesn’t remember him, and he convinces her to give him a chance.
All she has to do is open. After leaving an abusive relationship, Gabi moved cities and reinvented herself. Now, she’s confident and capable of playing with any Dom she sees fit without compromising herself or her emotions.
Until she meets Marcus Grimes.
There is something familiar about him, which should have stopped her, but instead spurs her on, and before she realizes it, Marcus is not only opening her body to his exploration, he’s also delving into her heart.
However, when their mutual past comes to light and everything she’s fought for during the last eight years is jeopardized, will she close herself off again or will she give love an opportunity?
Marcus stared at the old photograph on the computer screen. A lean man with cropped brown hair and a smug smile stood next to two women. One, young, with natural blonde hair and a million-dollar grin. She was dressed skimpily and clung to the man like a lifeline. Becky. She’d been drunk that day and wasn’t thoroughly aware of what was going on. After the raid, he’d heard she’d been sent to rehab several states away, but he wasn’t sure what had become of her. On the other side of the man, was a tall woman with a cute, reddish-gold bob. She was too thin and wore a short jean skirt and a crop top. The man held her wrist possessively. The smile on her lips was forced, and her eyes were downcast as if she were afraid to look up.
Gabi.
Marcus had taken the photograph himself, one month before she walked out on Antonio. By that time, he had already decided to do something to help her get out of there.
Her appearance had changed in the last eight years. Her features had softened. She’d gained weight, become curvier, gentler. Sexier. She’d allowed her hair to grow back to its natural color, a rich brown, and her eyes were vivid, sparkling with a desire to fight he’d rarely seen back then. Her nose piercing was gone, and he’d noticed she’d modified the tattoos on her back, but Gabi’s essence hadn’t changed. She was strong, had always been, or else she wouldn’t have withstood Antonio’s abuse. All she had needed back then was a little push to rediscover how wonderful she truly was. Now, she knew it, but she lived on the surface, afraid to dig deeper. He’d change that soon enough. Taking his phone, he reread her text message.
Good night, Sir.
Simple, yet full of meaning. There’d been hesitation on her part, but she’d taken the plunge. She was curious to see if he could deliver what he’d promised. He would. And when he did, he’d make sure she never called another man Sir.
Elyzabeth M. VaLey is a writer of sizzling, sexy romance who firmly believes in happy ever after. From paranormal to contemporary, fantasy, or historical, she enjoys exploring her characters’ darker side and writing stories about tortured heroes, strong heroines, and all that comes between them and their love.
When she’s not writing, she can be found walking in the Spanish countryside with her black Lab, exploring castles, or enjoying some tapas with her friends.
One Woman’s Journey of Self-Discovery and Deliverance
Seeking financial salvation in a lucrative job at a paranormal BDSM club exposes Sadie to a whole new world. She’s at risk of baring her own supernatural secrets, but her back is against the wall. Desperate after her double dealing, low-down, ex-husband left her with a mountain of his debt and an ‘autistic’ son to provide for.
This forty year old, single mom is immediately drawn to the dark and mysterious Masters of Raven’s Keep, a sadistic vampire and voyeuristic spell weaver, but she stubbornly refuses to succumb to their otherworldly magnetism, despite the fact she’s found love and acceptance in their world.
Will Sadie embrace Fate’s plan for her and Masters Anton and Roi or will she use those sexy, Come-F*ck-Me heels to stubbornly walk away from it all?
Audra is a long time resident of the great state of Oklahoma. This fifty-something widow, Mom and Nana has been gifted with a naughty imagination and a driving need to create and share fantastical paranormal tales of action, suspense, adventure, and enough sexy romance to make your kindle sizzle in appreciation.
*WARNING: This title contains explicit sexual scenes, BDSM, and anal sex.
More dragonblood than human, Primrose Cadet yearns to find her fated mates and ease the loneliness of her secluded life. But with her beta behind psychiatric bars and the other denying his beastly nature—and hers—she’ll have to fight for them, even if it means exposing her heritage.
A manipulative voice in his head promising he can fly landed Jaxon Denham in the psych ward. Eighteen and legally allowed to finally leave his parent’s enforced prison, he searches out the golden goddess of his dreams, the one the voice within claims will give them the release they crave.
Doctor Patrick Macaire fought his inner darkness for thirty-four years, living a life of self-control and discipline to prove his sanity. When a barely legal boy and seductive siren threaten the foundation of his calm existence, he’s driven to battle the voice inside and remain untouched.
But fate is clever, and Patrick’s relentless mates won’t allow him peace, catching him up in unhuman-like passion that threatens his self-identity. Will he accept he’s an alpha dragonblood born to dominate his mates, or will his human side keep the three from fulfilling their destiny?
The second night I’d stood cloaked outside Lockwood’s eastern wing, the need to be impulsive, something I’d never dealt with before, fought my better judgment. Regardless of my beta’s mental state, I had wanted to sneak into his room and allow him to have his way with me, claim me like my inner dragon longed for.
Luckily, my ancestors had kept informative records in the cavern’s library of my sheltered upbringing, so I understood all the possible sexual positions—and means of giving pain for pleasure—as most alpha blood born were known for. Unfortunately, I had no personal knowledge of such things, and my dragon was determined to undermine my will to wait for his freedom.
My fingers ached from grasping the chain-link fence to keep my human form in place. The energy linking me to the window strengthened and pulled taut as a shadow moved into view. Even with my dragon sight, I couldn’t make out the color of his hair or eyes, but as he turned his head side to side as though seeking out where the energy attaching us came from, I took note of a strong nose and full lips, a square jaw I wanted to lick and nip with my teeth as he thrust into me.
Arousal, hot and wet, rose between my thighs, same as the previous night, and I bit my lips, my dragon’s needy growl rumbling in my chest as my beta locked his gaze on where I stood, cloaked by a dragonblood gift and darkness.
Want.
My human form wanted, too, and I swallowed as my dragon attempted to take over in a burst of golden light I quickly squashed. “Soon,” I promised with a whisper.
Through the tall, barred windows, I realized my beta’s hand moved over his body, the heat in the energy linking us rising. Did he touch himself? He propped his forehead on the window, shoulder hunched as though in pain, and again, I fought the need to shift, tear through the fence and walls to free my beta mate.
His form stiffened, and head tipped back, and the most luscious race of tingles swept through me, settling in my core.
Need.
Lower lip between my teeth, I released one hand from its hold and slid my fingertips down over the front of my leggings where I throbbed. I gasped as the feather touch grazed the hardened nub at the top of my slit, and I rubbed back up over it, my hips bucking on their own as though he thrust into me, burying against my womb.
Heat exploded like a blinding light through the energy between us, capturing my human form and my inner dragon in a euphoric race to the stars. I cried out, unable to keep my lips sealed as wave after wave rippled through my body, pulsing my pussy where his hard length ought to be.
I gasped for breath, my stare on the window as he slowly moved away from sight seconds later. Wetness coated my leggings, the sweet scent of my cum rising to fill my nose.
Please.
My dragon whimpered with the need for more, for our beta’s physical touch, but I tore myself away from the fence and focused on the motel’s room where I would plan my silent, cloaked assault on the mental hospital where one of my mates remained locked inside.
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
*WARNING: This title contains explicit sexual scenes, BDSM, and anal sex.
More dragonblood than human, Primrose Cadet yearns to find her fated mates and ease the loneliness of her secluded life. But with her beta behind psychiatric bars and the other denying his beastly nature—and hers—she’ll have to fight for them, even if it means exposing her heritage.
A manipulative voice in his head promising he can fly landed Jaxon Denham in the psych ward. Eighteen and legally allowed to finally leave his parent’s enforced prison, he searches out the golden goddess of his dreams, the one the voice within claims will give them the release they crave.
Doctor Patrick Macaire fought his inner darkness for thirty-four years, living a life of self-control and discipline to prove his sanity. When a barely legal boy and seductive siren threaten the foundation of his calm existence, he’s driven to battle the voice inside and remain untouched.
But fate is clever, and Patrick’s relentless mates won’t allow him peace, catching him up in unhuman-like passion that threatens his self-identity. Will he accept he’s an alpha dragonblood born to dominate his mates, or will his human side keep the three from fulfilling their destiny?
The second night I’d stood cloaked outside Lockwood’s eastern wing, the need to be impulsive, something I’d never dealt with before, fought my better judgment. Regardless of my beta’s mental state, I had wanted to sneak into his room and allow him to have his way with me, claim me like my inner dragon longed for.
Luckily, my ancestors had kept informative records in the cavern’s library of my sheltered upbringing, so I understood all the possible sexual positions—and means of giving pain for pleasure—as most alpha blood born were known for. Unfortunately, I had no personal knowledge of such things, and my dragon was determined to undermine my will to wait for his freedom.
My fingers ached from grasping the chain-link fence to keep my human form in place. The energy linking me to the window strengthened and pulled taut as a shadow moved into view. Even with my dragon sight, I couldn’t make out the color of his hair or eyes, but as he turned his head side to side as though seeking out where the energy attaching us came from, I took note of a strong nose and full lips, a square jaw I wanted to lick and nip with my teeth as he thrust into me.
Arousal, hot and wet, rose between my thighs, same as the previous night, and I bit my lips, my dragon’s needy growl rumbling in my chest as my beta locked his gaze on where I stood, cloaked by a dragonblood gift and darkness.
Want.
My human form wanted, too, and I swallowed as my dragon attempted to take over in a burst of golden light I quickly squashed. “Soon,” I promised with a whisper.
Through the tall, barred windows, I realized my beta’s hand moved over his body, the heat in the energy linking us rising. Did he touch himself? He propped his forehead on the window, shoulder hunched as though in pain, and again, I fought the need to shift, tear through the fence and walls to free my beta mate.
His form stiffened, and head tipped back, and the most luscious race of tingles swept through me, settling in my core.
Need.
Lower lip between my teeth, I released one hand from its hold and slid my fingertips down over the front of my leggings where I throbbed. I gasped as the feather touch grazed the hardened nub at the top of my slit, and I rubbed back up over it, my hips bucking on their own as though he thrust into me, burying against my womb.
Heat exploded like a blinding light through the energy between us, capturing my human form and my inner dragon in a euphoric race to the stars. I cried out, unable to keep my lips sealed as wave after wave rippled through my body, pulsing my pussy where his hard length ought to be.
I gasped for breath, my stare on the window as he slowly moved away from sight seconds later. Wetness coated my leggings, the sweet scent of my cum rising to fill my nose.
Please.
My dragon whimpered with the need for more, for our beta’s physical touch, but I tore myself away from the fence and focused on the motel’s room where I would plan my silent, cloaked assault on the mental hospital where one of my mates remained locked inside.
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
*WARNING: This title contains explicit sexual scenes, BDSM, and anal sex.
More dragonblood than human, Primrose Cadet yearns to find her fated mates and ease the loneliness of her secluded life. But with her beta behind psychiatric bars and the other denying his beastly nature—and hers—she’ll have to fight for them, even if it means exposing her heritage.
A manipulative voice in his head promising he can fly landed Jaxon Denham in the psych ward. Eighteen and legally allowed to finally leave his parent’s enforced prison, he searches out the golden goddess of his dreams, the one the voice within claims will give them the release they crave.
Doctor Patrick Macaire fought his inner darkness for thirty-four years, living a life of self-control and discipline to prove his sanity. When a barely legal boy and seductive siren threaten the foundation of his calm existence, he’s driven to battle the voice inside and remain untouched.
But fate is clever, and Patrick’s relentless mates won’t allow him peace, catching him up in unhuman-like passion that threatens his self-identity. Will he accept he’s an alpha dragonblood born to dominate his mates, or will his human side keep the three from fulfilling their destiny?
The second night I’d stood cloaked outside Lockwood’s eastern wing, the need to be impulsive, something I’d never dealt with before, fought my better judgment. Regardless of my beta’s mental state, I had wanted to sneak into his room and allow him to have his way with me, claim me like my inner dragon longed for.
Luckily, my ancestors had kept informative records in the cavern’s library of my sheltered upbringing, so I understood all the possible sexual positions—and means of giving pain for pleasure—as most alpha blood born were known for. Unfortunately, I had no personal knowledge of such things, and my dragon was determined to undermine my will to wait for his freedom.
My fingers ached from grasping the chain-link fence to keep my human form in place. The energy linking me to the window strengthened and pulled taut as a shadow moved into view. Even with my dragon sight, I couldn’t make out the color of his hair or eyes, but as he turned his head side to side as though seeking out where the energy attaching us came from, I took note of a strong nose and full lips, a square jaw I wanted to lick and nip with my teeth as he thrust into me.
Arousal, hot and wet, rose between my thighs, same as the previous night, and I bit my lips, my dragon’s needy growl rumbling in my chest as my beta locked his gaze on where I stood, cloaked by a dragonblood gift and darkness.
Want.
My human form wanted, too, and I swallowed as my dragon attempted to take over in a burst of golden light I quickly squashed. “Soon,” I promised with a whisper.
Through the tall, barred windows, I realized my beta’s hand moved over his body, the heat in the energy linking us rising. Did he touch himself? He propped his forehead on the window, shoulder hunched as though in pain, and again, I fought the need to shift, tear through the fence and walls to free my beta mate.
His form stiffened, and head tipped back, and the most luscious race of tingles swept through me, settling in my core.
Need.
Lower lip between my teeth, I released one hand from its hold and slid my fingertips down over the front of my leggings where I throbbed. I gasped as the feather touch grazed the hardened nub at the top of my slit, and I rubbed back up over it, my hips bucking on their own as though he thrust into me, burying against my womb.
Heat exploded like a blinding light through the energy between us, capturing my human form and my inner dragon in a euphoric race to the stars. I cried out, unable to keep my lips sealed as wave after wave rippled through my body, pulsing my pussy where his hard length ought to be.
I gasped for breath, my stare on the window as he slowly moved away from sight seconds later. Wetness coated my leggings, the sweet scent of my cum rising to fill my nose.
Please.
My dragon whimpered with the need for more, for our beta’s physical touch, but I tore myself away from the fence and focused on the motel’s room where I would plan my silent, cloaked assault on the mental hospital where one of my mates remained locked inside.
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
*WARNING: This title contains explicit sexual scenes, BDSM, and anal sex.
More dragonblood than human, Primrose Cadet yearns to find her fated mates and ease the loneliness of her secluded life. But with her beta behind psychiatric bars and the other denying his beastly nature—and hers—she’ll have to fight for them, even if it means exposing her heritage.
A manipulative voice in his head promising he can fly landed Jaxon Denham in the psych ward. Eighteen and legally allowed to finally leave his parent’s enforced prison, he searches out the golden goddess of his dreams, the one the voice within claims will give them the release they crave.
Doctor Patrick Macaire fought his inner darkness for thirty-four years, living a life of self-control and discipline to prove his sanity. When a barely legal boy and seductive siren threaten the foundation of his calm existence, he’s driven to battle the voice inside and remain untouched.
But fate is clever, and Patrick’s relentless mates won’t allow him peace, catching him up in unhuman-like passion that threatens his self-identity. Will he accept he’s an alpha dragonblood born to dominate his mates, or will his human side keep the three from fulfilling their destiny?
The second night I’d stood cloaked outside Lockwood’s eastern wing, the need to be impulsive, something I’d never dealt with before, fought my better judgment. Regardless of my beta’s mental state, I had wanted to sneak into his room and allow him to have his way with me, claim me like my inner dragon longed for.
Luckily, my ancestors had kept informative records in the cavern’s library of my sheltered upbringing, so I understood all the possible sexual positions—and means of giving pain for pleasure—as most alpha blood born were known for. Unfortunately, I had no personal knowledge of such things, and my dragon was determined to undermine my will to wait for his freedom.
My fingers ached from grasping the chain-link fence to keep my human form in place. The energy linking me to the window strengthened and pulled taut as a shadow moved into view. Even with my dragon sight, I couldn’t make out the color of his hair or eyes, but as he turned his head side to side as though seeking out where the energy attaching us came from, I took note of a strong nose and full lips, a square jaw I wanted to lick and nip with my teeth as he thrust into me.
Arousal, hot and wet, rose between my thighs, same as the previous night, and I bit my lips, my dragon’s needy growl rumbling in my chest as my beta locked his gaze on where I stood, cloaked by a dragonblood gift and darkness.
Want.
My human form wanted, too, and I swallowed as my dragon attempted to take over in a burst of golden light I quickly squashed. “Soon,” I promised with a whisper.
Through the tall, barred windows, I realized my beta’s hand moved over his body, the heat in the energy linking us rising. Did he touch himself? He propped his forehead on the window, shoulder hunched as though in pain, and again, I fought the need to shift, tear through the fence and walls to free my beta mate.
His form stiffened, and head tipped back, and the most luscious race of tingles swept through me, settling in my core.
Need.
Lower lip between my teeth, I released one hand from its hold and slid my fingertips down over the front of my leggings where I throbbed. I gasped as the feather touch grazed the hardened nub at the top of my slit, and I rubbed back up over it, my hips bucking on their own as though he thrust into me, burying against my womb.
Heat exploded like a blinding light through the energy between us, capturing my human form and my inner dragon in a euphoric race to the stars. I cried out, unable to keep my lips sealed as wave after wave rippled through my body, pulsing my pussy where his hard length ought to be.
I gasped for breath, my stare on the window as he slowly moved away from sight seconds later. Wetness coated my leggings, the sweet scent of my cum rising to fill my nose.
Please.
My dragon whimpered with the need for more, for our beta’s physical touch, but I tore myself away from the fence and focused on the motel’s room where I would plan my silent, cloaked assault on the mental hospital where one of my mates remained locked inside.
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
The instant attraction Michael feels toward his new Dominant, Mr. Johns only grows stronger each day. Spending time together in the dungeon is always a fun, unique, and unpredictable experience. Only Mr. Johns can take him to places he’s never known existed. The pleasures of pain and the highs of sub-space were once unimaginable, but now Mr. Johns truly owns him body and soul.
For Michael the most startling emotion is the fear he feels when he’s earned a punishment. Although punishment is meant to be feared, Michael is more afraid of being dismissed. He’s certain each mistake is a step closer to being sent away. No punishment could ever hurt as much as Mr. Johns giving up on him.
Is it possible for Mr. Johns to have any real feelings for Michael, or is has Michael set himself up to be hurt worse than ever before?
Her voice has that silky tone that always sets my heart to pounding. Today is the day and I have no idea what to expect. I rise gracefully to my feet in one smooth motion as I’ve been taught. Standing straight with my shoulders back, my chest out and chin up, I walk directly to her, my eyes remaining straight ahead.
The man standing with her is taller than I am, about 6’3″. He’s built bigger than I am and I suspect he’s older than me though I’m nineteen so that isn’t a surprise. I can feel his eyes inspecting me.
My nerves are getting the best of me but I don’t move. I control my breathing and wait for my next command. Domme Shannon told me that she had found a male Dominate she believes I’m compatible to serve. I had been stunned and I’m not entirely comfortable with belonging to a man. My family wouldn’t ever accept it. But I’d requested that she find a Dominant she believes will be best for me, regardless of gender.
“Come, Michael,” Domme Shannon says, leading me from the small, sparsely decorated bedroom. She and the man walk casually in front of me, letting me get small glimpses of him. He’s muscular with dark brown hair the same shade as mine. He’s wearing an expensive suit but I can’t spend much time looking him over. I’m led into the office. They sit and I’m instructed to kneel on the floor beside the man.
“Michael Edwards, this is Mr. William Johns. He is looking for a long-term partner and I know that he can give you the guidance you need. Look him in the eyes and answer his questions,” she commands before turning the interview over to him.
Most Doms do not want eye contact. He’s different.
He is nice looking with a strong jaw line. His cologne is pleasant, smelling of some kind of spice. He looks over a folder in his hand, taking his time, letting me wait.
“Michael, most of your hard limits are things that I don’t do.” He pauses as he continues to read. “There are some things that you haven’t tried yet, you marked them as things you would be willing to have demanded of you. Is that correct?” He watches me closely.
“Yes, Sir,” I answer.
“If I demand something and you decide that you can’t tolerate it again, we can discuss changing it to a hard limit.”
This statement requires no reply but my stomach twists as I wonder what he’d like to demand from me. The room falls silent as he looks through the rest of my paperwork and places it back into my folder.
“You are looking for a full time placement and you are employed full time?” His voice is deep and gravelly. It has a sexy quality to it.
“Yes, Sir.”
“What type of work do you do?”
“I work for a construction company, Sir,” I reply. My nerves are increasing as this interview continues and I center myself again.
“If we decide to make this a long term partnership, will you be willing to quit your job?” he asks.
“Yes, Sir,” I answer, but I feel conflicted about it. It’s a great job for someone without an education.
“You’re nineteen?”
“Yes, Sir,” I reply.
“Would you be willing to attend college?”
“Yes, Sir.” This is a surprise. I’d given up the idea of going to college.
“Good,” he says. “If I take you on as my submissive, my rules are not up for debate. I am very strict and trouble will not be tolerated. Punishments will be as severe as required and you knowingly agree to that?”
“Yes, Sir,” I answer. I need this from him and hope fills me unexpectedly. Until now I hadn’t realized how much I needed this. Why do I like the idea of being punished by this man? The idea that something might be wrong with me grows spontaneously.
He looks to Domme Shannon and nods.
“Michael, go wait in the hallway,” she commands.
“Yes, Ma’am,” I answer.
I take a place far enough from the door to allow private conversation. I stand at parade rest with my feet at shoulder width apart, my arms behind my back. They come out of the office half an hour later.
“Michael, gather your belongings. You’ve been accepted into the service of Mr. Johns. Do not disgrace me. You will not be accepted back here if you mess up this opportunity. Understand?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I answer quickly. “Thank you.”
“You’ve done well and you deserve this. Don’t keep your Dominant waiting.”
I walk briskly to my room and grab my bags. I’ve had them packed since I was told I had an interview today. I hadn’t known what to expect. Another trainee stated that most males are taken by women. I don’t know if that was at their choosing or not. I hadn’t set any such parameters on mine. I wasn’t told until today that a man had been found for me. My feelings, though conflicted, are happy if I’m honest about it.
Carrying my bags, I find Mr. Johns waiting by the door. “Come,” he says simply.
I follow him to a black SUV. Another man waits by the car and he opens the door for Mr. Johns before taking my bags. I wait as he opens the trunk and puts them inside. He then opens the other door for me.
Once in the back seat beside Mr. Johns I sit straight as I’ve been taught. The silence stretches and I begin to inspect my fingernails. It’s an old nervous habit. Mr. Johns’ hand covers mine, stopping my fidgeting. Electricity shoots through me and my breath catches.
“Look at me, boy,” he says and there is a subtle difference in his tone now, strong and demanding. “I expect eye contact unless I tell you otherwise, and no fidgeting or I’ll punish you.”
I meet his eyes for the second time. They are a deep blue and his dark brown hair has a slight curl to it. At a guess he’s in his early thirties. He looks a little like Liam Hemsworth, only more muscular. He is a handsome man.
“You will call me Sir or Mr. Johns. I will not repeat an order. You are to obey any command given immediately. I will give you a copy of the household rules when we get home. Failure to follow them will result in punishment whether you are aware of the rule or not. I suggest learning them quickly. I will add rules specific to you as I get to know you better. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good,” he replies. “Do you have any questions?”
“Yes, Sir,” I answer. My voice sounds nervous even to me as I concentrate on not picking at my fingers. “I was wondering how I’m to pay for college if you want me to quit working?”
“I will pay for you to go to college,” he answers. “I want you to be well educated and you’re still a young man.”
“I’m not sure I would be comfortable with that, Sir,” I answer.
He nods. “You don’t need to be.”
My head is swimming. “I feel like a prostitute.”
“No, you’re not being paid for sex. I want you at home and I want you educated. It’s a win-win for us both. Don’t over think it. I’ll go over the classes with you and decide what will benefit my schedule.” He watches me silently for a few minutes. “I will not waste my time or yours if I feel this isn’t going to work out. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir.” I wonder what else this arrangement will entail…
Jax L. Kramer grew up listening to tales told around the campfire under the stars with the hooting of an owl piercing the night. Jax now lives in Oklahoma and has a daughter, mother and sister who are supportive of the stories crafted by her. Now you’re invited to join the campfire circle. Hurry…it’s not polite to make the Storyteller wait!
In the Agéli Lýkon Wolf Pack, there are two types of men, Alpha and omega. Since the knotting ceremony, the submissive Bleu has had no problem adjusting to his position as Grey’s human omega. Their love is strong and their bond is unbreakable. But when they reach out to help another Alpha, their relationship is put to the test.
Friday afternoon, and the wolves were ready to party. They never needed an excuse, but Lykos Stavros, the chapter president of Agéli Lýkon, had planned this celebration for a special reason. The new Alpha pledges had knotted with their human omegas and were now part of the Brotherhood. The omegas were accepted as well, although there were restrictions. They weren’t permitted to live in the fraternity house with their Alphas. Stavros had decided the omegas would be more useful as spies if they lived in the dorms.
The number of Alphas had increased quite a bit since Bleu became Grey’s omega two years ago when they were freshmen. Twenty-two Alphas now resided in the frat house. Stavros considered twenty-two a magic number because two symbolized dualities. The dual nature of the Alphas, wolf and man, was at the heart of the Brotherhood.
The increasing numbers elated Stavros, who didn’t want to reveal their existence until he had gathered many more of his kind. He feared human bigotry and prejudice would wipe out the small band of brothers. Bleu thought he was probably right.
Bleu’s last class had finished at three and he’d come straight to the frat house to help get things ready. The party room had wood paneling that made it look old and sophisticated, but it had everything the brothers needed for a good time. Leather couches provided seating. A wooden bar and a beer pong table filled most of the far wall. Another wall had shelves for a music system and a big screen TV.
Bleu checked the bar to make sure it was stocked. Everything looked ready and the guys were trickling in as their classes ended. Bleu and Grey filled Solo cups with Wolf Spirit Vodka and raised their glasses to a fun night.
At midnight, things got boisterous. Couples were doing tequila shots while others were performing some seriously suggestive dance moves. Many had removed their shirts and pants and were gyrating in their underwear. It looked more like foreplay than dancing. Or the start of a spontaneous orgy. Bleu’s juices were starting to simmer. His tall, dark, handsome Alpha looked especially sexy tonight. A slow number started playing and he was ready to take his footwork to the next level, but Grey begged off.
“I’m tired of dancing. I think I’ll get another drink and sit this one out.”
“Please, Grey. I like this song.”
“How about I find you another partner?” Grey waved over Aleksys Kosta, who’d been his big brother when he was a pledge. “Hey, Alek. Wanna dance with my omega while I get a drink?”
“Love to. Danny is already shit-faced and stumbling over his own feet.” Alek pushed his omega away and approached Bleu. Danny stared after him, a sullen expression on his face.
“Anything wrong?” Grey asked.
Alek grimaced. “Same old same old. Why can’t he live with me at the frat house? I don’t see him enough. I look at other men. It’s all bullshit.”
Grey smiled. “Do you remind him who’s boss?”
“Of course, but his answer to everything is alcohol.”
“Maybe I’ll keep him company at the bar.” Grey walked off.
Bleu stood silent and studied Alek. When Grey pledged, Alek had been Grey’s main source of friendship and support, and they’d been close friends ever since. They’d been lovers, too, but all that stopped when they bonded with their omegas. Bleu had a healthy sexual appetite and he fulfilled Grey’s desires eagerly. They didn’t need anyone else.
But Alek was incredibly attractive, with his thick brown hair and chiseled features, and behind that all-American frat boy look was a sexy, well-hung dominant. Bleu licked his lips. He wanted to woof at the moon. Then he remembered Grey and Danny, and he felt guilty.
Bleu didn’t know the other omega very well. They shared one class and Bleu had tried to befriend Danny, but it hadn’t gone well. Whenever Bleu tried to start a conversation, Danny replied with one-word answers. Bleu didn’t take offense. Danny treated everyone that way. Everyone but Alek.
Alek took Bleu by the hand. “You’re thinking too much. Let’s dance.”
He led Bleu to the center of the room where space had been cleared for dancing. Alek took Bleu in his arms and guided him around the floor. He was a seductive dancer, grinding his body against Bleu’s in time to the slow tempo. The press of Alek’s rock-hard dick against his thigh sent shivers up Bleu’s spine.
Alek nuzzled Bleu’s blond hair and his warm breath fanned Bleu’s ear. “You’re a good dancer.”
“You’re easy to follow.”
Alek pressed his palm to the small of Bleu’s back and pulled him closer. He ground his hips against Bleu’s. Heat curled in Bleu’s belly and he returned the movement. He felt Alek’s hand slip past the waistband of his boxer briefs, but he didn’t protest. Alek squeezed his cheeks and pulled Bleu closer still. Bleu felt giddy. Was it the alcohol, or the man he was dancing with?
Alek’s fingers traced Bleu’s crease as he kissed and sucked on Bleu’s neck. Bleu whimpered, suddenly afraid that he might come right there on the dance floor. He looked up at Alek, wide-eyed.
“You’re irresistible,” Alek whispered. “The way you look at me with those blue eyes…”
Bleu scanned the room for Grey. His Alpha had an arm around Danny, but he met Bleu’s eyes and smiled. Bleu settled back into Alek’s embrace and their bodies moved in unison, their cocks grinding together. Then Alek slid a finger inside Bleu’s hole.
Bleu uttered a high-pitched mewl and wiggled his hips.
