Handcuffs And Pretty Things

Citation preview

Handcuffs and Pretty Things A Rawlings Men Story

By Kim Dare

Resplendence Publishing, LLC http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

Resplendence Publishing, LLC 2665 S Atlantic Avenue, #349 Daytona Beach, FL 32176 Handcuffs and Pretty Things Copyright © 2011, Kim Dare Edited by Christine Allen-Riley and Jason Huffman Cover art by Les Byerley, www.les3photo8.com

Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-285-341-6

Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Electronic release: June 2011

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

To all the men who still manage to be heroes, even if they don’t wear a uniform.

Chapter One

“You really can’t resist the pretty lights can you, Sully?” Ross O’Sullivan’s lips twisted into a small smile as he turned toward the sound of a familiar voice. The flashing blue lights from the half-dozen police cars and fire engines were turning the gloom of an early winter’s evening into a bizarre mockery of a fair ground. It was just a pity the air was filled with the scent of smoke rather than popcorn. But still, Ross had to admit his friend was right—he’d been completely incapable of driving past the scene without stopping to find out what was going on. Detective Sergeant Mike Shane strode across to where Ross stood at the edge of the scene, soot streaked and looking none too happy with the world. “What happened?” Ross asked, with a nod toward all the commotion. “Suspected arson on some sort of antiques warehouse,” Mike said, rubbing at his forehead and adding more soot to it. Ross glanced past his friend’s shoulder to the burnt out building. “Anyone hurt?” Mike shook his head. “More by luck than judgment though. There were a couple of people inside when it went up.” Ross nodded. His curiosity satisfied, he turned away before he ended up making himself even later than he already had. “Have fun. I’ll see you—” “Actually, since you’re here—” “And since I’m off duty,” Ross cut in. Mike didn’t seem to hear him. “Do you owe any of the Rawlings guys a favor?” Ross frowned as he turned back to the other man. “Why?”

“There was a Rawlings in the building when it went up.” Mike flicked through his notes. “A Mr. Dane Rawlings—never been on the force. I need someone to babysit him while we work out what the hell’s going on. If he wasn’t a Rawlings then I’d just take him in with the other guy who was in there, but…” Ross nodded his understanding. No cop would have needed him to finish that particular sentence. There wasn’t one man in the force who’d want to explain to all the Rawlings guys why one of their relatives was in custody, unless he was at least one million percent certain the suspect he’d locked up was incredibly guilty. Ross glanced over his shoulder toward his car. He really shouldn’t have stopped. The chances of getting to the auction now were even lower than Mike’s chances of surviving the night if anything happened to a Rawlings who was under his care. Turning his eyes heavenward, Ross held back a sigh. “Okay, where is he?” Mike grinned and pointed a little way further down the road, past the fire engines and most of the commotion to a quieter corner of the car park. “Thanks, mate.” Ross pushed his hands into his coat pockets as he made his way through the madness. The winter air had a decided nip to it now the sun had gone down. The blaze might have counteracted that while it burned, but now it was just a soggy pile of ash, and there was nothing to fight off the chill. Running his gaze over the men before him, Ross tried to spot a likely looking figure in the crowd. Dane Rawlings…no doubt the man would be built like a Great Dane too—just like all the other men in his family. There was only one guy who looked tall, dark and reasonably Rawlings-like. Ross strode toward him. The man apparently sensed his approach. He turned just as he reached his side. Not bad, the part of Ross’ brain that was wired directly to his cock registered, wonder if he’s single… “Dane Rawlings?” Ross asked, already taking his hand out of his pocket to shake hands with him. The guy looked completely blank. “Um…No.” Ross frowned. Just then, he heard someone cleared their throat behind him. “Actually, that would be me.”

With his hand still half extended, Ross looked over his shoulder. His gaze fell on a pretty little soot-stained blond. Ross looked from him back to the man he’d first approached, then back again. “Dane Rawlings?” he repeated. The blond nodded. Ross opened his mouth and quickly closed it again before he could give in to the temptation to ask if the man was sure that really was who he was. The guy smiled as he seemed to pluck the question out of Ross’ mind regardless of his silence. “I’m very sure.” He dipped his hand into the back pocket of his grubby suit trousers and extracted a wallet. Ross automatically found himself stepping forward and inspecting the proffered ID, just as he would if he was on duty and the man before him was accused of a whole string of heinous crimes. It was only when he looked up and met the other man’s mirth filled eyes that he realized what he was actually doing. “Sorry, you’re just…” “Not what you expected a Rawlings to look like?” Dane finished for him. The smile still hadn’t left his lips. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” Ross handed back the ID. Clearing his throat he tried to work out what the hell he was supposed to say now. “Ross O’Sullivan,” he settled on, before the silence could become too long and uncomfortable. “A pleasure to meet you, inspector.” Ross’ hand wrapped around the small and surprisingly delicate hand offered to him. The guy was freezing. Snatching his hand back, Ross frowned at the pale pink shirt the other man was wearing. Neither that nor his tie were offering him the slightest protection against the cold. Ross quickly slipped his jacket off and, without really thinking about what he was doing, wrapped it around the smaller man’s shoulders. Dane blinked up at him, big blue eyes dancing with even more humor. “You’re probably in shock,” Ross excused. “Probably,” Dane agreed, pulling the garment a little more snugly around his shoulders. It swamped the little guy, making him look smaller and more fragile than ever. “Thank you. I’ll make sure all the soot is cleaned off before I return it.”

Retreating to the low wall he’d been sitting on when Ross first strode through the car park, Dane sat down, and nodded to the space next to him. “You were looking for me, inspector?” Ross lowered himself to the make-shift seat, wondering just how big a hissy fit he’d be in for if he mentioned the term babysitting. “Mike said you were inside when the fire started?” he hedged. Dane nodded. There was soot streaked across his face. His eyes looked very big, very blue amidst the dirt. “My coat’s still in there. It was a new one, too…” He looked down at the rest of his clothes. Ross followed his gaze. “I suppose this will have to go for rags as well,” Dane said, sadly, rubbing futilely at a tear on his trouser leg. He frowned for a second before shaking his head as if trying to clear it. He looked up at Ross, blinked, cleared his throat and seemed to focus back in on the matter at hand. “I had a meeting with Brian Townsend. He’s the owner of the warehouse, deals in antiques—mostly eighteenth and nineteenth century furniture. He said he had some good stock just in and asked me to come here tonight to take a look.” Ross nodded encouragingly. “I didn’t set the fire.” Ross frowned slightly, wondering if the guy had hit his head while running out of the burning building. “I never suggested that you did.” Dane chuckled. “I may not be a cop, but I’ve spent my life surrounded by them. Every last one of you is a suspicious bastard at heart.” He paused for a second and smoothed out some of the creases in the oversized coat. “Guilty until proven innocent, isn’t that right?” “Maybe, but I’m not on duty.” It was a bloody stupid thing to say. It was also completely irrelevant, but they were the only words in Ross’ head that didn’t have to do with wondering how the other man’s lips would look wrapped around his cock. The last thing the poor little sod needed was his babysitter hitting on him. “An inspector at your age. And you’re attending a crime scene even when you’re not on duty. I know the signs. You’re the kind of cop who is always on the job. Quite a few of my cousins are the same.” Dane’s eyes sparkled as he turned slightly in his perch on the wall and

looked up at Ross. “I’ll make you a deal, since you’re not on duty and can’t actually interrogate me officially, I’ll trade you question for question. I’ll even let you go first!” Ross smiled slightly. It was hard not to when Dane was looking up at him with such easy enthusiasm for his new plan. There was a particularly dark smudge of something on his cheek. Ross pushed his hands deeper into his jeans pockets as he fought against the temptation to reach out and wipe it away. A question… While most of his mind tried to work out how the Rawlings family had produced a man as cute and sweet as Dane, the suspicious bastard part of him, which the other man had so easily diagnosed, clicked into work mode. “Do you know if Mr. Townsend is having any financial difficulties?” “Yes,” Dane said, without the slightest hesitation. “He’s deeply in debt. It’s not an easy market for anyone and most of his stock is now worth half of what he paid for it. Meanwhile, may I point out, I have absolutely no financial incentive to turn firebug and am good enough at what I do to have a very healthy bank balance even in the midst of a recession. My turn.” Ross nodded once, accepting that to be the case. He couldn’t help but raise his estimation of the other man a notch. A hell of a lot of cops he knew wouldn’t have been able to put their case better. “How long have you been out?” Ross’ smile froze. He met Dane’s gaze and held it, but his mind was a solid block of ice. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. “You might be able to pass as straight to a casual observer,” Dane said. ”But I’ll have you know there are certain advantages of being camp as hell.” A burst of laughter escaped Ross. The other man’s expression was like bright sunlight on the previous night’s frost. Ross’ mind started to work again, even if a hell of a lot of his blood was suddenly finding its way to his cock rather than his brain. “Such as?” he asked. “For one,” Dane informed him, very seriously. “It gives a man like me a really fantastic gaydar.” “It does?” Ross prompted. Dane nodded. A lock of smoke stained blond hair fell into his eyes. He unearthed a slightly sooty hand from the folds of Ross’ coat and brushed it back. “If you were straight, you

wouldn’t be sitting half as close to me as you are,” he confided, dropping his voice very low, as if sharing a secret. Ross leaned in to catch every word. “And you’d have said the word ‘straight’, ‘girlfriend’, or ‘heterosexual’ at least three times by now, just in case the scary gay man tries to jump your bones and have his wicked way with you.” Ross met Dane’s eyes for a moment. Even while he smiled at the other man’s antics, he couldn’t help but want to hit every straight man who’d ever carelessly hurt Dane’s feelings by acting that way around him. “And you sure as hell wouldn’t have loaned me your coat—you’d have been far too worried you might catch something creepy when I gave it back.” Ross straightened up, his expression turning serious. That wasn’t funny. “Maybe something really contagious,” Dane went on. “Like a preference for tall, dark and dominant men. Or the ability to give a really amazing blow job.” It was said with such a perfectly straight face it took Ross a moment to take in the actual words. Ross shook his head at the other man, even as he smiled. Dane wasn’t his type. Part of his brain still remembered that. His cock didn’t give a damn what kind of man he’d made a habit of screwing in the past. It wanted Dane, and he was so hard, his shaft seemed to be damn near willing to tear its way through his jeans to get to him. Clearing his throat, Ross shifted his position slightly on the wall and tried to make sure that his erection wasn’t too obvious behind the denim. There wasn’t much else he could do, short of asking for his coat back and draping it over his lap. Finally, he remembered that there was a question still waiting for an answer. “I came out when I was twenty-four.” “And how did that go for you?” Dane asked. Ross shrugged. “Not so bad. My parents asked if I was sure a lot. They went through a phase when they thought I might change my mind if they introduced me to enough nice girls.” He smiled slightly as one of the more embarrassing encounters with one such prospective daughter in law snuck to the forefront of his mind. “What about you?”

“Sweetheart, I’ve been this camp since I was four. I always asked for Barbies for Christmas instead of toy trucks. I never needed to come out!” That lock of hair fell into Dane’s eyes again. Ross reached out and pushed it out of the other man’s way. It wasn’t until his fingers brushed against Dane’s skin he realized what he was actually doing. “Sorry.” “Don’t mind me,” Dane said. “I’ve always thought personal space is something that applies to other people—or at least that only applies to men who aren’t as hot as you. How long have you been in the force?” “It’s my turn to ask you a question,” Ross reminded him, mentally filing away the hot comment to be analyzed later. Dane’s smile widened. It almost seemed as if he was glad he’d been caught out. Maybe even as if he was pleased Ross had no intention of letting him get away with it. As if he liked men who had an instinct for rules and discipline and control. “Ask away, inspector.” “How do you know I’m an inspector?” A split second after the question left his lips, Ross mentally cursed himself. That wasn’t the question he wanted to ask. Dane laughed as if he read that fact straight out of his mind. It was a light, joyous sound, but it only lasted for a moment before it gave way to a painful sounding cough. Ross’ hand was instantly on the smaller man’s back. “Have you been checked out?” Dane tried to catch his breath to answer and failed, he put his hand over his mouth as his whole body shuddered under another coughing fit. “Just nod or shake your head,” Ross ordered. “And don’t even think about telling me that it’s not my turn to ask you something.” Dane nodded. “You’ve been checked out?” Another nod, followed by a cough that sounded even more excruciating than the last. Ross’ eyes narrowed as he slid his arm around the smaller man’s frame and did his best to support his whole body. “And they said you’re okay?” Finally Dane managed to draw a deep breath into his lungs. “The paramedics checked me out before they took Townsend to the hospital. They said I’m fine. Just a bit of smoke inhalation. I didn’t stick around in there for long enough for it to be anything to worry about.”

Ross rubbed circles over the other man’s back with the flat of his palm. He had no idea if it was helping, but there was no way in hell he could have sat there and done nothing. “You look like you’re in your mid thirties,” Dane informed him, his voice still rough. “I’ll put money on it you went into the force straight from school. Alpha male equals ambitious. Turning up off duty means workaholic—but you don’t look like someone who wants to go so far up the chain of command you end up tied to a desk. Add that all up, and I’m pretty you’re an inspector.” “Well, there’s no doubt you’re a Rawlings,” he muttered. “You got the copper’s genes even if you’ve never used them.” Dane made an unimpressed sound in the back of his throat as he straightened up. “Ever tried to track down a replacement plate for a rare seventeenth century dining service? Or prove that an unsigned painting can be conclusively attributed to an artist who died three hundred years ago. Darling, catching murders would be easy by comparison!” “And that’s what you do, is it—?” “Dane! What the hell happened?”

Chapter Two

Dane Rawlings didn’t bother to look over his shoulder. He knew that tone of voice— bossy, overprotective and as copper-ish as hell—and he didn’t really care which of his cousins was standing behind him at that particular moment. Nobody he was related to could possibly be as interesting as the man sitting next to him. Dane kept his eyes on Ross’ face, even after the other man’s attention shifted to some spot over his shoulder. The warm, strong hand that had been resting comfortingly on the small of Dane’s back retreated. “Yes,” Dane said. Ross’ attention snapped back to him. “Yes, that is what I do,” Dane told him, holding the other man’s eyes for all he was worth, knowing he had to make the most of those final seconds. He only just had time to get the words out before a hand landed on his shoulder and he was unceremoniously spun around to face Harland. “Are you okay?” his cousin demanded. “I’m fine, thank you. How are you?” Dane asked with his best and brightest smile. Harland glowered at him in silence for several seconds before turning his attention back to Ross. “I take it you’ve met—” Dane began. Leaning past him, Harland shook hands with the other man. “O’Sullivan.” He nodded, just once, apparently in no need of Dane’s polite attempts at an introduction. Turning so he could see both men’s expressions at the same time, Dane smiled slightly. Ross wasn’t backing down when faced with Harland’s grumpy bull. That was promising.

No. Dane shook his head at himself. It wasn’t promising. It didn’t mean anything. And even if it did mean that Ross was a natural dominant, Dane wasn’t going to get involved with another leather clad idiot—no matter how hot he was. “Mike told me he’d asked you to wait with Dane until one of us arrived,” Harland announced. As dismissals went, it was quite a polite one. Harland looked at his watch. “If you’re quick, you might just make the tail end of that auction.” Dane barely had time to say a word before Ross was striding away through the crowd. He ran his eyes over Ross’ back as the other man left them alone. In nothing but his t-shirt, it was easy to see how broad the other man’s shoulders really were. It was all muscle, with no thickly padded over-coat to trick the eye. The head of dark brown hair finally disappeared out of sight. Running his fingers over the edge of his borrowed coat, Dane turned his attention back to his cousin. “Auction?” he asked. Harland seemed to be in a world of his own. He was obviously already in full SOCO mode, running a professional eye over the chaos in front of him. “Auction?” Dane said again. Head tilted back to glare at the taller man, he kept on saying the same word over and over again, until Harland finally got fed up of hearing the same syllables nagging at the edge of his attention and turned his attention back to him. “Auction?” Dane repeated, just once more. “Classic cars,” Harland said. “He rebuilds them. Mike said he was on the way to bid on a gearbox when he stopped to see what was happening here.” “Did he say which gearbox he wanted?” “What?” Harland asked, his eyes narrowing as he focused in completely on Dane for what seemed to be the first time since he’d confirmed he wasn’t dead upon his arrival. “Why?” Dane didn’t see the point in answering. Anyone who worked on a crime scene for a living should have enough detection skills to work it out on his own. “I want to talk to Mike before we go.” “This is no place for an antiques dealer.” Harland folded his arms across his chest in his habitual ‘don’t mess with me’ stance. Dane patted his cousin sympathetically on the arm, wondering if Harland was ever going to realize that those tactics would never work on him.

Harland sighed. His voice turned more cajoling. “Aunt Sylvia will have my head on a platter if I don’t get you—” “My mother isn’t here,” Dane cut in. “I am. And I can be just as stubborn as her if I need to be. You’ll get me out of harm’s way a damn sight quicker if you just humor me and let me speak to Mike.” Once Dane had established that it wasn’t actually the big macho Rawlings man that was calling the shots right then, it didn’t take them too long to track down Mike and for Dane to find out everything he needed to know. **** “Why the hell is some old queen buying you car parts?” Dane stopped halfway along the corridor leading down the northernmost side of Westgate Street police station. He looked over his shoulder. One of the doors to an incident room was ajar. Retracing his steps, Dane peeked inside, already half sure what he was going to see before he even looked. Just as he both suspected and dreaded, Ross O’Sullivan was standing at a desk staring down into a very pretty gift basket. A gearbox peeked out from the purple tissue paper that Dane had carefully nestled around it. Mentally cursing delivery men for not knowing the difference between a home address and a work address, Dane nudged the door open. “I’d hardly call myself an old queen, darling.” Every man present turned to stare at him. Stepping forward, Dane made his way into the room with all the confidence of a man who’d spent his entire life surrounded by cops and wasn’t going to be intimidated by anyone just because every man facing him happened to have a pair of handcuffs tucked away in his back pocket. “Although, I think I could be convinced to accept being referred to as a young princess, if that’s any help.” Dane tilted his head on one side as if giving the matter a great deal of thought. “Yes, I think I could quite easily grow to like that.” The cop standing next to Ross merely gawped at him as if he’d been beamed down from another planet. Dane took another step forward, not about to give up the advantage by allowing the guy any time to pull himself together. “Dane Rawlings, so nice to meet you. And you are?”

“You’re not Dane Rawlings!” Dane turned and raised an eyebrow at a somewhat younger cop on the far side of the room. “Then my driver’s license must be very confused, because—” “No way!” the constable cut in. “I know all about Dane Rawlings. He’s a boxer. Twentyfour fights never beaten and—” “Actually, I think you’ll find it was twenty-five fights. But you’re still sweet to remember a retired boxer’s stats,” Dane said, never once letting his smile falter. He risked a quick glance back at Ross, wondering what he was making of it all. He didn’t look entirely freaked out. That was good. He wasn’t blushing or blustering as he tried to put some distance between them and the very different types of gay men they were, either. Without quite meaning to, Dane found himself meeting the other man’s eye and holding his gaze. “Go on, bugger off the lot of you,” Ross commanded the others, never once breaking eye contact with Dane. In a matter of seconds, they were alone in the room, the only sound a gentle click as the door was pulled shut behind the retreating cops. “The delivery address I gave the currier was your home, not here.” Ross turned his attention back to the gift basket and ran his fingers along the edge of the tissue paper. “A case a few years back—the guy we were after started to send strange packages to my house. Anything I haven’t told the doorman to expect gets diverted here now.” Dane made no comment. “How did you get hold of it?” Ross asked, staring down at the gearbox. “Well, it’s not quite a missing plate from a dinner service,” Dane said with a small shrug. “But the same general principles apply.” Nerves rushed through him. It took everything Dane had not to shuffle his feet or to ask the other man if he liked his present. The silence went on. Finally, Dane had to break it. “It was the least I could do, after you missed the auction just to keep me company.” Ross shook his head. “You shouldn’t have done this, Dane.” Quickly swallowing down his anxiety, Dane managed to force a few words through a throat left dry with nerves. “It’s nothing.” And, against all the very logical things he’d told

himself in the week since the fire, it appeared that Ross O’Sullivan really was as hot as he remembered him being. “You have to let me pay you back.” Dane shook his head. “It’s a gift.” Ross opened his mouth, only to close it again. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, a few seconds later. “Well, since the last time you saw me I was covered in soot and ashes, you could say that I clean up very well,” Dane suggested, sitting up on the desk next to the gift basket. The flippant, and at least slightly flirtatious, response Dane had hoped for didn’t arrive. “Or at least that you’re glad you’ve caught your arsonist and that it didn’t turn out to be me?” Dane suggested. Ross didn’t seem to be listening. His eyes travelled very slowly down the entire length of Dane’s body, from neatly styled hair over his lavender shirt, his gray slacks and all the way down to freshly polished Italian leather shoes. Dane stopped breathing. His grip on the edge of the desk turned white knuckled. He had the distinct feeling that the other man hadn’t noticed any part of his carefully chosen outfit—if only because he apparently had the power to see straight through every stitch of clothing on his body. Dane had never felt more naked in his life than he did right then, sitting fully clothed in the incident room. His cock had never liked feeling exposed so much, either. “You do clean up very well,” Ross finally announced. Dane’s smile became slightly less forced. “Although there was something cute about the way you looked last time I saw you. You had a smudge of soot right here.” He reached out and stroked a fingertip down Dane’s cheek. “Soot can be arranged,” Dane found himself saying. Hell, he was pretty sure he’d be happy to roll around naked in the damn stuff if that’s what rocked the guy’s socks. Ross smiled. “Dinner.” Dane blinked at him. “If you won’t let me pay you back for this, then you at least have to let me take you out to dinner,” Ross said, waving a hand toward the gift basket. “I do?”

Ross nodded, completely confident in his decision. “Are you always this bossy?” Dane asked. The guy didn’t even hesitate. “Yes. Is that a problem?” While Dane sat on the table, Ross seemed taller than ever. With his broader shoulders and extra height, the other man loomed over him in a way that pressed all the buttons he possessed. “No problem at all.” Dane dropped his gaze for a moment, trying to remember that he was only supposed to be interested in something simple and vanilla flavored, and completely failing. “Are you trying to tell me that you don’t want to have dinner with me?” Ross asked, tucking a fingertip under Dane’s chin and making him look up. Careful not to dislodge the other man’s touch, Dane shook his head. Silence was the only way he could be sure he wouldn’t give into the temptation to call Ross “sir”. The guy radiated more dominance than any man Dane had ever met. He’d make a bloody brilliant master. No, he’d make a really fun date, Dane mentally corrected, he wasn’t looking for anything more than that. Never again. “Tonight,” Ross said. It didn’t sound like a question. Dane nodded. Ross’ knuckle stroked underneath his chin as he took his hand away. “I’ll pick you up from your place at seven.” He took a notebook out of his pocket and handed it to Dane. “Write down your address.” Dane did as he was told and tried not to like the fact that the other man was already ordering him about as if he already had the right to expect complete obedience from him. **** “I wasn’t sure where we were going, so I didn’t know what to wear,” Dane said, before he had his front door even halfway open. Ross stood on his doorstep wearing tight black jeans and a light green shirt. He was also holding a bag full of what looked suspiciously like take-out containers in his hand. When he stepped forward, Dane automatically stepped back to let him in. “Do you like Chinese?” “Yes, um…” Thrown completely off his stride, Dane floundered.

“Living room?” Dane pointed and trailed behind Ross when the other man strode confidently in that direction. “I spent all afternoon investigating a break-in at a restaurant. I couldn’t face sitting in one tonight as well. Do you mind?” Dane shook his head. Stepping forward, he fell into well established habits and opened out a newspaper on his coffee table in the hopes that the grease from the food wouldn’t make it through to the woodwork. Ross made no comment on that as he took off his coat and casually draped it over the back of the sofa. “Did you have a good day?” “Fine, thank you,” Dane murmured, still on automatic pilot. While Ross turned his attention to getting all the containers out of the bag, Dane hovered close by, not sure what to do with himself. “If you weren’t in the mood to go out, you could have just asked for a rain check,” he eventually blurted out. “I wouldn’t have been offended.” “Not wanting to set eyes on a restaurant and not wanting to see you are two very different things.” Ross patted the seat next to him. Dane sat down on the edge of the sofa cushion, suddenly feeling like a guest in his own house. It was stupid. He wasn’t that hopeless or helpless a guy. He was the one who always kept the other man on his toes. He was the one who always went off plan at unexpected moments and made his dates run to keep up with him. It wasn’t fair for Ross to turn the tables on him. Ross smiled when Dane looked up and their eyes met. For a full minute, they just stared at each other. Then, without any sort of preamble or warning, Ross leaned forward and brought their lips together.

Chapter Three

Dane had a beautiful mouth, and it felt just as amazing as it looked. Soft lips molded against Ross’ mouth as he kissed him. A moment later, they parted, offering him complete access to the other man’s mouth. Ross required every scrap of self control he was able to scrape together, to pull away without taking advantage of the invitation to deepen the kiss. Dane’s eyes remained closed for a moment. When he finally opened them, he didn’t even try to meet Ross’ gaze. His attention went straight to the sofa cushion between them and stayed there. “Otherwise you’re going to be on edge all evening, wondering if I’m going to kiss you and when,” Ross explained. Dane turned to the coffee table and stared at the take out boxes as if they might contain all the answers to every question in the universe. Ross studied the younger man’s profile as they sat in silence, waiting for the other man to speak first, wondering what he might say. “Would you like something to drink with your dinner?” Dane finally asked, still not looking at him. “A soft drink if you have one, please.” Dane nodded. He stood up. After just a moment’s hesitation, he walked all the way around the coffee table rather than risk brushing against Ross’ legs. Left alone in the other man’s living room, Ross allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. The guy hadn’t slapped him. That was promising. For one thing, it probably meant that they both expected their evening to end the same way. The only question now was, did Dane realize that his guest hoped to indulge his kinks as well as his libido.

Shifting in his seat, Ross tried to rearrange his cock in his jeans as he hardened even further. As he leaned back, a cabinet next to the fireplace caught his eye. Standing up to get a closer look, he found himself staring at row after row of boxing trophies and medals. Every single one of them had Dane’s name engraved upon it. “I hope you like lemon. I’m completely out of limes.” Ross looked over his shoulder. Whatever the younger man had said to himself while he was fetching their drinks, it had obviously worked. He’d pulled himself back together very well and once again, exuded all the calm confidence he’d shown in front of all the cops at the station. Dane held out a glass of iced Coke. There was indeed a slice of lemon in it, and another one in the glass of lemonade Dane kept for himself. “Thanks.” Ross took the drink and nodded toward the cabinet. “So Constable Harris had the right Dane Rawlings when he asked you about boxing?” Dane retreated to the sofa. Pulling his feet up onto the cushion in front of him, he curled into a sweet little ball and nodded as he sipped his own drink. “Yes. He had the right man.” “Do you still box?” Losing interest in trophies now that the man who had won them was back in the room, Ross re-took the seat next to him on the sofa. Dane shook his head. “No.” A second’s thought seemed to make him change his mind. He shrugged. ”Not seriously, anyway. I keep my hand in, fitness work, the occasional spar to make sure I can still land a reasonable punch if I need to.” “But you were good?” Dane’s lips twisted into a wry little smile. “Yes, very good.” Ross turned in his seat, resting his arm along the back of the sofa, so he could study the other man more easily. But he let the silence lengthen between them, once more wondering what Dane would say to fill it. “Of course, if I hadn’t won those trophies, my family would probably have had some made, just so they could be put on display in here.” “Oh?” Ross prompted. Dane took a sip of his lemonade. “They’re very protective. If they thought something would keep me safer when I brought a date home, they’d have bought a dozen fakes and stuck those on my shelves.”

“Do you need keeping safe, then?” “No.” Dane turned to face him. He met his gaze without hesitation and held it. “I can look after myself.” It was said very seriously, as if it was intensely important to Dane that people realize that. Ross smiled, not at all sure he agreed. If Dane was half the submissive Ross believed he had the potential to be, it would do him a great deal of good to be taken under a dominant’s protection and cosseted there, safe and secure. Dane’s eyes narrowed as if he sensed that Ross’ opinion was very different to his own. “You know some of my cousins, don’t you?” Ross nodded. “I work with quite a few of them.” “They’re all the same, right? Tall, dark and muscle bound.” Another nod. It seemed an accurate enough description. “And they were brought up to play nicely, mind their strength and make sure no one gets hurt,” Dane went on. “But I wasn’t. My parents always told me, that if anyone takes a swing at me, I hit them back—hard enough that they never raise a hand to me again.” Dane’s voice was perfectly serious, but there was a hint of self-mocking humor in his eyes. “It seems my parents took one look at me and decided their first priority was to make sure I didn’t get beaten up every day in school.” “Did they succeed?” Ross asked, his grip on his glass tightening at the idea of anyone ever hurting the other man. Dane dropped his gaze for a moment. “Once the other kids learned that I could drop any bully with a single punch, they seemed to lose interest in making fun of the camp little gay kid.” As he spoke, he rubbed the back of his knuckles with the fingers of his other hand, as if his memories were threatening to get the better of him. Ross mentally cursed the little bastards, but there would be time enough to praise the hell out of the other man for getting through it all with battered knuckles rather than a beaten down soul on another night. Eager to pull Dane out of bad memories, he cast around for a new topic. “Do you have a coaster?” Dane’s lips immediately twitched into a smile. Success!

“And which of my cousins gave you that particular piece of advice?” Dane asked, as he made himself a little more comfortable on his end of the sofa. “Ed,” Ross admitted. “Apparently, leaving watermarks on priceless antiques is one of the few sins that you’re liable to consider truly unforgiveable.” Dane reached onto the side table behind him and handed over a coaster without another word. They both turned their attention to the take out boxes. Food was eaten. Glances were exchanged. Ross ran his gaze over the younger man’s body again and again, taking in every visible detail. It wasn’t easy to determine exactly how fine a body was hidden away behind the pale blue shirt or the gray slacks, but Ross suspected there was far more muscle there than a more casual inspection would discover. And there was certainly evidence of a very promising erection in the way the other man’s neatly tailored trousers were starting to tent at the crotch. Barely a word was spoken until Dane started to collect up the empty boxes. “Would you like a coffee?” “No.” Dane nodded and picked up another box. “Coffee wasn’t what I had in mind.” Dane froze for a moment before turning back to him. Outwardly calm, he smiled, appearing no more than politely curious. “What did you have in mind?” You, bent over this sofa while I plow deep into your arse and make you scream as you come. You, on your knees in front of me with those pretty lips wrapped around my cock as you take me all the way into your throat. You, turned over my lap, getting the hardest spanking of your life and loving every minute of it. “Have you ever been tied up?” Dane’s whole body appeared to tense as the question hit the air. His grip on his glass turned white knuckled. For a moment, Ross thought the other man was going to throw the remainder of the lemonade in his face.

Dane smiled but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry, darling. Not my thing. I’m strictly a vanilla guy.” Which might have been a perfectly reasonable answer—except for the fact it was obvious he was lying. Dane looked up and met his gaze square on, as if determined to make it look like he was telling the truth, but he wasn’t—Ross would have bet his life and every scrap of leather he possessed on it. “What happened?” Dane raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve been tied up before.” “Oh?” Dane asked. “Is there a flashing light above my head that says so? I do hope it’s a pretty color. If it can’t be accurate, at least it can be—” “That’s enough.” Ross didn’t intend the words to come out as forcefully as they did, but when they left his lips they were obviously an order that he expected to be obeyed. Dane fell silent. For a few seconds, the younger man’s attention was all on the bubbles in his leftover lemonade. “If something happened to make you wary of leather, I’d like you to tell me what it is,” Ross said, more gently—in a tone of voice that instinctively felt far more suitable for the man before him. “No,” Dane corrected. “You’d like to order me to tell you what it is.” “Yes, I would,” Ross admitted. “But, for now, I’ll settle for stating it as a preference. If you’re not ready to accept orders from me, there’s little point in me giving them, is there?” Dane was silent for a long time. Ross tried to read his expression, but it felt like a huge wall had come down between them—complete with barbed wire across the top and snarling guard dogs patrolling the perimeter. “Yes,” Dane finally said. “I’ve tried a few kinks. I’ve been tied up, and spanked and flogged and a dozen other things.” He shrugged—a jerky little movement that was anything but casual. “Tried it, found that it wasn’t for me. There’s no big dramatic story to tell. No one hurt me more than I allowed them to, no one ignored a safe word or refused to abide by my limits.” Ross never took his eyes off Dane’s face. “I don’t like being lied to.”

“Then you have my sympathy, darling,” Dane said. “Being a copper must be something akin to hell for you. I’d guess it involves people lying to you all the time.” Dane set his glass down on the coffee table as he jerked to his feet and made an abrupt retreat. He didn’t use a coaster. Unless Ross was very much mistaken, that little slip up was the equivalent to a fully fledged panic attack in another man. “Would you like to listen to some music?” Dane asked, heading over to what looked like a rather impressive collection of both CDs and records. “If you like,” Ross allowed. “But my question will still stand, and I’ll still want to know the truth when the song ends.” Dane didn’t turn around to face him. Even as he leaned forward and slipped a coaster under the other man’s abandoned glass, Ross never took his eyes off the other man’s back. Dane’s muscles were riddled with tension, his shoulders bunched up and spoiling the line of his shirt. “Perhaps I simply got tired of it all,” Dane eventually said. “In my experience, it’s either something a man loves or hates. If he loves it, he’ll always love it.” “Then I’ll always hate it,” Dane said. He wandered over to the big fireplace and straightened a few of the already perfectly arranged ornaments. “I’ll always hate being treated like dirt. And I’ll always loathe being spoken to as if I’m beneath the contempt of the man wielding the whip. There are things I have no interest in being punished for, and I’ll always hate men who can’t see that.” “If that’s what you think it’s about, you don’t know half as much as you think you do,” Ross said. It took all the self control he possessed to make himself stay in his seat when he heard the pain in the other man’s voice. “I know what men look for when they go hunting for a submissive,” Dane said, his voice turning softer, almost wistful. “And maybe if they end up with someone with a body full of tattoos and a face full of piercings it’s different. Maybe dominant men can respect guys like that.” “But you don’t think they can respect you?” Ross asked, as all the different half formed sentences and ideas started to come together inside his head.

“With me, it soon ends up being all about show the little fem boy what a real man is like.” Dane shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, even when every line of his body screamed how much of a lie that was. It mattered. Maybe he didn’t mind playing the camp card when it suited him. But there were times when he wanted to be treated like a real man. “I’m not bi. Girls don’t do it for me, Dane. I’ve no interest in treating you like a girl.” “So what does do it for you?” Dane asked, risking a brief glance over his shoulder. “How much have you really done?” Ross asked. Dane turned back and stared down into the empty fireplace for what felt like an eternity. Ross’ hand clenched into a fist at his side as he fought against the urge to reach out and comfort him, to tell him everything would be okay. When Dane finally looked up, he headed straight for the door. “Dane?” The other man stopped with his hand on the door handle. “Follow me.”

Chapter Four

Even as Dane walked down the hallway leading to the back of his house, he knew he was making a mistake. Worst of all, it didn’t even have the novelty of being a new and imaginative blunder. It was exactly the same error in judgment that he’d made far too often in the past. But, somehow, even knowing all that, Dane couldn’t quite convince his feet to halt their progress toward the dark wooden door at the end of the passageway. Taking a key from his pocket, he tried to ignore the way his fly rubbed against his erection. It was paying too much attention to his cock and not enough attention to his brain that always got him in this kind of trouble. The old fashioned brass lock turned over without a sound. Dane pushed the door. It swung open on equally well oiled hinges. The interior was in complete darkness, only the vaguest shadows could be made out by the light that leached into the space from the hallway. Reaching inside, Dane flicked on the light switch before stepping back to let Ross enter first. As the other man moved forward, Dane hovered just over the threshold. The briefest glance, hell, even the scent of the room, had already brought back a hundred different memories—generally of good times fading quickly into bad. His stomach knotted as he peered into the space. Instinct screamed at Dane to lower his eyes, but through sheer strength of will he kept his gaze up and his attention focused on the other man’s face as Ross reached the centre of the room and slowly took in his surroundings. His expression was unreadable. Glancing away from the dominant for a moment, Dane conducted his own critical examination of the space. It looked exactly as it had when he locked

the door a few months earlier and tried to mentally file it under just another room full of pretty things—as if it would ever be nothing more than that! Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Dane tried to find some stance that was neither that of a boxer ready to fight nor that of a scared little boy. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to lift his fists to block and jab, or to wrap his arms around his torso in a far more childish attempt at self-protection. The scent of leather washed over him, seeming to reach out of the room and completely envelope him. Well polished mahogany gleamed under the overhead lights. All his toys still hung neatly on the wall, and each one begged Dane to take them down to play with them. Each antique paddle and piece of furniture screamed quality and craftsmanship—as well as their ability to make any man scream in both pleasure and pain. And still, Dane stood just inside the door, his hands hanging idly at his sides, his toes twitching inside shoes that hadn’t moved one pace since Ross stepped into the room. With his expression still as neutral as ever, Ross finally turned to face him. The taller man stepped forward until he stood right in front of him. Dane had to tilt his head back to keep his gaze on Ross’ face. Ross lifted a hand. Dane didn’t jump as a loud bang echoed through the room, but only because every muscle in his body was so taught it would have been physically impossible to tense them any further. Dane glanced over his shoulder. The playroom door was closed. The air around them turned thick and heavy. Every movement slowed. It seemed to Dane that several lifetimes passed while he turned back to face the other man. “Take off your clothes, fold them neatly, and leave them on the floor in front of the door.” Dane looked down at his clothes as if he’d never seen them before in his life—as if he hadn’t spent far more time than he’d ever admit to selecting what to wear for their date. Fingertips stroked along Dane’s jaw and made him look up. “Your safe word is firefly.” “I never agreed to—”

“You wouldn’t have shown me this room if you didn’t want to submit to me,” Ross cut in. It was a statement of fact, not a question, and it was impossible to argue with the truth of it. Dane just stared up at the other man as his heart raced faster and faster, threatening to leap out of his chest at any moment and completely ruin a very nice shirt. “You’ll never know how I’ll treat you unless you try,” Ross pointed out. That was true. That didn’t actually make it any easier to forget all the complete bastards who’d visited that room in the past. Dane took half a step back. Ross didn’t try to prevent his retreat. “You’ll never know how much you might love submitting to me.” As Dane turned toward the door and reached for the handle, his mind spun with possibilities. Maybe Ross really was different? He sure as hell called to Dane’s submissive side far more strongly than any other dominant had in the past. And when his cousins had all called up to make sure he was okay after the fire, none of them had a bad word to say about their colleague. And… Dane closed his eyes. And, the decision had been made long before he ever unlocked the door to his playroom. Taking his hand away from the polished brass, Dane reached for the top button of his shirt and silently began to follow the other man’s order. Keeping his back to the room, more to hide the slight tremble in his hands than in the hope of concealing any part of his soon to be naked body, Dane slowly undid each button on the pale blue fabric. The sound of moment behind him made Dane tense, but he didn’t turn around as he dropped his attention to his cufflinks. “Face me.” Still trapped in a world where each movement took several years to complete, Dane did as he was told, only to find that Ross was no longer standing directly behind him. The other man sat in the leather wing chair in the corner of the room, his legs stretched out comfortably in front of him. The guy’s jeans and T-shirt hardly seemed suited to either the formality or the vintage of the objects surrounding him, yet, somehow, he seemed perfectly at home there, completely at ease.

Resting one elbow on the well padded arm of the chair, Ross settled his chin on his fist. “Carry on.” There was admiration in his eyes, and he was making no attempt to hide it. Dane kept his attention on the dominant’s expression as his hands began to work on automatic. Dane’s movements turned smoother and more graceful as something inside him began to settle. His decision had been made. Dane took a deep breath. The scene had started. All was now right with his world—at least until irrefutable evidence to the contrary was provided. When his last piece of clothing was set carefully aside, Dane positioned himself neatly before the older man—his feet shoulder width apart and hands folded behind his back. It was a strong pose, a masculine arrangement of limbs. Dane’s throat closed up as he prayed that his lover was able to take the hint about what kind of submissive he was dealing with that night. Ross twirled one finger in the air. Dane slowly turned around, letting the fully clothed dominant get a good look at every inch of him. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt Ross’ eyes caressing his skin, examining and probing each intimate crevasse without even laying a hand on him. “That’s enough.” Dane stilled, once more facing the other man. “Step forward three paces.” Obedience brought Dane to stand between the dominant’s casually sprawling legs, well within touching distance of the other man. As if to reinforce that knowledge, Ross idly reached out and ran his knuckles up and down the underside of Dane’s erection. Dane forgot how to breathe. His eyes dropped to watch the other man toying with him. “Do you like pain?” Dane had to swallow several times in quick succession before he could trust his words to come out at something lower than a soprano. “I enjoy moderate pain,” he finally managed to murmur. “Define moderate.” Ross’ fingers didn’t stop their teasing for one damn moment. Dane closed his eyes as he desperately tried to keep his hips still and not thrust his cock into the other guy’s hand. “Spanking,” he whispered. “P-paddling…” “Keep going,” Ross ordered. “I… I like floggers.”

“Anything else?” Dane tried to think. It was damn near impossible. His hips thrust forward then swayed quickly back as he dragged himself into his original position. He couldn’t even decide if he wanted to get away from the teasing or get more of it. “Pr-predicament bondage?” he hazarded. “You know, where you’re forced to choose between two options, but both are painful?” “Oh?” Dane forced open his eyes. He blinked down at the other man. Ross didn’t look anything more than politely curious. For all the emotion in his face, he might have been talking to a stranger about the weather. Bastard… The dominant smiled as if he knew exactly what Dane was thinking, maybe even as if that was precisely what he wanted his lover to be thinking about him at that moment. Without any warning, he took his fingers away, but before Dane could even open his mouth to protest, every thought in his head disintegrated. All he could do was watch enthralled as Ross opened his mouth and delicately licked his submissive’s pre-cum from his fingers. Dane whimpered. Behind his back, his grip on his opposite wrist turned white knuckled. If it was physically possible, his cock got even harder. “I’m going to flog you tonight,” Ross suddenly informed him. “Then I’m going to screw you.” Dane nodded his complete approval of that plan. “But first,” Ross went on. “You’re going to get on your knees and give me a nice slow blow job.” Dane closed his eyes for a moment. He knew what the other man’s words meant. He heard each unspoken one just as clearly as the audible ones. The flogging would last however long it took Ross to recover and be ready for round two. The dominant would have no reason to rush through that particular part of their game. He’d be in no hurry for his own pleasure. Dane would be the only one half insane with frustration as the leather fell against his back. “If you’re very good, I might let you come when I’m finished. But that will be my choice, not yours.”

Dane managed another nod. Part of him knew that he should be grateful that his lover hadn’t ruled out the possibility of him coming at all, but he couldn’t manage to summon up that particular emotion right then—equal parts of frustration and submission took up far too much space inside his head for anything else to fit. “Perhaps it would be different if you were a different sort of submissive,” Ross mused as he lifted one hand to cupped Dane’s balls and roll them gently in his palm. Dane closed his eyes. And that was where it all went to hell, wasn’t it? The guy hadn’t even managed to pick up a single sodding toy before he started to— “But I expect any man who I take under my protection to display complete self control. You’re obviously no novice at this. There’ll be no excuses accepted for coming without my permission. Understand?” Dane slowly opened his eyes. Ross’ gaze was already on his face and he held Dane’s eyes as he gradually tightened his grip around his balls until it was just slightly uncomfortable. In that moment, he didn’t look as if he thought he was playing with a man who was too feminine to respect, too weak to take a hard game, or even one who needed to be punished for not being a real man. It looked suspiciously like Ross believed himself to be playing with someone who knew what he was doing, someone who he wasn’t going to baby and praise unless he did a bloody good job at following every single command he gave him. Still maintaining eye contact, Dane nodded. “Speak up.” Ross’ grip tightened just a fraction more. “Yes, sir.” No one could have been more surprised than Dane to hear the honorific leave his lips, but Ross seemed to take it easily in his stride, as if nothing could be more natural than for Dane to offer him his complete and unequivocal respect after five brief minutes under his command. Ross released his grip. “Kneel.” Dane slowly lowered himself to the floor. There was no offer of a cushion, no attempt to make him more comfortable, no hint that Ross thought he might be too delicate to survive an entire evening crawling around on a hardwood floor.

Ross undid his jeans and unceremoniously pushed them down his legs. He’d been going commando beneath them. As soon as his cock was freed from behind the denim, it curved back toward his stomach as hard and enthusiastic as Dane’s own erection. Lacking an order to do anything else, all Dane could do was stare in admiration at the long, thick shaft. Right from the tip all the way down to where the base nestled into a thatch of dark brown curls, he was glorious. Flicking up his gaze, Dane sought permission to lean forward and get to work. No such gift was offered. Ross merely reached out and threaded his fingers into Dane’s hair. Taking a firm grip on the short blond strands, Ross pulled Dane forward until his lips rubbed against the head of his cock. Opening his mouth, Dane tried to lean further toward him, but the grip on his hair quickly turned painful. He winced as he was dragged back several inches, before once more being brought forward and allowed another brief taste of the tip. “I’m not in any rush,” Ross reminded him. Dane glanced up at the other man through his lashes. There was nothing he wanted more than to push on to the part of the evening where he might be allowed to come—nothing, perhaps, except to please the man in front of him. Cautiously testing his boundaries, he reached out with his tongue and lapped at the other man’s glans. That appeared to be acceptable. He repeated the action more confidently. With his hand still maintaining a firm grip on Dane’s hair, as if the dominant had no doubt he was leading a man who was strong enough to get away from anything less, Ross guided Dane’s head down a fraction of an inch at a time, gradually allowing his submissive’s tongue access to his entire shaft. Starting at the tip, Ross led Dane all the way to the base, giving him plenty of time to lick and worship every inch of velvety soft skin on his cock. Unable to help himself, Dane whimpered his pleasure as his growing knowledge of the other man’s body filled his senses. The heat from his skin radiated against Dane’s face. The scent of Ross’ arousal surrounded him. The taste of him danced on his tongue and slid down his throat, eager to lodge itself as deeply inside Dane as it could. “Good boy.” It was barely more than a rough little murmur. When Dane looked up, he was half sure that Ross wasn’t even aware that he’d spoken, but that didn’t matter. The words

still caught hold of Dane by the throat, pinned him to the wall and demanded that he find a way to keep the other man’s good opinion of him for the rest of his life.

Chapter Five

Ross pulled another breath into his lungs, but the calm, clear thought process he hoped it would bring with it was no match for the pleasure Dane was causing to dance in his veins. He tightened his grip on the younger man’s hair as he thrust his hips, burying his cock deeper within the other man’s mouth. Some part of him screamed that he should be far more careful with the submissive. It insisted that Dane needed much gentler handling, a great deal more tender treatment from a lover. But, before Ross could make his fingers even begin to ease their hold, Dane looked up. No. This. This was exactly what Dane needed. As their eyes met, Ross had never been more certain of anything in his life. Whatever had been screaming inside him fell silent, thoroughly gagged by Ross’ new understanding of the man kneeling before him. Dane didn’t need to be fussed over in a scene—he had enough of that in the outside world. A strong hand and a firm grip was exactly what he required from any potential master. The darkness that had crept into Dane’s expression when he spoke of how previous lovers—of how men who’d had the cheek to refer to themselves as dominants when they obviously didn’t even know the meaning of the word—had treated him, was gone, and Ross wasn’t willing to be the man who brought it back. Dane whimpered around his shaft, and Ross realized he’d been holding the other man’s head still for far too long. There was a touch of uncertainty creeping back into Dane’s eyes. That couldn’t be allowed to happen either. Ross instinctively tightened his hold on the thick blond strands of hair and pulled Dane closer. He felt the tip of his cock touch the back of the other man’s throat, but there was no sign of panic from his lover.

Dane didn’t gag; he didn’t try to pull back. There wasn’t even a hint of concern in his expression. His hands were still behind his back, making no effort to reach forward and control what was happening between them. As Ross tugged Dane away from him, until only the very tip of his cock rested in the submissive’s mouth, he felt his lover take a deep breath around his shaft. Pulling him forward once more, Ross didn’t stop when the tip of his erection touched the back of Dane’s throat; he drew the submissive even further forward, until the head of his cock slipped into the tighter cocoon of flesh. Muscles moved around him, but Dane couldn’t swallow. Right then, he couldn’t even breathe. But still, the only thing in his eyes as he stared up at Ross was pleasure. It was that expression on the submissive’s face as Dane’s cheeks hollowed out and he eagerly took Ross’ cock into his throat that pushed him over the edge. Ross jerked the other man’s head back a few inches as his hips thrust forward, keeping his cock lodged firmly in Dane’s mouth. Controlling every movement the submissive made, Ross came across his lover’s tongue, pumping his hips forward as he spilled inside him. The younger man spluttered as he struggled for breath. His body jerked, as he frantically tried to swallow down everything his lover had given him, but his hands stayed behind his back. He still gave control of the entire world to his lover as if he couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do with his whole life. Collapsing back in his chair, Ross fell motionless, thoroughly spent. Dane, still held in place by Ross’ hand, cautiously lowered his head to rest it against Ross’ thigh. Each breath Dane took was relayed to his master, each whimper vibrated around Ross’ slowly softening shaft. Resting his head back against the chair, Ross stared up at the ceiling and let pleasure echo through his body until a tiny movement from the submissive instantly killed any sleepiness in him. “Thrust your cock against the base of my chair one more time, and it won’t be a pleasure spanking you’ll get.” Dane whimpered, but he also stilled. Ross smiled at the ceiling once more, simply enjoying the sheer perfection of the world before lazily sitting up straighter and stretching out muscles that had never been more relaxed. Turning his head, he admired the selection of whips and paddles that hung from the neatly laid out rows of hooks on the wall alongside him.

Each implement had its merits. Each would have to be brought down off its hook in due course. Right then, Ross had no doubt that he and Dane would do so many scenes together over the coming years that each toy would gradually be worn out by excessive use and need to be replaced. Ross’ thoughts stalled as a suddenly scared little part of his mind jumped up and circled that idea with a bright red pen. A moment later, it added a whole line of exclamation points after it for good measure. Carefully running the thought over in his mind, Ross frowned to himself. He’d never made a habit of getting attached to a submissive, especially not after just one scene, but… He looked down at Dane. The younger man’s hair was in complete disorder. His lips were red from sucking his future master’s cock, his eyes were shining with expectation and, yes, Ross found it really was impossible to believe there wouldn’t be a great many shared scenes in their future. It was only when Dane’s expression turned questioning that Ross finally managed to snap himself back into the present. “The black leather flogger,” he said. “From the far end of the top row. Bring it to me.” Dane quickly moved to do as he was told. He had all the grace of a dancer and—no. Ross’ smile turned more crooked. Dane had all the grace of a truly skilled boxer in the ring. Within seconds, the other man was once more kneeling at Ross’ feet, holding out the item to him on both his palms in a pretty, little, formal offering. Picking it up, Ross ran the long leather strands through his fingers. Even before he touched it, he knew it would be fantastic quality. He was confident enough in his understanding of the man kneeling before him to realize that Dane wouldn’t buy anything that wasn’t the best of its kind. Ross nodded his acceptance of the implement. “Turn around. Get on your hands and knees.” Dane’s movements were still those of a man with an athlete’s ability to coordinate every inch of his body. There was no clumsiness, but his actions betrayed just the tiniest trace of uncertainty, as if he wasn’t exactly sure where he was heading or the best way to please his master. “Head down.”

Dane lowered himself to his elbows and bowed his head toward the floorboards, offering his arse up to a dominant with a whip. As if Dane suddenly realized why he’d been placed in that position, he seemed to relax slightly, reassured that they were still well within his comfort zone, and there was nothing he needed to worry about. Reaching forward, Ross tapped the handle of the flogger against the inside of his lover’s knees, encouraging Dane to spread them wider. Once he had the other man exactly as he wanted him, Ross leaned back in his chair. It was a very pretty sight. One day, Ross decided, he’d have to put Dane in a similar position and simply rest his feet up on the submissive’s back while he relaxed between bouts—if for no other reason than to see what reaction it might raise in the other man. Unless he was very much mistaken, the biggest problem Dane would have with the experience was not coming without permission while his master made use of him that way. Smiling to himself, Ross didn’t bother to do up his jeans or move from his chair while he watched the tension slowly accumulate in Dane’s lean, muscular frame. He offered no warning before he finally raised the flogger for the first time. It wasn’t a hard blow, but he still wouldn’t have blamed the younger man for flinching under the shock of it. Dane needed no allowances made for him. No forgiveness for jerking out of the position he’d been ordered into was required. He couldn’t have remained more still if thick leather straps had been wrapped around every limb. Only the softest little gasp escaped from between the submissive’s lips. Lifting his arm again, Ross let the flogger fall across the submissive’s other buttock as he brought it back down in an easy figure of eight motion. Dane’s skin was pale. The blush left by the leather quickly became noticeable as Ross repeated the action, letting the leather snap against the round, firm globes of muscle once more. Perfect comfort and a perfect view. There wasn’t much more a dominant could ask from life. Ross leaned back in his chair and added just a touch more heat to the submissive’s buttocks with an easy, practiced motion. Dane’s legs were spread very wide. He was completely exposed before his lover. His sac was pulled up tight beneath him. His erection swayed each time his body rocked from another kiss of the leather. The submissive’s back arched further as the flogger found its objective once

more, offering up the best possible target. His knees slid further apart on the hard wooden floor, but Ross didn’t let that change anything. He kept up his rhythm, bringing the leather down on the younger man’s arse until the pretty pink blush turned a fiery red.

Dane bit down hard on his bottom lip and desperately tried not to beg. It wasn’t easy. As the leather connected with his upturned buttocks again, his teeth drew blood. It wasn’t even as if he knew what he wanted to beg for. It certainly wasn’t for the other man to stop. That was the one thing he was sure he didn’t want. Every lash from the flogger sent a wave of pleasure swirling through his veins and— Nothing. The sound of leather against skin disappeared from Dane’s world. The only noises that remained in the room were those of his own ragged breaths. He had no idea how long the flogging had lasted—only that it was long enough to have him half ready to collapse flat on the floor from an overload of sensations and far more than half ready to come from even the slightest breeze against his cock. Moving was out of the question. All Dane could do was remain, head down and arse up, waiting for the other man to make his next move. He couldn’t see Ross, he couldn’t hear him, but he could feel his presence arcing over the room. He could sense that he was under the other man’s control, and that he had no choices left to make. Dane closed his eyes a little tighter and relished that fact. Heat coursed through his backside, and he knew it would be days before he’d be able to sit without squirming in his seat, or without smiling every time he lowered himself into a chair. A lifetime passed before fingertips finally brushed firmly across Dane’s buttocks. He whimpered into the floorboards. Compared to his arse, Ross’ hands were cold and soothing, but the skin was almost too sensitive to take it. It was nearly too much. There was only so much pleasure one body could contain. As Ross’ palms slid against him, Dane felt the other man move closer to kneel between his spread calves. When lubed fingers slid against his hole, Dane was almost ready to scream out in relief. They were finally getting to the point where he might be allowed to come! If you please me…

Dane drew in a shaky breath as he realized how essential it was that he had pleased the other man—and not just because he was desperate to come. He needed the dominant to be pleased with him far more than he needed his orgasm. Ross not being pleased with him was— “Relax. I’m not going to screw you before you’re ready to take me.” Dane’s thoughts scattered at what sounded very much like a threat to a brain addled by arousal. It took far too long for true understanding to dawn. “I’m ready, sir,” Dane whispered as he finally recognized the reassurance the other man was trying to offer him. His voice was much rougher than he expected—it hinted that he hadn’t taken his flogging as calmly or as quietly as he’d thought he had. It sounded like he had screamed himself hoarse and Dane had no way of knowing if the dominant would be pleased with him for that. “I’ll decide when you’re ready,” Ross corrected, his fingers sliding deeper inside Dane’s hole and scissoring apart to open him up even further. Squirming slightly, Dane tried to push himself back onto the digits, desperate to show willingness. At the same time, he made a conscious effort to relax his muscles and make it obvious that he really was welcoming the penetration. “Good boy.” Those words were dangerous, especially when they were said in a voice that damn near dripped with equal measures of dominance and sex—but they had their good points, too. For one, they appeared to indicate that Ross wasn’t going to make him wait much longer. To Dane’s relief, within a minute, the other man’s fingers had disappeared and the sound of a condom wrapper being torn open filled the air. Slicked latex pressed against Dane’s hole just a moment later. Dane whimpered, only just managing not to push back in an effort to squirm his way onto the long, thick shaft. Seconds stretched out, minutes turned into infinity as the dominant’s hands rested on his flanks and the very tip of Ross’ erection teased his hole without actually entering him. When it finally came, the thrust was strong and deep, lodging Ross’ cock deep inside Dane’s arse with one harsh movement. Dane’s hands slid on the floor. He’d have overbalanced if it hadn’t been for the other man’s hold on him.

Ross’ hips pressed tight against Dane’s buttocks, setting off new fireworks beneath the sensitized skin. No time was wasted making sure he was okay, now. No allowances were made for Dane’s delicate frame or for anything else. And Dane couldn’t have loved the dominant more for it. Each thrust pounded into him hard enough to make him moan and mew in pleasure. Every time Ross found his prostate, Dane had to fight against his need to come. Pleasing Ross was more important. Dane had never been more certain of anything in his life—and he’d never been more grateful for the next order to leave his master’s lips either. “Come.” Dane obeyed. Just like the good submissive he was, he immediately spilled his cum all over his well polished wooden floor. He felt the other man’s rhythm falter as Ross apparently decided to join him in his descent into bliss. Pleasure rushed through Dane, making his muscles weak with ecstasy. The world spun; pretty, flashing lights danced behind Dane’s eyelids as he closed his eyes. His whole body contracted around a brief burst of pleasure—more intense than anything he’d ever felt. Then, it was gone. As they stilled, Ross joined him in his collapse toward the floor. Every joint in Dane’s body protested as he was pinned to the hard surface by the heavier man’s body. His arse was on fire. His limbs weren’t used to maintaining such an uncomfortable position for so long anymore. His cock was too sensitive to enjoy being trapped between his body and the floor that way. And he was already starting to fall for the man on top of him. Dane closed his eyes again. All the other sensations might have been able to be labeled as good things under the circumstances, but throwing those sorts of emotions into the ring after just one scene… He’d have shaken his head at himself if he could have raised the energy. As it was, breathing demanded all the reserves he had left to give. “I’m staying here tonight. You have any problem with that?” Ross asked, eventually. “No, sir.” For a minute, Dane thought the older man actually intended them to sleep where they’d fallen forward onto the floor, but as the seconds passed and afterglow slowly faded away, Dane found himself being pulled to his feet and led up the stairs to his own bedroom.

For the first time he could remember, he made no object to the scene leaving the playroom or to another man’s dominance over him creeping into the rest of his life. What had felt wrong with other men felt right with Ross, and Dane wasn’t in any condition to question his instincts.

Chapter Six

“I know you’re awake, sleepyhead. Rise and shine. I have to go to work.” Dane buried his face in the other man’s chest as he shook his head. But, even as he slid his arms more firmly around Ross’ torso, Dane knew there was probably little chance he could keep his lover in his bed for much longer. Sleeping next to Ross through the night should have sated any need he had to be close to the other man, but it hadn’t. If anything, it had merely wetted Dane’s appetite. “You could call in sick?” he suggested, sleepiness clinging to his voice as he snuggled in closer to the warm and strength of his lover. “I’d be lying.” Dane made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. He wasn’t averse to a little white lie. Hell, he wasn’t averse to a bright pink and purple polka dot lie if it would keep the other man naked and in his bed for a few more hours. Ross laughed. Dane couldn’t help but smile in return as the deep, rich sound vibrated through the dominant’s chest. Lifting his head slightly, he looked up at the other man, suddenly feeling strangely shy. Ross appeared to be considerably amused by something. Dane’s hand went to his hair. Just as he suspected it was sticking up at a hundred different angles. He tried to flatten it down, but he’d barely patted at the blond strands twice before Ross caught hold of both his wrists and firmly put a stop to any such attempt. “I like it like it is.”

Dane nibbled slightly at his own bottom lip. There was a sore spot where he’d drawn blood the night before. He didn’t like the way Ross looked in the morning. Like wasn’t a good enough word for it. Still heavy lidded with sleep and with morning stubble darkening his jawline, he was a completely irresistible invitation to sex—or even better, a command to sex. The way his wrists were trapped made it impossible for Dane to reach out and caress his lover, but he still managed to raise a smile. “Do you have time to do anything before you go to work, sir?” he asked. Ross shook his head. Dane tried not to show his disappointment. He wasn’t some weak fragile little thing that couldn’t face reality head on. He couldn’t let that kind of idea creep into Ross’ head. “I—” “I’ll have plenty of time after work though,” Ross cut in. “Yes!” Dane’s smile became far more genuine. But a moment later, he frowned. “Damn. No—there’s a family thing I have to go to this evening.” Ross raised an eyebrow at him. “You could call in sick,” he echoed. “I could,” Dane agreed. “But it might spoil the mood if half my family turn up on the doorstep with pots of chicken soup just when we’re getting started.” Ross chuckled and ruffled Dane’s hair as he released his hands and let him get up. He seemed to understand. “After that then?” Dane nodded quickly, barely managing to resist the urge to fling himself at the other man in an attempt to keep him close. He wanted Ross to stay with him in bed all day so badly it felt like a need. Unfortunately, it was impossible for him to escape the fact that the only thing he needed even more than that was to know the other man was pleased with him. If the best way to do that was accept Ross’ decision, then so be it. Dane could only sit helplessly on the bed and try not to squirm on his still sore backside as he watched Ross get dressed. It wouldn’t be that long until the next time they met. He had no reason to believe that Ross would disappear off the face of the earth once he left his sight. All those very logical facts didn’t help. Dane still found himself having to form a tight fist around the edge of his blanket as he watched the other man prepare to walk away from him.

With every moment that passed, Ross seemed to withdraw mentally as well as physically. Dane didn’t know why he should be surprised. He’d seen enough of his cousins do the same as they got ready to go on a shift. A man couldn’t be the same person at the station as he was with his boyfriend. It was stupid for him to feel hurt that it seemed to be so easy for Ross to switch off the part of his brain that might give a damn about a submissive lover. Ross was almost at the bedroom door when he suddenly turned and retraced his steps. Dane looked around, wondering what the dominant might have forgotten. As he reached the side of the bed, Ross’ unceremoniously slid his hand into Dane’s hair and took a tight grip of the disordered blond strands. Dane suddenly found himself pulled sharply up, to kneel on the edge of the bed. Dipping his head so his lips were just an inch from Dane’s ear, Ross whispered. “Be good.” His other hand connected sharply with Dane’s arse, making him jerk forward and rub his naked body against the dominant’s fully clothed form. A quick kiss against his temple and Ross pulled away again, leaving Dane kneeling at the very edge of the bed. A moment later, Dane heard his front door slam behind the dominant. The only way he could stop himself rushing to the window was to retreat into the en-suite. Stopping in front of the full length mirror, he looked over his shoulder and admired the pink tinge to his buttocks. It was a far more pleasing sight than that of his lover leaving him. **** “I thought you had a family thing tonight.” It wasn’t exactly the height of witty repartee, but since the only other words in Ross’ head revolved around wanting Dane to drop his trousers right there in the middle of the station, just so Ross could see if his lover’s arse was still blushing prettily for him, it did seem to be, by far, the safest thing to say when he saw Dane standing in his office doorway. “Half my family work here,” Dane reminded him. Ross’ lips twisted into a small smile as he closed his file and leaned back in his chair. He’d been acutely aware of that fact most of the day. Half the Rawlings men worked at his station—and damn near every one of them seemed to have a sixth sense about who had just screwed their pretty, little cousin. If they hadn’t come right out and asked him what his intentions

were, they’d made their views on men who might have dishonorable intentions very clear in a million different ways. “Conrad’s giving me a lift to the get together.” “You mean he wants the chance to get you alone so he can check up on you and make sure your new boyfriend’s playing nicely?” Ross translated. Dane’s lips smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. And Ross didn’t miss the fact that the submissive was watching for his reaction very carefully. “I’m hardly going to throw a temper tantrum just because you have a family that cares about you, pet.” Unless Ross was very much mistaken, the next breath was the first real one Dane had taken since he set eyes on him, maybe even the first he’d taken that day. Dane’s smile reached his eyes as he looked over his shoulder and glanced both ways along the corridor. Ross raised an eyebrow when Dane turned to him. “I have twenty minutes before I’m due to meet Conrad…” “Oh?” Ross ran his eyes over Dane’s body as well as he could under those particular circumstances—it really was a crime for him to be hidden away behind all those clothes. “And you have handcuffs…” Dane said, in a slow, contemplative tone of voice. “And I’m sitting in the middle of a busy police station.” “And your door has a lock on it…” Ross somehow managed to keep a straight face. “And an arrest for public indecency wouldn’t look good on either of our records.” Dane tilted his head to one side. “And I would have thought the underneath of your desk quite private…sir.” There was only so much temptation any man could be expected to resist, and the look in Dane’s eyes tipped Ross over the edge. He might have been able to wait if there had been nothing but teasing and easy good humor in the deep blue gaze, but there was a hint of seriousness there too. A little bit of the lost quality that had been so obvious when Ross had barely been able to force himself to leave the other man’s house that morning. A plea for sex could have been ignored, but Ross found himself entirely incapable of brushing aside a request to be reassured that Dane’s lover was still interested in him, that he still had every intention of becoming the other man’s master.

Ross nodded toward the door. Dane didn’t waste a second. The moment it was locked, he was standing next to Ross’ desk, his hands out ready to receive his handcuffs. The ratcheting sound as he fitted them around Dane’s wrists seemed very loud, as the sounds from outside the room faded from Ross’ notice. Pausing for just a moment to check that there was nothing under there that might stain his very nicely tailored trousers, Dane slid gracefully under Ross’ desk apparently not the least hindered by the token piece of bondage wrapped around his wrists. It was almost as if he was too eager to please, right then. A few days before, Ross would have laughed at the idea a submissive could be any such thing, but there was an uncertainty in the younger man that he quickly became determined to eradicate. One moment that intention was firmly in the front of Ross’ mind, the next, Dane’s fingers were tugging at his fly and Ross’ thoughts were blown to the four corners of the earth. Ross’ hand came to rest on the back of Dane’s head. He wasn’t even sure if he intended to pull him closer or stop him short when he tangled his fingers into his hair. Then, at some point—no doubt when he was paying more attention to his cock than anything else—it became about nothing more than stroking his fingers through the thick blond strands. It became about simply welcoming the younger man close and letting Dane know he was exactly where his future master wanted him to be. His movements only slightly restricted by the cuffs, Dane quickly had Ross’ rapidly hardening shaft freed from behind his fly. Hot, wet heat instantly surrounded the tip of his cock. “Good boy.” Dane murmured his pleasure at the gentle praise as if that was all he really wanted from their encounter. Ross’ fingers tightened in his hair. Dane sucked harder around him in response, swirling his tongue around the tip of Ross’ cock as his eyes fell closed in pleasure. “That’s right.” All the control was held in the palm of Ross’ hand. Dane followed every hint Ross was willing to give regarding how he might be able to please him. Not in the mood to hold back, Ross was soon spilling into the submissive’s mouth.

As pure ecstasy rushed through his veins and he arched against his desk chair, it was all Ross could do not to scream his pleasure loudly enough for not only Dane, but every other Rawlings man in the building as well—to hear how well his lover had pleased him. Even after Ross caught his breath and looked down at the other man, Dane didn’t appear to be in any sort of rush to rise to his feet straight away. Ross let go of his hair, but Dane still stayed on his knees, his head resting on the inside of Ross’ thigh. “When you get to my place tonight, we’re going to have a long talk,” Ross announced as he stared down at him. Dane’s eyes flicked up and met his for a moment before rushing back to stare at the floor. “Yes, sir?” “About the proper use of blowjobs and the appropriateness of offering sex whenever you feel nervous about how much I want to take you under my protection,” Ross went on. Dane’s eyes stayed on the scruffy lino floor. “There are many, many wonderful times and places for blowjobs. And I have every intention of exploring them all with you, but next time you want to be reminded who you belong to, all you have to do is ask.” Finally, Dane looked up. Holding his eyes, letting his hands work on automatic, Ross helped the younger man up from the floor and guided him to sit on the desk in front of his master while he undid his handcuffs and put them away. “Who do I belong to, sir?” Dane finally asked. “Me.” Ross didn’t bother to add anything else to an answer that he considered to be quite sufficient on its own. Dane said nothing. “We’ll talk about that tonight, too. Until then, I suggest you go to your get together. You’d best try to discreetly hold something in front of your fly until such time as you’ve got your cock back under control. Understand?” Dane nodded. Ross waited, sure there would be more to come. “This conversation we’re having tonight, sir…?” “Yes, Dane?” “It will be about…?”

“Dominance. Submission. Mastery. Expectations. Collars,” Ross listed. “Specifically a simple black leather collar that you can wear during our scenes. Feminine and pretty is all very well at times, but your collar isn’t going to be anything like that.” Dane nodded. For a few seconds, he closed his eyes as if relishing every word. By the time he opened them, he seemed to have relaxed, as if all the cares in the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Ross helped him off the desk and sent him toward the door with a firm tap on the arse. “Go on. I’ll see you later tonight.” “Yes, sir.” Dipping his head, Ross was just about to kiss the other man goodbye when the handle on his office door rattled. Muttering curses, Ross stepped past Dane, unlocked it, and yanked it open. Conrad stood outside. There were other men behind him. At first glance, about half of them seemed to be Rawlings men. “You two ready?” Conrad asked. “Us two?” Ross repeated. “It’s a family get together,” Conrad said. Ross looked at him blankly. Conrad’s gaze didn’t even waver. “You are family, aren’t you?” Ross hesitated. No, after one date, he bloody well wasn’t. He looked over his shoulder at Dane, wondering if this sort of craziness was considered normal in his family. His future submissive’s expression was carefully blank, as if it was something he’d usually laugh at, but it wasn’t striking him as funny that day. Ross looked back to the group of men before him. “Best give in gracefully,” a voice that Ross recognized as belonging to Kieran Osborne piped up, from near the back of the crowd. “Yeah, they’ll get you eventually. No point in fighting it,” a young black man added. Ross looked back to the Rawlings members of the party. In that moment, he knew his evening was almost certainly going to consist of a succession of deep and meaningful conversations all about his intentions toward Dane. No doubt, there would also be a side order of not so subtle threats served with each one, too.

Looking over his shoulder, Ross caught Dane’s gaze once more. Awkward conversations were a small price to pay really. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m family.” Dane suddenly seemed almost as shy as he was shocked by Ross’ answer. As Ross grabbed his coat and they joined the back of the crowd, Dane caught his eye once more. “Best start as I mean to go on,” Ross said. “This way, they shouldn’t give you too much hassle the first time they spot my collar hanging around your neck.” For once, Dane didn’t object that he could look after himself or that he didn’t need to be babied by his future master. He merely smiled once more as his hand went to his neck and stroked the line of skin that would soon be hidden away behind a substantial length of leather. “Yes, sir.”

About the Author

Kim Dare is a twenty-seven year old, fulltime writer from Wales (UK). First published in December 2008, Kim has since released over thirty BDSM erotic romances. While the stories range from male/male, male/female to all kinds of ménage relationships and have included vampires, time travellers, shape-shifters and fairytale retellings, they all have three things in common—kink, love and a happy ending. Published since 2008, Kim also writes BDSM erotic romances for Total-e-bound.

Kim loves to talk to her readers and can be found at www.kimdare.com.

Kim Dare’s Rawlings Men Series, Now Available at Resplendence Publishing

Handcuffs and Leather All Constable Hadley wants to do is put the last few weeks behind him. As if being taken hostage wasn’t bad enough, he’s had to deal with all the stupid publicity that’s surrounded him ever since. And the fact that he hasn’t slept since that night isn’t helping him feel any better about the world, either. The last thing Hadley needs is a shrink wandering around inside his head trying to dig up all his dirty little secrets. When he finds out he’s being sent to Dr. Rawlings—the man he’s had a crush on for months—Hadley knows his life has finally hit rock bottom. The only thing that could make things worse for Hadley would be Dr. Rawlings finding out how he feels about him. But fate wouldn’t be that cruel to him—would it?

Handcuffs and Glory Holes Police Sergeant Conrad Rawlings likes glory holes. As a dominant who’s never learned how to feel casual about even the most fleeting hook up, he’s learned to cherish the complete anonymity they provide. Still, when he hears a cubicle door open as he leaves the back room of a club, he can’t quite help looking over his shoulder. Submissive Willis Evans doesn’t know why his master ordered him to make sure the stranger from the glory hole sees his face before he leaves the club, but he knows the price for disobedience. Willis does as he’s told. The moment their eyes meet, he can’t help but hope he’ll be allowed to see the other man again. They are going to meet again, but it won’t be under conditions either of them could predict. Willis’ master has a plan—one which could easily break them both.

Handcuffs and Headlocks Undercover police officer Ed Rawlings isn’t just good at his job—he’s bloody fantastic at it. But there is such a thing as being too good at playing pretend. When reality refuses to come back, even when he’s off duty, something has to change for the hyperactive submissive. Could a no nonsense master be exactly who he needs to help him make those changes? Derby FitzGerald doesn’t do pretend. Losing track of reality when you’re teaching martial arts

would be bound to get very painful, very quickly. But maybe there’s such a thing as taking life too seriously too. Could a confused cop be precisely the right person to remind him of that?

Handcuffs and Trouble As the newest constable in the station, Trent Rawlings isn’t entirely surprised to find himself being hazed by the other cops. Determined not to make any more of a fool of himself than is absolutely necessary, he’s merely biding his time and going through the motions until he gets to the punch line. It has to be a hazing. If it’s not, he’s in real trouble. Kieran Osmond doesn’t know what the hell the little fool thinks he’s doing, stumbling into the middle of an undercover operation. All Kieran knows is that he has to rescue the younger man before he gets them both killed. Luckily for them both, Trent seems to be good at obeying orders and following a more dominant man’s lead. He may even be too good at it for Kieran’s peace of mind. Maybe Trent isn’t the only man who’s in trouble...

Handcuffs and Spreader Bars Harland Rawlings might have chosen to be a scene of crime officer rather than a “proper” policeman like so many of the men in his family, but that doesn’t mean he can’t hold his own with any cop who comes his way. Any evidence belongs to him until he says otherwise, and if a sergeant manages to roll around in evidence while tackling a suspect, then that man belongs to him until Harland has finished with him. Detective Sergeant Alasdair Grant doesn’t have good luck with men. He resigned himself to that fact after his ex turned out to be the worst kind of sadist, so he’s not best pleased when being processed by Harland gets him hot and hard and he has no way to hide it. When Harland offers to fetch a spreader bar if he doesn’t stop wriggling, he knows the other man is merely laughing at his expense. There’s no way the scene of crime officer could know how much Alasdair liked the idea. Harland can’t work out why Alasdair keeps blowing hot and cold, flirting one minute and running away the next. All he knows is that for some reason, even after the other man stopped being evidence, Harland can’t stop thinking of Alasdair as belonging to him…

Handcuffs and Ball Gags Police constable Andrew Rawlings is used to getting heckled while trying to maintain law and order at environmental protests. He’s not so keen on the guy shouting the insults being his flatmate, Ben. A protest is no place for a well-mannered school teacher, even if the guy is built like an ox. That’s why Andrew expressly forbade Ben from attending it, and Andrew isn’t used to his commands being disobeyed.

Ben has had enough of being bossed around by his best friend. He’s a grown man. If he wants to protest against the new motorway, he will. And, if Andy Rawlings doesn’t like it, well, he’ll just have to step up to the plate and start playing the dominant role full time, not just whenever it suits him. Nudity, spanking and ball gags—the punishment for civil disobedience has never been so much fun.

Handcuffs and Megabytes Mike Shane’s an old fashioned kind of cop. To his mind, police work should be all about pounding the pavements, interrogating suspects and following leads. It should not involve hours spent sitting at a desk staring at a computer screen. When he’s seconded to a computer crimes task force, he’s dreading spending all his time surrounded by computers and computer geeks. Carl Rawlings is no geek. With a body full of tattoos and piercings, along with a new found interest in anything and everything kinky, he’s not your average cop—or your average computer expert either. Immediately drawn to the other man’s old school style of dominance, he quickly decides that teaching Mike all about the new program he’s developed won’t be so bad after all, but who knows what Mike may teach him in return?

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Duck! by Kim Dare Raised among humans, Ori Jones only discovered he was an avian shifter six months ago. Unable to complete a full shift until he reaches his avian maturity, he still can’t be sure of his exact species. But with species comes rank, and rank is everything to the avians. When a partial shift allows the elders to announce that they believe Ori to be a rather ugly little duckling, he drops straight to the bottom rung of their hierarchy. Life isn’t easy for Ori until he comes to the attention of a high ranking hawk shifter. Then the only question is, is Ori really a duck—and what will his new master think when the truth eventually comes out?

Backing Brian by Cheryl Dragon Once a Texan, always a Texan and Brian Beaumont has come back home to open his high-end western wear shop. Not everyone is thrilled with the gay son of a Texas millionaire opening a clothing store. Lucky for Brian, his new brother-in-law sends protection from Raider’s Bodyguard Service. If only Brian could resist the hunky muscled Texas native assigned to guard his body day and night. Jones never wanted to go back to Texas. He left at eighteen for many reasons, but his career is more important than the demons of his past. Always a professional, he meets his match in the tempting Brian. The line between business and pleasure vanishes when their mutual love of sex, rope and power play takes over.

In For a Penny by Carol Lynne What’s the old saying…you can never go home again? Raven Black resigned himself to never returning after being ordered from the only real home he’d ever known. Now, seven years later, Raven is back to face the man who sent him away. Zane Conner is not only Raven’s foster brother but the only man Raven ever loved. Despite his mixed feelings about the situation, Raven can’t deny Zane when the older man asks for his help in saving the Lazy C Bar Ranch. A boy found dead on the ranch clinches Raven’s decision.

Why did the young boy look so much like he had at that age—the same age he’d been when his own father had beaten him and left him for dead?

The Mark of Cain by Cash Cole After a night of hot sex with an elusive Native American, Gage is left with a bullet wound and a scarred shoulder from where a panther slashed him. The New Orleans police tell Gage that his lover morphing from man to beast is highly improbable and that whoever broke into his hotel room left no trace evidence, but Gage knows he hasn’t imagined any of this. He starts with the only clue he has, the name of a town in Oklahoma where his lover said he was born. But can he track down sexy Cain, who is in witness protection, before the assassins find and kill them both?

Possession by SW Vaughn Devlin Island Series: Book One Sully Shaw is one of three – a coven of gay male witches on Devlin Island, charged with protecting the place from the ancient gate between worlds, deep in the woods, that sometimes lets evil things escape. Sully’s job is to banish demons and spirits – which works for him, because after his last disastrous relationship, he’d rather not deal with people. Until a gorgeous stranger crashes on his private beach and needs his help. Troy Landry was just out for a vacation, and maybe a fling, on Devlin Island. What he didn’t bargain for was crashing his boat on the beach, finding a hot naked man who claims to be a witch, and getting possessed by a demon who takes over his body when he falls asleep. The demon can’t be driven out until dawn – so Troy and Sully have to stay awake all night long. Lots of sex helps. But when they start falling for each other, incredible sex might not be enough to overcome Troy’s insecurities, Sully’s past trauma, and a demon bent on releasing its brethren and killing any mortal who stands in its way.

Moon Princess by Suzanne Graham As Celina Maddock left the office on a Friday evening, her coworker jumped into her car and demanded she get on the highway and drive fast after their sizzling kiss in the parking lot. She never imagined she’d get the gorgeous Barrett Osborn ordering her around; however, when he starts talking about Shadows, werewolves, and werebears, she becomes a little worried about his mental health. When Barrett’s lover, Stan Varka, offers his assistance in escaping the Shadows, Celina goes along with their strange story about shapeshifters, because finding herself the center of their attention becomes extremely erotic.

Once they’ve finished their night of playacting, Celina doesn’t think she could possibly have a future with these two amazing lovers¼until they convince her that she really is the Moon Princess and the only hope for establishing peace between the wolves and the bears.

Ryland’s Sacrifice by Kim Dare Principles don’t pay tuition fees. When Ryland’s math scholarship disappears overnight, he has two choices. He can borrow money from fellow student Jason Burrows, who has very interesting ways of collecting debts. Or, he can volunteer to be thrown to the werelions. One night spent playing the part of a willing human sacrifice will give him enough money to finish his PhD. It seems like a good deal-right up until the moment he finds himself naked, blindfolded, bound and surrounded by lions.

Bedtime Story for a Stolen Child by Ana Mayle Stolen away from his cradle as a child, Leinad has been a plaything of the Faerie for thirty years. He has been broken and put back together so many times that he cannot even remember what he used to be. He has given up all hope of escape, until a soft breeze through his cell leads him home, only to find out that home has gone on without him. A man with Leinad’s face is there in his place, with his siblings, acting out his life. A changeling. The creature who enabled his imprisonment and torture for all those years. Daniel Tessel is a thirty year old folklorist. He is meeting his brother and sister at their family cabin, to spend the anniversary of their parent’s deaths together. His biggest worry is the séance his little sister is insisting on, and trying to stave off her inevitable disappointment. That is, until he looks up during the ritual to see his own face watching him from the window. He is pulled into the consequences of a plot he cannot even remember, accused of stealing his own life. Confused, angry, and frightened beyond reason, Daniel tries to escape from Leinad, but there is something pulling them together. Revenge and passion are two very similar things. Blood sings, lust and tempers rise, and before they know it, neither is quite sure who the real monster is anymore. Or if it will even matter in the end.

Tropical Hedonism by Dakota Rebel After a boating accident, Sean Harris wakes up staring into the eyes of a handsome doctor. Even when he discovers that he is on an island within the Bermuda Triangle, and there is no way for him to get back to his old life, he can’t be too disappointed if it means being stuck with the doctor.

Dr. Wesley Carpenter cannot believe that the younger Sean Harris would want anything to do with him. After half-heartedly turning down the advances of his patient, he realizes that resistance is futile. The men find themselves falling for each other quickly, but ghosts from their pasts and outside influences try to get in the way of their happiness. Sean and Wesley may be on the island forever, but neither is sure if that guarantees they’ll be able to continue their Tropical Hedonism.

Mind F*cked by Mia Watts Sage has the ability to read minds, but only in high passion moments when thoughts transmit at a higher frequency. But the gift is double-edged. Sage is inordinately handsome. Some might even say he’s a walking orgasm. So what’s a half-breed to do when every person he meets seems intent on seducing him, and how will he know if the man he chooses will love him for more than his looks? Joe has never been the object of anyone’s lust before. Now Sage, the hottest guy he’s ever laid eyes on, has Joe starring in his sexual fantasies. It would be perfect if only Sage could shut up for one minute, and quit talking about his own hotness—or about how he can read minds. Meanwhile, Joe and Sage must secure the last three Zodiac Stones and prevent their theft while they wait for exhibition. Can they put their sexual tension aside long enough to stop a clever thief? And even if they do, will Joe’s heart be a casualty of their inevitable fling, or could Sage really be looking for more than a one-night stand?

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