Description
Time to Love
Lance Booker took in the man standing in the foyer of Floggers BDSM Club. He valued his ability to pick a sub or Dom at a glance, but this delectable guy’s BDSM predilection eluded him. To his experienced eye, he saw a confused man, albeit, a buff six-two, blond hunk of steel. Man, you are pretty. He plastered a warm smile on his face, strolled nonchalantly toward him, and extended his hand. “Lance Booker … how can I help you?”
“Jay Bannock.” He shook his hand with a look of chagrin. “I feel really stupid coming here.” He dragged in a long breath and his cheeks flushed bright red. “To be completely honest, I need to talk to someone gay and the Floggers’ website does say you’re looking for members. I thought you might be able to advise me.” He met Lance’s gaze. “Do you have a few minutes to spare?”
Bemused, Lance held his hand to check his reaction toward him, raised one brow, and eyed him critically. This guy didn’t look like he needed help and he sure didn’t have the confidence of a Dom or the submissive attitude he’d expect from a sub in his presence. He cleared his throat. “You’re not selling stuff are you?” …
Floggers’ Slave Auction
“Please, Master.” Sweat dripped off the house sub’s chin. “Ride me to hell.”
Nash Mage gazed down at the glowing, red marks on the sub’s naked body and lifted the flogger. He brought the customized leather down in artful, even blows. How he enjoyed watching a sub squirm under his touch. He groaned. So much soft, white flesh, striped red from the thin, leather straps made him hot as hell.
Damn, he loved the sharp intake of breath the sub gave with each, satisfying thwack. The raised welts were hot against his palm; he fought the desire to lick a soothing path along each stinging cut. Blood rushed into his heavy cock, pressing it hard against his tight, leather pants. He ground his teeth and stood back to admire his work.
“Please… Fuck me, Master.” The sub lifted his glossy ass in invitation, straining against the rope tying him securely to the bench …
Hard Truth
Later that evening at the restaurant, Brad shrugged off his jacket and slipped it over the back of the chair. He glanced around. Thankfully, the waiter had seated them at the back, in a more intimate part of the restaurant. He’d taken special care of his appearance and felt a little stupid. The thought of seducing Jett had run through his mind all afternoon. Hell, he had no idea if the man would punch him in the mouth if he told him he was gay.
He smiled at Jett sitting opposite and the frank, appraising look his friend gave him offered him cause to hope. His stomach fluttered. They ordered, and Jett leaned back in his chair and turned his moss-green gaze on him.
“Casual wear suits you.” Jett’s mouth turned up at the corner in a lop-sided smile.
“Thanks. Jane hated me wearing anything other than a suit. I can’t believe how relieved I am to be free.”
“So, what happened?” Jett rested his elbows on the arms of the captain’s chair and made a tower with his fingers.
Brad laughed. “I feel like I’m in a confessional.” …
