The Midnight Raiders MC Series by Claire Marta and Nia Farrell debuts 12 April 2022 in the Twisted Steel: Third Edition. The anthology is up for pre-order, specially priced at 99¢. We hit the USA TODAY list with the second edition and hope the next one will be even more successful.
The book Claire and I are writing for it is MM, but we expect the second book in the series to be MMF. This new series is a unique take on a popular genre. We hope readers will enjoy it as much as we love writing it.
The series is set in Edwardsville, Illinois, home of a Route 66 festival where our Book 1 main characters meet. To research, I made a trip to this year’s festival, took lots of pictures, and wrote from first-hand observation. The century-old Sears and Roebuck house, local businesses, and clubhouse in the series are pure invention but fun to write. We can’t wait to show them to you!
Originally appearing in Vampirielle Four anthology (out 25 December 2020, delisted).
Now part of THE POISONED GARDEN COLLECTION, free to Claire Marta and Nia Farrell’s newsletter subscribers here.
Back in Paris, heartbroken and alone on Christmas Eve, Etienne de Foix decides to share his beloved music with the souls of the dead. When someone else is drawn to the cemetery, he finds himself tempted by his new admirer.
The young man who steps from the shadows has stars in his eyes and an innocent air that stirs Etienne’s hunger. Intent on sating his lust for blood and sex, he’s surprised when something more emerges from their tryst.
The Poisoned Garden Series stories follow Etienne de Foix, the vampire villain of Guarded Hearts Season One. Set in 1791, this historical paranormal erotic romance contains MM scenes. Written for Ages 18+.
He let his music transport him, carrying him as close to heaven as he would ever be. A creature of the night, eventually he’d be dust and would rot in hell for all eternity. There was no forgiveness for his sins. No penance or absolution. His only solace came from the bow in his hand and the strings beneath his fingers, weaving songs as they formed. He grew so lost in the new one, it was a while before he sensed he was no longer alone.
Opening his eyes, his gaze traveled through the shadows opposite him, settling on a man. A handsome young man with honey brown hair and hazel eyes. He stood so perfectly still Etienne had almost missed him.
Pausing, Etienne surveyed him cautiously. Was he a hunter looking for prey?
“Don’t stop,” the stranger pleaded when he stilled his bow. “Play.”
“My music was not for you,” Etienne told him, enchanted by his voice. “I perform for the souls that lie here.”
He wasn’t in church. Maybe he was a prostitute. Paris was full of them. Easy pickings for a vampire like himself.
Disappointment crossed the young man’s face. “What brings you here in the dead of night on Christmas Eve?”
“I come to play,” he told him. “What is your name and what is your price, hmm?”
“Gael,” the young man spoke softly. “And I have no price.”
“Nonsense,” Etienne scoffed. “Everyone has a price. It’s only a matter of finding it.”
Originally part of the Vampirielle Anthologies: Volume 1 (delisted).
Now part of THE POISONED GARDEN COLLECTION, free to Claire Marta and Nia Farrell’s newsletter subscribers here.
An invitation to the royal hunt at Château de Fontainebleau is an offer Etienne de Foix cannot refuse. Falling for the charm of Kristoff Vasilyvich, a Russian prince, yields a second one he’s delighted to accept. The third—to find pleasure in a threesome with Odette d’Évreux—flings him into a world of darkness. Lurking beneath the château are creatures he never knew existed. One dark kiss, one night of insatiable lust, and Etienne finds himself one of the damned, reaped in the dark harvest.
The Poisoned Garden Series stories follow Etienne de Foix, the vampire villain of Guarded Hearts Season One. Set in 1538, this historical paranormal erotic romance contains MM and MFM scenes. Written for Ages 18+.
To Etienne’s good fortune, the Russian prince shared his nature, preferring men to women but indulging in both. Last night, he’d been delighted to discover the Russian was big all over, not just in stature. He’d had trouble sitting all day. A price well worth paying for the memories they’d made. Typically, he was the one who plucked the black rose, but he’d found Kristoff too charismatic to say no. They’d left the dance early and fucked half the night.
His cock stirred, ready for another round.
Kristoff chuckled. “Settle,” he murmured. “Do not let her see your interest.”
Etienne grimaced. “‘Tis you she wants.”
He bent to whisper in his ear. “As do you. I think I should fuck you both. Shall we see how badly she wants it? I am willing to beg off from joining the hunt. Let the others go forth in the cold and damp whilst we stay warm in bed.”
Jesu. Etienne was hard now. The bastard knew well how to incite his passions. He wouldn’t mind sharing Odette with Kristoff. The man was a satyr. He’d handle them both and his servants, too, given the chance.
“All right,” Etienne agreed, striving to not seem too eager. “How do you wish to do this?”
Kristoff stroked his beard, considering. “I could just ask her. Or I can entice her. Lure her away with an offer to see the gardens by moonlight and carry her off like a Viking conquest to my bed. She’ll expect nothing less from the House of Rurik. Once we get started, you can come and join us.”
Etienne nodded. Locked in the throes of passion, she’d be much more likely to agree to take two lovers—especially if it meant losing the one.
He watched Kristoff stalk across the floor to the beauty who was watching them. She was a captivating creature with dark hair, expressive brown eyes, and soft, generous lips that contrasted with her smooth, fair complexion.
It took nothing for his lover to coax her onto the dance floor. Sipping his wine, Etienne watched Kristoff flirt, reeling Odette in with his rough charm and devilish smile. A touch of his hand here, a whisper in her ear, and he’d soon persuaded her to join him in an evening far more satisfying than a dance.
They’d already agreed the hunting party would leave at dawn without them. Whether there were two or three bodies in Kristoff’s bed remained to be seen.
A psychic, an ex-priest, and two shifters walk into a bar… But it’s no laughing matter. All hell’s about to break loose.
Gael Fournier is harboring a secret—one that threatens to jeopardize his brothers at the Citadel and their fated mates. Broken, scarred, he refuses to open up to anyone, especially his partner Elijah.
Unwanted, Elijah Marley fights to break through to Gael anyway. Watching him from afar, nothing he does seems to pierce the wall around the Frenchman’s heart.
One chance meeting brings them face to face with their fated mate, Sam Henderson, a psychic medium who talks to the dead. Gael’s hostile reaction drives Elijah into the arms of another whose destiny is linked to theirs.
Angry, alone, Gael unknowingly walks into the clutches of the monster who’s been stalking him the whole time. After Elijah is unwittingly thrown into danger, too, it’s up to Sam and Father James Carver to race to the rescue of both men.
Not an easy task when their enemy is a vampire hell-bent on claiming and keeping what’s his….
Shifters with a sci-fi twist, Guarded Hearts Season One (Books 1-7) follows members of The Order of the Phoenix. Each book in this interconnected storyline provides a happily-ever-after for the main characters. While the first book of Season One can be read as a stand-alone, the following titles need to be read in order, beginning with Morgan (Guarded Hearts Book 1).
This story has potential triggers, including forced compliance. MMFM ménage erotic romance with MF, MM, and MMF scenes, written for Ages 18+.
“Sammy, get that one to bend over for me, would you, hon, so I can check out those tight buns of his in those jeans?” she murmured.
Sam bit her lip and swallowed down her reply. She’d had plenty of weird looks when people thought she was talking to herself. No one could see Grandma. They only heard her one-sided conversation which made things awkward.
“Oh, yeah, come to Grandma,” the old woman crooned, circling around behind the men and eyeing their tushes.
Please don’t get handsy, Grandma, she mentally warned and hoped she was listening in. Bum pinching was Ellie Mae Henderson’s afterlife obsession. Okay. Sam would admit they were both drop-dead gorgeous. The blond had a broody, bad boy vibe going and the other one’s smile was bright and friendly. His eyes twinkled and there was something about him that made her warm all over. She really needed to get laid. It had been months since her last hook up. Not since North Carolina. Her grandmother’s inability to keep her hands to herself had ended every relationship she’d ever been in. Her longest had lasted a month until he’d gotten spooked. Once Grandma got grabby, it was goodbye, boyfriend.
“Come on, girl! Don’t just stand there with your mouth hanging open. Charm these fine young men. Winner, winner, chicken dinner. Play your cards right and you’ll have some dark and white meat in your bed tonight. If it makes you feel any better, I promise I won’t watch.”
Talk about killing the mood. Sam shook herself and focused on the men who’d come with Prince.
“I’m Sam,” she repeated. “And you are…?”
“Elijah Marley.” The handsome black man with the blinding smile had a Jamaican accent. He had his hands full holding the Irish wolfhound, who was straining to check out Gus.
She looked expectantly at the broody one, a tragic blond with a dark shroud clinging to his shoulders.
“Gael Fournier,” he clipped in a French accent, as unhappy to be here as Elijah was delighted.
She intuited that they were partners but they sure didn’t act like it. If they were in a committed relationship, it was on the rocks. She sensed a separation looming with a chance of a reunion. The future had yet to be determined. It would have to be both their choices to make things work. Otherwise they were doomed to fail.
Which was too bad. They really were a beautiful couple.
Sighing, she wished them well. Just her luck to attract two gay men. She seemed to have a knack for it.
“And this is Prince,” she hummed, dropping to her knees. Putting her hand beneath his muzzle, she looked him squarely in the eye. “They tell me that you’ve been chasing a cat. Want to tell me what that’s all about, hmm?”
In her mind’s eye, Sam saw a blanket that used to be the dog’s. Somehow the cat had gotten hold of it and hidden it.
“You need to help them find it,” Grandma told her. “Go on! Tell them what you saw! If anyone can handle your truth, it’s these boys. Trust me.”
Sam lifted her chin and met their gazes, shifting hers back and forth between the two of them.
“The cat—Gibbs?” she asked Prince, double-checking what she thought he said. “Prince says that Gibbs stole his blanket. He’s only been trying to get it back. The cat’s hiding it somewhere on the property. If you like, Gus and I can do a search-and-rescue…, help find it and restore peace in the household. I’m afraid Prince isn’t going to stop until he gets it back. He barely tolerated the cat before this. He seriously dislikes him now. Sneaky thief, he says. And my precious. Dear Lord. He says he likes Lord of the Rings on movie night. This is one seriously fine animal you have.”
Gael remained stonily silent, eyeing her with suspicion. He wouldn’t trust easily. There were scars on his soul that might never heal.
Elijah looked at her in wonder. “You are a conjure woman, yes?” he asked. “You see things. Hear things.”
Gael curled his lip and made a scoffing sound.
Sam refused to apologize for her gifts. “I don’t do spellwork,” she told them. “I don’t intentionally conjure things, but I do hear them. Spirits. Animals. Trees. My grandmother. She’s gone but she’s still very much with me. My gifts are what let Gus and I be such a successful search-and-rescue team. When the trail goes cold, I can point him in the right direction until he picks it up again. Look, I know this is as unconventional a class as what you could imagine, but I’m happy to give you a refund. I just want to help Prince find his blanket. And I’ll have a talk with Gibbs while I’m at it. Hopefully, he’ll see the error of his ways. With cats, it’s hard to say. Too many of them remember when they were worshiped as gods.”
“Yes!” Elijah agreed excitedly. “We would be honored with your presence and help in our home.”
Gael’s jaw tightened but he didn’t say a word. The look in his eyes, though, spoke volumes. He didn’t believe a word she was saying—or at least he refused to.
“Great!” Sam replied, brightly ignoring the cold blue eyes directed at her and Grandma’s satisfied smirk. “Let’s start the lesson and then we can work out when I can come over.”
Prince turned out to be a good listener. Full of energy with a boisterous nature, he loved to play. Gus was a good influence on him. Well-trained and patient, her partner helped to show the younger dog what he was supposed to do. By the time the lesson was up, Prince and Elijah both were more confident with each other. Unlike Gael, who hung at the back of the room like a storm cloud. He hadn’t attempted to interact. Instead, he’d watched and silently judged.
“That one’s a project.” Grandma commented, eyeing the Frenchman. “He needs someone to take him in hand.”
Sam’s traitorous thoughts slid to a certain part of his anatomy she would love to take in hand. From the way he filled out his jeans, he wasn’t short or small in that department. Feeling her cheeks heat in a blush, she shook herself. Holy Batman, what was she thinking?
Although Elijah could be the actor Henry Cavill’s crotch double if there was such a thing. Her attention settled on the Jamaican’s natural endowment. The ridge in his pants reached to the side of his hip. It looked like he was housing an anaconda down there and growing by the second the more she watched.
“Oh, child,” Grandma chuckled. “Just wait until you unwrap it. It’s going to be like Christmas Day come early!”
Sam choked on the breath she’d just inhaled. They’re gay. She could sense a connection between them and her gift never failed.
Although, they could be bi…
“Bi,” Grandma confirmed, then sang it like NSYNC. “Bi, bi, bi…”
Sam and James walked to where the path divided, one side heading for the chapel, the other winding its way through the gardens. The property was softly lit from the glow of security lights that reached some of the flagstone walk. She let Gus mark a tree, wrapped his lead securely around her hand, and told him, “Find Grandma.”
Gus took off toward the back of the chapel. The spirit of Ellie Mae Henderson was walking the labyrinth, singing, “Follow the yellow brick road,” and spouting quotes from The Wizard of Oz and Airplane!
“It’s a twister! It’s a twister! Don’t call me Shirley!”
“What should I call you, then?” Sam whispered, not knowing if there were other ears around. James was in the chapel but Gael was missing. He could be out here somewhere, moping in the dark.
“Nope,” Grandma told her, reading her mind again. “There’s no one here but me, myself, and I—and now you and Gus and that good-looking man of the cloth on his knees in the chapel. You should check on him, Sam. Father James is in a world of hurt right now. He’s used to being the rock for everyone else, but he needs to feel an anchor, too, even if it’s the weight of a therapy dog.”
Sam had to hand it to Grandma. She hadn’t considered offering the comfort that Gus could provide someone. How many times had she seen him go to someone upset, someone in mourning, and accept their hugs and tears? “All right,” she said. “We’ll go. Will you stay here or are you coming in?”
Her late grandmother didn’t skip a beat. “I’ll stay here,” she chirped. “I’m still looking to catch me an elf—or a leprechaun! They’ve got ‘em, mark my words!”
If that’s what her grandmother believed, Sam wasn’t about to try and dissuade her, especially if it kept her out here and away from James.
Sam led Gus to the door of the chapel and stopped just outside it, wondering whether or not she should take him in. James might benefit from some pet therapy, but her instincts told her that he needed the human touch more. The comfort and support of an understanding, nonjudgmental soul might make all the difference to him right now.
Slipping inside, she spied James in the second row of pews, kneeling in prayer with his head bowed over his hands clasping the back of the seat in front of him.
His shoulders were shaking with silent sobs. She could feel his anguish from here.
Tying Gus to the coat rack in the back, she walked softly to the front, making just enough noise to let him know he wasn’t alone. She didn’t want to startle him when she slipped into the pew beside him and placed a healing hand over his back heart chakra.
“He’s going to be alright,” she promised, as certain of that as she was of anything right now.
“It’s my fault,” James choked out. “If I hadn’t gotten greedy. If I’d only stayed… By the time I saw what was going on, it was too late.”
“You were there when he needed you to be. If they’d taken you down first, there’d have been no one to intervene. You saved him, James. I was there, too, remember?”
Straightening in his seat, he swiveled his head to meet her gaze. In the thin light of the room, she could see the sheen of tears on his skin. Finding the bottom of her broomstick skirt, she raised her hem and dried his face.
“As for what happened before… you were needy, not greedy,” she said softly. “We all have needs. There’s no judgment here. Elijah sees the same things in you that I do. You’re a good man. A strong man. An honorable man. Someone he can connect with in a way that he doesn’t seem to with Gael. I’m worried about him,” she confessed. “Something doesn’t feel right, but I don’t know what it is and my guides aren’t saying anything.”
He looked at her, puzzlement in his eyes as he tried to sort out what she was saying.
“Who are you?” His voice was thick with emotion, his mind full of questions.
“Someone you’ve known before. In other lifetimes. Other places. Tell me you don’t feel it, too.”
He blinked, trying to clear his vision. “I don’t totally discount the idea of reincarnation, given that it’s referenced in the Bible, but I’ve never… I mean, I don’t see how…”
“You’re only shown what’s allowed when it’s time,” she explained. “Maybe one day you’ll remember—or maybe not at all. Because of my mission, I’m allowed to recall more than most. I’m a psychic medium. And you, Sir, are a very old soul. It’s nice to meet you again.”
Hopefully, things would be better for them this time. She sensed that their last lifetime together didn’t end well. The longer they were together, the stronger the impressions Sam was receiving. Why he felt so familiar was now making sense.
“I wish…” She stopped herself before she said too much. She wished that she’d found him first. Wished that they’d found Elijah together. In her mind’s eye, she could see the three of them happy and in love.
The kind of love they’d shared before, despite the laws, despite society and family and religious institutions. She sensed they’d risked everything once.
What about now?
Throwing caution to the wind, she lifted her hand and cupped the side of the ex-priest’s face, learning the feel of him. The warmth of his skin. The short thatch of beard. Leaning forward, she slipped her hand behind his head and urged him closer, lifting her forehead to press against his. They stayed like that for long, soul-searching minutes, sharing each other’s breaths, struggling not to overanalyze but to accept.
James heaved a cleansing breath, letting go, releasing the shackles of guilt that had bound him. Sensing it, she rewarded him with the soft brush of her lips on his, a tentative kiss, not demanding a response.
He went still, locked in an internal struggle. Thanks to her actions, he faced a moral dilemma. What was right? What was fair? Different races. Different backgrounds. Different genders.
What about Elijah?
Sam kissed him again, needing him to see what she did, that whatever had sparked between them was worth pursuing. She teased the seam of his lips, probing his defenses, not letting up until he’d surrendered to the moment.
Surrendered to her.
Thrusting his fingers into her hair, he finally took control and kissed her back.
Sam swore she heard a chorus of angels singing hosannas and smiled.
The pandemic has struck and play weekends are canceled at Replay BDSM theme resort after one of the owner’s wife’s patients tests positive. The few patrons still there agree to self-quarantine with a two-week all-inclusive stay. While Sir Piers remains home with his family, it’s left to his executive assistant Kitten and his administrative assistant Samael to see that things run smoothly at the resort.
One of their guests is triple-platinum recording artist Thaddeus Rhodes, a tattooed, bearded Daddy Dom who’s into steampunk cosplay. Thaddeus thinks it’s a shame that Kitten takes care of everyone else and no one takes care of this little.
Faced with two weeks of lockdown, Kitten comes up with a list of things to help to pass the time. What starts out as a game of ways to please this Daddy quickly evolves into something much, much more.
This story includes consensual power exchange, DD/lg ageplay, partner sharing, domestic discipline, and bisexual ménage scenes. If any of this offends you, please don’t buy this book. Written for Ages 18+.
Author’s Note: Kitten has been a secondary character in the first eleven Replay books. It was wonderful to finally meet her. I love that Kitten finds her perfect Daddy Dom just in time for Father’s Day!
He was a Dominant without a permanent submissive and Kitten was a little who needed a Daddy. Before today, he’d only known her professionally as Sir Piers’s executive assistant and an integral part of what made Replay BDSM theme resort successful. He would never have encroached on Sir Piers’s territory, would never have offered to be her Dominant, but the circumstances they found themselves had him doing things that were, in short, extraordinary.
They’d both been potentially exposed to a deadly virus. In two weeks, they’d know if their self-quarantine was a necessary precaution. Meanwhile, he had music weaving itself in his head and a little whose ass needed reddened for working through her lunchtime.
Not good at all.
She eyed the ornate cage in the corner with a mix of anticipation and trepidation—and who could blame her? He’d told her what he intended to do. He was going to spank her bottom, tuck her inside, and keep her there until she was truly repentant. What he hadn’t told her was what would happen next. When she was full of remorse and riddled with angst about what she could do to please him, he planned to bind her arms to the bars and take her where she stood…
Crawling to the door of her cage, she sat back on her heels in a Gorean pose and waited for him to notice. He made her wait a minute more while he finished whatever he was typing on his tablet before hitting send and closing it.
“Well, little miss. Are you going to share what’s in that busy mind of yours? Have you thought of ways to please me?”
She knew men. He’d be expecting the usual. A blow job. Vaginal sex. Anal sex. A lap dance. A strip routine. Things men typically envisioned for immediate gratification.
“I think so, Daddy. I hope so. First, I’d like to dress like Bindi in Iron Domination and play hide-and-seek with you aboard the Nebula.”
If he’d read the books (and judging by the beard-shadowed curl of his lips, he had), he’d know exactly where to find her.
“I like the way you think, little girl. Go on.”
“When you’ve found me, I’ll give you a bath like Bindi does Adams…, rub your feet and massage your neck before bed.”
Only two, and he was already hard for her.
“In the morning, I’ll cook you breakfast and serve it to you on a tray wearing nothing but a smile.”
He liked the sound of that, too.
“Three,” he counted.
“After dinner that night, we can play a game of chess. The winner gets to pick what porn to watch and act out.”
“That’s four,” he hummed. “One more.”
“I could give Daddy a massage,” she offered.
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re already giving me one after my bath.”
“But this is different,” she swore. “Special. It’s internal massage. A prostate massage.”
“Five,” he rumbled, reaching for the door.
“And then,” she breathed, “I’ll polish your knob—” she left it hanging, letting his imagination run wild “—on your walking stick. The silver-gripped one. It’s too heavy to use for impact play, but I can help you find another cane to use. Or you can make me cut a switch.”
“Six,” he rasped, curling his fingers around his erection and rubbing himself through his fly.
“One more,” she added, licking her lips for effect. “I want to give Daddy head while massaging his prostate. I want you to come down my throat and make me swallow every drop.”
The heat in his eyes was incendiary.
“My turn,” he growled. “I want to tie you to the sides of the cage. Clamp your nipples. Suck your clit. Get you wet and fuck you through the bars with my fingers digging into your hips so hard, you’ll be wearing my bruises tomorrow and feeling my dick for days. In your pussy. In your ass. What’s your safeword, pet? One to slow and one to stop.”
She could get creative later. Right now, she needed fucked. “Yellow and red, Daddy. Yellow to slow and red to stop. Please…,” she begged, eyes widening when he unbuttoned his fly and she saw the size of his erection. He was huge. Massive. Nine inches long and nearly as thick as her wrist.
There was no way he was going to fit.
Daddy smirked. “I like it when you beg,” he rumbled. “I want to make you squeal. Put your back against the bars, elbows out, arms bent, hands up. I’ll tie you with enough give to let you move a bit. It’s more fun that way.”
While writing our Guarded Hearts Series, we had to create a library of stories for our reader-heroines and Plundered by Pirates was born! Our new series launches on Black Flag Friday (Nov 26, 2021) with Bound by the Pirate King, a Caribbean swashbuckler set in the early 1800s and inspired by real-life pirates operating in the area at the time. Ravaged by the Wasteland Warlord (Plundered by Pirates Book 2) will be a post-apocalyptic dark romance. Shanghaied by the Brazen Beast (Plundered by Pirates Book 3) will have a steampunk/gaslight theme. In 2024, we’ll release three titles in a sci-fi trilogy: Stolen by the Sirian Smuggler, Sold by the Sirian Smuggler, and Saved by the Sirian Smuggler, where a porn star abducted from Earth survives a series of misadventures and ends up with an intergalactic reverse harem.
This series will have it all, with pirates whose weapons range from cutlasses to computers. There’ll be a little something for everyone—historical, futuristic, sci-fi, dystopian, contemporary, and speculative fiction written with a twist of dark humor and a whole lot of heat. Think The Princess Bride meets Captain Blood,Guardians of the Galaxy, and Mad Max and you’ll see where we’re headed with this.
So… batten down the hatches and mark your calendars. Pirates are headed your way!
Jeremy Randall is a graphic novelist whose Iron Domination Series inspired The Steamroom addition at Replay BDSM theme resort. While he’s written BDSM, he’s only researched it, never experienced it. His first visit to Replay coincides with Wild West weekend, where he’ll portray a gunslinger. He hopes to be dominating subs before the weekend is through.
Jeremy signs a contract agreeing to train as submissive, but he’s in for a shock when Courtney Reynolds isn’t the latex-clad Domme that he envisioned. The Dominant assigned to guide him through the weekend is eight years older, experienced, and gay.
Cast in the role of Sheriff Reynolds, Court seems Jeremy’s opposite but he takes the role of training him seriously. Court believes that Jeremy is naturally submissive, and he agrees with the resort psychiatrist that Jeremy might be bisexual. Court falls hard and fast for the beautiful, talented, conflicted young man. He has one weekend to free Jeremy from a lifetime of misperceptions and help him discover his true nature. When Sunday comes, will he be able to let him go?
This book is a first time MM BDSM erotic romance. If kink and a sexual relationship between an older man and a younger man offend you, please keep looking for your next read. Written for Aged 18+.
By the time they returned to Jericho, Jeremy’s shirt was soaked through with sweat and he knew that he’d never done justice when describing the aches of a horseback rider.
“Saddle-sore?” The sheriff eyed him closely.
“A bit, Sir,” Jeremy said tightly, grimacing when he swung his right leg down and cleared his left boot from the stirrup.
Sheriff Reynolds rubbed his face in his hands. “Okay. Then we’re headed to the bathhouse. We need to get that soreness worked out if you’re going to be much good tonight.”
Tonight. Jesus, he didn’t want to think about tonight.
Working out the soreness, though…
That, he could handle.
Jeremy followed Sir Courtney out of the livery and fell into step behind him, keeping his eyes on the broad shoulders and the muscled width of his back. He was grateful that the Dom kept his pace to a lazy amble. Despite his soreness, he managed to keep up with him, at least.
A scantily clad attendant greeted them when they stepped inside the bathhouse. “How can I help you, Sir?”
The sheriff sliced a quick glance at him. “The boy needs a bath and a rubdown. Is there a private room available? First time here,” he explained.
First time anywhere, Jeremy silently corrected him, grateful to be spared a public display. The Dom and the concierge spoke longer, keeping their voices low and their conversation between the two of them. When they finished, she showed them to a room upstairs and opened the door for them to step inside.
Two old-fashioned tubs were filled with steaming water, just like in the movies. A table between them held small bars of soap, washcloths, and towels. Pitchers of clear rinse water sat within reach on the board floor.
Sheriff Reynolds hung his hat on the wall rack. Jeremy stood with his feet rooted in place, feeling as fidgety as a freshman athlete in the varsity shower room.
The Dom gave him a longsuffering look and nodded at the tubs. “Strip and get in,” he ordered. Pulling off his tie and shrugging off his sack coat, he hung them on the wall hooks and reached for the buttons of his vest.
The sheriff was stripping.
The gay sheriff was getting naked.
There were two tubs, Jeremy told himself. Nothing was going to happen—especially nothing without consent, and he hadn’t agreed to anything yet.
Except for what was in the contract.
God, he was so fucked.
Jeremy snatched up the bath towel and began drying himself off, turning his back to them so that his front was out of view. Did the boy not know that the sight of his virgin ass was almost as hot as his seven-inch cock?
Court managed to not roll his eyes. Ignoring his own rod for the moment, he wrapped the towel around his hips and sat in an empty spindle-back chair. If he’d had time and toys, he would have bound Jeremy to it for a session of sensory play.
Later, he promised himself.
His priority right now was getting Jeremy to open up, to finally experience the feelings that he was used to suppressing and allow things to unfold naturally.
Jeremy wrapped the towel around his trim waist. Inhaling deeply, he squared his shoulders with a grudging acceptance, marched across the floor, and got on the massage table. Reaching beneath his stomach, he adjusted himself, put his arms at his sides, and settled in for his session.
He had a beautiful body. His fair skin was even lovelier, glistening with oil, his supple flesh yielding to Quentin’s talented hands. When the masseuse had worked the aches and knots from his backside, he told Jeremy to turn over.
The boy was still hard.
Court waited until Quentin was nearly done to rise from his chair and go stand at the table near Jeremy’s head.
“What are your safewords?”
Jeremy craned his neck. His alarmed hazel gaze clashed with Court’s. Seeing the heat in his eyes, he whispered, “Oh, God.”
Court shook his head. “Not oh God. Safewords need to be things that you would never say during a session. If you can’t think of anything, we’ll use the stoplight system. Green to go, yellow to slow, red to stop. Now, one more time. What are your safewords?”
“Shit,” he murmured.
Court grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the table. “Safewords,” he rumbled. “You won’t like what happens if I have to ask for them again.”
“All right! Sir!” he bleated, remembering to address him as his Dominant for the weekend. “Yellow to slow and red to stop.”
Court gave a slight nod of approval. The boy was nervous to the point of panic, judging from his pulse and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. “It’s alright, son. One more time. Give us your safewords.”
“Yellow to slow and red to stop, Sir.”
“Good boy. Now, do you remember the story I told you? Do you remember what happened on my eighteenth birthday? I’d been wearing blinders. I didn’t see it coming. It was a complete surprise because I hadn’t opened myself to the possibilities. It took my coach and a kiss and a mindfucking blowjob to break free. All I needed was someone who could guide me. It would have happened eventually. I’ll always be grateful that it was Paul and not some predator bent on taking and not giving. I’d like to be that person for you. Let me show you what you’ve been missing. I’ll give you permission to let go. Allow you to break free. I want you to let Quentin finish you. Just his hands, his fingers, stroking your cock. You’re so hard, it hurts, I can tell. Just a few strokes, and he’ll pull you right over the edge and ease that terrible ache. You have your safeword to use if you absolutely need it, but you won’t. Not for this.”
He hoped like fuck not. There was nothing in his background that indicated triggers. The boy wasn’t fighting his hold on his wrists.
Jeremy’s breath hissed when Quentin pulled down the sheet, exposing his genitals. Wrapping an oil-slick hand around his shaft, Quentin started pumping his arm, slowly at first, gradually building in speed and intensity as he jacked him off.
“That’s it,” Court crooned. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Having someone else’s fingers on you, touching you, stroking you, milking your cock?”
Jeremy bit his lip and moaned.
Court growled at the sight of it. “So fucking sexy. I want that lip,” he grated. “Those teeth. That tongue. That mouth. I want to lick the pre-cum from your slit, suck your balls, and tongue your ass. When you’re more than wet enough to take me, I’m going to fist your hair and sink my length inside of you. Inch. By. Fucking. Inch.”
“Fuck!” Jeremy bucked, spewing thick ropes of cum that landed like lifelines on his chest. Court kept his wrists pinned until Quentin had cleaned him off with the washcloth that he’d used in his bath.
The moment he let go, Jeremy jackknifed up and tried to scramble off the table.
Court caught his arm and held it. “Slow down, son. Safety first. I want you healthy enough to play.”
“To fuck, you mean,” he grumbled.
“You’d best be careful, boy. You’re only adding to the count when you disrespect me.”
Breaking eye contact, Jeremy bit his lip and swallowed what he really wanted to say. “Sir,” he said tightly. “You want me healthy enough to fuck, Sir.”
Court dropped his hand and crossed his arms. Lowering his chin, he flailed him with a cutting look. “Don’t ever put words in my mouth, boy,” he said, keeping his voice calm and even. “I meant what I said. I want you healthy enough to play. You’ll have to earn my cock, and so far, that hasn’t happened.”
Jeremy eyed him warily. Court had yet to win his trust, and nothing much was going to happen without it.
“Get dressed,” he said. Ripping off his towel, he let Jeremy see just how much self-control he had. His cock was so hard, he was sorely tempted to have Quentin finish him, too. “I’m taking you home.”