Las Vegas is a special brand of crazy. Some say it’s the intense desert heat that triggers the madness. Others say it’s the promise of gambling riches or the lure of decadent pleasures.
Known the world over as Sin City, the party never ends, but neither does the threat to the public. The uniformed men who are charged with keeping the city and its inhabitants safe are unique to the challenge.
Firemen, police officers, SWAT, paramedics, CSI, military—they all band together to make sure the job gets done. Join them as they work hard, brave danger and love with a fierce abandon
Summary:
Shawn can’t decide whether he wants to punch or kiss Trent. Kissing wins.
The party never ends in Las Vegas, but neither does the danger. Shawn is the new foot patrol officer on the Strip and he’s ready to take on the town and keep the peace. Once he spots Trent, who is a hunky firefighter at Station 32, Shawn wonders whether he can take him on too.
Trent is dedicated to his job, built tough and is a no-nonsense man of few words. At a local blood drive, Trent eyes a handsome new officer but doesn’t dare get too close. After his boyfriend’s life was snatched away in the line of fire, he couldn’t bear the agony of such a loss again.
Trent’s over-protective instincts kick in during an emergency call and he embarrasses and angers Shawn in front of their fellow officers. Too late, he realizes he’s falling for the sexy man. But has he already destroyed any chance they might have at something more?
Once they spend time together away from the stresses of their jobs, they find they’re not just compatible – they’re combustible. However, right as their relationship deepens, the threat of terror escalates on the Strip. The underground vigilante group, the Citizens Against Immorality, have raised the stakes. Will Shawn and Trent be their next targets?
Publisher Note: This book has been revised and expanded from the original edition that was published under the same title at Totally Bound Publishing in September of 2014.
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of violence and the use of sex toys. It is best read in sequence as part of a series but can be read as a standalone.
Summary:
Survival is all Slade understands until Parker saves him from the terrors of the streets. Too bad the streets won't let Slade go…
Hustler Slade has had little choice over his fate. Barely twenty years old, he’s had to survive any way he can after being thrown out for being gay when he was still in his teens. As soon as he hit Vegas, Slade was lured into the hopeless world of prostitution where he’s become a virtual prisoner to his pimp, the ruthless Julio Estevez.
It’s another typical night on the Strip when officer Parker comes across Slade. His heart breaks every time he sees someone so young being exploited. Yet something in Slade’s eyes tells Parker the young man might be in real trouble—especially after the recent wave of sex worker killings by a rival prostitution ring.
The two men’s lives become intertwined when Slade is almost beaten to death. The danger grows, but so does the relationship between Parker and Slade. Parker helps Slade to heal from the horrific attack and their bond deepens. But the human traffickers are still on the prowl—and they’ll stop at nothing to steal Slade back.
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of violence and a brief scene of sexual abuse.
Publisher's Note: This book is best read in sequence as part of a series but can be read as a standalone.
Summary:
Never judge a sexy man by his cover…
Beau is deadly serious when it comes to his job as a homicide detective for the LVMPD. He also has a taste for the finer things in life, but no time to enjoy much of anything with such a heavy caseload—especially now that a serial killer is terrorizing the streets of Las Vegas.
Investigative Technician Austin never met a snarky joke he didn’t like—or a set of stairs that couldn’t trip him up. One night after a devastating episode at work, Austin sees something else he likes—the handsome detective he’s spotted around the station. But after he makes a drunken fool of himself in front of Detective Williams, Austin is sure he’s destroyed any hope of ever going out with Beau on a real date.
Beau and Austin’s worlds collide when Austin is sent to pick up some evidence at the station. Amidst a myriad of twists and turns in the troubling serial killer-style murders of Vegas conventioneers, Austin and Beau discover there’s more to the other than they’d originally thought. There might even be more they’d love to share—unless the killer has the final say.
Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence and peril.
Publisher's note: This book has previously been released under the same title. It has been revised and reedited for rerelease.
Summary:
SWAT officer Cole thought he could handle anything—until he handles Brett.
As lead sniper of the Las Vegas Police Department's SWAT team, Cole has faced plenty of danger but has never risked love. He lives hard and plays harder, so settling down isn’t on his radar. Then, a deadly hostage situation arises and Cole is stunned by his attraction to the brave and beautiful man he saves from a bullet.
Brett has been burned before, most recently by Officer Parker of the LVMPD. He's hoping to forge a new life in Vegas and perhaps find love. However, the last thing Brett's looking for is another man in uniform—which makes fighting his desire for the hunk who rescues him from death that much tougher.
What begins as nothing more than two people sharing a sizzling night together spirals into something deeper. Can Brett handle the stress that comes with having a partner whose life is in constant jeopardy? And can Cole risk his heart on an everyday hero, or will work remain his top priority?
A lethal SWAT call might make the decision for them…
Publisher's Note: This book was previously released under the same title with Pride Publishing. It has been revised and reedited for rerelease.
All Fired UP #1
Thorin Oakenshield and Michael Jackson strolled together down the Strip, hips bumping and singing Beat It rather loudly—and badly. There was a valiant attempt on their part to keep their tall, pink, plastic cocktail glasses from sloshing their drinks everywhere by holding them up as they swung their arms and asses around. They were having limited success. As they continued with their boisterous dancing, the two men knocked into a young woman, almost toppling her off of her glittery platform stilettos.
Officer Shawn Everly picked up his pace, jogging to catch up to them. He couldn’t deny that being assigned to foot patrol along Las Vegas Boulevard was anything but dull. After reaching the two happy carousers, he tapped Thorin on the shoulder. Whirling around, the Dwarven leader almost dumped his cocktail on Shawn.
“Oh, hey… Sorry, Officer. I…uh…”
Shawn resisted the urge to break out laughing at the mortified expression on the partier’s face.
“We have an unusually crowded night out here, gentlemen. There are families with young kids and we don’t anyone to get hurt—yourselves included.”
Michael Jackson piped in, swaying on his feet a bit. “He’s cool. Fought a dragon and shit. He’s even got a sword for protection.”
He indicated to the fake weapon attached to his friend’s costume belt. Obviously Michael was less in control of his senses than his fellow reveler. Shawn turned back to Thorin.
“Are we gonna have any problems with you two out here tonight?”
He shook his head vigorously. “No sir, we’re just having fun like everyone else, but we’ll be more careful.”
Shawn gave him a curt nod, desperately trying to maintain his composure. “Good. I don’t want to hear any complaints about either one of you, okay?”
“You’ve got it, Officer.”
“Oh, and Thorin?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Good luck with Smaug.”
The man stared at Shawn as if he’d lost his mind. It took a moment, but he finally snorted laughter.
“Yeah, thanks, Officer.”
The two men carried on, picking up where they’d left off—but reining it in a bit. Shawn glanced around at the barely controlled chaos. Colorful neon and flashing lights were enough to keep him on sensory overload, but it was also combined with honking horns, wildly dressed people, yelling, laughter, and music, all set against the backdrop of spectacularly grand resort casinos.
His radio crackled to life. He’d moved far enough down the Boulevard that he’d gotten separated from his partner amongst the crush of humanity filling the sidewalk.
“Where is your position, Vicki?”
“I’m at the Bellagio. We’ve got a drunk swimming around in the lake in front of the shops.”
“Is he responding to your orders to get out?”
“Nope.”
Shawn pressed his lips together. The damn lake was a constant issue—it was way too tempting in the scorching desert heat. Even though it was almost seven o’clock at night, it was still over a hundred degrees. At least August was almost over. He’d been assured by the other officers that it would eventually become bearable. Since he’d only recently arrived in Vegas at the end of May, all he’d encountered so far was unbearable.
“On my way.”
As he wove in and out of the crowds, he spotted a cruiser pulled over. There was an officer talking to a group of sparkling and scantily clad women. He recognized Sergeant Darren Miller of the Homeland Security Saturation Team. Like Shawn, he was assigned to the Convention Center Area Command that comprised the majority of the world-famous Las Vegas Strip. When Shawn got closer, he picked up the tail end of the conversation.
“…over the highway. It’s a five minute walk from here to the Mirage and you can take the bridge walkway there to get to the other side. Stay out of the street ladies, it’s very dangerous. We want you to have a good time here—not get hurt.”
One of the women moved closer to him, as if she was about to give him a hug. He stepped back and placed his hands in front of him in a blocking gesture.
“Step back, please.”
“But I wanted to thank you. You’re so sexy. I love your uniform.”
Shawn smirked. Law enforcement in Las Vegas was definitely unique. It had been quite the culture shock from his previous experiences as part of the Gang Task Force in Los Angeles.
His fellow Metropolitan Police Department officer finally succeeded in getting the women to move along and turned his attention to Shawn. A casual observer would no doubt wonder if they worked for the same agency. Shawn wore a bright yellow uniform shirt that helped him to stand out amidst the overwhelming amount of people walking around. The MPD officers in cruisers wore khaki uniforms and so did the mounted patrol.
“Hey, Darren, we’ve got a drunk in the lake.”
Darren rolled his eyes. “Is he reachable or are they gonna have to use one of the boats?”
“Not sure. I’m headed over there now.”
“Radio it in. It’s so out of control tonight, Parker and I need to stay on the street.”
As if in confirmation, a white stretch limo crawled by in the gridlocked traffic. A woman stood with the top half of her body peeking out of the sunroof. She was yelling and flashing her breasts to the cheering sidewalk crowds.
Darren lowered his head and shook it, seemingly in resignation. He lifted it quickly and shouted out to his partner.
“Let’s go, Parker!”
It wouldn’t exactly be a high speed chase, considering how squashed together foot and vehicle traffic was. At least with the cruiser’s lights flashing, there was the opportunity to clear a path to get to the limo. The weekends were killers. No room to breathe. Bathroom and food breaks next to impossible. But he currently had an inebriated bather to deal with. Before he took off in the direction of the luxurious resort again, he contacted dispatch to apprise them of the situation and to request backup.
He jogged over to the hotel at a fast clip. As soon as he spied his partner, Vicki Ruiz, he wound his way through the people seemingly lost in their own revelry. No doubt they were also overwhelmed by the magical and decadent surroundings. And liquor. He had to speak up to be heard, and to get the circle of onlookers surrounding his partner to step aside. At last he reached her and saw what they were up against.
Copping an Attitude #2
Slade rolled onto his side amidst the rumpled sheets of the dirty motel room in downtown Vegas, facing away from the man pulling his clothes back on. The john wasn’t anonymous the way most of them were, but he might as well have been. Slade had done his job—he didn’t have to bother pretending anymore that he gave a shit about the guy who’d just fucked him. The money had already been collected before Slade had even taken his dick out. He might only be twenty years old, but he’d been taught by the best pimp in Vegas. Of course, since his pimp was also the one who’d told him that, he could only assume that it was true.
It didn’t matter. He had few choices. At least he wasn’t giving blow jobs for ten bucks behind the dumpster at the fast food joint he’d worked at back in Barstow.
“Hey, kid, you hear me?”
“Huh?” Slade looked up at the older pasty-faced businessman who sported what seemed to be an ever-growing paunch around his middle. The guy had requested Slade several times before. Even if he kinda turned Slade’s stomach a little, at least he wasn’t rough the way the others could be. He wasn’t dangerous to be alone with.
Harold reached down and cupped Slade’s chin, tilting up his head. “I said, how would you like to be mine all the time? I could set you up in a studio apartment, give you some spending money. It won’t be much, I’m no Bill Gates.” He chuckled. “If you needed more cash, I could get you a few dates here and there with some of my friends, you know, to help out.” He rubbed Slade’s chin with his thumb, softly. It would’ve been a loving gesture in any other situation. “But I would always come first.” He laughed louder. “Literally.”
Slade jerked his head away from him, fighting nausea at the idea of being kept by the smarmy man, being used at his will.
How is it different from…?
He pushed down the lump forming in his throat. “Julio owns me. He’d never let me go.”
“I’ll buy you from him. Let me take care of it for you, Slade. Take care of you.”
Harold leaned down to take a kiss and Slade rolled away.
“Your time’s up, man. I gotta get back on the streets or Julio will beat the shit outta me.”
Harold grabbed a fistful of Slade’s hair and yanked him hard, pushing his shoulders down forcefully until he was pinned to the bed by Harold’s body. He might be a middle-aged man who obviously didn’t know what the inside of a gym looked like, but he was bigger than Slade’s thin, hundred and forty pound frame.
There was a disturbing glint in Harold’s eyes. The way he squashed him into the bed, the way he pressed his fingers painfully into the flesh of Slade’s arms was harsher than he’d ever experienced with him before.
“That’s why you need me, Slade.” He growled it out before his voice gentled. He carded his fingers through Slade’s shaggy dark hair. “Love this. Keep it longer, past your ears.” Harold clutched it again, just enough that there was the bite of a sting. “Such a pretty thing. So sweet. You need me to protect you from him. I’ll set you up somewhere secretly. Just stay inside and he won’t ever find you.”
Great. A prisoner.
“Harold, please. You’re hurting me.”
After crushing his mouth to Slade’s, Harold took what he wanted and there was nothing Slade could do. Even when he shoved his limp cock into Slade’s mouth, Harold still hadn’t been able to get it up again. He ended up rolling Slade onto his stomach instead and had stabbed into him with his fingers. Harold told Slade that he knew he loved it, that Slade was only faking by resisting. As soon as Slade gave in, told Harold how he thought about getting fucked by him all the time, how he jacked off dreaming about him, Harold stopped.
“That’s better baby.” Harold kissed his temple, his cheeks, brushed over his lips. Slade shuddered in revulsion. “Mmm, see? You tremble under my touch. I know you want me. Just be honest and we’ll get along fine.”
Blessedly, he let Slade go then stood, adjusting his pants then refastening his belt. “Here’s another fifty.” He tossed the bill on the bed next to Slade. “I can’t get back here for a couple weeks or my wife will get suspicious. We’ll work it out, though. You’ll see.”
Slade nodded, fighting back the tears. There was no use in crying. He’d figured that out three years before when his staunchly religious parents had kicked him out once they’d caught him kissing his boyfriend. They’d been terrified he would turn his younger brother gay. He’d been seventeen and still had three months to go before he graduated, so he’d taken a job at a fast-food place to try to survive. One free burger a day and a few bucks to put in his pocket—but not enough to even rent a motel room every night.
He sat on the bed, not daring to move in case Harold started up with him again. After he’d left, Slade went back to his thoughts about those days. The first offer to suck a guy’s dick had been one night when he’d been sleeping out on the streets. He hadn’t been able to afford a room for the previous three nights and he’d been freezing. The ten dollars the guy had tempted him with added to what else he’d scrounged together had been just enough for him to get a place to stay.
Eventually, he’d learned through some of the other kids on the streets that Vegas was the place to go, that there was plenty of really good money to be made there. No one mentioned that he’d get the ever-loving shit beaten out of him for working an area that belonged to an established pimp. After Julio had taught him a lesson, he’d fucked him raw for days to ‘erase his debt’ for stealing clients in Julio’s territory. Then he’d set him loose on the streets.
He sighed with the same resignation as always.
Time to get back to work.
Justice Prevails #3
“You wanna fuck later?”
“Jesus, Romeo. How can I resist when you put it like that?”
Austin Kent wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief before stuffing it back in his jeans pocket. The Las Vegas heat sucked ass in June. It had its moments the rest of the year too. Picking up his binoculars, he then peered through them at what, to anyone else, would appear to be an abandoned trailer. He ignored Kyle’s offer. Austin was currently more interested in the police officer’s protection than his dick.
Don’t see why I can’t carry a piece on the job.
Apparently, Investigative Technicians weren’t considered to be the bad-asses of the justice system in Vegas.
“Was that a yes?”
He decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to punch Kyle, since it would give away their location. Other than that, it was an awesome idea.
“That was a vehement ‘no’. I never know what I’m getting into with you.”
“I thought you enjoyed last time.”
“I shot a load. That part I enjoyed. The rest I could’ve done without.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“Oh, I was surprised all right.”
“You know, a lot of guys like it when—”
“Shh. Here comes Daniel now.”
Kyle grabbed the binoculars. “Shit. In the nick of time too. Our boy’s on the move.”
“Hey. Do you mind?” Austin yanked the glasses back. “Goddammit.”
It looked as if his witness was going to evade being served yet again. It was ironic since Austin had originally thought it would be quick and simple. He’d met Vinnie at the first annual Powwow on the Paiute Indian Reservation when they were both only ten years old. Austin’s stepdad was almost full-blooded and had taken him so he could experience the culture. He’d explained that even though Austin didn’t have enough Paiute blood in him to be considered an official tribe member, he should still learn about that part of his heritage. Ever since then, he and Vinnie had been close friends—even if things had eroded somewhat in recent years. It sucked to be the one who had to serve him.
He missed his stepdad. The guy had treated him pretty good. Ben had always told him to live his life the way he wanted, that when he got older, people would try to change him—tell him how he should be. Austin had always wondered if Ben had known all along that Austin was gay. Not too long after that first Powwow, the Gulf War had begun and Ben was a part of Operation Desert Shield. He never came back.
“Hey, guys, we had a scuffle at the golf course. I got here as soon as I could.” Their backup, Daniel Ochoa—Kyle’s fellow officer of Paiute law enforcement—kept his voice low as he approached.
Austin snorted. “I guess those old white guys can get vicious on the green.”
“You have no idea.”
Austin and Kyle were hidden behind a large boulder. Daniel crouched next to them and Austin noted that the Paiute officer had parked his vehicle down the incline and out of sight. He’d driven in on the same back desert road that he and Kyle had used to avoid detection. Kyle elbowed him in the ribs.
“Ow. Fuck.”
“Look, look, look. He wasn’t leaving. Vinnie’s just sitting out there smoking.” Kyle had the binoculars pressed to his face. “This is better, man. We can see everything around him.”
“Except for who’s in the trailer, dickwad.”
Daniel nodded his head. “Austin’s right, Kyle. There’s no telling who might be in there. We approach Vinnie now and we could get picked off in an instant. One of Marquez’ guys could be in there cooking. We should secure the residence before Austin tries to serve him.”
Kyle frowned, seemingly butt hurt over Daniel not taking his side. “There’s never been any intel to indicate Vinnie’s trailer was being used to manufacture meth.”
“Right.” Daniel swatted at a small bug flitting around his sweat-soaked face. “But there hasn’t been any indicator that he wasn’t cooking in his home either.”
Home was too kind a word. Vinnie’s abode wasn’t in any danger of being featured in Architectural Digest—or anywhere, ever. It was lucky to still be upright. The dented, rusted mess was a blight, set way back on his mom’s property, a mockery to her beautiful recently built house. He’d told Austin a few years back that as long as he didn’t have to see her face or hear her shit, he didn’t care what he lived in.
Austin sighed, too stressed out from the whole cockstorm that had been his day to dwell on all that had gone wrong with the life of one of his longest and closest friends. There was a job to do and he was the fucker who got to serve a witness subpoena to someone who would view it as an act of utter betrayal.
“Okay then. What’s the plan?”
Austin directed his question to Daniel. Kyle had gone on Austin’s ‘you’re brain dead to me now’ list after the ‘you wanna fuck’ remark in the middle of their stakeout.
“I’m gonna sneak around the back. I can make it without detection if I keep low behind the sage brush over there.” He gestured toward the area he meant. “When I radio that the trailer is clear, I want you both to advance on him.” Daniel turned to Kyle. “Don’t draw on him, but be ready. We don’t want to come in aggressive, get him worked up. Hopefully, when he sees Austin, he’ll be cool.”
Austin prayed Daniel was right. Since Vinnie had been off his meds, no one knew what to expect from him anymore. Iraq hadn’t been kind to anyone close to Austin. Not only had he lost his stepdad in the Gulf War, he’d in essence lost his closest friend to the Iraq War. Whatever it was that had happened to Vinnie when he’d served had forever broken him.
“Be ready.” Daniel turned toward his destination, but whispered over his shoulder before taking off. “Kyle, make sure your radio is on low and listen for my all clear.”
Kyle grunted after Daniel was out of earshot. “Can you believe that shit? He always treats me like I’m an idiot.”
Even though Kyle had walked right into that one, Austin was too cranky and heat exhausted to run with it. He bit at his lip and futilely tried to get his bristly dark hair to stay off his face. He typically kept it short—it would get too frizzy otherwise. But he was a busy guy, and other than staying in reasonably good physical shape, he didn’t give too much thought to his appearance.
There was a small crackle from Kyle’s radio then he whispered into it. He nodded at Austin to go ahead. Austin’s joints complained at being in the unforgiving position for so long as he rose to his feet. He was only thirty-five years old, but his body was constantly being abused on the job in one way or another. It didn’t help that he could be a bit klutzy at times either. A nice soak in the hot tub at his condo later would be a welcome treat. The first rush of pebbles and dirt down the incline once they’d gotten close to their target caused Vinnie to twist around. His eyes widened in shock then quickly narrowed in anger as he glared at Austin. He threw his cigarette to the ground.
Come on, guy. It’s me. Just doin’ my job.
Held Hostage #4
SWAT team entry specialist Cole Silva peered through his binoculars at a young man, maybe early twenties, who stood on the roof of sixty-four floors’ worth of the Trump International Hotel. He lowered the glasses, taking in the scene of chaos surrounding him. The sun was beginning to set behind the hills to his right as he looked toward the Mirage Resort Casino. Cole raised the binoculars again. A gust of wind plastered a gray T-shirt tight against the suicidal man’s torso.
If Steve doesn’t get him away from the edge soon, the force of the winds alone will send him over.
Cole watched as the would-be jumper brushed a lock of dark hair out of his eyes then teetered, dangerously close to ending his own life. Cole waited for orders as he viewed the scene from the ground. The man appeared small, helpless.
Jesus, Steve. Hurry.
A call came in on his radio.
“Z8 at the roof now.”
The commander’s voice followed, “Roger, Z8, do the best you can.”
When the call had come in, Cole and the rest of the team had been skeptical that anyone could’ve made it onto the roof. Safety precautions were in place. It wasn’t as if the general public could go traipsing up to the top of the tower whenever they felt like it. Once they’d heard that the plea for help had come from one of the maintenance men who’d been held at gunpoint until he’d let the agitated man through, they’d realized that it wasn’t a hoax after all.
He knew Steve and the rest of the team were in position, so all he could do was wait. Raising the binoculars once more, he willed the man on the roof to step back. It was utter nonsense to believe his thoughts could change the outcome of the scene unfolding before him, but he couldn’t help it. Death for someone so young was difficult for him to take. There’d been plenty of horror that he’d witnessed in Kabul. Since working for the force, he’d also seen what happened to a body when it hit the ground at over a hundred miles per hour. He didn’t wish to see it again.
Less than two minutes after the radio fell silent, the boy on the edge turned to look behind him then extended his arms at his sides. Although they were too far away to hear, Cole felt sure the suicidal young man was screaming at Steve. This wasn’t his first rodeo.
Come on, kid, listen to reason.
LVMPD had set barriers around the area in order to keep the rapidly forming crowd at bay. The tourists always loved a good show, but he doubted they understood that whatever they witnessed should the jumper follow through on his intentions would scar them for life. A sea of uniforms moved quickly in an effort to control the situation, their primary goal being to prevent the need for a coroner.
Steve had to be successful.
The man on the roof lowered his arms a few moments later, moved a little farther back from the edge—though not far enough for comfort. He was still a threat to himself, but it appeared to Cole that Steve had made some progress. Within another couple of minutes, he was no longer within visual range from the ground and Cole assumed Steve had broken through the poor guy’s tortured mind. It was imperative that the commander not interrupt Steve during the delicate negotiations to find out.
Another half hour ticked by just before Cole’s radio went off again. “We’re coming down.”
“Roger.”
Cole sighed, relief coursing through him. Whenever an operation went south, it would fuck with his head for days. Those around him wouldn’t know his inner battle—his emotional armor was a carefully constructed wall and a gift that was leftover from his Army Ranger days. If he wasn’t so passionate about his line of work, he wouldn’t wish the stress on anyone. But his career as an entryman for Las Vegas SWAT was what he did, it was what he knew.
The young man exited the building with Steve’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. Steve led him to an ambulance waiting at the scene so paramedics could check him out. When it seemed as if the near-suicide victim was safe and had been transported, Steve walked toward Cole, fist bumping a number of fellow SWAT team members as he made his way through the people standing between them.
Cole locked eyes with his. Once Steve got closer, Cole was able to whisper to him. “Same bat time, same bat place?”
Steve gave him a flirty wink. “Provided there aren’t any more emergencies, I get off as soon as I’m done typing up my report.”
“Try not to take too long.” Cole playfully whacked Steve on the ass, mindful that no one was glancing their way. “And let me handle the getting off part.”
Steve smiled, biting his lip as he walked away.
The man’s a constant tease.
Cole couldn’t wait to bite even more of him.
* * * *
Cole parked his car in front of Steve’s apartment building. He still wore his uniform, the green-gray fabric stretched tight across his chest. He checked his hair in the rear-view mirror, smoothing the short cropped strands back before exiting the vehicle.
Cole took the elevator from the lobby to the fourth floor, anxious to de-stress with his friend and fuck buddy. With his copy of the key to Steve’s apartment, he unlocked the door to number four-one-eight. Steve lay on the couch, his feet propped up on the armrest facing the entrance. He wore a silky robe with a pattern of red roses and deep green vines. Cole chuckled at the dichotomy of the beefy hunk and the floral garment. The robe was open, the majority of the fabric draped along his sides. His smooth, toned body was bare. Cole’s cock hardened. He was ready to let go with Steve, to throw him on the bed then drill him through the mattress.
Steve grinned. “I just had to get out of those pants the second I got home.”
“I have no objections.” Cole unbuckled his belt. “It’s been a pretty long day, though. I’m thinking a shower’s in order.” It was Cole’s turn to grin.
Steve rose from the sofa. “Need company?”
Cole removed his shirt, letting it drop to the floor in a crumpled heap, then kicked off his shoes. Steve led the way to the bathroom, swaying his ass from side to side a bit too obviously. Cole continued to strip, allowing his clothes to litter the hallway as he strolled behind him, enjoying the show. By the time Steve opened the door to a large master bathroom, he was wearing more than Cole.
Steve headed for the shower. Cole moved up behind him, close, anxious. He pressed his large, rock-hard cock against the crack of Steve’s ass as Steve bent forward to turn on the water. After wrapping his hand around Steve’s hip, he dug in with strong fingers. The fabric of the silk robe felt cool at first, warming with the friction of Cole’s firm, slow motion.
After checking the temperature of the water, Steve straightened his body. “At least let me get naked.”
M/M Erotic Romance author Morticia Knight enjoys hot stories of men loving men forever after. They can be men in uniform, Doms and subs, rock stars or bikers - but they're all searching for the one (or two!) who was meant only for them.
When not indulging in her passion for books, she loves the outdoors, film and music. Once upon a time she was the singer in an indie rock band that toured the West Coast and charted on U.S. college radio. She is currently working on more installments of Sin City Uniforms and The Hampton Road Club, as well as the follow-up to Bryan and Aubrey's story from Rockin' the Alternative.
FB GROUP / DREAMSPINNER / KOBO
EMAIL: MorticiaKnight@gmail.com
All Fired UP #1
Copping an Attitude #2
Justice Prevails #3
AMAZON US / AMAZON UK
B&N / KOBO / FIRST 4 ROMANCE
iTUNES / GOODREADS TBR
Held Hostage #4
B&N / KOBO / FIRST 4 ROMANCE
iTUNES / GOODREADS TBR
Held Hostage #4
AMAZON US / AMAZON UK
B&N / KOBO / FIRST 4 ROMANCE
iTUNES / GOODREADS TBR
Series
B&N / KOBO / FIRST 4 ROMANCE
iTUNES / GOODREADS TBR
Series
B&N / KOBO / FIRST 4 ROMANCE
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