🏀Sunday's Safe Word Shelf🏀: Tamed by Kora Knight

Summary:

The Courtside King Duology #1

When aspirations and passion collide, Breck’s thrown onto a playing field he never anticipated.

Unrivaled in college basketball as a point-guard prodigy, Breck Harland has definitely earned his title as King of the Court. All around town, he’s a bona fide celebrity, his reputation with the ladies reinforcing a facade he's determined to protect. No one, not even his best friend, knows he's bi.

Enter Grandmaster Kai Nakado, the one person not impressed by Breck's imperial air.

When Breck signs up for his martial arts class, Kai makes it clear he finds his new student arrogant, impulsive, unfocused. With each exchange, their clashing chemistry intensifies, and Breck finds himself not just angry and frustrated… but inexplicably turned on. A fire that rages even hotter when Kai introduces him to the art of rope bondage, a talent Kai proves even more skilled at than martial arts.

At the hands of this experienced Dom, Breck's tenuous control threatens to slip from his grasp, the things he thought he wanted suddenly not so clear. If he’s not careful, Kai will completely derail him, a risk he can’t afford if he plans to make it to the pros.

Can he stop what’s already in motion, or will Kai tame the unattainable king?

Tamed, book one in the Courtside King Duology. A steamy, slow-burn, gay romance that will keep you riveted on the sidelines for more.

ONE

START OF SOPHOMORE YEAR GEORGE MASON UNIVERSITY

“Hey, big guy. We’re headed over to Skidoo’s to celebrate another promising party year. You’re comin’ too, right?” 

Breck’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin. Holding his phone to his ear, he shook his head as he came to a stop at a traffic light. “I’m actually gonna have to pass this time.” 

“What!” Ned protested, a reaction Breck had anticipated. It was tradition for the four of them—Breck, Ned, Tad, and Jay—to party on the very first weekend of every school year. 

And in Ned’s defense, this one was especially important. They’d be going out as non-freshmen at George Mason University, having triumphed over their first year as the lowest on the totem pole. So now, in essence, they weren’t just celebrating the new semester, but the fact that they’d be attacking it as sophomores. 

“I know,” Breck sighed, shaking his head. “But I’m moving into the frat house this weekend and tonight’s the initiation.” 

“Ugh,” Ned groused. “Can’t you tell all your Kappa Theta Sigma butt buddies to do it another time?”

“No,” Breck laughed. “I cannot. And after living in a dorm for the last year, no way am I gonna risk losin’ my shot at a bed in this place instead. Besides, these are varsity bros I’ll be rooming with. Varsity. A destination I will reach, even if it kills me. And getting in tighter with them can only help speed up the process.” 

Ned grunted. “You and your ambitions. Seriously. You’re making me feel like a loser.” 

Breck grinned as the light turned green. Stepping on the gas, he continued on his way. “Nothing wrong with your destination, my man. You’re gonna kill it. You know this. I know this.” 

“I really am.” Ned’s confident smile was almost palpable. 

He was going for a degree in computer engineering, his sights set on a career in game design. Not that he spent his days in front of a console. Hell, he was as active as Breck in his own right. Ned’s ‘court’ was very different from Breck’s, though, with a much higher risk of serious injury. Ned might’ve been a wrestling boss in high school with Tad, but these days the guy kicked serious ass in parkour. A passion he planned to take to the gaming world. 

Breck nodded and took a right. “So anyway, wish me luck. It should be an interesting evening.” 

“Yeah,” Ned snorted. “Don’t let them haze you too bad. I mean, a dildo up the ass is fine and all, but no drinking questionable substances or letting ‘em light you on fire. Freaky kink is cool, flame-broiling my bestie is not.” 

Breck laughed. “Alright, I’ll be sure to adhere to your guidelines.” 

In truth, despite his calm front, he was nervous. Fraternities were notorious for their initiation rituals. The last thing Breck wanted was to end the night in a hospital. Getting his stomach pumped. Or shit, his skin grafted back on.

“You better,” Ned pressed. “Don’t make me have to storm your little brotherly squat spot tomorrow to kick some b-ball bitches in the nuts.” 

Breck’s grin quirked up all lopsided again. “Now that’d be fun to watch.” 

Ned was showing love in his typical macho-man way, and Breck appreciated that shit. He truly did. Because he loved that randy little fucker, too. Out of the four in their posse, he and Ned were always the closest. Jay was good people, but he was annoying as much as amusing. And while Breck adored Tad, the levelheaded one that kept them all grounded, Ned just seemed more on the same wavelength. Able to complement Breck’s vibe in all the right ways. That they both drank and fucked too much probably had something to do with it. 

But hey, life was short. And indulging was fun. 

Pulling up to the curb of his potential new abode, Breck parked his Nissan Altima and climbed out. He didn’t trust the hooligans in this neighborhood, so locking things up came next. His baby, all sleek and black, was brand new, after all. A gift from his parents for making it through his first year of college—with killer grades to top it off. 

To Breck, though, his car was another step toward total autonomy. Now he’d go home to visit his parents when he wanted to, not when they swooped in out of nowhere to cart him away. 

Not that he anticipated going home very often. The weekends at college were just too fun. His closest friends were with him, after all. Why on earth would he ever want to leave? 

Sorry, Mom and Dad. I love you and all but… yeah. 

He really truly did, though. His mom and him were tight. As the child of interracial parents, he’d long since stopped noticing the differences between them; her complexion fair and his a light brown. Her hair a honey blonde and his dark. Not that you could see much of it. He kept it buzzed close to the scalp. 

Their smiles, on the other hand, did match. Or so people said. As did their eyes; a warm yellow brown that gleamed like gold. And even though he had her by over a foot, their dispositions were virtually the same. Both super laid back and chill—when life permitted. 

His dad, however, he looked nearly identical to. The same height, the same bone structure, the same build. Which worked out well since they both loved their basketball. Like Breck, his dad used to play in college. To this day, they still shot hoops together when Breck was home. 

Which wasn’t as often as his dad would like during the school year. And honestly, even when Breck was home for a weekend, he tended to gravitate more towards his mom. Not that he didn’t like his dad. The man was just so damn demanding. Always hounding Breck to be the very best. To earn not just acclaim from others, but veneration. 

And Breck got it. He did. He understood why his dad insisted. He’d had a hard life as a kid, living in the roughest part of town. Always broke, always bullied. But ultimately, he’d made something of his life. Had busted his ass and gotten a great job. Not the one he’d wanted, playing professional basketball, but he’d earned the respect he deserved and wanted the same for his son. 

The fact that Breck excelled in basketball just fanned the flames, enticing his dad to live vicariously through him. He’d never had the chance to make it big in sports like Breck. So now it was up to Breck to take them both to stardom. 

The man wouldn’t be satisfied, wouldn’t truly be happy, until Breck became the basketball superstar he never was. Until Breck won the adoration of the whole fucking world. 

A goal that, incidentally, Breck was one hundred percent on board with.

He just wished his dad would give him a breather. 

Exhaling, he headed for his fraternity’s front door—soon to be his as well if all went smoothly. He had no reason to think it wouldn’t, though. He knew most of the guys. Had partied with them countless times during freshman year. 

Still, it was initiation night, and he wondered what the seniors had planned. From what he understood, they’d be the ones running the show. No outsiders or freshmen allowed. Just initiates and upperclassmen. 

And lots of beer. 

Thrumming in anxious anticipation, he scaled the front stoop and gave the door a knock. Whatever they dished out tonight, he could totally take it. Would take it. Like a champ. He was no fucking wuss. 

The door swung open. One of the seniors. “Breck.” The guy smiled. 

Breck grinned and lifted his chin. “S’up, Cory.” 

They bumped fists then smacked palms. 

“Sticking around for tonight?” Cory waved him through. The guy was varsity. Specifically, the Patriot’s center. Dark and big. Easily six-foot-seven. With a strong jaw and short, black hair shaved close on the sides. 

“Absolutely.” Breck made sure to sound confident. Stepping into the foyer, he spotted dudes with Solo cups ambling about. Some already wearing their togas. He smirked. “I see the keg’s been tapped.” 

Cory chuckled. “It’s after noon. Of course it’s been tapped.” 

Breck headed into the TV room. More frat bros lounged atop a huge sectional couch, sports games blaring from the surround sound as, in the kitchen, lively hip-hop thumped.

“Grab a beer.” Cory motioned to the keg in the corner. “I’ll catch back up with you and the others in a bit.” 

He disappeared around the corner just as one of Breck’s sophomore buddies moseyed over. 

“B.” The guy beamed, gripping his Solo cup. 

“Jegs.” Breck grinned back and clasped his palm. Jegs was one of his favorites. Had the friendliest face. Damn near the identical twin of Malcolm from that Marvel series, Jessica Jones. What was great about him, though, was that despite his amicability, the guy was a total nonconformist. And ridiculously fun. Ready to party in the most outlandish of ways at the drop of a hat. Always kicking Breck out of his comfort zone. And Breck fucking loved it. 

“You ready for this?” Jegs asked. 

Breck lifted a brow. Wow. His brazen buddy actually sounded nervous. 

Which, in fairness, Breck supposed made sense. Initiation night was notorious for a reason. And Jegs, like Breck, was one of the lucky initiates. 

“Will be,” Breck chuckled, eyeing the keg. “Just need to chug a beer or two. Or maybe ten.

 * * * * 

By nightfall, he was definitely good and then some. But so was everyone else in the house. 

Breck laughed as he sat with his fellow sophomores around the kitchen’s old rickety table, their Solo cups nearing empty yet again, their drinking game in full swing. They’d been designated to the ‘servants table’ once the festivities had begun, while the upperclassmen convened in the dining room to play some poker. According to them, that was the initiates’ first undertaking; assuming the official role of the fraternity’s inferiors.

The second involved the ‘uniform’ they had to wear. Black and white formal bow ties with matching boxer briefs. And not a lick of anything else. Their third task? Actually waiting on the seniors—or rather, their ‘superiors,’ as the upperclassmen had called themselves—which Breck and the others had been doing now for a couple of hours. Non-stop fetching them food and beer as they played their fucking games. 

Whatever. For the most part, Breck didn’t mind. Could’ve been worse. Honestly, the whole scenario was pretty funny. He didn’t give a shit about being half dressed and didn’t mind the sight of the others. Like the female body, the male physique was a fabulous thing, and something he found himself appreciating often. With his eyes, though. Not his hands. 

Although, truth be told, he’d sometimes wondered what it’d be like. To clutch another guy’s strong body, but not like he did during basketball games. To feel their hot breath on his neck. Rough, exerted pants. But not due to running. Or anything at all that related to sports. Which he supposed meant that he was bi. Something he’d suspected for a while, to be honest. Ever since the end of middle school when he’d started to really think about sex. 

“Yo, Breck! Another beer, bitch!” boomed a voice from the dining room. 

Sophomores snickered around the table. 

Breck tamped a laugh and shoved back in his chair, then rose to his feet. Which, incidentally, proved a delicate act since he was already three sheets to the wind. 

Jegs laughed and shook his head. “You better move faster than that. I dragged my feet last time and paid the price.” 

Breck lifted a brow as he ambled toward the fridge. The upperclassmen were drinking from longnecks, not the keg. “What’d they make you do?”

“Give Dante a fucking lap dance.” The kitchen erupted in laughter, eight drunk initiates in total. Jegs grinned from ear to ear. “I rocked his world.” 

“Sorry I missed that.” Breck promptly picked up the pace. Not so much because the idea of doing a lap dance was so abhorrent, he just wasn’t as publicly outgoing and carefree as Jegs. 

Yanking the door open, he snagged a beer, then warily made his way into the dining room. Socrates—the Patriot’s hotshot shooting guard, nicknamed for his uncanny, and oftentimes annoying, ability to question everything—tracked his approach. 

Breck’s heart thudded under his gaze. God, that man’s eyes. Bright olive green. Framed by thick lashes. Complimented by a head of short black dreads and Socrates’ wolfish smile. 

Breck shuffled over, careful in his tipsiness not to bounce off any obstacles, then dropped down to one knee like they’d been instructed and offered his gift. 

Socrates took it with a chuckle. “Thanks, wench.” 

Across the table, Cory threw down his cards. “Fuck this game. I say it’s time for the main event.” 

Breck stilled. “Main event?” 

“Yeah.” Cory stood, glancing at his cohorts. Some grinned. Others chuckled. A few loosed drunken grunts. Next thing Breck knew, they all were sauntering into the kitchen. 

The initiates paused in their card game and looked up. 

“Attention, little underlings,” Cory announced, spreading his stance. The rest of his posse assumed similar positions. “Playtime’s over. How’s everyone feeling?” 

“Great.” 

“Awesome.” 

“Fucking fantastic.”

Cory nodded. “Good. Because the moment of truth has arrived. Both feet to the fucking fire. Those who accept the challenge will make the cut.” 

“And what challenge is that, sir?” Jegs laid down his cards. Breck eyed the things. 

Damn. A straight flush. Not bad. 

“To submit to your superiors,” Cory rumbled, “in the most primitive and carnal of ways.” 

The sophomores stilled and swapped confused looks. 

“You know,” Dante laughed. “Grab your ankles.” 

“And hold the fuck on.” Socrates grinned. “’Cause we don’t do gentle.” 

Breck tensed, wrapping his brain around their words. “You’re joking.” 

Cory crossed his arms and shrugged. “It’s how we were initiated. How our brothers before us were, too. A rite of passage and shit. An act of fidelity. Wasn’t so bad. Better than getting paddled until we couldn’t sit down. Or taking a trip to the fuckin’ ER after drinking something meant for an engine.” 

One of the initiates swallowed. “You’re seriously… gonna make us do this?” 

“We’re not gonna make you do anything.” Cory laughed. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. There’s the door. But if you stay? And acquiesce like the rest of us did?” He turned serious. “You’ll never find yourself in a fiercer brotherhood. For your bravery, we will always have your back. And should some idiot fool ever do you wrong, we will descend on them like a pack of rabid wolves.” 

The sophomores fidgeted, swapping more looks. 

“But aren’t there other ways to show our loyalty?” one anxiously asked.

“Sure,” Dante piped in. His voice had gone husky. “But nothing so genuine. This is laying one’s self out bare. We know because we’ve done it. Felt the depth of this sacrifice. You give us your trust and we’ll give you our respect.” His lips slowly curved. “That, and a wicked fucking orgasm.” 

The upperclassmen laughed. 

Breck stared at them. Holy fuck. They were serious. What’s more, he’d vowed to himself at the start of this night that he’d accept any challenge.

 Jegs jerked his chin. “This shit stays in this house? 

No one ever finds out?” “No one. Ever.” Cory raked each initiate with a threatening eye. “Because if they did, we wouldn’t bother looking for the rat. We’d hunt every one of you down and beat your asses senseless. That way, the guilty one pays no matter what.” 

Breck exhaled, reassured. 

Maybe he could do this. 

He squared his shoulders. Clenched his jaw. 

Wait. Shouldn’t he be horrified? 

Some of the other initiates looked downright aghast. Although, wow. He glanced at the rest. Surprisingly, the majority looked more like him. All but done with making their decision and now just steeling their resolve. Or maybe they were all just that intoxicated. He certainly was. Thing was, where he was concerned, this scenario wasn’t so much about exploiting his lack of inhibitions as it was about ramping up that preexisting curiosity. 

Yes, he was drunk. He wouldn’t deny that. But he also had that secret thing for guys. That ‘secret’ being the urge to explore with them sexually. An urge that, again, he’d had since middle school. Something that had nothing to do with beer. Granted, his predilection wasn’t as strong for guys as it was for girls. But it was there, deep inside, and in this crazy moment, he found himself wanting to use this pledge as a justification to take the plunge. 

After all, what other chance would he ever get? It wasn’t like he’d make a move on a guy, and he’d never ever ask a brother out. Why bother? He wasn’t interested in them romantically, didn’t want to hold their hand. He wanted aggression, rough grips, rowdy tugs, hard slams. An aspect of sex he couldn’t get from any girl. 

He met his friend’s eyes. 

Jegs shrugged. “I say fuck it.” 

One of the initiates named Charlie gaped. “Are you for real?” 

“Why not? They all did. And we’re just as tough as they are.” He coughed a small laugh. “Besides, how bad could it be? It’s sex for fuck’s sake. And we’re all fucking drunk. Let’s just do this shit and get back to partying.” 

Breck smirked and shook his head. Jegs was one go-with-the-flow motherfucker. 

The guy to his left, however, shook his head and stood. “No can do.” 

Two others got up as well. “Yeah. Not our thing.” 

Breck watched them head out as the seniors looked on. Turning to Jegs, he bumped his fist. “Screw it, I’m in.” 

The last three initiates swapped drunken looks then nodded. “Us, too.” 

Cory blinked, brows hiking, then glanced at his buddies. Then just like that, the seniors erupted into laughter. 

“Holy shit!” Dante exclaimed. “You guys would’ve done that?” 

Socrates shook his head. “We got some freaks in da house.”

“As if we’d fuck ‘em!” Cory guffawed, holding his sides. 

All the blood drained from Breck’s face. 

“So… you don’t wanna…” Charlie sputtered. 

“Fuck no!” they shouted in unison. 

The sophomores glared, exasperated. 

The one named Reggie glanced at the door. “What about the guys who just left?” 

Dante shrugged. “What about ‘em? They failed the test.” 

“You all are dicks,” Jegs laughed. “That was seriously wrong.” 

Cory coughed. “No, believing we’d wanna fuck your sorry asses is what’s wrong. So now, just for thinking that shit, you’ve earned yourselves another fun little task.” 

Breck crossed his arms and eyed him. “What kind of task?” 

Cory wagged brows. “Pedicures, you freaky bitches. Now go warm up some water.”

Author Bio:

Kora Knight, endeavoring to share with the world her impassioned stories of love, adventure, and sensual wonderment, her most recent delight being that of m/m erotic romance. Having just finished the paranormal romance, Forbidden, she will be continuing on with a handful of other projects, including the second novel-length spin-off to the Upending Tad series, featuring Breck and Kai.

Come visit her on any of her social media sites!

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Tamed #1

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Up-Ending Tad Series

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Dungeon Black Duology

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