Bound by Law: Men of Honor, Book 2
Page 20
This time, it was Damon who advanced. “You demanded to come in. There are consequences to every action.”
“So you’re going to teach me a lesson?”
“One you should’ve learned a long time ago,” Damon agreed. “I’m not a saint, Tanner. I rescued you from those men, but the sight of you like that…” Damon’s voice was husky, rough with need and that hit Tanner’s cock as surely as a hot mouth. “If you come upstairs, I will fuck you.”
Damon’s words were a promise, not a warning, and Tanner knew there was no turning back. His body trembled and that made Damon smile.
“You like my weakness,” Tanner said, but Damon shook his head and murmured, “That’s not weakness, baby. That’s surrender—and they’re not the same thing at all.”
Tanner guessed he would soon find out if there was truth to those words. He’d come all this way, made this move, and now it was time to put up or shut up.
He began the long walk up the stairs toward the loft with Damon behind him, every step a surrender in itself. When he got to the top of the stairs and the open door to the loft, he paused at the threshold, but Damon didn’t give him that luxury for long.
Instead, Damon pushed past him and then turned, pulled Tanner in by fisting the front of his sweatshirt and yanking him inside. In a swift motion, the sweatshirt was off, hitting the ground with a heavy, wet thump that made Tanner jump.
“Easy,” Damon murmured. “I’ve got you.”
There would be nothing easy about this. “I thought you had company.”
“I didn’t bring him home with me.”
“Why?”
Damon paused for a long moment and then said, “He wasn’t you.”
Tanner’s throat tightened. And, as he stood there in just his wet jeans and boots, Damon tugged off his own black T-shirt and threw it to the ground. And then he unzipped the worn jeans—they hadn’t been buttoned in the first place—and let them drop off.
He wore nothing underneath them and he was already more than half-hard.
If you come upstairs, I will fuck you.
“Do I need to undress you?” Damon asked.
Tanner was frozen, and it had nothing to do with the chill from the outside. Somehow, the intimacy of this setting versus coming in front of a club full of people was far more intimidating. Because he’d known that what happened between them previously was bullshit…but this—what was about to happen—was all too damned real.
And he was scared to goddamned death.
“We learned that fear is a good thing,” Damon reminded him, as if reading Tanner’s mind, and Tanner cursed his lack of a poker face with this man. Reached out and dragged Damon’s naked body to his and kissed the shit out of him again, reveling in the fact that Damon responded. He wrapped his hand around the back of Damon’s neck, pulled the man hard to him, and for a while they remained like that as Tanner ground against him, the sweet friction of his dick against the denim of Damon’s jeans nearly doing him in.
Damon pulled back and chuckled softly as Tanner kept his hand on the back of his neck. “Little one, you have so much to learn about control and who has it. You know you’re not in charge here, know you’re not topping me. It’s not what Jesse wanted.”
Tanner couldn’t argue with that. Except… “I gave you your chance.”
“And by agreeing to come here, you took a second chance. Same rules apply.” Damon rubbed a large hand over the back of Tanner’s neck now. “It’ll be different. I promise.”
Tanner wanted to believe him, but he couldn’t. Not fully. But he was here, like a sitting goddamned duck. “Damon…I’m a top,” he said for what seemed like the millionth time, realizing that all the times he’d said it he was really trying to convince himself.
“Jesse didn’t think so.”
“Jesse wanted me to comfort you.”
Damon laughed. “Is that what you were doing when you were strapped down, spread wide and coming? Comforting me?”
Tanner didn’t say anything.
“Impudent. Stubborn,” Damon breathed, bit the side of his neck then replaced the sting with a soothe of a tongue. Pleasure and pain. “So now, tell me again what you don’t want? Because right now, you’re rubbing me like a bitch in heat.”
Tanner’s only answer was a low moan and his hand began to slip off Damon’s neck.
“Let me guess. You fuck and you fuck and you’re still never satisfied. Can’t get to that next level.” Damon’s hand slid down his crack, teasing him with the drag of a finger. And then, the gentle brush of fingertips against his hole.
A muffled groan, and Tanner didn’t bother to argue, was pretty sure only incoherent sounds would tumble out of his mouth if he opened it anyway. Indeed, he tried not to tremble as Damon swiftly pulled away from him, then placed a flat palm on Tanner’s abs.
He heard a roaring in his ears, which muffled the harsh groan he was sure escaped from his lips.
When Damon’s hand trailed lower, then lower still, he began to unravel swiftly.
“I’ll come the second you touch my dick,” he blurted out.
Damon smiled wickedly. “I know,” was all he said as his hand slid around Tanner’s cock.
He’ll bend for them. But they may break over him…
Out of Focus
© 2011 L.A. Witt
For twelve years, Dom lovers Ryan “Angel” Morgan and Dante James have run a successful photography business, and satisfied their need for a submissive with the occasional sizzling three-way. On a wedding job, they both zero in on the bride’s beautiful brother, but as professionals, they keep their attraction on the down-low—for now.
Jordan Steele has no trouble establishing mastery over his stallions. When he hires Angel and Dante to shoot promotional photos for his stable, though, there’s something about them that calls to his inner submissive. After a little flirtation and a photo session that gets almost too hot to handle, Angel and Dante are happy to show him the ropes. And the whip.
Once they break the ice, their sexual chemistry burns hotter than a macro flash. Everyone gets what they need…until emotions come into play. Their power could develop into something permanent, throw everything off balance—leaving one of them the odd man out.
Warning: Contains lots of sarcasm, a double helping of steamy erotic photography, and two dominants having their way with one very enthusiastic submissive.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Out of Focus:
All I’d needed to get nervous was the time it took for Dante to ask if I’d ever considered modeling. Oh, yeah, I was nervous. But I was also intrigued, both with this idea and with them, so I forced the nerves back.
“So, what exactly do I do?”
Ryan adjusted a light. “Whatever we tell you to do.”
“And you can say no to anything,” Dante said.
That eased my nerves a little. They were in charge. All I had to do was listen to them, and there was a way out. I could leave now if I wanted to.
Dante disappeared into the shadows, then returned with an adjustable stool that had a single armrest on one side. He put it in the middle of the muslin.
“We’ll have you start on that,” he said. “It’s usually a little easier to relax when you’re sitting versus standing in the middle of a bare set.”
Relax. Sure. I’ll get right on that.
He gestured at it and smiled. “Have a seat.”
And we’re off.
I took a seat on the stool, resting my arm on the armrest. With the various bright lights around me, I could barely make out Dante and Ryan’s shadows. Still, I had no trouble keeping track of them as they moved around. Their footsteps and their dark-against-darker shapes made them easy enough to track, especially when the occasional glint of light on Dante’s almost-white hair distinguished his silhouette from Ryan’s, but they also kept talking to me.
“Could you put your shoulders back a little? Good, just like that.”
“Raise your chin a bit, just—yes, per
fect.”
“Turn your body about five degrees to your left. Right there, good.”
Being in the middle of the set was weird. Out in the open. Exposed. Only their voices gently guiding me through where to put my hand or how to tilt my head kept me distracted from that vulnerability.
Then Ryan came out of the shadows and gestured for me to stand. “I think that’s enough with the chair.” He took it off the set, and Dante emerged from the darkness.
“Stand with one hip toward the front. Like this.” He stood as he’d indicated, his body facing one side of the set while he looked to the front. I mirrored him, and he nodded. “Good. Just rest your weight on your left foot.” When I did, he nodded again, and a moment later, he and Ryan were back behind the curtain of shadows.
He was right: without the company of a piece of furniture, I was definitely out in the open. Vulnerable, exposed, and not nearly as unnerved as I thought I’d be.
Nothing in the room was loud, but it was anything but quiet. The pop of the flash and the zing when it recycled. The snap of the shutter. My heartbeat. My own slow, uneven breathing.
Snap. Pop. Zing. Heartbeat. Heartbeat. Heartbeat. Snap. Snap. Snap. Pop. Zing.
“Hook your thumbs in your pockets,” Ryan said. “Just let your arms relax.” I did, wondering if he realized how far out of my vocabulary “relax” was at this point.
“Bring your left shoulder forward a little,” Dante said. “Good, perfect.”
Snap. Pop. Zing.
It should have been overwhelming taking commands from two people at once, but strangely enough, it wasn’t. They didn’t contradict each other. When one gave a suggestion, the other ran with it.
“Tilt your—” Dante stepped across the edge of the muslin. He pursed his lips, then reached for my shoulder but stopped before touching me. “May I?”
In spite of my nerves, I nodded.
Even through my shirt, the gentle contact of his fingers sent electricity down my spine. He nudged my shoulder back a little.
“Good, right there.” He offered a smile, which did nothing to help me keep my balance. “Don’t move.”
Snap. Pop. Zing. Snap. Pop. Zing.
They kept shooting for a few minutes, offering gentle suggestions. I focused completely on their voices, letting their directions ground me. I was aware of what they told me to do, aware of whether or not I was comfortable doing it, but my body simply…did.
“Squat down and rest your elbows on your knees. Just let your hands fall between, completely relaxed.”
“Turn to the left.”
“Tuck your chin just slightly.”
Snap. Pop. Zing. Snap. Pop. Zing.
“Stand and put your weight on your right heel.”
“Don’t move your head, but look up.”
“Bring your chin toward your left shoulder and look straight ahead.”
Snap. Pop. Zing. Snap. Pop. Zing.
Blood pounded in my ears when Ryan came up to me as Dante had done a few minutes before. And just as Dante had done, he reached for me but stopped before making contact.
“May I?” he asked, fingertips inches from my face.
I’d forgotten how to speak, so I just nodded.
He touched my face, and I closed my eyes as that warm contact pulled all the air out of my lungs. With the gentlest pressure on my jaw, he turned my head just a little to the right.
“You okay?” His voice was soft, and his fingers still cupped my jaw.
“Yeah.” I opened my eyes.
Snap. Pop. Zing.
Ryan grimaced and blinked a few times, evidently caught off guard by Dante’s flash. Then he gave me a reassuring smile, and slipped back into the dark foreground.
I continued obeying their instructions, pretending I wasn’t acutely aware of the phantom warmth where Ryan had touched my skin.
After a while, Dante said, “Would you be comfortable losing your shirt?”
I took a breath. Was I? Oh, hell yes I was.
“Jordan?” Ryan said.
“Um, yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” I started unbuttoning my shirt, ignoring all the fluttering in my stomach and the tingling at the base of my spine.
“Wait,” Ryan said.
My hands froze, and I looked up, eyebrows raised.
“Slower,” he said.
I moistened my lips, then continued unbuttoning my shirt, forcing my unsteady hands to work slowly.
Snap. Pop. Zing. Snap. Pop. Zing.
“Good, just like that,” Ryan said softly. His approval sent a rush of…of something through my veins.
Snap. Pop. Zing. Snap. Pop. Zing.
“Take your shirt all the way off.” Dante appeared on the set, hand outstretched.
I obeyed, shrugging off my shirt. Warm air met my skin, making me acutely aware of every inch I made visible to them. Of the fact that I no longer had my shirt to mask the front of my jeans and the effect they had on me.
Dante took my shirt but paused before returning to his place. “Tell us if you get cold, okay?”
I nodded. The lights warmed my skin anyway, but it was the heat from under my skin that was liable to make me break into a sweat. Getting cold wasn’t an issue.
Snap. Pop. Zing. Heartbeat. Heartbeat. Heartbeat. Snap. Snap. Snap. Pop. Zing.
Fuck, I was half naked. Taking orders, following simple commands that were commands nonetheless. My every move was under the scrutiny of the cameras, illuminated by lights and flashes, and in full unflinching view of them. Dante and Ryan. Dante. Ryan. Dante, who’d made me trip over my own feet at the wedding with nothing more than eye contact. Ryan, whose subs called him Angel. Dante, who’d been right there; Ryan, who’d silently asked if I wanted some of this, and I did, I did, God damn it, I did.
I was dreaming. I had to be.
“Take off your belt.” Dante’s command was terse, bordering on sharp, and didn’t invite argument. Intellectually, I knew I was free to say no, and I was free to leave if I didn’t want to do this. Not that it mattered. I wanted to.
My shaking hands amplified the jingling of my belt buckle, and the metallic sound echoed in the stillness while Dante and Ryan watched. Waited.
Snap. Pop. Zing. Snap. Pop. Zing.
I imagined them zooming in for close-ups of my hands, and wondered if the camera would pick up how much my hands trembled while I tried to work the simple buckle. I wondered just how visible my hard-on was to the cameras—to them—because I sure as hell couldn’t miss it. I couldn’t decide if that was mortifying or exhilarating.
Then came Ryan’s voice, and with four words, he tilted the scales in favor of the latter:
“Get on your knees.”
Bound by Law
SE Jakes
The one man he can’t forget is the one whose memories could destroy them all.
Men of Honor, Book 2
After the one man he trusted disappeared, it took Law Connor ten years to take a chance on another relationship. Trouble is, right about the time he’s finally ready to let go of the past, the past stages a hostile takeover.
Back when they were teens, Styx was the boy with no memory. He and Law had each other’s backs until he was forced to leave to keep Law safe. Now a CIA agent, he’s finally discovered who he is, and why he’s a hunted man.
Detective Paulo McMannus has almost succeeded in helping Law forget his lost love when Styx comes plowing back into their lives. No way is Paulo giving up his lover without a fight.
Suddenly Law finds himself on the run with Styx, the man who can still bring him to his knees...and with Paulo, the man who brought him back to life. The worst part? He can’t choose between them. And it’s getting harder to remember why he should.
Warning: Contains rough language, rougher sex and warriors who fall hard for one another.
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This book is a work of fiction. The name
s, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
Bound by Law
Copyright © 2011 by SE Jakes
ISBN: 978-1-60928-508-1
Edited by Jennifer Miller
Cover by Angela Waters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: August 2011
www.samhainpublishing.com
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
About the Author
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