His First Surrender (Stonewall Investigations Miami Book 3)

by Max Walker

  His First Surrender

  Stonewall Investigations - Miami

  Max Walker

  Edited By: ONE LOVE EDITING

  Proofread By: Tanja Ongkiehong

  Cover Design: Max Walker

  Copyright © 2020 by Max Walker

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Synopsis

  Sam Clark

  Family, friends, and video games. The three things that define my life.

  When a fourth variable gets added in the form of a smoldering detective named Rocky Hudson, suddenly everything changes. Life isn’t as simple anymore, and it begins to start feeling like a new world is opening up to me.

  A new world filled with firsts.

  But things take a turn and instead of awkwardly flirting, I find myself trying to convince Rocky that I shouldn’t be a suspect in the case he’s investigating.

  Our connection starts off on shaky ground and my daydreams about the handsome man quickly fluctuate from me ringing his neck to him ringing my… like I said, shaky ground.

  Bottom line though: I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  And soon, I wouldn’t ever want to stop.

  Rocky Hudson

  Tragedy made me who I was, cementing the brick wall I had built around myself after the hurt subsided. The only time I’d let people in was when I’d walk them into my Velvet Room. But as far as craving relationships, I had killed that part of myself ages ago.

  Imagine my surprise when a bright-eyed young guy comes barreling through my defenses, knocking it all down, changing everything.

  Still, things are never easy, and when my case twists around on itself and points in a direction I don’t like, I follow it, falling down a rabbit hole that leads to explosive revelations.

  All with Sam Clark at the center of it.

  As the connection between us strengthens and the mystery deepens, I find myself protecting his heart at all costs, while surrendering my own in the process.

  ________________________

  His First Surrender is the third and final book in the Stonewall Investigations- Miami series. It's a full-length, steamy gay romance novel and can read as a stand-alone.

  Contents

  1. Rocky Hudson

  2. Rocky Hudson

  3. Sam Clark

  4. Rocky Hudson

  5. Sam Clark

  6. Rocky Hudson

  7. Sam Clark

  8. Rocky Hudson

  9. Sam Clark

  10. Rocky Hudson

  11. Sam Clark

  12. Rocky Hudson

  13. Sam Clark

  14. Rocky Hudson

  15. Sam Clark

  16. Rocky Hudson

  17. Sam Clark

  18. Rocky Hudson

  19. Sam Clark

  20. Rocky Hudson

  21. Sam Clark

  22. Rocky Hudson

  23. Sam Clark

  24. Rocky Hudson

  25. Sam Clark

  26. Rocky Hudson

  27. Sam Clark

  28. Rocky Hudson

  Epilogue

  Also by Max Walker

  1

  Rocky Hudson

  Everything was neatly laid out in front of me. A toolkit of leather and straps and whips and toys, all resting on a soft, velvet red pillow inside the drawer. The vibrant red matched the color of the walls in the windowless room. There was a queen-sized bed with crisp white sheets pressed against the far corner, but my attention instead drew to the swing hanging across from the bed. The thick silk black straps were tied around large silver rings bolted into the ceiling. The seat of the swing was plush and wide, with a zipper that allowed for the bottom to open, allowing even more access to whoever was sitting on the swing. I admired it for a moment, standing there with nothing on but my black jockstrap, thinking I had just made the best purchase of my entire fucking life.

  Now I just need someone to try it with.

  I turned my focus back to the open drawer, a soft white light shining from all sides of it. The metallic plug reflected some of the light, catching my eye.

  Decision made. I grabbed the plug, feeling the heft in my hands, and poured a small amount of lube over it. My cock grew stiff. I rubbed myself, lowering the jockstrap and releasing my growing dick.

  I needed this. My week had been long, and my stress had reached peak levels. I had been working on a tough case that put me in some sticky situations and kept me up without sleep for three days in a row. The work was difficult, but thankfully it was all worth it, since I definitively closed the case earlier this afternoon.

  I let out an exhale from deep in my lungs, letting go of everything except the sensation of the cold plug against my hole. I spread my legs a little wider, my body ready to take it in, my cock twitching and throbbing in the air.

  And then my phone alarm started to blare out, startling me and causing the plug to slip right out of my hands, falling onto the gray wood floors with a loud clunk. I bent down and tried picking it up, but the lube spread and made the damn thing slipperier than a fucking salmon. It flew out of my hands as if it wanted to fly home for the summer, where the home of lubed-up butt plugs happened to be.

  Iowa, maybe? Texas?

  My alarm still sounded like a siren, echoing off the walls, breaking through the image of dildos tumbling through wild open fields.

  I ignored the plug and went for my phone, turning off the alarm and checking the screen. Why did I have an alarm set for… Oh shit.

  Fuck.

  I was supposed to be at Miami Beach in twenty minutes for a meeting that had completely escaped my mind. With the insanity that this week had brought, I totally forgot about the time I had set aside to catch up with an old flame of mine.

  Someone who I had a feeling wouldn’t mind giving my new swing a spin.

  I wiped off my hands with a paper towel and went for the plug, round two. This time I was able to grab it without it leaping to the other side of the room. I wiped it off and placed it back into the drawer.

  The room locked itself as I closed the door, heading straight for my bedroom, where I got changed into a pair of black shorts and a royal blue T-shirt. I walked into the bathroom, which was flooded with afternoon sunlight, and checked myself out in the wide mirror, making sure my hair wasn’t doing anything unruly. After brushing my teeth and spritzing some Tom Ford cologne onto my vital areas, I headed out.

  On the way there, I set my Tesla to auto-drive mode and called the guy I was meeting with to let him know that I might be a few minutes late, considering the traffic seemed to be getting worse and worse the closer I got to the beach.

  He didn’t answer. I figured he might have been driving, too. I put my phone down and glanced out the window, at the huge Royal Caribbean cruise ships that were docked at port, one of the ships getting filled with excited passengers, some of them already waving at the passing cars from the top deck. Ahead, the roads started getting more crammed until my car had rolled to a complete stop.

  “Fucking hell.”

  I hated being late to anything and especially to something like this. I never met with old frien
ds or flames, always letting them get snuffed out by the passing of time. But, on a whim, I had decided to meet with Rodrigo after he had texted me one night out of the blue. We weren’t particularly close, and he had moved away two years ago, but I still could remember some of the orgasms that man had given me over the times we had gotten together. He did things with his tongue that should be made illegal.

  My cock twitched back to life. Maybe if this coffee date went well, we could see if that explosive sex was still possible. The room was already set up and ready to go; all he had to do was come over.

  I reached the coffee shop we were meeting at, a quiet little place tucked toward the end of South Beach, next to a large hotel that reflected a shower of sunlight onto the pavement. I was lucky enough to grab a parking spot right down the street from the shop. For South Beach, that was like finding a golden ticket in your chocolate bar. I felt good, excited about the day ahead. There was something in the air. It was difficult to pinpoint, but I could feel it.

  As I walked, I passed a tattoo shop, their doors thrown open. I could hear machines buzzing as the artists inked their clients. The thought of getting another tattoo crossed my mind. Maybe after this meetup. I’d been wanting to add to the few that were on my ribs. My thigh could use a touch-up, too, where I currently had a surrealistic scene tattooed of an octopus growing out of the roots of an elm tree being the main focus. Around the tree were a few different types of flowers, all of them colored in vibrant ink.

  Colorful enough to hide some of the scar tissue underneath.

  My phone buzzed. It was a text from Rodrigo. I stopped outside of the doors to the coffee shop and read the message, rolling my eyes toward the very end.

  “Hey, Rocky! I was really looking forward to catching up with you, but something came up last minute. I can’t make it today. I feel terrible. I know I always do this, but my grandma’s cat is just super sick and she ended up falling down the stairs and breaking her shoulder. My grandma not the cat, but then the cat was hurt when my grandma had fallen on top of her. Sorry! I swear I’ll make the next one.”

  Well, there went all that shit about being excited and ready for a fun time. I turned back to the tattoo shop. I didn’t bother trying to reschedule. This was the fourth time Rodrigo had done this to me. I rarely let people even get one chance to disappoint me; meanwhile, Rodrigo’s record of canceling at the last minute remained unbroken.

  I texted back a simple “that’s fine” to his paragraph of steaming hot bullshit. I slipped the phone back into my pocket and stepped into the busy tattoo shop. A smiling, pink-and-white-haired guy greeted me as I walked in. He leaned over a glass display, showing off a variety of piercings, ranging from the normal to the ones that looked like little penises.

  “Here for a tattoo?” he asked.

  I nodded. Someone grunted in pain, the buzz of the machine pausing for a moment.

  “Here’s the portfolio with all our artists. Check it out and let me know who you’d want me to schedule you with. Cleo and Jackson are both taking walk-ins right now if you wanted it done today.”

  “Perfect, thank you.” I grabbed the thick, leather-covered portfolio and took it over to the comfortable chairs sitting against the electric-yellow walls. The name of the tattoo shop was painted in bold blue strokes across the far wall: Bluetail Tattoos. There were colorful candy skulls hung up on either side of the painted name.

  I flipped through the portfolio, the frustration and disappointment still simmering but very much disappearing. I was never one to get hung up over someone. I kept everyone at arm’s length, and farther if possible. Maybe that was why this time had sucked, because I let myself get excited about something for once.

  Fuck it. I just had to stay with my routine: work and fucking guys with strictly no strings attached. No coffee dates or dinner dates or Netflixing and chilling. I had to stick with what was working for me, and not letting anyone in had been working for me for years now.

  As I tried to distract myself with the tattoo portfolio, my phone buzzed again, this time with a message from my hookup app. I opened it, deciding I could meet up with someone else and just keep it strictly physical. My cock twitched against my thigh at the idea of picking up that plug again. Maybe this man would be the bright spot to my shitty fucking day.

  “Hey sexy,” the headless torso pic messaged me. There was long hair in the photo, appeared to be tied in a messy bun. “Looking?”

  I usually went for guys with a little more meat on their bones, but I didn’t mind all that much. On his chest, it appeared like he had gotten a fresh tattoo of a cross.

  I looked around the buzzing tattoo shop. Well, I guess that’s a sign. “Looking for a fun time, yeah. You?” I messaged back.

  The man’s Grindr name, SeraPhiend, wasn’t like the typical ones on this app, and his profile, although mostly blank, seemed fine.

  “Yes,” he typed back. He was only five miles away it seemed. “Come over and I’ll have you on your knees, praying to me.”

  All right, so this guy wasn’t playing around. That didn’t sound like a bad proposition at all. I had a feeling this guy was hung like a stallion, too.

  I went to type back but stopped, interrupted by loud shouting just outside. Someone was yelling for help, their voice sounding desperate and strained. I didn’t bother wasting another second. I might have kept up a “give no fucks about anyone” attitude, but that was only a facade. Underneath that, I strived to help anyone I could, especially when someone desperately needed it.

  I tucked my phone back in my pocket, thanked the guy who’d helped me, and ran outside. I spotted the source of the shouting right away. A woman stood underneath a stop sign, and she was trying to pull back her purse from the hands of a hoodie-wearing thief. “Let go, you fucking asshole!”

  I didn’t see this ending well. If a man was that disconnected to try and rob a woman in pure daylight on a busy street corner, then he might have been crazy enough to do something else. I had to intervene.

  “Hey!” I shouted as loud as I could and ran toward them.

  The woman looked to me for a flash of a second. It was enough for the thief to snatch the purse from her hands. He took off in a run, the purse swinging wildly in his grip.

  Air whizzed past me as I took chase. Again, I didn’t have a second thought about it. This shitbag had ruined this girl’s day, and now I was about to ruin his. It was only fair.

  Jesus Christ, what else is today going to bring?

  If only I knew the can of galaxy-sized worms I opened the moment I gave chase. I was triggering a chain of events that would forever change my life in ways I never even thought possible.

  If I had known what was coming, then… well, I wouldn’t have done anything any different.

  2

  Rocky Hudson

  The sidewalk pounded against the soles of my sneakers as I ran through the busy Miami street, dodging girls in their brightly colored bikinis and guys in their tiny tank tops. I managed to only get a few “hey, what the fucks” hurled my way as I barreled past, my attention focused straight ahead, on the only man at the beach wearing a sweater and jeans, a purse wildly swinging in his grip as he ran.

  “Stop!”

  It was useless. Shouting at a fleeing thief to stop was about as useful as shouting at a waterfall to dry up. I knew that, but still, it was worth a shot.

  “Stop!”

  Okay, that one was just for fun.

  The man continued to run, turning down into an alley between two small boutique hotels. The vacancy sign flashed neon pink as I ran by it, straight into the cramped alley. The smell of trash hit me across the face, as strong as a physical blow. There were large dumpsters lined up against the walls, all of them open and reeking like pure death.

  More importantly, though, the motherfucker I’d been chasing down for the past ten minutes was nowhere in sight. The alley ended in a tall brick wall, impossible to scale. There weren’t any doors or windows either, so the man couldn’t have sn
uck into one of the buildings…

  I eyed the open dumpsters, their dirty green lids looking like laughing mouths. Taunting me.

  Or helping me.

  The one on the far left caught my attention. I spotted movement. Like a cat hunting down its broken-winged prey, I stalked toward the garbage. The closer I got, the louder I could hear labored breathing. He must have been trying to catch his breath, which had to have been impossible being buried underneath fresh and ripe trash.

  I reached the dumpster and readied myself. This guy was cornered. Either he could act like a timid dog and submit, or he could act like a rabid dog and lunge.

  “All right, the game’s over. Get the fuc—oh shit!”

  Something jumped out of the trash, but it wasn’t the thief I’d been chasing. Instead, a crazy-looking black cat leaped into the air, claws outstretched and hackles raised. It landed gracefully on the other side of the alley and looked to be as scared as I felt. Another sound made me turn from the cat, toward the entrance to the alley.

  “For fuck’s sake.”

  I took off running, the man with the stained white sweater now turning onto the street, the dark green purse still in his hand.

  There was a bus, its door wide open. I could tell he was running toward it. If he made it, I wasn’t sure I’d been able to catch him. I ran harder, pushing my body to the limits. Smoke rose from the bus’s exhaust as the thief was only a few feet away. I wasn’t about to give up. I kept running, almost on him.