Robin and Sam

When Master Renard sees Robin and Sam on the night's auction block, he decides he must have them and makes a pre-emptive bid, wanting them in his playroom sooner than later. He's intrigued by the two boys who look so different and by the idea of having two boys at once to dominate.

Are they destined to find pleasure and happiness all together, or is this magical week going to end in tears?

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artists:

Robin looked at Sam, who looked back, wide-eyed. "You're sure you want to do this, Sam?"

His best friend and lover nodded, took his hand and squeezed. "We... we do it for a week. One week. Hard-core submission with a professional. We can handle it."

Robin swallowed hard. "What if we can't?"

"We can."


"What if it's awful?" They'd tried topping each other, tried meeting dominant men online, and tried the bars. It had all been a disaster.

"What if it's perfect?"

Sam tugged his little goatee. Robin had been letting everything grow while Sam was all trimmed and coifed, just in case someone had a little shaving fetish. They were studies in opposites -- he was as Mexican as they came, while Sam's parents were both Irish and had given their son the green eyes, porcelain skin and red hair that came with it. He was a little bulkier than Sam -- Sam was a little taller. Everyone assumed he was the boss, but Sam made decisions for them, as a rule. They'd both taken a week off work at their tech jobs and signed up at the Shibari Auction House.

God. This was crazy.

"It's going to be so hot, Robin." Sam kissed his nose, grinned. "So fucking amazing."

"Uh-huh." Hot or disastrous.

There was a soft knock on the door and it opened. Yves, the tall, skinny man who'd signed them up, poked his head in. "I have a proposition for you."

Sam's head tilted and he stood, smoothing his jeans. "A proposition?"

"Yes. We put up the auction notice for this evening and an offer came in for the two of you. Two hundred thousand dollars, take it or leave it. Meaning it's a one-time offer. This bidder won't be at the auction this evening. But if you'd prefer to take your chances at the auction, that's your choice."

"Two hundred..."

Sam gaped. "Thousand? Did you say two hundred thousand?"

"Dollars?" Robin added. It was important.

Yves smiled. "Yes, indeed. And that is minus the Auction House's percentage. It's a nice chunk of change for a week's time. Should I leave you to discuss the matter?"

They both shook their heads and answered in tandem. "We'll take it."

"Excellent." Yves opened the laptop he'd been holding and set it down on the table. "I'll let the bidder know and the money will be transferred to your account immediately."

"'Okay." Robin was going to have to sit down. What was someone going to want to do to them for that kind of money?

"The bidder has read your terms and signed the contract abiding by them. I have his medical records on file. He's clean, as are the two of you, so condoms won't be necessary. I've sent you an email with his test results. And there you go." Yves pointed to the statement of their account. Two hundred thousand dollars and forty-nine cents.

The forty-nine cents was from before the deposit.

"When you're ready, there's a car waiting out front to take you to Master Renard."

"Master Renard." Robin tried the name out, feeling it on his tongue.

"That means fox in French," Sam whispered. "Do you think it's a trick?"

"Master Renard is an outstanding member of our community, and I assure you everyone is very well vetted. There are no tricks at the Shibari." Yves smiled. "If you need anything else, you know where to find me."

"Yeah, yeah, okay." Sam took Robin's fingers and squeezed. "No matter what, honey, we're together. We'll be fine."

"Yeah. Yeah, we will. I'd never let anyone harm you."

There was no reason to linger after Yves left, so they went out and down the hall again, to the front door. A limo was out there waiting for them.

"Wow. Spiffy." They headed over with their backpacks, hand in hand. Robin decided that it felt a little like the first day of school, somehow.

The driver got out and came around. "Robin and Sam?" At their nods, he held the door open for them.

"Okay," Robin whispered. "Here goes."



Best friends and high school sweethearts, Robin and Sam are looking for a Dom who can give them both what they want. They've done a lot of reading and some experimenting, but nothing has worked. Neither of them has what it takes to top the other, and the online hookups and club visits have been a total disaster. Putting themselves up for auction at the Shibari Auction House is their last attempt at finding something that even comes close to matching the things they've read about.

When Master Renard sees Robin and Sam on the night's auction block, he decides he must have them and makes a pre-emptive bid, wanting them in his playroom sooner than later. He's intrigued by the two boys who look so different and by the idea of having two boys at once to dominate.

Can all three men find exactly what they need in each other? Or is it all just a lovely fantasy?

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artists:


Before there were four, there were three. Learn how Rook, Knight and Bishop came together.

When Rook and Knight meet at a live drawing class Rook is modeling for, it’s lust at first sight. Open and eager with his sexuality, Rook immediately draws Knight’s attention. Lust soon turns to love for the two men. The question, though, is what happens when a third man feels like he belongs with them?

Dive into this story of how Rook, Knight and Bishop met to become the threesome who invited Jason to join them in the Chess series.

Publisher: Pride Publishing
Cover Artists:

Rook hurried along Young Street, checking his watch. He didn’t think he was going to be late for the class, but he was cutting it awfully close. Of course, he hadn’t realized that his meeting with the lawyer was going to take so long. On the other hand, if the dude—were you allowed to call lawyers ‘dude’?—hadn’t been so intent on talking him out of his purchase, it’d have taken half the time.


It was a good thing money was no object, thanks to Great-Aunt Anna leaving her fortune to the black sheep of the family—namely him—or he’d have had to insist that he not be charged for the time the lawyer spent on his own agenda rather than Rook’s. What did the lawyer care if he spent a hundred thousand or so on a store that sold sex toys? It wasn’t like Rook was asking the guy to come and buy, or even to ever show up. He liked the idea of owning a sex shop, and honestly, the money was a drop in the bucket.

All the paperwork was being drawn up and he’d be the proud owner of the place in less than two weeks. Too bad he didn’t have anybody to celebrate with. He’d have to bring some champagne in and celebrate with the staff once the sale went through. Yeah, that would work.

Arriving at the Art School, he went in and made his way to the Live Art class, walking in with seconds to spare. He gave Polly, the teacher, an apologetic smile and moved to the corner of the room to strip off. He usually showed up at least ten minutes ahead of the class, so he was already on the dais when the students came in, especially at the beginning of the semester, but it couldn’t be helped.

Naked, he ran his hands through his hair, and made his way to the raised seat. “How would you like me today?”

Polly tilted her head. “Why don’t you sit with your legs crossed, one hand supporting you as you lean back, the other on your knee.”

He assumed the position, shifting a little until he was comfortable enough to stay still for a prolonged period of time.

Very good.” Polly smiled at him and turned her attention to her students. “Good afternoon, class, and welcome to Live Drawing. Our model for this class is Rook. He’ll be with us the entire class.”

She went on, but he tuned her out, checking out the students in his line of sight. They were all the same—earnest girls and guys trying desperately not to stare. All except for one.

This guy had long, long hair that was so dark it looked like a raven’s wing. He had a beard and was wearing camo that was totally vintage and completely oversized. That guy was looking. Admiring, even.

Rook couldn’t help but tilt his head the slightest bit, proudly showing off. Hell, this guy made him want to spread his legs and really show off, but he knew Polly would likely ban him until he’d groveled significantly. And the truth was, he enjoyed posing.

His move earned him a grin, slow and wicked—one that burned through him.

No hard-ons, he reminded himself. But damn, this guy made his balls ache.

He glanced away, his nostrils flaring as he thought about snow and ice and slush and stupid lawyers who thought he was a moron, in an effort to stay deflated. God, the lawyers thought did it. Boom. Flaccid.

Like an idiot, he dared to glance over at the dark-haired dude again. He got a quick little grin, those eyes burning at him. The pencil was flying, though, one sketch after another happening like magic.

Rook couldn’t wait to see. It was one of his favorite things about modeling, seeing the results. All the different styles, the different ways people saw him—it was cool.


Playing with Fire

Book Cover: Playing with Fire

What happens when an uppity fire mage takes the son of a neighboring kingdom prisoner to teach him a lesson? Sparks, of course. Only in this case, where there’s smoke, there’s more than just fire. The Prince and the Mage both have their secrets to hide, leading the reader through an intricate dance of war, deception, and smoldering sexuality.


Publisher: Resplendence Publishing
Cover Artists:

King Blethin was announced. King Blethin. The man had a nerve. This was what happened with the outlying lands, they put on airs and got uppity. Blethin was an older man, with a round wife and an heir in tow. A young, strapping son who was entirely not his type. Tall. Muscled. Golden skin. Long hair the color of wheat with shots of flame. And eyes like a midnight sky.

Luscious. Zujan needed another princeling. Honestly.

He purred, the sound familiar enough to make Rall tense.


My Lord,” murmured the king, bowing. His wife curtseyed, but the prince just stood there, watching him, defiant, head held high.

We have brought you the finest furs of our lands as a very small token of our friendship.” A cloak was handed to him, black and soft, warm. “The rest of the furs were left with your staff.”

The fur was lovely and Zujan nodded happily. “You are a generous man. How kind of you to attend.”

And to bring your prince to me.

We are neighbors, my Lord. It was an honor to be invited.” The king all but tripped over his own tongue to lick Zujan’s boots. The prince however stood behind his father, still straight and proud, those blue eyes almost looking through him.

This was a proud one. A strong one.

And will your companion introduce himself?” Come, lovely one. Speak to me.

This is my son, Wintras.” The king made a hand gesture to his son, head jerking. “Bow to his Lordship,” the man hissed.

Wintras stood for a long time and then gave a half bow, eyes never leaving Zujan.

Zujan heard the shock ripple through his audience as one of his eyebrows arched and he tilted his head. “Wintras.”

That’s what my father said.”

Blethin’s gasp was audible, the man going red at his son’s words.

Attractive and observant. How very lucky you are, Blethin.” His voice cool and clipped. This one would need to be taught a lesson, lest anyone else think this was acceptable behavior. “Perhaps he is simply overtaken by my beauty.”

Maybe I just don’t like having to give up our best furs to you on top of everything else you’ve stolen.”

The room went silent and Zujan hid his smile as he stood, the bar’cha appearing all around him, drawn to his anger and his need to punish. Poor stupid little fool. “You misspeak, boy. All I have is mine to take.”

The prince stood his ground, cocky and confident, arrogant. “I stand by my words.”


An older man, an Earl hurried over. “Please, your majesty, my lord. The boy is young...”

I am the Prince of the Western Lands. When I take my father’s place I will end your terror of my people.”

Zujan held out one hand, a flame appearing, the air in the ballroom going cold. “You have not yet learned terror, young one.”

Heavens and skies, he was having fun.

You think a few party tricks are going to teach me of it?” Those amazing blue eyes were steady, watching him, challenging him.

No.” He was hoping they wouldn’t – this was the most entertainment he’d had in years. Zujan turned to the Queen, smiling into her tear-filled eyes. “I will offer you the choice, Lady. Give your son to me or I will roast him where he stands.”

She fell to her knees, her husband joining her. “Please, your lordship, please spare his life!”

Get up,” growled the prince. “Stop debasing yourselves.”

Zujan ignored the boy’s words, instead accepting the mother’s. “Excellent.” He snapped his fingers, his guards appearing immediately. “Take the prince down to the dungeons and get him well-settled.”

You can’t just take me prisoner!”

Of course not. Your family just offered you to me, in front of all my company.” He waved his hand idly. “Take him away.”

You intimidated them!” The prince didn’t fight his captors, glaring at him instead.

Blethin had joined his wife in mewling. They were getting boring.

Zujan watched the bar’cha do as they wanted, watching as they moved in and around his guests, swirling and heating. The play continued until worried nobles began to swat at his bar’cha, at which point they attacked, stroking with their burning touch. Sitting again, Zujan relished the chaos, fingers returning to Rall’s hair. “Are you enjoying yourself, pet?”

Y...yes, my Lord.”

Excellent. I am as well.”

Stop this! You are a madman!” Wintras shouted at him from across the room as the guards dragged him away. “Rush him! There are many of you and only one of him! He’s insane!”

They’re so entertaining those first few days, don’t you agree?” He smiled coldly at the king and his wife. “It is by his own lack of self-control that he goes. He will not be permanently harmed — assuming he learns, of course.”

Thank you for sparing him, your majesty,” whimpered the queen.

You are merciful,” added the king, jeweled fingers shaking.

Zujan nodded in total agreement. Indeed. Most merciful.

Amused and merciful.

And the owner of some lovely furs.


Out of the Closet

Following the first four ''Jarheads'' books, Out of the Closet continues the story of Jim ''Rock'' South, Alex ''Rigger'' Roberts, and Richard “Dick” Main.

Rock has retired from the Marines, and the boys are moving to California to find the kind of life where they don’t have hide their love, don’t have to live in fear of losing jobs and getting their butts kicked, just for being who they are.

They settle on the beach, ready for the good life. What they find is that life goes on, with all of the troubles and happy times they’ve always had, making them ever more grateful that they have each other.

If you’re a Jarheads fan you won’t want to miss this one. And if you’ve never experienced these boys before, this Sean Michael Classic will make a fan out of you.

Publisher: Self-Published

Opening Moves

Book Cover: Opening Moves
Part of the Chess series:

Threesome Rook, Knight and Bishop make Jason an offer he can’t refuse. Can the four of them be exactly what they each need? Find out in this Opening Move…

Rook, Knight and Bishop have been searching for a fourth man to join their threesome for quite a while when Knight meets Jason, the life model in the art class he’s auditing. He thinks that Jason is the perfect man for them and his lovers Rook and Bishop quickly agree. The trick will be convincing Jason…

Join these sexy men as they make their Opening Moves.

Publisher's Note: This book was previously released under the same title. It has been expanded for re-release with Pride Publishing

Publisher: Pride Publishing
Cover Artists:

Rook bounced as they headed toward the Z’va coffee house, walking between Knight and Bishop, his two favorite people in all the world. “He was a stud, Knight. He really was.”

I told you.” Knight winked at him, goosed him gently. “O ye of little faith and large penis.”

He jumped at the goosing and rounded on Knight, his ire fading as he played the words back. “His was pretty impressive, too. You think it was just a shower? Or a grower, too?”

That I don’t know. He’s never sprung wood in class.” Knight winked.


That’s a damn shame.” Rook stepped back between them and looped a hand each through Knight’s and Bishop’s arms. He loved touching them. Hell, he loved them, plain and simple. “So. I know I’m not the only one who wants to do him six ways to Sunday.”

Bish snorted. “Or get done by him.”

Sure. I’m easy.” He was. As both his lovers well knew.

He might say no… You do realize this, dear boys.” Knight could be such a turd.

You wouldn’t have suggested it if you believed that.”

Knight nodded, hips bumping his. “He’s got a great ass and the rumors are he’s unattached. A little gym bunny.”

I didn’t get a good look at his ass, but the rest of him was vavavavoom!”

I saw his ass,” put in Bishop. “It was great.”

I need a cup of coffee. I told him where we’d be. We’re sticking with the original plan, boys?”

They’d made similar offers before—four times. No one’d ever said yes. Of course, Knight hadn’t picked before.

A boy. A man. A lover. Someone for them to play with at will. They’d started talking about it late one night—the three of them naked and lazy, sprawled. Knight had been teasing Bish about getting a houseboy, someone they could touch, drive crazy. Boss around a little. Play with.

That had been Knight’s phrase. Play with.

Rook nodded eagerly and Bishop grunted an affirmative.

Rook tried not to get excited, but damn. It wasn’t easy.

They piled into the shop, waved at Rick and Les. “The usual, boys?”

Please. You and Bish go sit, I’ll get it.” He pulled his wallet out and sauntered up to the counter.

Rick grinned at him and Les made the black coffee, the mocha latte, and the triple espresso with a shot of caramel. “We haven’t seen you three in almost a week. I was going to send a search party.”

If you promise it’ll be full of studs, it’ll be another week before we’re back.”

Shit, I can’t afford that! Knight keeps me in business!”

He pouted. “Too bad. I guess we’ll have to keep finding our own studs.”

He handed over a twenty and waved away the offered change. Grabbing the tray, he headed to the table Knight and Bishop had chosen. Knight was straddling a chair backwards, Bishop’s hands on his lean shoulders, rubbing hard. Knight looked tired, but each touch seemed to make that sexy body to relax. Rook licked his lips. Who needed a search party of hotties when he had his two very own personal studs to love on?

The look on Knight’s face was pure bliss—lips parted, surrounded by goatee and mustache, the hair black as pitch.

No orgasming in the coffee shop—they’ll throw us out again,” Rook teased, putting their coffees down on the table.

Shh. He’s rubbing. Don’t distract him.”

He grinned at Bishop, who just smiled back. “I’ll do you when we get home.”

It was probably for the best—he’d never met a massage he didn’t want to turn into more. Especially when Bish was the one dishing out the massage—you could feel the love in every touch.

Knight moaned, the sound like liquid sex. “Bish has the best hands.”

He does.” Rook was getting hard. Between the look on Knight’s face and the memories of what exactly those hands could get up to…

He sat down and pulled his chair up to the table. Bish could make you beg, make you scream, make you hurt in ways that felt so fucking good after… And after… He never ever doubted that Bish loved him.

He tried not to whimper—he already had a reputation for being easy, so the last thing he needed was to get all hot and bothered by memories.

Knight met his gaze, near-black eyes dazed. “Tell me when you see him.”

Not if.



On the Sand

Rock, Rig and Dick are living it up at the beach in this installment of the Jarheads series. Dick and Rock's gym business is going well, Dick has gone back to school, and Rig's PA practice is working just the way he wants it to.

The only problem is that Rig just doesn't have the energy he used to, and he's not feeling great. He's worried that something might be dreadfully wrong, and he's afraid to have to tell his men about it.

Rock and Dick try everything they can think of to cheer Rig up, but even a vacation can't fix what's wrong. Months of pain and silence finally lead to Rig going to a doctor, but can he recover from being so sick for so long? And can he manage to get healthy again with two ex-marines watching his every move? Find out in this Sean Michael Classic.

Publisher: Self-Published
Cover Artists:

Once You Go Demon

Book Cover: Once You Go Demon

There's a shift of power happening in Hell, and nothing will ever be the same.

Kerr has been with High Demon Horatio's household since his age of majority. A natural submissive pleasure demon, for the last seven years he has been untouched by his master Horatio and his job has morphed into a more managerial role. Still, it's a shock when goons from Master Belial's house arrive at his doorstep to inform him he's been sold and his new master expects him to come immediately.

Lost by Horatio in a card game, Kerr finds himself in the Belial household, where Ceris, Master of the Harem, takes Kerr under his wing. Kerr is not only honored and used as he was made to be, but he is given a newly acquired demon, Harmony, as his own to train. The three pleasure demons have a rocky start, but they have all the time in Hell to figure out how to work together, and it isn't long before they begin to care for one another.

Meanwhile, Belial has waited for thousands of years for Horatio to admit he's actually a submissive. When it appears that's never going to happen, Belial arranges for his best friend to lose a card game in which he's offered himself as the prize. Horatio can't believe Belial would do this for him, but the council puts their seal of approval on the bet, and he has no choice but to offer himself to Belial, who immediately gets to work convincing Horatio that he'll be so much happier as Belial's sub.

Will Kerr and Horatio find joy in their places in the Belial household? Only time will tell.

Publisher's Note: The novel Once You Go Demon by Sean Michael was available briefly from another house.

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artists:

Kerr stared at the paper the incredibly well dressed goons at the door handed him.



He'd been sold into Horatio Liverage's house to act as the man's submissive since he was of maturity, and now, after so long, Horatio had sold him without a word? Without a note?


Utter nonsense.


"There must be a mistake."

The goon pointed one clawed finger at the insignia at the bottom of the page. "What does that signify?"

"Horatio Liverage." He couldn't deny it was his master's seal.

"Then there isn't a mistake. Bring us Kerr, and we'll be on our way." The teeth on the guy doing the talking brooked no argument. Neither did the tufts of smoke coming out of Silent and Scary's ears.

"I'm Kerr. I have to gather my things, make arrangements..." Right? Didn't he get that much at least?

The lower demon looked at the contract again. "It doesn't say anything about belongings here. Let's go."

"I have precious things that hold my family name, and it doesn't say that I can't bring them. I am not resisting, simply gathering my stuff." He could bargain with the best of them. He knew he had to convince them, though, as either one of them could pick him up and toss him over a shoulder without even trying.

Henchman One turned to Henchman Two, who shrugged.

"Is your master here? He can decide."

"He is not. He's away. As such, I am second in charge of the household." He held no illusions that he was beloved or even a lover, but he was well trusted with finances and with all aspects of Horatio's life. "I shall return in moments."

He began to pack -- the stash of jewels he had been collecting for years, his few precious books, his favorite clothes, and the music and computer that were his. He grabbed his toiletries, the hologram of his sire and dam, and the fragile glass orb that throbbed with a sweet, gentle light.

Both goons were frowning when he came back, pushing the pallet of his things.

"We won't be party to you stealing from your master."

"I haven't stolen a thing. These things are my own and now go with me to my new master." Fuckers. Horatio might be able to sell him on a whim, but these were his possessions and they were going with him.

They looked at each other again, shrugged, and turned, heading down the walk toward the truck at the end of it. "We're not toting anything," the talker called back over his shoulder.

"Not yet," Kerr muttered.

He wasn't some pointless goon. He was a highly trained, highly useful sexual submissive and house servant. Soon he would find a place with whomever the fuck the asshole prick that never made love to him anyway, dickhead, had sold his papers to, and then this mouth breather would do what Kerr said.

The goon opened the back door and just stood there, watching him putting his things in. "You're riding back there, too."

"Thank you so much." He rolled his eyes, pushed his hair behind his ears, and climbed in, telling himself that he wasn't hurt, that he was nothing but property, that he shouldn't cry. One day, that might even work.

The door closed with a loud clang, leaving him in the dark, the engine starting up moments later. The truck lurched forward, sending him falling onto his ass.

He did cry then, silently, heartbroken. He'd lost his home, his job, his master, and no one had so much as warned him. Someone had written up that paperwork, someone had made the arrangements, and someone had thrown him away.

He couldn't believe Horatio had done this to him, and without any warning at all, not a word to him.

The truck stopped abruptly, the brakes squeaking loudly. The door opened again, the dull grey sky seeming bright after the darkness of the truck.

Two little slaves popped up into the back and began grabbing his stuff.

He lifted his chin and firmed his lips. He was well trained, valuable. Special in his own right. Men begged to be wealthy enough to own him.

"Come, come," murmured one boy, motioning for him to get down from the truck and follow. He couldn't see the two goons. "You're going to be in the salle, honored one. Your groom is Ceris, and he is the Salle Master."

Finally, someone realized how important he was, what his stature was, even if he was a slave. He followed the lad through a side door and along a winding hall of stone. This place was much brighter than his mast -- than his former master's, more marble than rock on the columns and floors, white and light blue shot through with silver and gold.

When they arrived at the harem, the whole place still felt luxurious and gilded, as if the master lived back here as well as the front of the house. Well, his new master was very rich, there was no denying that.

A huge bald man stood as he walked in, bowing to him solemnly. "Honored one. I am Ceris, your groom. Boy, put the things in the gold room, then call for tea."

The lad who'd guided him here bowed and went running with Kerr's things, deeper into the harem.

"Welcome to Lord Belial's harem. We were very excited to learn he won you and that you would be joining us."

Lord Belial? Bel? Horatio had sold him to his best friend? Seriously?

"Thank you for your welcome." He bowed automatically, his training taking over immediately.

"Tea is coming. After that, I imagine you'd like a bath. Perhaps something light to eat."

Ceris was a handsome demon. The bald head exposed the little horns completely, and they glowed in the light. His bare chest was beautifully muscled, the gauzy pants exposing strong legs and hinting at a heavy cock. There was a heavy spiky gold tattoo covering Ceris' ridged belly, marking him as Master Bel's, Kerr was sure. Marked, but lovely.

"I... Yes, of course." He was developing the world's worst headache.

A lad, different than the first two, he thought, came in with a tray holding a teapot and two teacups. He left them on a low table, bowed deeply.

"Thank you, Totz. You can go."

The boy did, hurrying off like he had somewhere to be.

"Please. Sit." Ceris waved toward the benches that surrounded the table.

"Thank you, Ceris." He and Ceris were equals, and he refused to treat the man with less respect than he deserved. "I was not aware I was to be transferred. Not until the papers arrived at the door."

Transferred. Traded. Discarded.

"That's unfortunate. Were you able to collect all your things?" Ceris asked, pouring out the tea.

"I brought the things that were special that I could carry. What will my duties be here? In my former home, I acted as valet and head of household -- finances, staff management, that sort of thing."

Ceris shot him a confused look. "I was led to believe you were a trained submissive, honored one."

"Yes, I was. My former master chose not to use me in that regard." Not for many years and not often when he had.

"Perhaps that's why he wagered you in the game of chance he played with our master last night." Ceris leaned forward and spoke quietly, confidentially. "He's still here, sleeping it off. It got very loud and much was imbibed. I'm very sorry for the way it happened, but maybe it's for the better. There is no where else in all of Hell that I would rather be."

"I will thrive wherever they wish me to be." He hoped. He had no choice.

Ceris looked him up and down, gaze almost like a physical touch. "I'm sure you will."


Love in G Minor

Book Cover: Love in G Minor

Sometimes a third is exactly what a pair needs.

Stephen and Jack play a lot. These long-time lovers are constantly testing boundaries, fighting a delicious battle for control. When they meet young waiter Benji, they’re both intrigued. Such innocence doesn’t come along often and they decide Benji is the best thing on the menu.

Benji feels like he’s in over his head with this sophisticated pair, but it might be Stephen’s musical and artistic temperament that makes three a crowd. Can Jack and Stephen hit just the right note? Or will Benji end up out in the cold?

Publisher's Note: This book has previously been released elsewhere. It has been revised and re-edited for re-release with Pride Publishing.

Publisher: Pride Publishing
Cover Artists:

Jack let himself in and threw his briefcase at the table in his office, grinning without humor as it thumped loudly. What a fucking shitty day.

He’d managed to lose a sizeable chunk of someone else’s money and, damn it, that made him cranky. It didn’t matter if the client had insisted on buying the damned stock—if he’d done his job right, he could have made lemonade somehow, at least controlled the damage, but no. Several million down the tubes.


He headed on down the hall and tossed his jacket at the bed, yanking on his tie. “Stevie? Where are you?” he bellowed.

Trying to read in the library, but someone was being a noisy bastard.” Stephen leaned against the bedroom doorframe, long, platinum hair artfully disheveled, glasses perched on that pointed nose.

You did hear me come in, then—took you long enough to show up.” He glowered for a moment before crowing in triumph when the damned tie finally gave way.

A dead man in Toledo could have heard you.” He got a half-smile, Stephen’s slender fingers helping him with the tie.

He hummed, moving to settle his hands on Stephen’s waist. It was hard to stay in a bad mood when the scent of your lover filled your nose. He made a show of it, raising his head a little, sniffing the air.

Stephen stepped a little closer, rubbing them together. “Sensual bastard.”

You love it,” he shot back, stroking Stephen’s hips through soft woolen pants with his thumbs.

You keep telling yourself that.” Those blue eyes were sharp, shining, wanting him. Loving him.

He snorted and closed their mouths together, taking the hard kiss he wanted, grunting as Stephen responded, pushing his lover back up against the wall. Stephen pushed his fingers into Stephen’s hair, tugging them closer together.

His cock was hard, aching, need like a drum at the back of his head, beating low and fast. He started to hump, pushing Stephen hard against the wall with each push. God, he wanted it. Hot and hard and fast, then hot and slow and intense.

Stephen reached down, nails burning along his spine. He gasped. Yeah. Oh yeah, that’s what he desired, what he wanted.

More,” he growled, shoving harder, getting a hand between them in order to open their pants.

Pushy.” The sound of his dress shirt tearing was like a snarl.

He arched, moaning. “You know it.”

He got their zippers down, got his hand around both their cocks, working them nice and hard.

Stephen bit his bottom lip, hard enough to sting. “Yes. More.”

A shot of lightning went through him at the bite. Fuck, he loved this. Loved this man.

Jack stroked his thumb across the tips of their cocks, nail dragging over the sensitive flesh. A sharp cry pushed into his mouth, Stephen arching against him. He did it again, the pain going up his spine, settling in his balls as tight, hot need.

Love!” Stephen’s heat sprayed over him, the scent heady.

Yeah.” He just needed… He squeezed the head of his cock tight and cried out, his cum joining Stephen’s.

Stephen relaxed, nuzzling his neck, nipping and licking. He moaned, tugging Stephen’s shirt off and working his lover’s pants down. “Wanna tie you to the bed and fuck you blind.”

You think you can?” Stephen was still hard, scorpion tattoo looking as if it was headed for those heavy balls.

He laughed, fingers tracing the black ink. “What—tie you up or fuck you blind?”

Either or.” Stephen’s skin was covered in goosebumps.

Oh, I think I can. And, what’s more, you know I can.” He leaned in and scraped his teeth along Stephen’s collarbone. That pale, pale skin turned a light pink, blushing for him. He hummed, biting this time, thumbnail sliding along the scorpion’s tail.

The low noise came with the tug and pull of Stephen’s fingers in his hair. Moaning, Jack wriggled his hips then stepped out of his pants. Then he was turning Stephen, pushing him toward the bed. Stephen made him work for it, long body pressed against him, cock hard and proud.

It excited him, fighting Stephen for dominance, for control. He shoved Stephen down onto the bed, following with his body.

Such a pushy bastard.” Stephen arched up, rubbing, sliding against him.

I try.” He smiled down at his lover and reached beneath his pillow, pretty damned sure he had at least one set of handcuffs there.

Try harder.” Stephen laughed for him, twisting beneath him, that long body spinning.

He chuckled. “You moved the fucking cuffs.”

Don’t want you to get bored, babe.”

No chance of that.” He buried his lips against Stephen’s neck, nipping lightly.

Oh!” Stephen gasped, body moving in needy, restless jerks. Yeah, Stephen wasn’t bored either.

He rolled, bringing Stephen with him, finding his lover’s shoulder with his teeth as he reached under the mattress for his backups.

Jack! Love! Oh, fuck!”

Jack grabbed for him, pulling him closer. Fuck, he loved the fight. Maybe he’d only cuff one hand.

He rolled them again, getting Stephen on his back, and flipped the cuffs around one wrist and on the bedpost, shackling one arm. Stephen’s motions slowed, careful not to damage those wrists, those talented, musical hands.

You shouldn’t have hidden the fur-lined ones,” Jack teased, turning his lover so that ass was high in the air.

Wasn’t thinking.” There was a dark ‘J’ inked on the join of Stephen’s thigh and ass, an intricate design of Telemann’s Overture in A Minor covering the small of his back.

Jack bent and traced that J with his tongue, teeth dragging behind. Those long thighs parted, balls swaying, the scent of Stephen strong. Growling, he lowered his head, taking one of Stephen’s balls in his mouth.

Oh…” Stephen stilled, panting, skin wrinkling under his tongue.

He laughed around the sensitive globe and let Stephen feel his teeth.

Jack.” The whisper was rough, hungry, Stephen spreading. Yeah, there was his needy lover, right there with him.

He pushed his thumb into Stephen’s hole, his cock throbbing, aching to be buried in the tight heat. Stephen squeezed him, groaning, muscles fluttering around his thumb. He shuddered and bit down on the ball in his mouth again.

Stephen cried out, the chain on the cuffs tinkling.

Groaning, he slowly let Stephen’s ball go. “Gonna beg for me, Stevie?” he asked, pushing his thumb in deeper.

Not a chance.” That little hole squeezed again.

Damn.” He chuffed softly and went for the other ball, adding his other thumb in Stephen’s ass. Stephen rocked, body taking him in, tugging at him. He nipped at the ball sac then bit at Stephen’s ass. “You want more, Stevie?”

My name is Stephen.” Oh, yeah. Stephen wanted more. Stubborn man.

It is?” He let one thumb slide out, rubbing along the wrinkled flesh.

Stephen growled low, hole twitching under his touch. He buried his nose in the small of Stephen’s back, breathing in the scents of skin and sweat, musk and cum. He rubbed his cock along the back of Stephen’s thigh, teasing them both.

Stephen moaned, the sound soft, husky. “So hot.”

You want a piece of it, Stevie?” He shoved his second thumb back in, pushing harder against Stephen’s thigh. He was going to make his lover fly.

Oh. Jack. Love…” Stephen moaned, hips shifting, fucking slamming back toward him.

Oh, that was almost as good as begging. Almost.

He pulled both thumbs out this time, hand going to Stephen’s balls, fondling them roughly.

Bastard.” Stephen lifted his head, hair wild and mussed, panting for it.

He slid his hand along Stephen’s cock, pinching the head and sliding back down. “Your bastard.”

Yes.” His lover rippled, nodded. “Mine.”

Yeah.” He traced the intricate tattoo on the small of Stephen’s back with his tongue, letting the tip of his cock slide along Stephen’s legs.

Oh. I want…” Stephen arched, moaning low.

He continued to lick. “Beg, Stevie. Tell me how much.”

He could feel Stephen fight it, loving the way those slim hips rocked and shifted against him. “Been days. Days.”

I know.” Fuck, he loved that stubborn streak.

His cock bumped Stephen’s hole, promising, threatening, and his lover growled, the sound sexy, wild. “Do it. Jack. I need, now. Fuck me. Need your cock, yeah? Need you.”

Mmm, are you begging me, Stevie?”

The cuffs jingled again. “No. Bastard.”

He groaned. Fucking stubborn, beautiful asshole.

He let his cock drag across Stephen’s hole again, then collapsed onto his back next to Stephen, stroking himself, letting Stephen watch.

He got a disbelieving look. “Jack? You’ve got that hand every fucking day.”

He pasted on a lazy, unconcerned smile. “You want it? You know what you need to do.”

Fuck off.” Stephen’s free hand reached back, three fingers sliding deep into that tight little hole. Oh fuck, that was beautiful, his Stephen flushed and hard, riding.

Shit, he was going to go off from watching if he wasn’t careful. “Don’t you make me cuff your other wrist, Stevie.”

Too fucking busy jacking off to do it.” Stephen rippled, eyes hot and watching him.

He reached lazily with one hand, looking for something to use, crowing when he found his tie.

Fucking love that smile…”

He surged up, pushing his tongue down Stephen’s throat. He grabbed Stephen’s hand, pulling his long fingers out of that fine ass and looping the tie around the beautiful wrist. Stephen bucked beside him, rubbing hard, trying to get off.

He looped the other end of the tie around a bedpost, effectively shackling Stephen’s second hand. Then he went back to jacking off. “You still refuse to beg?”

Bitch.” Stephen’s growl was part fury, part need.

He pushed his own growl of frustration into a hum, working his cock slowly. The trick was to outlast Stephen’s stubborn streak. Of course that didn’t mean he couldn’t tilt the scales a little. He collected the liquid from the tip of his cock and painted Stephen’s lips with it. Stephen groaned, lips wrapping around his finger and sucking hard.

He couldn’t hide the ripple that went through him, so he had to start playing dirty. He slid his free hand down to play with Stephen’s balls, teasing and tugging on them. Stephen groaned and spread for him, mouth still bobbing on his fingers. He reached back to Stephen’s ass again, letting his fingernail scrape along the wrinkled skin around Stephen’s hole.

Oh…” Stephen’s head lifted. “Want you.”

Yeah?” He scraped again. “You absolutely sure you do?”

Yes. Yes, Jack. Fuck me. Make me yours.”

He moved back onto his knees behind Stephen, running his fingers in hard lines along Stephen’s back, nails leaving marks. He nudged at the hot little hole that he wanted into in the worst way. “You ready to beg for it, Stevie?”

Oh. Oh, fuck. Please. Please, Jack. I need…”

He shouted triumphantly and pushed into the best place on earth he knew. Arching, Stephen moaned, words pouring from his lover. He grabbed Stephen’s shoulders for leverage and started thrusting away, fucking his lover with everything he had. Stephen met each thrust, their bodies slamming together, skin slapping.

It was raw and wild and exactly what he needed.

He got one hand around Stephen’s cock, tugging roughly as he continued to plow in.

Fuck! Jack!” Stephen bucked, ass squeezing him like a fist.

He rubbed his thumb at the base of Stephen’s cock, the spot that made his lover nuts. “Come for me, Stevie. Show me how fucking good it is.”

Jack!” There it was, hot and needy, wet and musky and Stephen.

He moaned, shoving into Stephen and losing his load. It shook him from his head to his toes and all points in between, and, damn, that made the day better.

Stephen moaned, relaxing beneath him. “Hey.”

He moaned, kissing the back of Stephen’s neck. “Hey.”

Pulling out made him grunt, but he did it, leaning up to release Stephen’s hands from their bonds before collapsing next to his lover. Stephen scooted close, skin soft and warm against him.

Hey, Stevie,” he murmured, tugging his lover closer.

Mmm…love you. Bad day better now?”

All better.”

He turned Stephen’s face up, giving his lover a warm kiss, full of banked passion. Stephen cupped his face, tongue sliding along his.

Jack hummed into the kiss, then lay there, stroking Stephen’s skin. “We got anything planned tonight?”

Nothing magical, no.”

Let’s go to Swann’s, then. Have a nice meal together.” Stephen in good clothes made him horny.

I’ll call and reserve our table. Although, God knows who’ll we’ll get. Sweet Trevor went home to Alabama.”

I’m not fussy—I just want someone who won’t spill the food. And who has a nice ass. And who looks at you as if you’re dessert and me as if I’m a god.” He sighed. “Why ever did Trevor leave?”

He got a sugar daddy. Somebody big and buff to take care of that adorable body.”

Good for him! Even if it does leave us without the best waiter in town.”

They’d had a taste of that body more than once. Trevor played nicely, liked his sex a little kinky.

Yeah, I know.” Stephen pouted. “And left us low on playmates.”

We’ll have to go cruising, Stevie.” Not tonight, though. He didn’t need the pressure, wasn’t in the mood for sharing his lover, even if the payoff was a sweet sub they could take turns fucking into oblivion.

Yeah. Later.” Oh, yeah. That was one of the things he loved about Stephen. The man knew him, knew what he needed. Sometimes gave it to him. Usually made him work for it, though, and he loved that, too.

He rolled Stephen onto his back and lay on top of that long body. Maybe they’d order pizza.



Book Cover: Joe
Part of the Drawing Straws series:

Damon, Erik, Tork and Joe are back again for another wild weekend together where they can all let go and really be themselves.

Just because they’ve left their jobs and lives behind though, doesn’t mean that they’ve left their baggage behind, too. Joe’s had a really rough week and to everyone’s surprise, fixes the draw so he gets the sub straw.

Can Damon, Erik and Tork help Joe deal with his troubles and send him home on Monday feeling ready to take on the world again?

Publisher: Resplendence Publishing
Cover Artists:

William Torkvinenndan turned the hamburgers and then sat, drinking his beer. He’d come up early. Taking the extra day off had been just what he needed after three hard months working at the interdepartmental unit. Tork couldn’t remember the last time he’d had more than three hours of sleep. Making sure he was here for the full weekend became a top priority.

Chuckling, he watched his breath puff out in the cold; he’d expected he’d still be second or third here, not the first. So now he was on his own until someone else showed up. The burgers were to entice his brothers in blue - if you cook it, they will come.


The sound of a truck filled the air, cutting through the peace. Ah. Erik. Waiting for Erik to come through to the deck, he grinned as he remembered their last weekend. Erik had played sub and it had been glorious. Wouldn’t it be funny if Erik drew the short straw twice in a row after having gone so long without being the bottom?

Their Nordic god came out the kitchen door and grinned, blue eyes twinkling. “Hey, boss. How’s the promotion going?”

It’s a lot of fucking work.” Standing, Tork held open his arms, wrapping Erik in a strong hug. God, he’d missed this. The time between their weekends felt longer every time, even though it wasn’t.

Erik nodded and grabbed him, squeezed him tight. “Good to see you, man.”

You too.” Tilting his head, Tork pressed their mouths together. Oh, fuck, Erik tasted good. All fucking male with salt and sweet - Erik must have eaten a doughnut on the way up. There was probably a fucking box of them on the kitchen table now.

Erik’s hand wrapped around Tork’s skull, the tongue fucking making Tork’s knees weak, and he cried out. Clinging to Erik, he let the man take his mouth. Barring when he got the short straw, no one else could, but they were a physical match - of a height, a size - and Erik knew how to kiss. It was fucking stunning. Damn, if he was the sub this weekend, he’d be more than happy for more of this. Tork opened wider, groaning, inviting Erik to continue.

Hungry man.” Erik moaned, dragged their bodies tight, hips rolling their cocks together.

Been three months.” Tork didn’t have anyone outside of these men. Aside from not really having time, these were the guys he was into, he cared for, who cared for him.

Want a quickie?” Erik asked, humping against him. “I got blue balls.”

Oh, I have to see these blue balls of yours. I might take pictures.” He gave Erik a wink, nodded. “Hell, yes, I want a quickie. I’ve been here for three hours. On my own.” Nothing to do but think and wait and wish someone was there already to get off with.

Oh, man.” Erik sounded genuinely sympathetic. “Come to the big couch.”

You don’t have to ask me twice.” Tork went to the barbeque and turned off the gas, then brought the cover down. It would have to do. Better to re-warm the burgers than have them completely dried out.

Food put off for later, Tork followed his favorite Greek God’s ass back into the house.

Erik started to strip down, that new knife wound from the last get together now covered with a tattoo - a black dagger pointing all the way down Erik’s belly.

Jesus, ‘Rik that is stunning.” Tork moved closer and traced it with his fingers, the muscles of Erik’s abdomen fucking sexy.

You like it?” Erik flexed those amazing muscles for him. “I got it during an undercover sting.”

Shit yeah. It’s enticing.” He grinned, stroked his fingers over it again. “I want to lick it.”

It’s healed.” Erik had his jeans open, but not off, and he took a wide stance. “Go for it.”

Tork nodded, dropping to his knees and leaning in. He breathed in, pulling Erik’s scent deep into his lungs. He swore he could tell his men each by scent alone. Erik smelled of Speed Stick and grass and the barest hint of soap.

Opening his mouth, he slowly dragged his tongue over the handle of the dagger. Erik’s belly went rock hard, jerking at his touch. Moaning, he traced the rest of the knife with the tip of his tongue.

Mmm. It covered the scar nicely, hmm?” Erik sounded pleased, and more than a little turned on.

Yeah. I can still feel the scar under my tongue, though.” While he was here, Tork figured he might as well fish out that fucking amazing prick and have at it.