Fits Like a Glove and The Bistro now out!

I have self-published another pair of books -- one is a Velvet Glove, the other is a short story from the Bus Stories and Other Tales anthology.


Fits Like a Glove

Hercules is the owner of the Velvet Glove, the premier men's bdsm club in the galaxy. He's made sure to hire the best people for their jobs, from the cleaners to the trainers. It's exclusive, it's hot and it's all his.

Malachi is the club's main trainer and an extraordinary top; he was handpicked by Hercules. The man has a secret though, one that Hercules discovers and shares with him. But if it gets out, Malachi's reputation could be ruined, and possibly the Velvet Glove's along with it.

Can Malachi and Hercules maintain a relationship as well as their roles at the club? Or will their needs and desires bring their world crashing down around them?

Previously published by Torquere Press.


Buy links:
All Romance Ebooks
Amazon (link to come)

smutty excerpt from Fits Like a Glove:

Herc headed for the lift and made it to his quarters in the penthouse without snarling at anyone he met on the way, but it was a close thing. Only the memory of those icy, cool eyes staring him down kept him focused solely on getting to his playroom. He occupied his time by going through his cupboards, making sure the heat was on, the room and everything in it perfect.

Malachi opened his door with only seconds to spare, the knife-blade cheekbones sharp in the lean face.

"Strip," Herc ordered, forgoing any sort of formalities. He wasn’t in the mood to pussyfoot around.

Malachi obeyed, long fingers baring that perfect skin to his eyes. The motions were smooth, unhurried, controlled. His Malachi was such a delight.

Herc licked his lips and opened his pants, his prick springing free. "Suck me."

"Yes, Hercules." The soft voice wrapped around him, perfectly modulated, wonderfully toned.

Herc watched the lovely body approaching, his prick jerking at the sight. He loved that he was still fully dressed while Malachi was naked. He loved that Malachi would strip and kneel for him and him alone. In a graceful motion, Malachi knelt before him, lips open and taking him in deep. The suction was sudden and sure and enough to make his thighs tight.

Groaning, he slid his hands through Malachi's hair. The pleasure moved over his spine, spread throughout his body, and chased the aggravation and irritation away. As quickly as that, his Malachi brought him to center, eased him.

"That's it, Malachi. Bring me off."

And after, they would play.

Those tight lips dropped down, slid over his shaft and sealed around the base, the suction growing stronger. He slid his hands through Malachi's hair, opening and closing his fingers. He didn't need to guide -- Malachi knew exactly what he wanted, what he needed. Malachi knew and Malachi gave, trusting him and taking him into that tight throat, to giving him Malachi's breath.

"Oh, yes. So close, Malachi. So very close."

Long fingers cupped his sac, rolling the balls within even as Malachi swallowed. If Herc had not been who he was, he would have screamed. As it was, his balls emptied in long pulses, his body shuddering with the magnificent pleasure.

Malachi took him down, didn't miss a drop. Then his shaft was licked clean, the caresses soft, careful.

"Thank you," he murmured, his calm restored. In fact, he felt marvelous. "Tuck me back together and then choose something from the cabinet." He stroked Malachi's cheek. He would ease any tensions from his beautiful lover.

Malachi's hands tucked him away, fingers sliding on his skin. Then his naked and hard lover stood, needy and proud. He admired every inch. Malachi's body was perfection -- he worked hard and it showed. Hercules ached to reach out and touch but he made himself wait. He made them both wait. Later.

Malachi moved to the cabinet, sorting through the whips and floggers and paddles. A leather flogger was chosen -- heavy and strong and it would thud upon Malachi's flesh. Hercules took in a deep breath, new warmth filing him. Malachi was so good to him.

The Bistro

Richard is having a bad day; he’s just been stood up by his date, at the very expensive French bistro his date has suggested they meet. At least the food smells good and Richard decides to stay and have a meal on his own.

When the chef turns out to be an old flame, Richard thinks his fortunes are about to change – but will it be for better or worse?

Previously published in the Bus Stories and Other Tales anthology.

Buy links:
All Romance Ebooks
Amazon (link to come)


smutty excerpt from The Bistro:

"No games, Stephen. Take me to your bed."

Stephen nodded and took his hand, leading him through a fascinating and so Stephen home -- clean, open, sparse -- to the room that was dominated by a big bed. His hand was brought to Stephen's lips, the action well known, so familiar. "I am glad to see you, Richard."

He slid his hand along Stephen's cheek, the beard tickling his palm. He brought their faces together. "Me, too," he said softly as his lips closed over Stephen's.

Stephen smiled and then those soft lips opened and the flavors of coffee and chocolate and crème and Stephen filled his mouth, slid into him like that quick, hot tongue that met his hunger equally.

He slid his hands around Stephen's back, pulling him close, letting Stephen feel his need. Stephen made a soft noise, arms reaching up to circle his neck. Stiff heat pressed against his thigh, solid and needy. Moving his hands, he stroked the length of Stephen's back until he was cupping that fine ass, pulling Stephen tighter against him, rubbing their bodies together.

He sure hoped Stephen wasn't going to send him on his way after just one go, because he wasn't going to last very long this time out. One slim leg wrapped around him, Stephen stretched out against his body, mouth fierce and focused as they kissed.

All the old feelings came flooding back, hitting him hard -- he'd loved Stephen, maybe not the fairy tale all-encompassing love that Stephen had been looking for, but he'd loved Stephen more and harder than anyone before or since.

He felt like a teenager, some kid who barely knew how to rub himself, coming so quick and hard, ruining his sixty dollar silk boxers just like that.


Sean
smut fixes everything