Remember Drawing Straws? It's my four part kink fest among four cop friends that went and developped a story on me! Silly thing ;) Seriously, though, it made the story better. Originally released through a publisher, I've aquired the rights back and all four books are again available - you can get them individually, but it makes more sense, I believe, to get them in the bundled version - a much better price!
Also, there is a smutty-ish excerpt below!
Drawing Straws - the Complete Series
Damon, Erik, Joe, and Tork graduated together from the police academy. Though they’ve found their niches in different departments, they’ve kept a tradition alive that brings them together four times a year. The four men meet at Erik’s secluded cabin for a long weekend and draw straws for which of them is going to be the sub.
It’s all fun and games until one of them becomes gravely ill. It will test their bonds along with their resolve and their commitment to each other.
Do these four men have what it takes to be more than just friends with benefits? Find out in this compilation of the four Drawing Straws stories.
Erik, Joe, Tork and Damon were previously published individually by Resplendence Publishing.
Buy links:
Amazon
Kobo
If you want the individual book buy links, let me know in the comments and I'll hook you up.
Smutty-ish Excerpt:
When their steaks were finished, there was apple pie with ice cream, and the conversation drifted to their lack of personal relationships and how it was impossible to keep anything going when you were a cop.
And then it was time.
Time for them to draw straws and see who picked the short one. See who was going to be the sub for the weekend.
They all cleaned up the kitchen, the grill, the chatter fading away as the anticipation built. They always drew this out. It made everything electric.
Tork finally took charge when the last dish was put away. “Who’s got the straws?”
“I do.” Damon pulled them out—four straws, one with a notch cut out of the bottom. “The agreement stands until Monday morning, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Hell, yes.”
“Rock on.” Damon rolled the straws around in between his hands, mixing them up.
They each picked one, keeping it hidden, even from themselves. They’d reveal all at once. They stood there, the tension continuing to build between them.
Fuck, the anticipation was killing Tork. It was almost the best part. Almost. The best part came…and came and came.
Damon licked his lips. “On the count of three?”
Nodding, Tork began to count. “One. Two. Three.”
They all turned their hands over.
Erik groaned. “Oh, God damn it.”
“Oh, fuck, yes.” Tork couldn’t wait to get his hands on their Nordic god and make him scream.
Erik turned his baby blues on Damon. “Damon…baby, you want to trade?”
Damon shook his head. “Uh-uh. I drew last time. Besides, that’s the rules. Notched straw submits for the weekend. You are ours.”
Theirs. To play with however they wanted.
Tork was the first to congratulate Erik, grabbing hold of his t-shirt and tugging him in for a hard kiss. God, Erik hadn’t bottomed in two years, maybe more. Tork couldn’t wait to sink into that tight little ass. He wanted to keep the hot bastard filled and stretched, so Erik would be dreaming about them for days.
Finding the bottom of Erik’s t-shirt, Tork pushed up under it, moving his fingertips over Erik’s abs. He felt Joe and Damon step up, pressing against Erik from the side, the back, surrounding their lover. Their sub.
Damon worked on Erik’s jeans, Joe focused on touching, on sensitizing Erik’s tanned skin, on tracing the Nordic runes tattooed into Erik’s skin, on stroking the scars that riddled the magnificent body.
Fuck, but Erik was such a stud, and it was exciting to know they were going to get to play with his jungle gym of a body.
Erik groaned into their kiss, hands sliding up Tork’s arms, holding on to him. Holding tight.
It wasn’t easy for any of them to submit, but Erik fought it hardest of them all. Their Viking stud was always work, always in his own head—a lot like Tork himself. Hell, that was why they’d instituted this weekend. All chance, no choice—at the end, Erik would be emptied of all the stress and filled with them.
Tork kept the kiss going as Damon finished stripping Erik naked, letting him and Joe at all that amazing skin.
“Erik…What happened to your belly, man?” Damon looked up. “You get stabbed?”
That put an end to the kiss, and Tork stepped back, looking for himself. There was a new scar, deep and still a dark red, but healed over. Damn. Erik would have said, though, if it put him out of play for being sub—he knew they’d kill him if he endangered himself by not saying anything.
“It’s nothing. A nick.”
Joe snorted. “How many stitches?”
“Fifteen.”
“Took twenty-four when McManus got my thigh.” Joe looked like he was about to pull his pants down to show them the scar, as if they hadn’t already all seen it. As if they hadn’t torn Joe down and put him back together again the first time he’d subbed for them after it had happened.
“Bullet,” Tork reminded them, pointing to his shoulder.
“I have carpal tunnel.”
They all looked at Damon. Tork burst out laughing and the others followed. Erik reached down, scooped Damon up and kissed the man, hard.
Sean
smut fixes everything
