Breaking in the New Guy (MM)

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 32,941
5 Ratings (4.2)

[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Paranormal Romance, M/M, werewolves, HEA]

After a messy breakup with a cheating boyfriend, Luke Clarke decides to do something he hasn't been able to do for a long time—let his hair down and have some sleazy fun in the restroom of a gay club. Days later, his friend sets him up with one of her other friends, Brandon Main. Luke is reluctant at first, thinking it too soon, but they eventually meet and both men are surprised to find that they already met, back in that restroom. Despite the odd start, a relationship soon blossoms.

But Luke’s ex isn’t through with the relationship. He wants Luke back and threatens to reveals Luke’s biggest secret—the fact that he’s a shape-shifter, able to take on the form of a wolf.

How will Luke get rid of Johnny before the man reveals his secret, and regardless of who tells him, how will Brandon react when he finds out that the man he’s falling for isn’t entirely human?

A Siren Erotic Romance

Breaking in the New Guy (MM)
5 Ratings (4.2)

Breaking in the New Guy (MM)

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 32,941
5 Ratings (4.2)
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Cover Art by Harris Channing
Professional Reviews

4 CUPS: "Cheating is a deal-breaker for Luke Clarke, so when he kicks Johnny out he expects that to be the end of it. With his social life going through a dry spell, Brandon Main does something he never thought he would do in a million years. Rebound relationships are never a good idea, although Luke is willing to make an exception with Brandon. They click so easily it is hard to believe they have just met, yet it seems that Luke has no choice but to tell Brandon his secret. Johnny’s threats could be just that or, as Luke fears, he plans on driving a wedge between him and Brandon. Shape-shifting aside Luke is about as normal as it gets, right down to using sex to blow off some steam. He is just a regular guy who is lucky enough to have friends ready to have his back when his ex gets a little psycho. Brandon too is easy to like and makes you feel as if you have known him forever. If you enjoy adorable characters, great sex, and a sense of real affection, you are going to love Luke, Brandon, and the rest of the guys." -- Lototy, Coffee Time Romance

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By the time Brandon woke, the morning was well and truly over, and afternoon had begun to rear its head. He scratched at his hair as he hauled his complaining body to the bathroom, then stepped into the shower. The water did nothing to wake him up. In fact, it made him even more relaxed. With a mutter about deadlines, he cranked the heat setting to cold and stood under the arctic water until the last vestiges of sleep fled from his shivering body.

Awake, he turned the heat up just long enough to wash his hair, then switched off the shower and made for the kitchen, by way of the towel rail.

The answering machine flashed the number 1 at him and he hit play as he peered into the fridge in search of some sort of breakfast pastry. His cat, Spike, rubbed against his leg, then tried to climb into the fridge and chew at a plastic bag. Brandon nudged him aside gently, but it made no difference to the determined animal.

“Hey, it’s Michelle,” the answering machine played back. “Wondering where you are with that article. Call me back.”

Brandon groaned loudly enough that Spike mewed in reply.

“The editor again.” He grabbed a couple of Pop-Tarts and shooed the cat away as he closed the door. “She seems to think that I should give her work before the last day. Madness.”

The article, some fluff piece on modern technology, was almost finished. He’d been working on it the night before when he had taken a coffee break and then decided to go out and have fun instead.

“And look how well that turned out,” he muttered as he dropped his pastries into the toaster.

With a resigned sigh, he called Michelle back and left a message on her machine, making up an excuse about his Internet, then telling her she’d have it by the end of the day. Once he’d hung up, he grabbed his breakfast and headed to the living room where the laptop was still set up on the table beside a cold cup of coffee.

“This is the life, eh, Spike,” he said as he sat on the sofa. “Working from home.”

Most of the time it was vastly superior to his time working in offices and stores, but there were occasions when he’d much rather have dragged himself to the car and driven to a desk somewhere. It was a lot harder to goof off, then, and that’s what he needed sometimes. Working by yourself, when surrounded by all manner of distractions like TVs, games, movies, and porn—ye gods, the amount of porn he’d watched in the first year—was not easy.

“Money’s money,” he told himself, then booted up the laptop.

The words were hard to find, but he pushed on anyway, and within a couple of hours the work was done. He saved the file and sat back, sipping at his second cup of coffee. Spike hopped onto the sofa beside him and nudged him affectionately with his head. Brandon scratched him behind the ears and the cat curled up on his lap.

“Okay, so it’s not so bad a life.” Brandon smiled and stroked the cat some more.

After a few minutes of bliss, the cat bounced off his lap for no good reason, leaving scratches on Brandon’s thighs. He took it as a sign to reread his article and send it away sooner rather than later, and got back to work.

For some reason his mind wouldn’t stay on topic, and instead kept wandering back to the night before, in the club. The beautiful man and his big, beautiful…

“Damn it,” he muttered, as he focused on his work. “Edit now, daydream later.”

It didn’t help. He kept going over the previous night.

He’d been sitting where he was now, writing the article he was now editing, and was bored out of his skull. He hadn’t been particularly lonely, but he was horny. He’d been single for a few months, and that was more than long enough to go without sex. At first he’d shaken off any notions of going out. He hated the idea of one night stands, for the most part, as he couldn’t shake the worry that he’d end up with a weirdo. That’s when he’d decided upon the club. It had a reputation for a reason, especially its bathroom. Even then it took an hour for him to work up the nerve, but once he was ready, he left straight away, not even pausing to tidy up.

Now that the next day had arrived, he had mixed feelings on the whole thing. Yes, it had scratched an itch, and yes, the itch was scratched by a frickin’ Adonis, but he couldn’t shake the whole sleazy feeling. It wouldn’t be so bad if he knew the guy or was intending to get to know the guy, but he doubted he’d ever see the guy again. Especially since Brandon had no intention to ever set foot in that club again. After all, the whole club had to have known what he and the other guy were up to in the stalls. Hell, a couple of guys looked like they were planning to do the same thing when he’d gone after the man.

He was shaken from his navel-gazing by the phone. He picked it up without even looking at the name. He had a sixth sense when it came to his best friend.

“So, where did you go last night?”




To say that the terribly named Manzone was a little seedy was like saying the Atlantic Ocean was a little wet. The place was the epitome of sleaze. Torn leather on the seats, watered-down whiskey in the glasses, and music so loud that it hurt Luke’s sensitive hearing from the street. The bouncer outside, beneath the tacky green neon sign, seemed to barely care who he was letting in and waved Luke past without a second glance.

He handed the bored-looking coat check guy his jacket and headed straight for the bar. He hadn’t been inside in years, but some things never changed. He ordered a whiskey—his only for the night—then turned to face the dance floor.

Back when he’d last visited, men only visited Manzone for two reasons—cheap booze and cock. Judging by the looks he was getting from guys, nothing had changed. Once he’d made sure more than a few guys were paying attention, he stood and walked to the bathroom.

Surprisingly, the bathroom was the cleanest place in the club. The management must have known that most business was done in there, and put the effort in to make it presentable. Luke glanced into one of the large mirrors fixed above the sinks, then stepped into a stall and waited.

It took only a few minutes for the door to the club to swing open once more. Footsteps told Luke that the guy was alone. The steps paused for a moment in front of Luke’s stall, then moved to the one over. He clenched his fists against a sudden bout of nerves, then counted to ten and placed two fingers in the circular hole in the partition between the two stalls. He withdrew them again and waited. A moment later the man put his own finger through the gloryhole, beckoning with it.

Luke unzipped his pants and dropped his boxers, then moved to the hole, and after pausing to slip on a condom, pushed his hardening cock through. There was an almost inaudible mutter of “whoa.” Luke allowed himself a smug smile. It’s not like the guy could see it.

“I was born lucky,” he murmured, just loud enough.

Luke stiffened for a moment as the guy ran a fingertip along his cock, tracing the length.

“And it looks like I just got lucky,” the man replied.

His voice was almost melodic, with a trace of an accent that Luke couldn’t quite place. He almost asked before stopping himself. Gloryholes aren’t for conversations.

Soft lips met Luke’s cockhead and all thoughts left his head. The man started slow, moving slowly back and forth on the first few inches of the shaft, while teasing the cockhead with his tongue. Luke let out a steady breath and allowed himself to relax as the stranger went to work. Whoever he was, he certainly knew what he was doing, using his hand to massage Luke’s balls at the same time.

“Fuck,” he moaned before he could stop himself.

It had been a long time since he’d done anything like this. He had thought his wild days were far behind him, but the way his heart beat at what was happening told him maybe that wasn’t the case.

On the other side, he wished he was at least in the same stall as the stranger. Then he could hold the guy’s head as he worked, and see his eyes. It’d be even better still if he didn’t have to wear a rubber, too. After all, shifters were immune to everything on the planet. Still, better than nothing, he decided, and it certainly beat sitting at home watching TV.

It didn’t take too long before he felt a climax nearing, and he muttered for the guy to go faster. The stranger did as he was told, practiced lips sliding up and down the shaft, speeding the orgasm along.

“I’m coming,” Luke said.

The guy pulled back, but instead of letting Luke finish, he gripped the cock and worked it hard with his hand. The orgasm hit and Luke slapped his hand against the partition as he came. The stranger worked him until he was entirely spent, then let go. Luke stepped back from the hole and sat down on the toilet seat, breathing heavily.

“Thanks,” he said. “Needed that.”

“Any time.” There was a pause, then a scribbling sound, and a card was balanced in the hole. “If you ever wanted to, uh, fuck around, call me.” Another pause. “I don’t normally do this.”

Luke eyed the card. It was entirely blank, other than a number. He doubted he’d ever call, but he didn’t want to look rude, so he took the card and slid it into his pocket, then began to clean himself up. The stranger’s stall opened and Luke heard him pause at the sinks, then leave.

Luke pulled out the card and almost flushed it, then shrugged and put it in his pocket. It wouldn’t be the weirdest place he’d met a guy.

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