Collared with Ink (MM)

Marked 1

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 53,571
40 Ratings (4.4)

[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Paranormal Consensual BDSM Romance, M/M, werewolves, spanking, whipping, sounding, sex toys, HEA]

To celebrate the addition of a new member of their group, Grayson Gambler and his friends head out into the city for some new ink. Little does Gray know that the enigmatic shop owner, Mustang Richards, has more on his mind than the ink he’s putting on Gray’s skin, and it will soon turn into a night Gray will never forget.

Mustang is a wolf shifter who is responsible for the largest pack west of the Mississippi. Getting involved with humans is strictly forbidden, but the submissive who walks into his shop proves almost irresistible to his Dominant side. Giving in to temptation proves all too easy, but when he accidently turns Grayson into a werewolf, there will be consequences neither one of them planned on dealing with.

A Siren Erotic Romance

Collared with Ink (MM)
40 Ratings (4.4)

Collared with Ink (MM)

Marked 1

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 53,571
40 Ratings (4.4)
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Cover Art by Harris Channing
I loved this book. The relationship between Gray and Mustang was well written both emotionally and sexually. I loved that Gray was submissive and strong, you don't see that often or when you do it sometimes takes away from the story but not in this book. I am hooked and now cannot wait for the second book in the series.
Wow great start to this new series. The storyline is really well writen. I look forward to more in this series.
Professional Reviews

"Too much alcohol mixed with a celebratory mood is the perfect excuse for a trio of college chums to get a new tattoo at Howler’s. What the frat boys don’t know is that Howler’s is owned and run by members of the Blackfoot pack, namely Alpha Mustang Richards and his betas, twins Regan and Ryan. The big, gorgeous blonde human asks Mustang to do his tat and unknowingly picks a design with personal pack meaning to the Alpha. As Mustang inks Grayson Gambler the Alpha realizes that he is inking his very own mate. One thing leads to another and the two experience incredible passion that night. Grayson would love to spend more time with Mustang but that won’t be possible because the Alpha knows that it is forbidden to claim a human, against pack rules. Fate, however, has plans for the pair regardless of pack law. After all, rules are meant to be broken. A unique new perspective on shifters comes to life in Collared with Ink. Intensely sensuous moments make Collared with Ink almost too hot to handle with its juicy, consensual BDSM scenes. The characterizations are well defined, the Dom/sub aspect of wolf shifter life a fresh twist and the relationship between the lovers fascinating. Grayson’s emotional trauma is especially well developed and captured. Collared with Ink is a very satisfying start to the Marked series." -- Lisa, Joyfully Reviewed

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It was decided to put the ink over Grayson’s heart, which hammered loud enough that Mustang could hear it clearly as he shaved the area and prepared his ink wells on the small table that sat beside the reclining chair. The room was only furnished with a small rolling table that housed ink and equipment and the chair Mustang’s client was sitting on. The walls were white and sterile, a blank canvas he’d been meaning to decorate for years. Grayson was reclining shirtless for Mustang’s viewing pleasure, and the scent of all that bare skin was driving Mustang to distraction. The human’s arousal was potent in the air as Mustang smoothed his hands over the skin he’d just shaved. He’d be a natural for this. A natural sub. Poor thing was starved for touch.

“Settle,” Mustang commanded.

“You’re into BDSM, aren’t you?” The words were a whisper.

Mustang hesitated. Do I admit it? What the hell. “Yeah. I am.”

The human nodded. “I figured when you said you were an Alpha. Dominant right?”

“Yes.” Where was this going?

“I’m a, um…” The human’s cheeks heated to a lovely primrose.

“Submissive?” Mustang prompted.

“Uh-huh.” The human laughed a little self-deprecatingly. “Stupid for my size, right? A waste?”

“Not at all. Strong men sometimes crave to be mastered. Nothing wrong with that.” This could get dangerous quick. Mustang was already more intrigued by the human than he cared to admit, and there was something even more potently arousing about a man who understood his own needs and desires.

So often Mustang had seen submissives who fought their own natures because of ingrained roles about masculinity that were, by wolf standards, ridiculous. Size and stature had very little to do with whether or not someone was dominant or submissive. Hell, the Alpha over at North Shore pack was five-feet four inches and weighed a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet. He could also bring a submissive to his knees at twenty paces and was known for his skill with single-tails, which just went to prove his point.

Pretty blue eyes turned to him. “You could handle me.” Oh yes, boy, I could. “I fight sometimes. I mean, I like to.”

“Negotiating a scene, Grayson?” Mustang asked.

That primrose blush deepened to cherry. “Maybe. Would you be interested?”

“Definitely. After your tattoo? Will your boys wait?”

Grayson shook his head. “I can’t after. I’m DD tonight, so I have to drive them back to the house. But there is a club on south main called Riders. I’m a member there.”

Mustang was stunned for half a minute. “I know it. I have a club pass.” The pack owned the establishment. It was a safe place for unattached members to go blow off some steam with other like-minded wolves. Mustang hadn’t had the time or energy to make an appearance in almost a year. How the hell did you get to be a member? The frat boy had to have had a referral to get a membership, which meant someone in the pack had either had the boy or made friends with him.

“Can we meet there?”

Mustang didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Tomorrow night at nine o’clock. Meet me at the bar, and we’ll go from there.” He let his eyes trail down the boy’s body to settle on his already hard groin. “Wear something that comes off easy.” The boy’s arousal twitched. “Another thing, this happens once. No more. No less. That okay?”

Grayson nodded. “Fine.” Mustang could resist another second. Between the boy’s scent and their plans to meet up, he was about ready to start humping the chair if he didn’t get some relief. Or taking that wooden paddle the boy was teasing him with and spank that tight ass until Grayson started singing for him, whichever came first. He leaned forward and caught the boys lips in a kiss as if to seal the deal they’d just made.

The boy whimpered and opened like a dream, his big hand coming up to clutch at the material of Mustang’s shirt. So sensual. What he wouldn’t give for days to play with all these gorgeous muscles. Too bad the boy wasn’t pack. He might be tempted to keep him if he were. No matter. Two all-too-brief encounters were all that he was permitting himself.

Mustang pushed his tongue against Grayson’s mouth, demanding that they writhe against one another in a blatant imitation of sex. The human made the cutest purring sound as Mustang pushed his claim, controlling the tempo and depth of their kiss until he was practically on top of the larger male. Mustang knew that if it came to a contest of sheer strength, Mustang would win. The Alpha’s strength was only one of the things that was different about him. Despite his size, Grayson would stand no chance against Mustang in a one-on-one fight. However, the human couldn’t possibly know that, so capitalizing on the vulnerability of Grayson’s position was key to sending the human into a space where Grayson could get what he needed.




“Behind you is a wall with two rings hanging from it. Turn to face the wall and grab a hold of the rings. You’re not to move from that position until I tell you.” He didn’t turn to see if Gray obeyed him. He’d bet his favorite flogger that Grayson was being good. It made him wonder what it would take to make Grayson bad. He remembered the words that Gray had spoken to him the night before. “I fight sometimes. I mean, I like to.” He’d get him riled enough to fight him, give his “good” Grayson a memory he wouldn’t soon forget.

He selected a short riding crop that would give him the most control. He stuck it in his pocket and then picked up a light suede flogger. The long half-inch-wide tails would create more noise than anything, but some subs preferred the thud of the flogger. He wondered which Gray would enjoy more.

An experimental swing of the flogger in a figure eight created just a whisper of air as it met no resistance. Back when the weight of responsibility from his position of Alpha hadn’t consumed every second of his life, he’d been able to take two floggers and create two independent figure eights that would create a whirlwind of sensation against the submissive’s flesh. He was too out of practice to do it tonight, but he’d like to see how Gray would react to such a thing.

Confident he could deliver the blows expertly, he walked back over to Gray, who was standing in position. He took a moment to admire the curve of Grayson’s back and the high round ass that was open for his enjoyment. The human had a bubble butt that was nice enough that Mustang couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into it.

“You’re such a good boy, Grayson,” he complimented, swinging the flogger so that it kissed the heavy sac that was hanging beneath Gray’s thighs. The motion wouldn’t create a lot of pain, but it would tease a pain slut like nobody’s business.

The human groaned. “I try, Sir.”

“Mmm-hmm. You succeed. You find this easy, don’t you?”


He swung the flogger again, striking both of his butt cheeks in one motion. Gray’s hips swiveled. “You want someone to push you, and no one has. Not really. Beautiful boy. So needy for someone to take you in hand.” He landed another three strokes rapidly. As the third strike landed, Grayson twisted to look over his shoulder, a look of incredulity on his face. Mustang smiled. “That’s three, boy.”

Gray turned his head back to the wall. “Sorry, Sir.” He’d thrown him off his normal passive-obedience routine. Mustang could smell the sudden uncertainty in the air. It was good. He couldn’t put the human in a true headspace if he was calculating all the time. Mustang wanted his honest reactions and wouldn’t be satisfied with less.

“Better,” he complimented. He started really working Grayson then, using the flogger to turn his lightly tanned skin to a nice rosy pink from the tops of his shoulders to the sweet spot just underneath the cheeks of his ass. Gray reacted like a dream, arching, gasping, leaning into every hit like it was a caress rather than a smack. The sac between his legs tightened with each hit, letting Mustang know exactly how much he was enjoying what the Alpha was doing to him.

He tossed the flogger aside and took out the riding crop from his pocket. Instead of starting in immediately, he stepped forward and pressed his fully clothed body into Gray’s naked one. The human’s skin was already covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and the warmth radiated from him. Mustang ground his hard cock against the hard ass in front of him and let one hand creep around to Gray’s front to grip the human’s dripping dick.

“Hmmm, sexy boy. You like that?”

Gray ground his ass back against his jean-clad rod and whimpered. “God, yes! Sir!” The grip on the wall rings was white-knuckled. Mustang could only imagine how much he wanted to demand satisfaction. He pressed a kiss to Gray’s shoulder before nipping it hard. “Oh!” He liked that. So Mustang did it again. Grayson panted. Mustang ran his tongue over the place he bit. “Please, Sir.” Mustang stroked the human’s dick and sank his teeth back into Gray’s shoulder. The human let out a little cry and shuddered. Faintly, Mustang tasted copper. Crap. I didn’t mean to break skin. He lapped at the tiny wound he’d made in semi-apology. Gray didn’t seem to mind if his wordless pleas for more were any indication.

He forced himself to take a step back. If he stayed where he was, he was going to fuck Gray and they wouldn’t even get to finish out the scene. It would cheapen their moment and rush something that should be savored. He gripped the crop and tapped it lightly on the space between Gray’s buttock and thigh. It was the sweet spot, the most tender point, in Mustang’s mind.

“Spread your thighs wider, Gray.” He did. “Good boy.”

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