Handcuffed

“Take it all, bitch, earn every fucking dollar.”

Here in the back alley of Leathers, I am part of the lineup of rent boys who wait for clients behind the club in the dingy alley. We queue beside the trash cans to service the Doms, to quench their urgent need before they take a selected sub to their dungeon. We all have a spot, and some like me have survived long enough to be in the group closest to the door. I turn tricks to survive. I don’t do dope, I look good, smell nice, and the Doms pay me twenty bucks for a BJ. I’m here from dusk until dawn every night, and my only wish is that one of the Doms will take me inside. I crave to be a sub and refuse to give my ass out here bent over the trash cans like most of the other boys.

“Suck me. Harder.” He holds my head and rides me. “You like that don’t you, slut?”

There is no respect given or expected, and I would never dare glance up at a trick. I am a receptacle for his lust—nothing more. As a rent boy, I am nothing—disposable—but I need the small connection with the Doms of the BDSM Club, Leathers. I service them without complaint, but they always leave me craving more.

I need a Dom to take me higher.

Punished

“Spread ’em.” I shoved the guy against the hood of my SUV and kicked his legs apart. He’d made the owner of the sex shop nervous by hanging around for over an hour. The call had come in, and I’d sat in my car watching him for twenty minutes. This guy posed a threat and was as sure as hell casing the joint, or waiting for the chance to mug someone.

“What the fuck?” The big man resisted, but when he turned his head, his eyes widened at the sight of my shoulder holster. “You a cop?”

“Shut the fuck up. I’ve observed you loitering with intent outside this establishment, so best you cooperate.” I bent him over nearly drooling as the tight denim hugged his muscular thighs and peachy ass. Man, he smelled so fucking good too, all freshly showered and spicy. “You carrying?’

“Nope.”

“I’m gonna pat you down.” I dragged his hands behind his back then ran my fingers over his chest and down his long legs. Oh, fuck, making an arrest is the last thing on my mind right now. Visions of him spread out naked in my dungeon, angry and spitting fire filled my mind. I rested one hand on his rounded butt reluctant to stop touching perfection. The way he wiggled under my palm made my heart race. I ground my teeth to push down the overpowering desire to drag my thumb up the seam between his ripe buttocks just to see his reaction.

“Who the fuck are you?” The man shot me a look over one shoulder and pinned me with a fierce blue gaze. “Take your fucking hand off my ass.”

I straightened and easily spun him around to face me then pulled out my creds and flipped open the holder. “Detective Del Hood, Vice. Show me ID.”

Abducted

The lights dimmed, and music thumped in a primal beat. A single spotlight lit the stage at the Safeword BDSM club, and Vice Detective Riley Jacob’s mouth went dry.

“You’re not on duty, and this is a private club, so sit the fuck down and feast your eyes.” Del Hood waved him toward a table in the front row. “That sweet thing is Thorn. You’ll need a whip and a chair to tame him, but I think you’re the man for the job. Thorn has trust issues, he needs a Master with patience, and you have the patience of a Saint.”

The stripper sitting center stage unfurled with slow, enticing movements to stand. Unable to breathe Riley’s attention slid over the twink’s angelic features. The spotlight highlighted green eye shadow and lines of kohl around his eyes. Glitter covered his cheekbones and flowed in a path down his neck to circle one flat nipple. Under the strobe lighting, Thorn’s smooth body became a living work of art, each sexy movement, each mind-blowing undulation, and oh-so-slow baring of skin had Riley’s cock straining against his zipper.

His attention fixed on the delicious man. With each beat of the music, Thorn peeled fabric to expose strips of tempting flesh. Riley’s nerve endings sizzled with desire for the man no Dom could tame. Unable to look away, he swallowed the lump in his throat to reply to his friend, “Thanks for convincing me to join Safeword. You know this angel?”

“He sure ain’t no angel. He is a fucking asshole, but his brother is my boy, Danny. I’ll get him to introduce you then Thorn might trust you enough to have a drink with us but take it slow, or he’ll run.”

“I know the type. Tell your boy, his brother will be in safe hands.” Riley chuckled. “Very safe hands.” He dragged in a breath and the rich, spicy scent radiating from the stage spilled over his tongue. Thorn danced as if in a world of his own, and he dragged his gaze away to watch the way the audience reacted. All to a man stared at Thorn with stupid expressions of adoration. He turned back in time to see the last strip of material slide from Thorn’s flesh leaving nothing more than butt floss to hide his engorged shaft. Oh, fuck, he is something special. Sweat ran into his eyes, and his cock ached. He pushed down the desire to snatch Thorn from the stage, take him to his dungeon, and fuck his brains out. Then you’d be lost forever.

He turned back to Hood and grinned. “Go get your boy. I think my meeting with Thorn should be backstage and private—just the four of us. If he is as dam shy as you say, then you’re both going to have to hang around until he feels okay with me. I have one week’s vacation left to see if he accepts me.”