Monday, 11 July 2016

Have you read The Rogue Wolf?

The Rogue Wolf

Amazon | All Romance | Smashwords

The third in the Sapphire Ranch Wolves series, this is Zeke and Owen's story.

Will Owen submit, or will the lone wolf run?

Shifter Owen Pope is a bitter man, a lone wolf, banished by his pack for defying his Alpha. He survives day by day, working as a laborer, sometimes living for months as a wolf. On the borders of Sapphire Ranch, he catches a scent that calls to his wolf as he hunts.

Then he’s cornered, trapped with nowhere to go, and Owen realizes to his horror that the delicious scent belongs to the human pointing a gun right between Owen’s eyes.

He escapes, only to be confronted by two wolves, and his world is turned when he realizes one of them is a shifter from his former pack. Owen has so many questions but he’s not sure he’s going to like the answers.

Zeke is huge and fierce to his co-workers in the Cavalry, but he has one desire; to protect Owen and create a life together. Will Owen submit, or will the lone wolf run?

The Sapphire Ranch Wolves series
#1 The Last Wolf
#2 The Hidden Wolf
#3 The Rogue Wolf
#4 The Forgotten Wolf (to come 2016)
#5 The New Wolf (to come 2016)

Sunday, 10 July 2016

Have you read The Last Wolf?

The Last Wolf

Sapphire Ranch Wolves 1


Joe meets his non-human mate and discovers he is being hunted. Is he the man to protect Cal?

The only good predator is a dead one, as far as Joe Lowther is concerned.
That is until the day he shoots a wolf, only to watch the animal turn into a naked Callum Pope. Cal is being hunted by a group of humans who eradicate shifter packs for sport.
Joe makes a decision to help Cal and discovers a deeper connection with the young shifter. One which he’d like to explore. If they live that long.

Buylinks: Love Lane Books (links to third party sites): 

#3 The Rogue Wolf


The barn door was ajar, and from Joe’s position just inside, he had a good view of the whole yard. He sighed and shifted restlessly, his ass already dead, and he’d only been there an hour. It was gonna be a long night. It was hot and stuffy inside the barn, and he sipped at iced tea in the vain hope of cooling down.
“Show your face, you son of a bitch, and your hide will be gracing my floor come fall,” he muttered. Joe hated wolves for the sheep they stole. The ranch was making little enough profit as it was. He couldn’t understand his father’s soft attitude to wolves. It didn’t extend to other predators.
Two hours gone, and his back, still sore from the hospital visit, was aching even more. He was rubbing his lower back in a futile gesture and contemplating seeking his bed when his attention was caught by the whisper of movement in the far corner of the yard. Without hesitation, he aimed and fired. The animal hit the ground with a startlingly human cry.
Worried that he’d shot a person instead of a wolf, Joe approached cautiously, keeping the gun trained on it, intending to dispatch the creature if it wasn’t dead. To his shock, the animal, definitely a wolf, rolled over to look at him, its eyes glowing in the half-light. The almost human expression of fear and pain in the wolf’s eyes made him uncomfortable, but it had to be done. If it came back once, it would come back again, and Joe couldn’t have it hunting the livestock. The wolf wriggled, futilely trying to get away from the gun.
Joe took aim. “It’ll be all over soon, bud.”
Before he could pull the trigger again, Joe heard a metallic clink. He paused, unable to place the sound, then he took aim again, only to be confronted by a naked man on the ground and no sign of the wolf. Joe blinked rapidly, convinced he was hallucinating, but the man was still there. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Hell, every hair on his body stood on end. He squinted into the darkest corners of the yard, expecting to see the predator slinking away.
“What the fuck just happened, Lowther? Where the hell’s the wolf gone?” Joe tugged at his hair in confusion as he looked around. What had he seen? A wolf? A man in a wolf suit? His subconscious told him he was being stupid. He’d shot a damn wolf, not a man in a freaking furry suit.
Joe blinked at the unknown voice in his head. “Now I know I’m going insane. Voices in my head? Where’s the wolf?”
“Bleeding at your feet!”
The voice was more urgent that time. Joe’s attention snapped back to the young man at his feet. Shit, he’d forgotten that he’d shot him. But he’d shot a wolf! Brain whirling at what the hell he had shot, Joe dropped to his knees. There was a bullet hole although it didn’t seem to be bleeding that much. He turned him gently and cursed when he saw the bullet hadn’t gone straight through.
“I’ve got to get you to a hospital. You need a doctor.”
Joe was shocked when the man grasped his wrist with surprising strength, staring at him with huge eyes. “No.” In the dim light, he looked lean, and, Christ, Joe’s mind had to be playing tricks on him, he looked wolf-like. What the hell did a human/wolf—werewolf—look like?
“You need a doctor to get the bullet out or the wound will get infected.”
“Wolf. Don’t… need… a doctor.” The boy gasped as he tried to get the words out.
“Don’t be fucking ridiculous. You’ve got a bullet inside you.”
The man sounded so young. Joe looked at him closely for the first time and mentally downgraded him from man to boy. Joe was twenty-eight. This kid looked barely old enough to scratch his own ass, so smooth and slim Joe was pretty sure he could easily span his waist with both his hands.
“We’ve got to get the bullet out or…” Joe didn’t finish the sentence, figuring the boy was smart enough to know what he meant.
The boy flopped weakly back onto the dirt. “It’s already out.”
“Bullet. Out.” He fumbled around by his side.
Confused, Joe pushed the boy’s fingers away and searched in the same area. His fingers closed around a wet, sharp object. Joe squinted at the mangled bullet in his palm. How the hell had the boy managed to get the bullet out?
“Hurts.” The boy let out a groan.
“Gotta stop the bleeding now. It’s gonna hurt.” Joe ripped off his shirt to pack against the hole.
The boy coughed. “Already fuckin’ hurts.”
“You need to see a doctor.”
“Healing. I’ll be ’kay soon. Need to rest.”
Joe couldn’t leave a stranger bleeding and alone in his yard, so, much against his better judgment, he worked his arms around the boy and got to his feet, staggering against the unaccustomed weight. The boy snuggled against Joe’s chest like a small child as Joe carried him into the one-story ranch house. Joe hesitated between the sofa and the bed—the only available bed—and eventually decided the boy’s need was greater.
Joe pulled back his mother’s comforter and laid his burden down on the sheet. The boy didn’t even open his eyes. He was a mess, but it was the wound Joe was more interested in.
The bullet hole that wasn’t there.
Joe frowned and poked at the boy’s side. “Uh, the hole. It’s gone.”
“It’s healed?” The boy didn’t sound surprised. “I heal fast.”
“Nobody heals that fast.”
“I do.” He yawned and closed his eyes.
“Do you need anything?”
“Just sleep.”
“Well then…” Joe ran out of things to say. He stood and pulled the cover over the boy, mentally apologizing to his mama for soiling her nice comforter. The boy appeared to be asleep before it covered his shoulders.
Joe took his time to look at his unexpected visitor. He was slim, with dark, tousled hair, and filthy dirty. He looked so young but had a hint of a dark shadow on his chin that saved him from looking about twelve.
“Who are you?” he asked out loud. “What the fuck are you?”
“What did you say?”
But all Joe got was a choked-off snore and the boy smacking his mouth a couple of times.
Joe retreated to his kitchen, poured a tall glass of tea and took it to the table. He took the bullet out and placed it on the table. “How did you manage to expel this motherfucker all by your lonesome?” He rested his forehead on the heel of his hand as he pushed the crushed piece of metal around the table. What the hell just happened? He swore he’d heard the boy say “werewolf”, which was fucking ridiculous, even if Joe had thought the same thing earlier. Werewolves were mythical creatures. He’d done his share of reading about mythical creatures for his history degree, but they were fantasy, not real creatures. Wolves didn’t turn into men—naked men—and a bullet didn’t push out of flesh—animal or human. Yet he’d seen it with his own eyes. The boy should be dead, or at least seriously wounded and in agony, not sleeping the sleep of the young in Joe’s bed.
How the hell was he going to explain this to his daddy? How the hell could he explain it to himself?

Friday, 8 July 2016

25% off Island Counselor

Island Counselor

Dreamspinner have a 25% off sale until 10th July.

Ebook: Dreamspinner | Amazon | All Romance
Paperback: Dreamspinner | Amazon

Logan is there for everyone, but who is there when he falls apart?

Counselor Logan Wilde has a successful therapy practice in London, but when a traumatic incident there leaves him suffering from PTSD, he takes refuge in his holiday cottage on the Isle of Wight, unable to face going back to work. Not that he’s allowed to relax. Logan’s time is taken up with helping Liam Owens, plus there’s Nick Brent, whom Logan discovers collapsed on the beach. Nick and Logan spend their time bickering with each other, but that doesn’t alter the attraction they feel.

Logan is forced to make some hard decisions about his future, which entails facing up to recent events. Only he’s not alone—Nick is with him. Unfortunately someone else makes a decision too, and now trouble is on its way to the Isle of Wight.

The Isle Series

Thursday, 7 July 2016

Missing My Sister

My late sister's birthday was a couple of days ago. It was a bad day for me. Usually I'd phone my other sister and we'd cry about how how much we missed her, but she is on holiday, and wouldn't let me hide away in her suitcase.  I kept typing Facebook statuses about how I missed my sister, but in the end I deleted them, as it was just a 'look at me, I need sympathy' status. (yes, I know this is a look at me, I need sympathy post)

Instead I curled up on the sofa, nursed my cold/allergies, and thought about my sister. I've typed and retyped this out, and in the end, I just want to keep my private and professional life separate. It's enough to tell you I miss her chirpy voice on the phone. I miss the rare occasions I saw her. She was a force for good, and she's left a huge hole in my universe.

My sister was a special person. I won't forget her.

Frankie Series

Frankie & Al

Buylinks here
Ed & Marchant

Buylinks here

Anthony & Leo

Buylinks here
Jordan & Rhys

Buylinks here

Would you like another story?

Print Books 1-3

Buylinks here

Have you read Jordan & Rhys?

Jordan & Rhys

A Novella in Frankie's Series

I wasn't going to write this one but I wanted Jordan to be happy happy again.

Buylink: Dreamspinner | Amazon | All Romance


Eight months after the assault in which his sub and lover was killed, Jordan Nicholls isn’t making much progress in his recovery. Marchant and Ed, Jordan’s friends from the BDSM club, stage an intervention.

They employ a carer to look after Jordan. Rhys may be a sub, but he’s forceful, making Jordan eat and exercise rather than live on coffee and cigarettes. Despite Jordan’s protests, Rhys slowly forces him back to life.

But Rhys wants to be Jordan’s sub, and despite being protective of Rhys, Jordan’s not sure he can ever return to the BDSM lifestyle. In order for their relationship to continue, they’ll need to find a compromise that meets both their needs.

Frankie Series

Book #1 Frankie & Al
Book #2 Ed & Marchant
Book #3 Anthony & Leo
Book #4 Jordan & Rhys


Chapter 1

Eight months later

JORDAN SAT alone at the end of the bar, nursing a Coke and pretending not to notice his best friend, Tony, who was pushed up against the wall, his hands pressed flat against rough plaster as Leo kissed him.

“Wishing it was you?” Marchant Belarus sat on the stool next to Jordan. He was the owner of the BDSM club and too fucking perceptive. There was nothing he didn’t see or interfere in when it came to his club.

Jordan couldn’t take his gaze away from the couple, watching with a sad envy that didn’t come naturally to him. “Leo’s not my type.”

His lame attempt at a joke fell flat when Marchant didn’t chuckle.

“I never thought he’d be Tony’s, but look at them now.”

Finally Tony had a Dom of his own, and he exuded happiness. Despite the fact that Leo was younger and shorter than Tony, it was clear who was dominant in their relationship. For the first time, Jordan saw Tony, watched how beautifully he submitted—and Jordan was too late.

“Tony waited for years for you to notice him,” Marchant said quietly.

“You think I didn’t know that? I just thought…. Leo’s better for him than I am.” Jordan turned his head as Tony sank to his knees. The couple weren’t bothered by an audience. They never seemed to notice anyone else when they were in a scene. Jordan gave Marchant a wan smile. “What do you want? Apart from reminding me what I’ve lost.”

“Ed’s worried about you. He sent me to talk to you.”

“I’m fine.” Jordan gritted his teeth as Marchant raised an eyebrow. Could you raise a derisive eyebrow? Marchant possessed eyebrows that conducted whole conversations, particularly when he thought someone was being an arse. “It’s taking time.”

Marchant patted his back, not requiring more explanation. It had been eight months since Jordan had been badly injured in an assault in which his sub, Mike, had been killed. Jordan was still recovering from the physical injuries, and the mental trauma was like a scar to his soul. Once outgoing and gregarious, now Jordan shuffled through the day, feeling like he was wrapped in layers of gray wool that muffled him from the outside world. Marchant’s sub, Ed, had once told Jordan that he breathed for the first time the day he met Marchant. Jordan had stopped breathing the day three drunk thugs used their fists to tear his world apart.

Jordan swallowed hard at the memory, and then he noticed Marchant had put his arm around him and Tony was pressed against him, also holding him. Solid walls of men hemmed him in, made him feel safe.


Tony gently swiped a tear from Jordan’s face. Jordan hadn’t even realized he was crying, but his nose was blocked and his throat tight. He rested his head on Tony’s chest and let the tears flow.

Finally he raised his head, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. “Shit, I’m sorry, Tony. You—”

“Shut up.” Tony hugged him even tighter.

“Get off.” Jordan tried to bat them away. “Christ, you’re going to suffocate me.”

They stepped back, to his relief, but they didn’t leave his side—which was also a relief, even if he’d never admit it.

“Why don’t you go upstairs for a while?” Marchant said. “Ed’s working, and the place is empty.”

Jordan pushed back his hair, grimacing at the greasy feel. He’d let himself go recently, finding even washing his hair was a battle. His arm had taken a long time to heal, and he struggled with even basic motor skills.

“I’ll go home before I make a bigger idiot of myself.” He loved his friends, but suddenly their concern was too much. It pressed down on him, and he needed to get away.

“I’ll run you home,” Tony said, looking over to Leo to check if it was all right.

“It’s okay, I can get the bus.” Jordan hadn’t been able to drive since the assault. A blow to the head had left him with intermittent seizures in the early stages, and he was banned from driving for a year.

“I’ll drive Mr. Jordan home.”

Jordan turned to look at the unknown speaker. He was young and slim, maybe Leo’s age, maybe younger, with a shock of dark hair that looked as if he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket.

“Thanks, but I’m okay.”

“Sorted,” Marchant said with satisfaction. “Jordan, this is Rhys. He’s new to the club. Thank you, Rhys.”

Wednesday, 6 July 2016

Have you read Anthony & Leo?

Anthony & Leo

A Novella in Frankie's Series

“Leo, my idea of a good night is being lashed to a cross with a plug up my arse and being whipped and fucked until I come.”

Print: Dreamspinner | Amazon
Audiobook: Amazon | Audible | iTunes


Watching Marchant train his new sub leaves Tony unhappy at not having found a Dom of his own. Running Marchant’s BDSM club, Tony sees who the Doms prefer and it isn’t him—too big, too old, and too hairy. When his friend Jordan suggests he look outside the club, Tony’s mind turns to Leo, a man he met in a traffic jam. Tony manages to arrange a date and happily learns Leo is funny, very toppy, and not averse to Tony's lifestyle. As a bonus, Leo sells sex toys.

When tragedy strikes the club, Tony fears he can’t help the mourning club members, but Leo offers his unwavering support. After such a tough start, Tony believes Leo is the Dom he’s been looking for... until he catches him kissing another man.

Frankie Series

Book #1 Frankie & Al
Book #2 Ed & Marchant
Book #3 Anthony & Leo
Book #4 Jordan & Rhys


MARCHANT BELARUS sat in his customary place at the end of the bar in his BDSM club, sipping at his ice-cold Coke. He frowned as Tony spilled another drink across the polished wood. “What’s with you this evening? That’s the fourth drink you’ve spilt in the last half hour.”

Tony growled under his breath as he mopped up the mess and dropped the sopping cloth next to the others behind the bar.

“Stop growling and tell me the problem.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” When Tony hesitated, Marchant said, “Let’s put it another way. Tell me, or I’m going to start charging you for all the wasted drinks.”

“I need a session with a Dom.” Tony felt ready to crawl out of his skin. He needed something—or someone—to steady him.

“That’s easy enough to arrange.”

Tony shook his head. “I don’t want another flogging.”

“What do you want?” Marchant asked.

“I’m lonely,” Tony finally admitted.

“You want a Dom of your own.”

“I know I should be grateful I can get flogged or spanked anytime I want, but it’s not enough.” It hadn’t been enough for a long, long time.

“I understand.” Marchant’s tone gentled as if he realized Tony’s issues couldn’t be cured by the simple lash of the leather.

“Do you?” Tony looked at him sadly. “You have Ed.”

“I’ve only just met Ed, and I’m older than you,” Marchant pointed out. “I waited a long time to find someone who suits me the way he does.”

“You think I’m being impatient.”

“I think you look around you and see all these young subs coming through the doors, and none of the Doms give you a second look because you’re just Tony, the man who pours their drinks and deals with their problems.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better?”

“Is it working?”

“No,” Tony said shortly.

After he’d taken another sip of his drink, Marchant said, “What else? Are you hacked off with me?”

It was still early and no customer in earshot, so Tony decided to be honest. “Yep.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Tony bit his lip. He liked working for Marchant, but the guy didn’t take fools gladly and staff had been sacked for dissing his subs, and Ed wasn’t just any sub, he was the one for Marchant, anyone could see that.

Evidently his feelings were written plain on his face because Marchant snorted. “Talk. I’m not going to take your head off.”

Tony considered his words carefully. “You’ve not been around recently.”

Marchant inclined his head. “I’ve been training Ed.”

“Not in the club.”

“He’s not ready for it.”

Tony knew Marchant was handling Ed with kid gloves and with good reason. It had been a long time since he’d seen anyone as vulnerable as his boss’s new submissive. “The club has missed you.”

Marchant sighed. “I hear you, Tony. You don’t need to say it. I’ve been neglecting the business.”

“You’re a great Dom and the best master Ed could have.”

“But a lousy boss.”

“You’ve been… distracted since he agreed to be your sub.” Tony didn’t want Marchant to think he was jealous of Ed, because he genuinely liked the fragile man, and he and Marchant had never been interested in each other.

“But I’ve got a business, and it’s not fair to expect you to run it.”

“Members have been missing you,” Tony said. “I’m only the barman and a house sub. They don’t see me in the way they see you.”

Marchant frowned. “Have the Doms been giving you trouble?”

“Not as such,” Tony lied. “Although you can tell they think I’m just a sub and I’ve got no real authority.”

“Perhaps we need to change that.”

“I may be built like a brick shithouse, Markie—Marchant—but I don’t think I can be a Dominant.”

“Call me that again during work hours, and I’ll put you over my knee.” Marchant’s tone was mild enough, but Tony knew he’d overstepped the line.

“Sorry, boss.”

Marchant acknowledged his apology with a nod. “I’ll talk to Ed.”

“He’s your priority,” Tony said.

“I love Ed, and I want to train him, but my club is my life, and you are important to me too, Tony. I have invested too much time and trouble to lose you.”

“You need an assistant manager.”

Marchant hummed. “I’ve been thinking….”


“Heh. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want the job?”

“Assistant manager?”

“Call girl.” Marchant rolled his eyes. “You said no one treated you with authority. How about you have the title to go with all the responsibility I’ve heaped on your shoulders?”

Tony was about to respond when a Dom with a shock of red hair approached the bar, closely followed by a young sub.

“Two waters, please, Tony. Hey, Marchant. I thought you’d been abducted by aliens.”

Marchant sighed. “I haven’t been gone that long.” He glared as Tony opened his mouth. “Hush, you.”

“Yes, boss.” Tony gave him a mocking salute. He tipped ice into the glasses and poured the water.

Marchant studied the young man hiding behind Jordan. “I don’t know you. I’m Marchant Belarus. Welcome to my club.”

Tony looked at the sub as he shyly greeted Marchant. Slim, pretty, and typical of the subs Jordan and most of the Doms liked. He sighed inwardly.

“I’m going to make Tony the assistant manager of the club,” Marchant said to Jordan.

“’Bout time. He’s been doing the job for years. Mike, this is Tony. He knows everything and everyone here.”

“I guess he has,” Marchant agreed. “You don’t think the Doms will give him any trouble?”

Jordan looked between Marchant and Tony. “No more than usual. It might make things easier for him than it has been lately.”

Marchant sighed. “I really have taken my eyes off the ball, haven’t I?”

“You’ve had your hands full,” Jordan said, “but Tony’s man enough to deal with the idiots.”

Tony concentrated on stocking the water. Yeah, he was more than capable of dealing with a few overbearing Dominants, but no one ever thought he might like someone to deal with the idiots for him.

“Well, now we have an assistant manager, I’ll pass the word around,” Marchant said.

“I haven’t said yes,” Tony protested.

“But you’re not going to say no, are you?”

Jordan snorted. “I think we’ll leave you to discuss this. My boy and I have a date with a flogger.”

Tony watched the sub fall into place behind Jordan as they walked away, and something inside him ached fiercely for that kind of commitment.

“How long has it been?” Marchant’s question disturbed Tony’s attention.


“How long has it been since you submitted to anyone on more than a one-off basis?”

“Two years.” Tony thought about it. “Probably nearer three.”

“That’s too long.”

“What can I say? Doms aren’t looking for subs who could make mincemeat out of them. I’m too old, too big, and too hairy. I should be a bear, except I’m not.”

Nope. He was a little guy inside a big guy, waiting for someone to realize it.

“Not every Dom is looking for the same thing,” Marchant said. “Why the hell would I have taken on Ed?”

“Because you like a challenge?”

Marchant’s new sub was nearly forty and had spent his life being an obnoxious jerk to everyone. Tony was sure there was a whole other side to Ed, otherwise why would Marchant be bothering with him. The one thing Tony knew about his boss was that he didn’t like arseholes, and he insisted on well-mannered subs in his club.

Marchant snorted. “You got that right. Listen, we’ll talk tomorrow about the new job. In the meantime, if anyone gives you trouble, send them to me.”

“Yes, sir.” Tony saluted him again.


Tony grinned at him. It was good to have Marchant back, and hey, he’d got a promotion. “Do I get a pay rise along with the extra work?”

“Tomorrow. We’ll talk about that tomorrow. Now we need to concentrate on your love life.”

“I thought we’d just established I don’t have a love life.” Tony wanted to discuss extra pay, not the lack of a Dom in his life.

“You need to get off your arse, Tony. Master Right isn’t going to walk through that door, declare undying love for you, and whip you into subspace. That’s a dream for the newbies. You’ve got to get out into the real world and find that man.”

“You don’t find your Dom in the outside world,” Tony scoffed.

Marchant raised an eyebrow. “We have to eat and drink like everyone else.”

Tony remembered that Marchant had met Ed by tripping and throwing a large cup of Coke over him in a supermarket car park.

Marchant leaned forward and took the cloth out of Tony’s hand. He’d been wiping the same patch of bar over and over again. “Tony, you’re looking in the wrong place. Go and have some fun. Go to a gay bar. Hell, go to a straight bar. Just do something instead of moping in here.”

“When do I get the chance to go out? I work every weekend.”

“Where’s that card?”


“The man who gave you the card on the motorway.”

Tony had told Marchant about the blond guy on the M25. “In my car.” He’d not thrown it away even though he had no intention of phoning the man.

“Go and get it.”

“What? Now?”

Marchant nodded.

“I’m working. The boss gets pissed if I slack off.”

“I’ll make your excuses. Now hurry the fuck up. It’ll be busy soon.”

Tony shook his head and made for the door, only doubling back when he realized he’d left his car keys under the bar. Marchant opened his mouth to shout at him, but Tony said, “Keys,” and he shut it again.

Tony shivered in the winter air as he jogged to the car. It took him seconds to find the business card. He’d shoved it in the glove compartment when he’d reached his parents’ house. As he walked back to the club, he turned the card over and over in his fingers.


He looked up to see Jordan smiling at him. “Hey. Where’s….” Tony struggled to remember Jordan’s new sub’s name. “Mike?”

“He’s talking to a couple of friends. I came out for a smoke. What are you doing?”

“To be honest, I’ve no idea. The boss wanted me to get a business card from my car.”


Tony hesitated a fraction too long, and Jordan arched an eyebrow, obviously expecting an answer. Tony was tempted to tell him to mind his own business, because Jordan was his mate, but in the club, he was an employee and Jordan was a client and expected Tony to treat him as such.

“Marchant thinks I need to get out into the world.”

“Find yourself a Dom, you mean.”

“Is it that obvious?” Tony asked bitterly.

“Only to those of us who watch you. We can all see you’re not happy.”


“Lonely and looking for the right Dom.”


Jordan guided Tony through the double doors of the club. “I know it’s not easy for you.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“I see you look at each Dom who comes through the door.”

Tony pulled back in horror. “Are you all pitying me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then what?”

“Is everything all right?”

Oh great, now Marchant was involved, a frown between his brows.

Jordan didn’t seem fazed. “Sorry, Marchant. I’ve stuck my nose in where it’s not wanted.”


Tony gritted his teeth. “Apparently everyone thinks I’m a fucking loser, boss.”

Marchant looked at the card in Tony’s fingers. “Don’t swear at me. Call him.”

“I don’t want to call him.”

“Call who?” Jordan asked.

“No one,” Tony said.

Marchant ignored Tony. “A bloke Tony met a few days ago. He gave Tony his card in case he was interested.”

“I’m not interested.”

Marchant and Jordan ignored him.

“A perfect distraction,” Jordan agreed.

“But I’m not interested in him.” It was true—kind of.

“You said he was pretty and had a great arse,” Marchant pointed out.

“But he’s not a Dom.”

Jordan looked at him seriously. “Not everything is about BDSM, Tony. Sometimes a hookup is just about having fun.”

“He’s right,” Marchant agreed.

Tony suppressed a growl. “You’re both involved with your subs.”

“Yeah, but I’ve had plenty of outside hookups. Variety makes for an interesting Tony.” Marchant plucked the card out of Tony’s fingers. “Go and have some fun with—” He looked at the card. “—Leo Markus.”

“I’m not calling him.”

“Give me your phone.” Jordan held out his hand.

Tony cursed himself for handing it over meekly. Marchant gave Jordan the card, and before Tony knew what he was doing, he was listening to the ringtone and praying Leo wouldn’t answer.

“Hello? Who’s this?”

“H-hi,” Tony stammered. “My name is Tony. You gave me your card.” He was acutely conscious of Jordan and Marchant watching him, so he walked away from the peanut gallery.

“I don’t remember… oh! The hot guy on the M25. I wondered who was calling me at this time of night.”

Tony flushed. “I don’t know about the hot guy, but yeah, the M25.”

“I’d given up hope you were going to call me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No worries. Now you have, what can I do for you?”

Tony looked at Jordan and Marchant in panic. Jordan rolled his eyes, but Marchant said, “Invite him out for a beer.”

“Beer?” Tony managed.

“Cool. Are you free tomorrow night?”

“I’m working tomorrow—”

“No, you’re not,” Marchant said.

“I get the feeling you’re not on your own,” Leo said, but Tony was relieved to hear he sounded amused rather than pissed off.

“My boss,” Tony said. “He says tomorrow is fine.”

“I like your boss already. Where do you live?”

“Sutton. But I’ll be in Wimbledon tomorrow.”

“Even better. I’ve got a meeting near Wimbledon at five o’clock. See you at the Wetherspoon’s at seven. Is that okay?”

“See you then.” Tony put his phone away and scowled at Marchant and Jordan. “Happy now?”

“See,” Jordan said. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Tony stalked past them and relieved the sub who’d taken his place behind the bar. He was all kinds of pissed off at this interference in his life, but even more annoyed that he’d let it happen.

Marchant slid into his usual seat at the bar. “I know you’re pissed off with us.”

Tony served a sub and took the ten-pound note. He handed over the change before he spoke again. “Why did you do that to me? It was humiliating.”

Marchant sighed. “Working here can skew your thinking. It’s easy to think your whole life has to be about kink.”

“Yours is,” Tony snapped.

Marchant shook his head. “My life is about Ed, not kink. I want to make him happy. I also have a club to run. You’ve worked for me for five years, and this is the first time I’ve seen you so unhappy. Look, go on the date, maybe get laid, and enjoy yourself.”

“It’s not what I want,” Tony said miserably.

“I know, but unless you try something different, you might not find what you really need.”

To Tony’s relief, a couple of Doms wandered over to chat to Marchant and the lecture was over. Tony dug the card out of his pocket and placed it on the bar. He didn’t have to keep the date.

“If you even think of cancelling, I’ll smack your arse so hard, you won’t sit down for a week,” Jordan said.

“That’s not really a threat,” Tony pointed out.

“I guess not.” Jordan grinned at him. “Go on the fucking date. What have you got to lose?”

“My dignity. Oh, wait, I already lost that.”

“Tony, I hate to burst your bubble, but you’re not some dewy-eyed virgin. I’ve seen you being lashed and fucked against the cross, and you weren’t protesting about your dignity then. Go on the date, and we’ll arrange a session. Mike’s been desperate to see you in action ever since he met you.”

Tony looked at him skeptically. “Mike? Your Mike?”

“Yep. The kid who looks like a puff of wind would blow him away. Turns out he’s got a thing for big bears.”

“What’s he doing with you, then?”

Jordan shrugged. “He needed a sir, and I was there.”

Tony frowned. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“It doesn’t have to be. We’re both young and learning. Anyway, go on the date tomorrow.”

“Do I have a choice?” Tony asked sourly.

“No.” Jordan beamed at him and wandered away.

Tony grimaced and shoved the card back in his pocket. He’d go because Leo seemed like a good guy and Tony really needed a night out. Then he’d demand his flogging, and they could leave him the fuck alone.