Month: October 2020

Happy Sexy Saturday, my darlings! Agh, running a bit late tonight, but I really hope you like it! This evening’s post is a continuation of last week’s little story, so we’re checking back in with Will and – one of my favorite demons ever – Mr. Heiss.

This isn’t as sexy as the usual bits I share, and I’m very sorry about that. I meant to get to the smut, but then all the damn plot happened and it’s already so late and ahhhh! Okay, I promise naughty stuff is gonna go down with these boys really soon.

So very soon, I swear! XD

Warnings: NSFWish/collars/dub-con?/it’s complicated when demons wanna bang

~*~

When Will lifted his head, it was immediately shoved back down. His thoughts were foggy, his body was aching, and he was naked. Something soft was covering his eyes. He tried to reach up to push against what was holding him down, but his hand was smacked away.

“Don’t move,” a deep voice warned.

“Wha… what are you doing?” Will demanded. His voice sounded slurred, and he didn’t know why.

“Seeing if you’re worth what they’re asking,” was the flat reply.

A hand, Will realized, was twisting into his hair and forcing him to turn his face this way and that.

“So far, I’m undecided.”

“Huh…?” Will didn’t understand what was happening. The last thing he remembered was leaving the club, but he wasn’t sure if he’d left alone.

He knew he had been drinking, but he didn’t think he’d had enough to completely black out.

Definitely not enough to feel like this.

He could feel the stranger’s leather gloved hands moving down his body, his lean stomach, his long legs. He tried to pull away, but he didn’t have the strength. He squirmed when the stranger palmed his ass and rolled him over.

“What… what are you doing?” Will gasped as the stranger spread his cheeks. His face was hot, and he groaned when a single gloved finger slid down over his hole.

“Inspecting my potential purchase,” the stranger said. “I think I’m almost ready to make my decision.”

“Decision?”

“On whether or not I’m going to buy you.”

“I’m not-“ Will’s words were silenced by a gloved hand, and he was dragged up to his feet. He had to lean forward, catching himself on a massive broad chest and thick, strong arms.

The stranger was wearing a suit and tie, but Will couldn’t detect much else. The hand on his mouth hadn’t moved, but the other had pressed itself into the small of his back.

“If you were about to say you’re not property or that you’re not for sale, you’re wrong,” the stranger said. “You became property the second you were taken from whatever gutter they dragged you out of. You’re definitely for sale.”

Will jerked back, struggling to protest, “No! Wait… you can’t just buy me!”

“As a matter of fact, I can,” the stranger replied. “I own this club, this city, this entire state, and I have dominion over all the souls in it.”

“Souls…?” Will stiffened.

“Consider yourself most fortunate that I’m only interested in purchasing your body.”

Will reached up to snatch off his blindfold, and the stranger didn’t stop him. He gasped sharply, trembling as he stared down the giant monster in front of him:

Dark red skin, black lips, yellow eyes, and horns…

There were two giant horns were bursting out of the stranger’s forehead and curling back around his ears.

“Don’t worry,” the stranger teased. “Souls are too much paperwork.”

“I’m dreaming,” Will said weakly. “This has to be a dream. This isn’t real… this can’t be…”

“I assure you that it’s very real,” the stranger said, his bright eyes burning into Will’s.

“No,” Will whispered in horror. He tried to pull away again, but the stranger’s hand twisted into his hair and held him in place. He gritted his teeth together as he hissed, “Fuck you!”

The stranger laughed and gave Will a glimpse of his ferocious teeth. His cradled Will’s face in his gloved hands, looking him over once more as if he couldn’t make up his mind.

“If he’s not to your liking, my liege, I have many more that I can show you,” a new voice said.

Will turned his head to see another monster behind him, but this one was much smaller and scrawnier than the beast currently holding him.

“I’m still thinking,” the stranger replied sharply. “Do not rush me.”

“I’m only trying to help you make a purchase worthy of a demon in your position, my liege.”

*A demon…*

These monsters were demons.

Will didn’t know what to do.

He was caught between screaming and laughing hysterically when he realized there were no doors or windows that he could see. He was trapped in this dark room with actual demons and had no clear way of escaping.

He kept trying to wake himself up, but it was becoming more and more clear that this was very real. He could barely stand up, he felt sick to his stomach, and he realized that he might be about to die.

Fuck it.

He spat right in the demon’s face.

“My liege! I’m so sorry!” the smaller demon cried. “I will have this one put down at once for his rudeness! You have my sincerest apologies, I swear that I have others that are much more well behaved-!”

“I’ll take him,” the stranger said abruptly, calmly wiping the saliva off his face. He inspected his gloved finger before popping it into his mouth with a greedy hum.

“Oh! Uh, yes, of course. Yes, sir.” The small demon fidgeted. “Would you like us to deliver him for you, Mr. Heiss?”

“Please.” Mr. Heiss pursed his thick lips. “Is gift wrap available?”

“Of course, sir.”

“No,” Will argued, pushing his hands against Mr. Heiss’ chest. “No, I’m not gonna be fucking gift wrapped-!”

The dark room was gone and the demons along with it, Will now finding himself stretched out on a plush velvet chaise in front of a crackling fireplace.

He tried to get up, and the room around him spun. He saw a large desk and a throne like chair behind it, fiery sconces all along the walls, and fancy rugs. Something caught his neck, and he had to sit back down.

Probably for the best since he felt like he was about to fall right over.

Reaching up, he found a thick collar buckled around his neck. There was a shimmering chain attached to it, binding him to a steel hook in the floor. Even if he could stand up, there wasn’t enough slack to go very far.

He was still naked, but there was a long piece of fabric hanging over the back of the chaise. He grabbed it to put over himself for some decency, trying to focus through the persistent vertigo.

After a few minutes, it seemed to pass, and he stood up to take another look around. The collar kept him close to the chaise, but he stepped as far away as he could to see if he could find a way out.

The walls were solid all around him, and there were no windows again.

What the fuck was this?

Will sat back down on the chaise, defeated and angry.

“You look beautiful,” Mr. Heiss’ voice said, preceding his sudden appearance. There was no smoke, no whoosh – one moment he wasn’t there, and then he was.

“Let me go,” Will demanded, up on his feet and glaring furiously at the demon. “I want out of here! This is bullshit! You can’t just buy me!”

“Yes, I can,” Mr. Heiss said with a smirk. ”You’re mine until I see fit to get another pet.”

“A pet?” Will scoffed, yanking at the collar around his neck. “Is that what this is? Some crazy fantasy of yours or something?”

“It is my reality,” Mr. Heiss said. “It’s yours now, too. You will entertain me with your physical company as I see fit. When I’m bored of you, I will retire you.”

“Retire me…?” Will didn’t like the sound of that.

“I will release you,” Mr. Heiss clarified. “I provide all my pets with a generous severance package, though the extent of my generosity depends on how well you were able to please me.”

“So, what? I’m your pet for a little while and then you’ll… you’ll let me go?” Will asked hesitantly, his eyes moving over the demon’s massive body as he advanced.

“If you please me,” Mr. Heiss reminded, slowly taking off his gloves to reveal long clawed fingers. He touched Will’s cheek, and he smiled. “You have such a delightful fire in you. Such passion… that’s why you were at that club when they found you, hmm? Looking for someone to burn?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Will replied, holding his head high and doing his best not to flinch.

“Oh, but I think you do,” Mr. Heiss purred, his voice low and rumbling. “I know a sinner when I see one… tell me, Will, how many men have you killed?”

Will narrowed his eyes.

“Well?”

“Not enough.”

Happy Sexy Saturday, kits and kittens! Holy crap – what a week. Real life hasn’t been very kind, and that stupid ban was huge pain in the booty, but I promise to behave and never leave again! You know, until I post more nipples or whatever it is that ticks off FB. Meh. Anyway!

It’s been a hell of a first year, and I’m so grateful for everything I’ve accomplished. From starting out in Hello Kitty notebooks and fan fiction to kicking butt on Amazon’s top 100 and getting sexy editorial reviews – WHEW! It’s been a crazy ride. Thank you to everyone who’s supported me. I couldn’t have done it without you. <333

Now! Book updates – Tentacles #2 has been submitted and is awaiting acceptance from my publisher. I’m also waiting for the CHC Collection’s release date, and I will let you know as soon as I have it! Editing is going well on my Undertaker story, and hopefully that will be on its way to the publisher soon!

In the meantime… thinking about writing a different kind of gangster, and well, this little random bit of writing happened. Enjoy!

Warnings: NSFW-ish?/dubcon/groping/kidnapping

~*~

When Will lifted his head, it was immediately shoved back down. His thoughts were foggy, his body was aching, and he was naked. Something soft was covering his eyes. He tried to reach up to push against what was holding him down, but his hand was smacked away.

“Don’t move,” a deep voice warned.

“Wha… what are you doing?” Will demanded. His voice sounded slurred, and he didn’t know why.

“Seeing if you’re worth what they’re asking,” was the flat reply.

A hand, Will realized, was twisting into his hair and forcing him to turn his face this way and that.

“So far, I’m undecided.”

“Huh…?” Will didn’t understand what was happening. The last thing he remembered was leaving the club, but he wasn’t sure if he’d left alone.

He knew he had been drinking, but he didn’t think he’d had enough to completely black out.

Definitely not enough to feel like this.

He could feel the stranger’s leather gloved hands moving down his body, his lean stomach, his long legs. He tried to pull away, but he didn’t have the strength. He squirmed when the stranger palmed his ass and rolled him over.

“What… what are you doing?” Will gasped as the stranger spread his cheeks. His face was hot, and he groaned when a single gloved finger slid down over his hole.

“Inspecting my potential purchase,” the stranger said. “I think I’m almost ready to make my decision.”

“Decision?”

“On whether or not I’m going to buy you.”

“I’m not-“ Will’s words were silenced by a gloved hand, and he was dragged up to his feet. He had to lean forward, catching himself on a broad chest and strong arms.

The stranger was wearing a suit and tie, but Will couldn’t detect much else. The hand on his mouth hadn’t moved, but the other had pressed itself into the small of his back.

“If you were about to say you’re not property or that you’re not for sale, you’re wrong,” the stranger said. “You became property the second you were taken from whatever gutter they dragged you out of. You’re definitely for sale.”

Will jerked, struggling to protest, “No! Wait… you can’t just buy me!”

“As a matter of fact, I can,” the stranger replied. “I own this club, this city, this entire state, and all the souls in it.”

“Souls…?” Will stiffened.

“Consider yourself most fortunate that I’m only interested in purchasing your body.”

Will reached up to snatch off his blindfold, and the stranger didn’t stop him. He gasped sharply, trembling as he stared down the monster in front of him:

Dark red skin, black lips, yellow eyes, and horns… Two giant horns were bursting out of the stranger’s forehead and curling back around his ears.

“Oh, my God…”

“Don’t worry,” the stranger teased. “Souls are too much paperwork.”

❤

Happy Sexy Saturday, my darlings! I hope everyone is having a fabulous weekend and staying safe out there in the world! I am so very happy to say that the final edits for the Cold Hard Cash Collection have been submitted, and I should have a release date soon! WOO!

And just to be clear – this collection is twenty-five chapters of pure smut. Sooo much smut. Smut on top of more kinky smut. While I do intend to continue the CHC series and actually include a real storyline in future books, that is not happening right now.

If porn without any plot in sight is good by you, awesome! If not, hey, I am eventually gonna write other stories! Don’t worry!

(Also – the “come shot” scene is staying! Thank you so much to everyone who voted and commented on the poll. Yeah, maybe just skip that chapter when it comes out if that’s not your thing! XD)

I’m also happy to announce that I am writing the last chapter for my Undertaker/Florist story. 98k and still going! I cannot wait for you guys to meet Tom and Cypress! Agh! More updates to come as I move through the editing and submission process and all that fun goodness.

I’m sorry that tonight’s post is gonna be such a tease, lol. It’s so tiny. I can’t give too much away yet, but here’s a little look at the final chapter…

Enjoy! <333

Warnings: NSFWish?/dirty talk/groping/yeah they’re gonna bang on a casket

~*~

“But, but!” Tom gasped, his palms slapping up against the side of the casket. His heart was pounding, and he shivered when Cypress’ hot breath tickled the back of his neck.

“What?” Cypress purred in his ear, keeping Tom pinned. “It’s not like there’s anyone in there, right?”

“No! It’s empty! It’s just for display!” Tom groaned lightly as Cypress grinded into his ass, their fingers tangling together on the casket. “But s-someone might catch us! The doors in here don’t lock!”

“Excites you, doesn’t it?” Cypress was smiling, and Tom certain it was absolutely wicked. “You like the idea of someone seeing… seeing the things I do to you… seeing how much you love it…”

“Fuck,” Tom hissed. He could feel how hard Cypress was, and he couldn’t deny how much he wanted him like this. The risk of getting caught was a unique thrill that made him ache deep inside, and he was helpless to resist. He closed his eyes, whispering, “I do…”

“Like that very first night?” Cypress reached around to grope Tom’s dick, squeezing him gently. “When you got on your knees to suck me?”

“Yes,” Tom exhaled, his breath catching as Cypress slipped his hand inside his scrubs to grab him. He whined and tried to push back, but Cypress wouldn’t let him budge.

“You were such a good boy for me,” Cypress said, giving Tom’s cock a few teasing strokes before reaching down to fondle his balls. “You didn’t even know what you really wanted, hm? You just wanted to feel good, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Tom breathed out, his head spinning. “I wanted you so much. I just, I just wanted you. All I wanted to be good for you.”

“Mmm, and you are,” Cypress promised. “You’re always so good for me.” He kept Tom firmly in place with his hips as he grabbed his scrubs and started pulling them down. “And right now, you’re gonna be a good boy and let me fuck you on this casket.”

“Cypress,” Tom whined, heat crawling over his face and making him gasp sharply. “We shouldn’t… we… someone is gonna hear…”

“Well, then.” Cypress pushed the lid on the head end of the casket back up. “Better grab that pillow. Because you’re definitely gonna need it.”

<333

Happy Sexy Saturday, my darling kits and kittens! I’m still hard at work writing my new Undertaker/Florist novel, finishing edits for Tentacles 2, and patiently waiting for edits back on the CHC: Collection! Agh! I’m so excited for all these projects, and I can’t wait to share them with you!

Hope you’re all having an awesome weekend! Here’s another little taste of what Cypress and Tom are up to – hope you like it! <333

Warnings: NSFW/teasing/spanking/riding crop/all that good stuff

~*~

“Are you ready?” Cypress asked, offering his hand out.

“Yes,” Tom breathed eagerly.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” Tom corrected himself, loving how such a simple phrase could be so soothing. He didn’t have to worry now. Cypress was going to take care of him and tell him exactly what to do.

“Your safe word?” Cypress pulled Tom up and pressed a kiss to his wrist.

“Calvarium clamp.”

“Good boy. Now, go ahead and undress for me.”

Tom wiggled our of his clothes in seconds, and his cock was rock hard again. He stood patiently waiting for his next command, smiling up at Cypress. “Good, sir?”

“Perfect.” Cypress reached down and gave Tom’s cock an appreciative stroke before fondling and squeezing his balls. “Now, you’re going to get down on your hands and knees. I want you to come to me just like that.”

Heat flashed over Tom’s face. “Like… like a dog?”

“Exactly so,” Cypress confirmed. “You don’t deserve to walk upright. Not yet.” He started toward the bedroom, snapping his fingers. “Come on. Wanna be a good boy, don’t you?”

Dropping down on his knees, Tom felt ashamed. He was literally going to crawl on the floor like an animal. The twist of such humiliation made this even hotter, but he didn’t know why. The hardwood floors felt cool as he moved forward, making his way to the bedroom door.

“Good boy,” Cypress praised, waiting for him by the bed. He patted his leg, urging him over. “Just a little closer.”

Blushing furiously, Tom did as he was told. He stopped at Cypress’ feet and gazed up at him, asking, “Like this, sir?”

“Very good.” Cypress sat down on the edge of the mattress, urging Tom into his lap. “Come on, bring that pretty ass up here for me.”

Tom laid over Cypress’ thighs, his cock trapped between them as his legs dangled awkwardly. Not even his own father had taken him over their knee like this, and he was so excited.

Cypress rubbed his ass, not giving any warning before he swung back and spanked him hard.

Tom grunted, breathing through the initial sting. Fuck, that hurt, but he already wanted more.

Cypress spanked him again, even harder this time, and Tom’s back arched in protest.

“Ah, fuck!” Tom gritted his teeth, trying to work through the pain as he grinded his hard dick into Cypress’ thigh. The next spanking made his eyes water, and his whole cheek felt like it was on fire.

“Just a few more,” Cypress soothed, licking over his fingers and sliding them down between Tom’s legs. He rubbed over his little asshole, stroking all around it but not yet pressing in.

Moaning softly, Tom tried lifting up his hips to chase Cypress’ taunting fingers. He got another hard smack in reply on his other cheek, crying out from the new surge of pain. Now both of his cheeks were throbbing and hot, and he grinded his aching cock down to find some sort of relief.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” Cypress asked, ever so smug because he obviously knew the answer.

“Yes, sir,” Tom pleaded. “Please… I’ll take all my spankings, I will, but please just fuck me first. I need something, anything-!”

“Not yet,” Cypress warned, giving him another sharp smack. “Reach back here and help me spread your plump little cheeks. I wanna look at you.”

Tom was too far gone to be embarrassed, his hand joining Cypress’ on the opposite cheek to spread himself wide open. He had to reposition himself to keep from falling, wiggling his upper body up onto the bed and leaving his legs in Cypress’ lap, straddling his thigh.

“Good boy, now come on,” Cypress said, urging Tom’s legs apart. “There we go… mmmm. You look good enough to eat.”

Tom could feel his heartbeat down in his cheeks and his cock currently chafing on Cypress’ hip. He couldn’t imagine how lewd it looked to be spread out like this, weakly rocking his hips as he whispered, “Thank you, sir.”

Cypress squeezed Tom’s ass, his other hand coming down and smacking right on top of his hole.

Tom jerked in surprise, the pain reverberating down in his balls and up his spine. He couldn’t help how he clenched up, gasping when Cypress spanked him there again. “Oh, f-fuck!”

Cypress stroked his long fingers up and down between Tom’s thighs, pausing to massage his tender hole and sighing happily. “Mm, I love watching you squirm like this… ready for more?”

“Yes, sir, please… I need, I need something,” Tom begged. He was so hot and starting to sweat, whimpering when the tip of Cypress’ finger pushed inside of him.

“Mmm, almost.” Cypress gently pushed Tom up the rest of the way onto the bed. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable and get on the pillows. I’m going to tie you down now.”

Clumsily, Tom rolled over and scooted up so he could rest his head on the pillows. His ass was still stinging, and even the smooth comforter beneath him felt too rough against his sensitive skin.

Cypress brought out the cuffs, attaching them to the bed and securing Tom’s wrists. He kissed his forehead, checking the fit and asking, “Good?”

“Yes, sir,” Tom replied.

“Now, let’s see how flexible you are,” Cypress said with a sly wink, lifting Tom’s legs up and pushing them back toward his chest.

Tom had to spread his legs to accommodate the stretch, and he usually hated any position like this because of the way it made his belly fold. There was something about the way Cypress was looking at him right now that made him not kind as much.

“Stay just like that for me,” Cypress commanded, reaching under the bed for something.

Lust made Tom’s stomach flip when he saw what Cypress was holding now; a slick black riding crop.

“We’re going to start slow,” Cypress said, teasing the crop over his red ass. “Just a little taste to see if you like it.”

“I’m ready, sir,” Tom said, tugging impatiently on the cuffs. “Please, give it to me!”

Cypress cupped Tom’s balls, squeezing them tight as he cracked the crop over Tom’s ass.

Tom flinched, groaning out loud without meaning to. Despite only striking a small area the sting of the riding crop was much more intense and the welt left in its wake burned white hot. He could feel fresh tears in his eyes, and his brain focused right in on the path the crop had taken across his tender cheeks.

The throb was incredibly deep, and Tom would have thought he’d actually been cut had he not known the source of this pain. “Oh, fuck, oh, oh, fuck me!”

Cypress’ pressed his finger back inside Tom’s hole, giving him teasing thrusts as he asked, “Do you like that? Do you want some more?”

“Yes fuckin’ sir!”

<333

Happy Sexy Saturday, my darlings! Whew! This week has been crazy! I’m still buzzing from the awesome CHC party last weekend and the reviews for Acsquidentally have just been amazing. Thank you all so much!!! AGH!!! IM SO HAPPY! XD

Today’s post is a sexy little teaser for my upcoming Undertaker/Florist story, checking in with my boys Cypress and Tom to see what sort of steamy shenanigans they’re up to! Enjoy! <333

Warnings: NSFW/bondage/cock warming/docking/sexy stuff/mild spoilers

~*~

“Mmm, what’s on the menu tonight?”

“Chicken alfredo with broccoli.”

“That sounds awesome.”

“Good,” Cypress said, using the remote to turn the TV on and get a movie going. He rubbed Tom’s back in soothing little circles as the film started, leaning back and getting comfortable.

Tom was trying to do the same, but he couldn’t quite exactly decide where to put his head in Cypress’ lap as he stretched out. He was wiggling, shifting often, and huffed loudly in frustration.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sorry. Can’t get comfortable.”

“Keep it up, and I’ll have to tie you up,” Cypress teased.

“Is that a threat, or are you flirting?” Tom laughed, gasping when Cypress playfully swatted his ass.

“Behave,” Cypress scolded.

Tom couldn’t resist sliding his hand up into Cypress’ groin. “And if I don’t want to? Would you really tie me up?”

“If you wanted to,” Cypress said, his tongue flicking out over his lower lip as he glanced down at Tom. “But you’re still recovering from a drop, and your house-“

“Was broken in and wrecked, I know,” Tom interrupted, rubbing the length of Cypress’ cock through his pants. “Everything is such a fuckin’ mess right now, and I wanna be able to control something.”

“Oh?”

“Even if… even if I’m not the one in control.” Tom kept stroking him, his own arousal rising and making his voice hoarse. “Especially if I’m not the one in control.”

“Tom,” Cypress warned, his hips shifting and his breath catching.

“Please,” Tom pleaded, feeling Cypress’ cock growing beneath his touch. “We don’t have to get rough or whatever. I just wanna feel good. I don’t wanna be scared or worried or-“

“Safe word?” Cypress growled, his hand suddenly grabbing Tom’s hair.

“Calvarium clamp,” Tom replied immediately, a shiver of pleasure racing down his spine.

“You use your safe word the second you get uncomfortable.”

“I will,” Tom insisted, his cock starting to stir in his scrubs and rubbing his cheek against Cypress’ crotch. All at once, he was calmer, a soothing wave washing over him and rinsing away his troubled thoughts.

The rest of the world disappeared, closing in until it was just him and Cypress, a tiny little universe where all he had to do was listen, obey, and he could be a good boy.

“Then come on.” Cypress pulled out his cock, offering it to Tom as he said, “Suck it nice and slow for me.”

Tom closed his eyes, pulling back Cypress’ foreskin and sucking the slick head into his mouth. He took his time, not using any pressure, simply enjoying the taste and feel of him against his tongue. “Mmm…”

“Just like that,” Cypress praised. “So soft, so slow… you’re just gonna keep my cock nice and warm, okay? Suck real soft, just like that.”

Tom nodded his head, squeezing the base of Cypress’ cock. He rolled his foreskin up to lick around it, kissing and mouthing along the tender fold of flesh. He was curious, exploring what made Cypress feel good, taking him back into his mouth.

Cypress petted his hair, running his fingers through it as he went back to watching the movie. “Mmm. Good boy.”

Tom kept Cypress’ cock firmly in his mouth, grinding his own erection down into the couch to gain some friction. He wasn’t sucking too hard, just enough to keep Cypress erect as he lavished the head of his dick with firm swipes of his tongue. He couldn’t actually believe Cypress was watching the movie, practically ignoring him.

He pulled off, stroking Cypress’ spit slick cock and rolling his foreskin back up. He squeezed it around the head of his cock, kissing and licking it passionately. He hadn’t had many partners that were uncut, and he loved playing with such an in intimate part.

Cypress hummed pleasurably, sliding his hand down the back of Tom’s neck. He lightly scratched the short hairs there, commanding, “When the movie is over, you’ll strip down and go to the bedroom. Do you understand?”

“Mmm,” Tom mumbled in reply, continuing to lazily suck Cypress’ cock. It was wet from his drool, still hard, and he loved the velvety texture of his shaft gliding so smoothly over his lips. He lost himself in it – the soft suction, Cypress’ warm fingers winding into his hair, and those sweet words that made him shudder:

“Good boy.”

By the time the credits were finally rolling, Tom’s lips felt numb. No matter how little effort he’d put in, his mouth was still tired from going at it for so long. He was sleepy, drowsy as he sat up and wiped off his mouth.

Strangely, his buzz hadn’t diminished in the slightest. In fact, he felt even more loose than before. He still reached for his wine all the same, smiling over the rim of the glass as Cypress stroked his hair.

“Do you remember what I asked you to do?”

“Yes, sir. Take my clothes off. Go to the bedroom.”

“Good boy. Go ahead.”

Tom stood up, sliding off his scrubs and underwear, his cock thickening up between his legs. He loved how Cypress was staring at him so ravenously, and he smiled. “Good, sir?”

“Very good.” Cypress fondled Tom’s cock, giving him a tug. “Mmm, now, let’s go.”

Tom obediently followed Cypress, following his directions to spread himself out on the bed. The sheets felt cool beneath him, and he could have easily fallen asleep if it wasn’t for the persistent lurch of desire down in his loins.

Fuck, he was so horny.

Cypress gave his hair another pet, ordering, “Now, stay here. Do not touch yourself until I get back.”

“Yes, sir,” Tom replied.

“Can I trust you to do that?”

“Yes, sir,” Tom said again, but he wasn’t sure. He wanted to come, and now he was so damn hard.

“Mmm, I don’t think I can,” Cypress mused, tracing his fingers down Tom’s arm. “I think you are gonna need some help being a good boy… do you want me to help you, Tom?”

“Yes, sir, please.” Tom whined, drawing his legs up as he squirmed. “I’m sorry, I’m just… I really want to come.”

“Not yet,” Cypress soothed as he reached into his bedside drawer. He pulled out two sets of leather cuffs with large hook, presenting them to Tom for his inspection.

Now Tom knew why Cypress has such big posts on his bed.

As if he was placing jewelry on him, Cypress began to delicately buckle the cuffs around Tom’s wrists. He checked the fit before hooking each one around one of the posts above Tom’s head. “Good?”

Tom couldn’t draw his arms in more than a few inches, and there was no way to touch himself now. That made him even harder, and he moaned out loud knowing he was totally at Cypress’ mercy. Perhaps he should have been scared, but he was only excited.

Cypress could do anything he wanted to him…

“So good, sir,” Tom said, his eyes fluttering as he resisted the urge to moan again. “I’m so very good.”

“Good.” Cypress smiled and got up, starting to walk out of the bedroom.

Alarmed, Tom called, “Sir? Where, where are you going?”

“I still have to make dinner,” Cypress reminded him with a teasing smile. “Relax. I’ll be back soon. If you get uncomfortable or want me to let you go, call for me and I’ll be right here.”

“Yes, sir.” Tom tugged at the cuffs, pouting as Cypress left him alone in the bedroom.

Well, this wasn’t going quite the way he thought it would.

He tried to use the time to relax as Cypress had ordered, but he was too restless. His cock was standing at full attention, and he could see it twitch in time with his pulse. He couldn’t quite turn his hips enough to grind into the bed, so he was stuck, staring at his aching dick with no way to get relief.

“Fuck.”

It would have been easy to let his mind wander to worrisome thoughts, especially being left alone like this, but it never happened. In spite of his physical frustrations, he could only focus on the command Cypress had left him with.

*Relax…

He had to relax to be a good boy.

Taking a deep breath, he willed his body to go limp. His cock didn’t get the message, but he was able to finally get comfortable. He liked how the cuffs held him, made him feel safe, and he knew Cypress would be back to take care of him. He closed his eyes, relishing in the steady flow of endorphins and waited.

“Mmm, look at you,” Cypress sighed upon his return. “Perfect.”

Tom smiled, peeking at Cypress as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “I was so good.” He saw a plate of food in Cypress’ hand, surprised to realize how much time had passed. “Is that for me?”

“Mmhmm. I already ate, and now it’s your turn.” Cypress stuck some pasta on the fork and offered a bite to Tom. “Go on. Open up.”

Tom opened his mouth and was treated to a rich bite of creamy pasta. He didn’t think anyone had ever fed him like this, and it was nice to be so spoiled. He moaned happily, eagerly taking another when Cypress brought it up to his lips. “Mmm, it’s delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Cypress continued to feed him, asking, “How are you feeling now?”

“Good, sir,” Tom replied, licking his lips. He glanced down to his cock, only half hard now against his thigh. He took another bite. “I like being tied up. It’s… it’s soothing.”

“All you have to worry about is what’s inside this room,” Cypress said with a warm smile. “Just me and you. This is your little world for the rest of the night.”

“Am I gonna come, sir?” Tom asked eagerly.

“Yes.” Cypress paused before feeding him the last bite. “I’m still deciding how. You have been so very good for me…”

“Yes, please, sir.”

“And your mind is totally calm?”

“Yes, sir.” Tom wiggled against the cuffs, his cock starting to perk back up.

“No voices?”

Tom’s immediate response was to smile. He hadn’t heard Mrs. Keenan in hours, and he was absolutely thrilled. “None, sir. Please… I just want to feel good. Will you spank me? Please?”

“Not tonight,” Cypress said sternly, putting the plate aside. “But maybe there’s something else you want to try…”

“Anything.”

Cypress got up into bed between Tom’s spread legs, kneeling as he unzipped his pants. His cock was hard, practically swollen, and he reached down to grab Tom’s, rubbing their heads together.

Tom whined, desperate for any sort of touch after being denied for so long. He couldn’t believe how sensitive he was, groaning softly as watched Cypress playing in all the precome leaking out of him.

Cypress held Tom’s cock firmly, his other hand stroking himself and rolling his foreskin forward until the head of his dick disappeared. He pulled again, stroking upwards until his foreskin rolled over to Tom’s cock.

Tom gasped, spellbound by the soft grip of Cypress’ foreskin over the head of his leaking dick. It was weird and new, and it felt so good. Cypress was jerking him off while pulling him into the snug fit of his foreskin, and Tom could feel Cypress’ cock head rubbing against his own. It was all slick and hot and he whined loudly, begging, “Oh, fuck, please, don’t stop.”

“Feel good?” Cypress purred, wickedly speeding up the pace. “Gonna come for me?”

“Yes, fuck, yes, sir.” Tom moaned as Cypress’ foreskin slid over more of his cock, and it was so hot and soft. Nothing had ever felt like this before, and even though it didn’t have the thundering pressure of a blowjob or sex, it felt so much more intimate.

He had never felt this deeply connected to someone, and he pulled at the cuffs holding him down, moaning desperately. Cypress was in total control of Tom’s body and his pleasure, and he loved watching the way their cocks seemed to become one smooth singular piece of flesh beneath Cypress’ skilled touch.

Cypress worked their cocks together masterfully, his face drawn tight in concentration as he started to pant. “I’ve got you, Tom. Come on, my good boy… my very good boy, come for me. Come on.”

Tom’s arms fledged against the cuffs, gasping sharply as he suddenly came, all of that sweet pressure that had been building letting loose in a wave of bliss. His cock unloaded fast, and he couldn’t look away from where they were joined, trying to see.

Cypress’ grip began to stutter, letting out a deep groan of pleasure, rocking their cocks together. Only when he was done did he began to peel his foreskin back, a thick ooze of their come dribbling out. He sighed with deep satisfaction, stroking himself a few times to squeeze it out all over Tom.

“Oh, my God,” Tom whispered, staring stupidly as it dripped all over his cock and balls.

“Good?” Cypress asked breathlessly, grinning down at him.

“So good,” Tom promised as he stretched his legs. “Wow… I didn’t… I didn’t even know that was a fuckin’ thing.”

“Oh, baby boy,” Cypress teased, “you just wait. I have so much more to show you.”

<333

Happy Sexy Saturday, kits and kittens! Tonight I have a special treat from the Vault for you – a story I never quite finished. It’s the start of a sexy little tale starring a detective who’s looking for a serial killer and finds a monster instead…

This is one of those ideas I had that I might eventually flesh out into a full novel, but who knows! I’m still working on my Undertaker story, I have something new cooking about some very naughty gods, and I still have more Tentacles books to write. And witches. And well… And everything else! XD

I do hope you like it! Happy reading!

Warnings: NSFW/serial killer/mentions of murder/sexy times/self-fellatio/possible murder husband type shenanigans/strip club/brief gore

~*~

Detective Michael Zander took a seat at the bar, turning around just in time to watch as Superman flung his cape off into the cheering crowd. Green Lantern was twirling around a pole on the other side of the stage while Aquaman pranced over to entertain some guests in the champagne room.

Another titillating evening at Juicy Bruce’s, and tonight was Justice League night.

Michael had been coming here all week working a case, undercover as a patron and trying to pass as a normal civilian. There had been a recent series of unsolved murders, and all the victims were either male escorts or male exotic dancers from local clubs. Following the perp’s pattern, Juicy Bruce’s was his next target.

They had a vague physical description from one lucky young man who had managed to escape, and Michael was here now to watch and wait, hoping to catch a killer before he could strike again.

“Back again,” the bartender noted when he sat down, already pouring him a shot of cheap whiskey. “How’s it going tonight, Robert?”

“Good, good.” Michael was pleased that the bartender had remembered his drink of choice and his fake name, gulping the shot back with a quiet grunt. “Mmmm, just can’t get enough of all that lovely spandex.”

“Right,” the bartender chuckled, keeping his chin tilted away as he wiped down the counter.

Michael had already seen the scars he was trying to hide, a brutal twist of flesh that dominated the right side of his face and traveled down his neck beneath his collar. A house fire was the cause, he recalled, having run background checks on all the club’s employees.

The bartender’s legal name was William Staffe, but he went by his old stage name;

Vinnie Van Wham.

Vinnie to most, Van to a special few that worked here. No priors, squeaky clean, and he seemed quite shy about his injuries. They’d barely made eye contact since he’d started coming here, but Michael found Van incredibly attractive.

He had warm brown eyes, bronze skin and lush lips, and those long legs that must have looked spectacular wrapped around a pole. His dark hair had been bleached out and changed colors often, and tonight it was a deep forest green.

The scars didn’t bother Michael in the slightest. He had his own from a brush with fire that could rival Van’s, but he could cover his much more easily. Long sleeves in spite of warm weather raised some brows, but it fulfilled a simple function to prevent staring.

Van didn’t have that luxury.

Michael knew he was supposed to be canvassing the club, but he found himself watching Van instead tonight. It was easy to get caught up looking at him, but it wasn’t the terrible scars that held Michael’s attention so.

Van moved along the busy bar with incredible speed, filling multiple drink orders at a time and never once writing one down no matter how large. He was friendly, quick, and had a generous hand with the spirits if he was tipped well. He kept his head tilted away from the customers, only giving them the fair side of face when they spoke to him.

But if they got rowdy or if they were rude, Van would give them the full view of his horrid scars. It was then that Michael realized Van wasn’t ashamed of how he looked. He kept it at bay for the sake of others’ comfort, but he wielded his deformity like a weapon when he needed it.

It was impressive.

The night rolled on, the music a constant hum shaking inside his head. Every song sounded like the next with the bass cranked up to organ vibrating levels, and Michael refocused his attention to search for his suspect.

Tall, white, blond, missing a pinkie.

He had to be here somewhere.

Keeping with the pattern, he was due to take his next victim any day now, and Michael was not going to let that happen. He was tired of feeling so helpless, utterly exhausted with wave after wave of crime drowning his hopes to make the city safer.

Mayfield wasn’t the city Michael remembered from his childhood. It had always been rough around the edges, but now it was a cesspool of crime and violence. Citizens didn’t feel safe, the police were overwhelmed, and the mayor had been discussing putting a curfew into place.

Michael was struggling to do his part to make things better, but there never seemed to be any progress. Half the criminals he arrested ended up right back on the streets, and he wondered to himself what would happen if he was actually able to nab his nine-fingered suspect.

Post bail and go kill again? Flee the city and start killing somewhere else? Just claim he was nuts when he was cutting all those dancers up, end up in some asylum instead of death row?

Would just be easier to stick a bullet in him, Michael thought grumpily to himself.

Van brought Michael another shot as if sensing his distress, flying from one side of the bar to the other as he served up more drinks. There was a group of regulars who greeted him cheerfully, and Van mixed them a batch of margaritas without ever needing to be asked.

“You memorize everyone’s drink?” Michael asked when Van returned to take his empty glass.

“I’m very observant,” Van challenged, a smirk curling his lips as he turned his head to meet Michael’s piercing gaze. “Drinks, quirks, whatever. I’m a regular Sherlock Holmes. I can read people.”

“Oh?” Michael leaned across the bar. “So, you think you could read me?”

“Already read you and filed away from the first night you came in here,” Van scoffed.

“Do tell.”

Van pursed his lips, glancing down the length of the bar for a quick moment. All the customers seemed content, and he turned back to Michael as he replied, “You’re here on business. You never get any lap dances and although you tip the guys on stage occasionally, you’re not watching them. You’re always watching the crowd. Watching them watch the boys. Looking for someone. Definitely not someone you like, someone you hate… someone you’re trying to catch.”

“Not bad,” Michael said, genuinely impressed. “What else?”

“Most likely a cop,” Van said, now turning to face Michael head on. “I’ve seen you checking for a shoulder holster you’re not wearing. Old habit maybe. Plus, all the guys being killed lately and you’re here? Staking the place out?”

Michael raised his glass, knocking it back with a respectful nod.

“I can totally keep going,” Van said with a wink. “All night.”

“I bet you could,” Michael teased.

“Let’s see, hmmm. You’re wearing a Star of David, but I’m not sure if you’re actually Jewish.”

“And why not?”

“Didn’t think alcohol was kosher.”

“On the contrary,” Michael chuckled warmly, “Jews regard alcohol as a holy beverage. We drink wine to celebrate a mitzvah, we drink at weddings and births, and four cups for the first night of Passover. Wine itself has its own special blessing, in fact.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. There was a rabbi named Menachem Posner who once said that alcohol was special because it lowers the body’s resistances and allows the soul to shine through.”

“What if you get drunk and just turn into an asshole? Not really much of a shining soul, huh?”

“We’re talking about drinking in moderation, not getting wasted,” Michael laughed. He raised his glass, asking politely, “Will you drink with me?”

“Wanna see how shiny my soul is, eh?”

“I’d love to.”

Van snorted but poured himself a shot of vodka, raising his glass in a toast. “To shiny souls.”

“L’chaim.”

“Mmm, what does that mean?” Van asked, licking his lips after downing the booze.

“To life,” Michael replied, pushing his empty glass to the side. He didn’t need to drink any more tonight, his senses already buzzing.

“To life,” Van repeated. “I like it.” He had to slide back down the bar to tend to other customers, but he returned as soon as he could and nodded at Michael’s neglected glass. “Need another?”

“No, thanks. I need to think.”

“About your case?”

“Yes.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Van offered. “These guys here are like my family. If they’re in danger, I want to know about it.”

“And what makes you think they are?”

“You being here,” Van responded flatly. “You must have figured out the killer’s pattern and deduced that this place is where he’s gonna strike next.”

“Mmm, good theory, Sherlock.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Haven’t been wrong so far,” Michael said casually. “Hmm… Who knows.”

“So. Who’s your suspect?”

“I would be compromising the investigation if I told you I’m looking for a tall white man missing a pinkie.”

Van knew practically everyone in the club, and his powers of observation were on point. If there was a stranger among them with such a unique injury, he would certainly remember.

Michael couldn’t read Van’s expression, the bartender lost in thought before he finally said, “If I see him, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thanks,” Michael said, disappointed that Van didn’t know their suspect. He watched him dash to the other side of the bar to tend to his customers, and he returned to scanning the crowd to pass the time.

Definitely wasn’t going to be able to think about Batman the same way after watching him twerk on an eager patron’s face.

Van came back again to check on him, pouring him a glass of whiskey from underneath the bar. “Try it,” he insisted. “It’ll help you think.”

“Mm.” Michael took a small sip, pleasantly surprised to find it rich and smooth. “Tastes expensive.”

“It is,” Van chuckled, lightly touching Michael’s arm. “I know it’s almost time to close up, but… maybe you wanna stay?”

Michael stared at Van’s hand, looking back to his face trying to figure out exactly what he was playing at. He found no deceit in the young man’s eyes, only a hopeful desire that he realized he also felt.

Being a cop was hard, the job thankless and gut wrenching at times. And lonely – fuck, was it so very lonely.

He knew then exactly what Van was asking for and he didn’t hesitate to accept, saying, “Yes.”

Van smiled, bright and gorgeous, saying quickly, “Great! Wait for me after closing.”

“I’ll be right here.”

Last call came and went, the dancers taking their final turns around the pole as the club got ready to shut down. There had been no sign of the suspect. Michael was diluting the sense of failure clouding his mind with some more shots, angry that he hadn’t made any progress.

At least he had an evening with Van to look forward to.

The bouncers were clearing out the stragglers, and the music had cut off. The overhead lights flickered to life, the spell of exotic neons and thick fog finally broken. It looked like any other club now, barren and dirty.

Van left the bar to help tidy up and hug some of his coworkers farewell. One of the bouncers was eyeing Michael suspiciously, but Van patted his arm and said something that eased his concerns.

It wasn’t long before Michael realized the club was totally empty, no one else left in the building except the two of them. He hadn’t seen Van for a few moments, turning his head when he heard music beginning to play. It wasn’t the usual thumping bass, but something classical with a heavy stroke of violin.

Van was up on stage, pantsless and barefoot, standing on point beside the pole. He looked relaxed, lifting his arm above his head as his leg rose up beside it. For a beautiful moment, both of his limbs were parallel and pointed to the ceiling in an incredible display of dexterity.

His extended leg swept down to the floor, strong hands grabbing the pole and suddenly swinging himself into the air. He twirled as if propelled by some unseen force, spinning gracefully as his long legs spread wide.

Michael had never seen anyone dance like this, instantly mesmerized. Every single one of Van’s movements flowed seamlessly into the next, slow and perfectly executed.

Van hooked one of his legs around the pole, spinning by the crook of his knee and one hand. His free leg extended outward and up, his back arching as he effortlessly turned his whole body upside down.

Michael couldn’t tear his eyes away from those lovely legs dropping into a full split, much less the enticing way his boxers briefs clung to his round ass. He moved from the bar to keep watching, well aware his jaw was likely hanging open as he stood in front of the stage.

Van’s legs closed and curled around the pole, his body still twirling slowly as he slid his hands down. He righted himself, using only his arms to hang on as his legs again split wide in another devastating display of strength and flexibility.

He clung to the pole like a lover, gracefully winding his body down as his feet finally touched the stage again. He was barely out of breath, smiling sweetly at Michael just as the song ended.

“Wow,” Michael breathed, at a complete loss for words.

“Uh huh,” Van said smugly, slinking to the end of the stage to sit down. He leaned back on his hands and lazily swung his feet. “Fifteen years of ballet. Used to be quite the dancer, you know.”

“Still are,” Michael praised, pushing himself right into Van’s space and holding his hips. “You shouldn’t have ever stopped.”

“Meh, not many guys are into seeing Freddy Krueger prancing around,” Van snorted with a self deprecating laugh. “Scares off the customers. So, I just take a few spins after we close down every night, keep myself in shape.”

“It was… beautiful,” Michael said passionately. “You are beautiful.”

“I can tell you actually mean that,” Van whispered, his lashes fluttering in honest surprise. “My scars… you don’t look through them or away from them… you see me. You really see all of me.”

“Yes,” Michael said, tilting his head forward and nosing along Van’s twisted cheek. He laid a kiss there, murmuring, “And what I see is perfect.”

“Sweet talker,” Van chuckled coyly, though he looked very pleased by the compliment.

Michael slid his fingertips up to the edge of Van’s briefs and gave the band a playful tug. “I only speak the truth, thank you very much.”

“Mmm, that’s something a liar would say.”

“The only lying I’m interested in right now is my body next to yours. On top of yours, maybe beneath it. I’m not picky.”

Van wrapped his arms around Michael’s neck, his teeth nipping at his lip as he purred, “Can’t even wait to get me home, can you?”

“Right again. You really would make one hell of a detective,” Michael drawled, arching up to take Van’s pretty mouth in a searing kiss.

While Van’s dancing had been endlessly graceful, his kiss was anything but. It was savage and rough, tearing into Michael’s lips like he was starving for a taste of him. Teeth clicked, tongues fought, and Michael absolutely loved every fierce second.

Their shirts were removed with equal frenzy, Van pausing his fervor only to caress Michael’s scarred torso and arms with reverence, both of them sharing a deep understanding without speaking a word.

Michael dragged Van’s briefs out of his way, eagerly mapping out the length of his fantastic legs with his hands. The ferocious kiss continued, Van wrapping his legs around him and Michael praying to God he had a condom in his wallet.

Van was impatient, hungry, already opening himself up with spit and urging Michael to get on with it. Michael forced himself to wait the precious few seconds to get the condom on and slick himself up with a small packet of lubricant.

Wrapped and slick, Michael pushed forward, folding Van’s gorgeous body right in half. He loved how flexible he was, supple and literally bending to his every whim. He couldn’t wait to be fully inside of him, grabbing his thighs and watching his cock slowly slip inside Van’s tight asshole.

Van groaned, stretching his legs back until his arms were holding them in place by the bend of his knees. He was folded in a tight little knot, his own hard cock bouncing right in front of his face as Michael began to slam into him.

Michael held him firmly, his hips bucking roughly and setting a thunderous pace that made them both grunt and moan as their bodies smacked together. It had been way too damn long for both of them, their involuntary celibacy evidenced by the eager desperation for every drop of sweaty passion. It was awesome to have such an enthusiastic partner, and Michael was already certain that this was going to happen again if he had anything to say about it.

Van was licking his lips greedily, staring down at his dripping cock and starting to bow his head. There was an odd moment of hesitation, and he stopped halfway to ask in a hushed voice, “Yeah?”

Michael’s eyes widened as he realized what Van was about to do. He had only seen it in videos online and in his own overactive imagination, feeling a renewed lurch of heat in his loins. He groaned, breathlessly urging, “Go on, fuck, Van. Yes.”

Van grinned and immediately wrapped his lips around the slick head of his own dick, his eyes fluttering as he savored his taste. He greedily sucked up the leaking fluids, beginning to bob in time with Michael’s thrusts.

The wet sounds of Van’s tongue and mouth working over his own dick were maddening, and Michael slowed down to encourage him to take his time. He didn’t want this to be over too soon, and he wanted to enjoy the show.

Van’s hands ran over his ass, teasing around Michael’s shaft inside of him before reaching up to squeeze his balls. This was definitely something he had done before, and Michael was totally mesmerized. Van was making an absolute spectacle of himself, sucking himself from root to tip and twirling his tongue around the head.

“Fuck,” Michael hissed.

Van’s eyes flicked up to Michael’s, pulling off of himself with a wicked smile. “Better hurry… I’m getting close.”

Michael growled in reply, resuming his brutal pace and gasping as Van began to suck himself again. Listening to him scream, his cries of pleasure muffled by a mouthful of his own cock, was so fucking hot.

He could feel Van clenching down on him, and he knew there wasn’t much time. He gritted his teeth, the heat in between his legs demanding relief. His thrusting became wild, erratic, every muscle of his body working towards his end.

One of Van’s hands clamped down on MIchael’s hip, his nails digging in as he growled demandingly. He pulled at Michael, rolling his body down to meet each slam and wordlessly commanding a flow of motion that suddenly became an out of body experience. They moved together as if they had done this for decades, their hips slotting together flawlessly and each collision delivering a wave of bliss that made Michael’s entire body ache.

Van’s cries were getting louder, tears and drool running down his face as his head frantically bobbed. He suddenly pulled off, moaning deep as he started jerking his cock, his fingers a feverish blur as he moaned, “Yes, yes, fuck!”

There was no power in the universe that could have made Michael look away from the beautiful debauchery of Van coming on his own tongue.

Van eagerly swallowed it all down and Michael was coming immediately, hissing pleasurably as his body finally released.

Van sighed, satisfied and content, his head falling back against the stage as Michael finished inside of him. He began to unwind from the tight knot he had folded himself into, his legs flopping by Michael’s sides.

Michael held him close, savoring the shudders in his thighs as he leaned down for a kiss. The residue of salty come was a welcome taste. “You are fucking incredible.”

“I know,” Van said with a cheeky grin, bumping their noses together. “You weren’t half bad either, you know.”

Michael snickered, kissing Van once more before pulling away to get them both cleaned up. Cocktail napkins and seltzer water did the trick, and he tossed it all away along with the condom in the trash by the bar. He sat down in a nearby booth and pulled Van in his lap.

“I suppose you’ve already figured out my name isn’t actually Robert,” Michael began, his arms curled firmly around Van’s waist. They were both still naked, and he was in any hurry to get dressed again.

“I suspected as much. But you don’t have to tell me.” Van was grinning from ear to ear. “I already figured out who you are.”

“Oh?”

“You’re the one who took down that drug lord,” Van said confidently. “You are Detective Michael Zander of the MPD. Probably not a good idea to attempt undercover work when you’ve been in the papers so much.”

“Guilty,” Michael chuckled. “Know everything about me, do you?”

“Quite a bit. You’ve also hunted Nemesis,” Van said with a wink. “The state’s most notorious serial killer named after the Greek goddess of divine retribution?”

“I did not give him that name,” Michael snorted, not directly answering the question.

“Ah, confident that it’s a man?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss any ongoing investigations,” Michael teased, leaning in to snag a kiss.

“How close are you to catching him?”

“Not very,” Michael said with a shrug. “Nemesis is more of a hobby. A hobby for a lot of cops.”

“A hobby?” Van snorted.

“He’s like Hannibal Lecter,” Michael explained. “Bigger than life, too fantastic to be real, and definitely too smart to ever get caught. Everyone wants to be the guy who catches him. Some cops think it’s multiple perps, all copying each other.”

“What do you think?”

“One guy,” Michael said firmly. “Someone with a deeply seated need for justice. Either he was wronged by the system or someone he cared about was. All of his victims have been criminals that have slipped through the courts, whether by mistrial or some other bullshit.”

“Hasn’t he killed innocent people?”

“None of his kills have been innocent,” Michael said, scowling faintly. “Don’t listen to the news. They’re full of shit.”

“What about that teacher he killed? No record, no priors, and a beloved educator.”

“Yeah, and he was a child molester with a stash of fuckin’ kiddy porn we found after he was killed,” Michael drawled. “Several former victims came forward after his death to tell us what he did. Trust me. Nemesis doesn’t kill innocent people.”

“You sound like you admire him,” Van mused, his fingertips dancing up Michael’s bare chest.

“There’s something attractive about being able to take justice in your own hands,” Michael replied honestly. “Especially when you know your perp is guilty? It would be nice to take care of ‘em, make the city a little bit safer without worrying about the courts fucking it up.”

“Like with your nine-fingered fiend?”

“Yeah,” Michael nodded. “We have DNA, prints, and a witness description. Should be a solid conviction, but all he has to do is try and claim insanity, and he’ll never see death row. That’s not justice for those men that died, not at all.”

“Eye for an eye and all that.”

“Exactly,” Michael said passionately. “Life for a life.” He huffed, a small laugh leaving his throat. “You know, I already know what I’d do if I ever caught Nemesis.”

“Oh?” Van’s brow rose.

“I’d thank him,” Michael laughed. “Probably buy him a damn drink.”

Van was studying him carefully, a bashful grin suddenly curling his lips as he swooped in for a sweet kiss. It was warm and passionate, oozing with emotion and leaving them both breathless.

“What was that for?” Michael blinked in surprise.

“Nothing,” Van said cheerfully. “Just saying thanks for a wonderful evening. I’ve got to get home and crash for a bit before my next shift.” He hopped up, stretching his lean body. “Mm, see you again tonight?”

“I’ll be here,” Michael promised.

They got dressed and parted ways with another kiss, Michael heading home to his apartment and collapsing right into bed. He could still smell Van on his clothes, drifting off to sleep with the sound of violins singing in his ears.

He awoke to his phone ringing incessantly, grumbling as he answered, “Hello?”

“Michael?” It was his captain. “Get your ass down to the warehouse on Fulton Street.”

“What is it?”

“You’re never gonna believe it unless you see it for yourself.”

When Michael arrived to the scene, he realized his captain was right. If he had actually told him what was waiting here, he would have called him a liar.

A tall man was hanging upside down from a chain attached to the warehouse ceiling, his skin flayed down to the bone from his toes to his throat. There was a silver tray with a large pitcher filled with blood, an empty chalice, and all of the man’s fingers lined up in a neat row.

Nine of them.

Michael couldn’t tear his eyes away from the horrific sight, whispering, “It’s the guy. It’s the guy who’s been killing all the dancers. It has to be… but…”

“Elaborate and sick setup?” his captain snorted. “No physical evidence, no witnesses? We both know who did this.”

“Nemesis,” Michael said knowingly, gritting his teeth. “But how? We haven’t released anything to the press! How could he possibly know?”

“I don’t know, but he left you a little love note.”

“Me?” Michael frowned and looked back to the tray.

There was a small card with his name written on it, throwing on a pair of gloves to examine it. As soon as he read what was inside, his heart dropped down into his gut like a stone.

L’chaim

No.

It couldn’t be.

Van was…

“Mean anything to you?” his captain asked gruffly.

“Nothing,” Michael lied smoothly, setting the card back down. “Pretty common Jewish saying for a toast. I must have a fan out there.”

“Or Nemesis thinks you’re a fan of his.”

“Huh.”

Michael refused to give any other response, excusing himself from the scene. His captain allowed it, perhaps thinking he was too shaken up from a monstrous serial killer reaching out to him.

On the contrary, Michael was quite flattered.

He was also very confused.

Nemesis had always been so careful. It was sloppy to reveal himself like this.

Why did Nemesis leave him such an obvious clue?

Was this a test? A threat? Was his body going to end up in its own display?

Or was it something else…

Nemesis was a monster, ruthless and sadistic, a shadowy fiend that parents threatened their children with if they didn’t behave. He had always been this intangible creature and after years of hunting him, Michael finally knew exactly who he was.

William Staffe.

Van.

Van, handsome and sweet Van who had totally and completely rocked his world last night. He recalled Van’s face when he smiled beneath him, how he had managed to look both vulnerable and yet so powerful when he danced…

This wasn’t a threat, Michael realized. It was an invitation.

Michael had told Van he would probably thank Nemesis if he ever figured out who he was. He sat in his car for a long time before he decided he was going to do much more than offer his gratitude.

He stopped by the station to pick up some files on his way home, feeling a noose drop around his neck. The finality of this decision was not lost on him, but he felt absolutely no hesitation.

Michael sat down at his computer in his tiny apartment to do some additional digging, the hour growing late as he searched for more information. He had checked out Van before, but he decided to look deeper.

His theory was that Nemesis had experienced great injustice somewhere in his life, and Michael wanted to find out what it was. William Staffe was squeaky clean, but John, his father, had a much darker past.

John had been arrested for fatally stabbing William’s mother, but he was amazingly never convicted. That same year, Van’s childhood home burned down. This was the fire that left him so disfigured.

It was ruled an accident, some sort of wiring defect, but…

“But, ah, the judge who had thrown out poor Kimberlee Staffe’s case for lack of evidence died the same night,” Van’s voice purred from behind Michael, reading the report over his shoulder. “Brakes were cut, and he had a terribly nasty accident. My second kill.”

Michael heard the click of a gun and froze in his seat. He didn’t even bother questioning how Van got in here, saying calmly, “Your father being the first, of course.”

“Of course.”

“You cut the judge’s brakes and set the house fire to give yourself an alibi? Hmm, a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Maybe a bit, but it was also an easy way to cover up my father’s murder-“

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Michael asked suddenly.

“You already have a fascination with Nemesis. Seeing your nine-fingered friend butchered so righteously mere hours after you were so kind as to give me his description? You would be suspicious. You would check the time of death and see that I have no alibi. I couldn’t let that happen.” Van chuckled, tilting his head coyly. “Besides, you said if you met me, you’d want to thank me.”

“Even better than that,” Michael said, gesturing towards the stack of files on his desk. “I want to help you.”

“Help me?” Van quirked his brows. He cautiously thumbed through the files, reading over the reports and keeping the gun pointed at Michael. “Rapist who got off because the prosecutor was drunk, murderer who got out on bail and is already suspected in a new death…”

“All wicked men who haven’t properly been served justice,” Michael said. “Yet.”

“Yet,” Van echoed with a sly smile. “Mm, what makes you think I’d let you assist me?”

“I think there’s another reason you revealed yourself to me,” Michael said, offering his hand to Van. “We see the world the same way. We want to protect the city and keep good people safe, we want justice served… no matter what.”

“There’s no going back after this,” Van warned quietly, a sadness in his smile as he accepted Michael’s hand. “You know there’s only a few ways this path can end. I accepted it long ago, but can you?”

“I know,” Michael assured him, lacing their fingers together. It was another pull on the noose tightening around his neck, his fate now sealed with this beautiful fiend. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“To help the city?”

“Yes…” Michael replied honestly, his gaze dark as he added, “and to be with you.”

“Well,” Van purred triumphantly, lowering the gun at last and bowing his head down to claim a fierce kiss, “I’d say we have plenty of work ahead of us then, don’t we?”

<333

Happy Sexy Saturday, my darlings! Woo! Today is gonna be AWESOME! It’s not only CHC’s one year anniversary, but my one year publiversary since it was my debut novel! I’m so very freakin’ happy, and I can’t wait for the big party next weekend! Woo-woo!

Be sure to stay tuned later this evening for the start of the Cold Hard Cash trivia contest! It’s gonna run all week long because it’s gonna be a toughie!

Now, today’s treat is another steamy look at my current WIP, Last One To Let You Down, my florist and undertaker BDSM romance. I’m at 52k, just hit the halfway point! Yay! I’m hoping this will be out by the end of the year, but in the meantime – enjoy!

Warnings: NSFW/plugs/prostate play/spankings/cock spanking/smut, so much smut XD

~*~

“Tonight is going to be about patience and self-love. I’m going to show you a lot of things that you’ve probably never done before. At any time if you’re not comfortable, do not hesitate to use your safe word.” Cypress held Tom’s chin firmly. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Tom loved Cypress’ strong grip, the fog of his submission already easing his already intoxicated mind. It happened so naturally that he should have been concerned, but he was only excited.

“Come on.” Cypress took him over to bed, patting the comforter. “Bend over here for me.”

Tom obeyed, draping himself over the bed and arching his hips up. He wanted to be spanked, taken hard, and he eagerly awaited for Cypress’ next move.

Cypress spread Tom’s cheeks, pushing his thumbs inward to massage around Tom’s hole. “I’m going to get your little ass ready for my cock. I’m gonna get you good and wet, stretch you out, might even let you come just to help take the edge off…”

“Yeah?” Tom asked urgently. “And then you’ll fuck me, sir?”

“Patience,” Cypress reminded him. He continued to tease and rub Tom’s hole, slipping a hand away to reach into the bedside table drawer.

Tom looked back to see a tube of lubricant and the biggest butt plug he’d ever seen. “Is that… is that for me?”

“Mmhm. Bought it just for you,” Cypress said. “Once I’ve got you good and open, we don’t wanna lose all that hard work, do we?”

“No… no, sir.” Tom was nervous, but Cypress’ firm hands were soothing as they massaged his hips, and he began to relax. “Will it hurt?”

“No,” Cypress promised. “You should only feel pressure. If you feel pain, you tell me. Yes?”

“Yes, sir.” Tom sighed softly when he felt Cypress’ slick fingers sliding around his hole. Only the tip of one breached him, stretching, teasing, and he felt Cypress’ other hand push his cheek aside.

“Good?”

“Mm, good,” Ted breathed, letting the bed take his full weight now. He was sinking down into the soft fabric and although his cock was hard, it wasn’t an immediate concern. Being touched felt good, and he let out a small sound as Cypress’ finger smoothly pushed inside of him.

Cypress thrusted a few times before easing a second finger in beside the first, pushing in slower to give Tom time to adjust to added girth.

It was all so gentle and slow, and Tom could feel himself opening up. The wet sounds of Cypress’ skilled fingers seemed to sync with Tom’s pants, and he moaned quietly, his toes curling into the rug beneath his feet.

Cypress pushed right against his prostate and rocked his hand in small circles, creating the most delicious pressure as it stretched the full circumference of Tom’s hole.

“Oh!” Tom cried out without meaning to, his hips jerking in surprise.

There was a smile in Cypress’ voice as he crooned, “Do you like that?” He removed the direct pressure for a moment, teasing around Tom’s prostate for a few seconds before pushing back down.

“Ah! Yes!” Tom moaned. “Yes, yes, yes… oh, Cypress… mmmm…”

“Have you ever come like this, Tom?” Cypress asked, shifting back to direct pressure.

“No…”

“Oh, lucky me.”

“Mmph…” Tom could feel that he was leaving a wet spot on the bed despite his cock only being half hard, but he could feel a distant pressure building.

“Patience is key,” Cypress said. “Relax. Take deep breaths. Let it wash over you. Focus on that good feeling and breathe for me…”

Cypress kept saying soothing little things, but Tom didn’t really hear him now. Time had slowed down to a tantalizing crawl, each breath took an eternity, and Cypress’ fingers never slowed. The pressure was growing stronger, and the alternating strokes and direct palpations of Cypress’ touch was doing something to him.

Even though he couldn’t understand Cypress in this strange haze, Tom used the distant sound of his voice as anchor. He stayed relaxed, remained calm, and breathed through the cascading sensations that made him want to sob.

He could feel himself twitching around Cypress’ fingers and deep inside of his loins. The tension was growing more rapidly now, and he was warm. He couldn’t tell if his dick was hard or soft but he could feel so much, and the trembling was now radiating down his legs and up his spine.

“Cypress,” he croaked, his voice cracking.

“Come on, Tom,” Cypress urged. “I can feel you… you’re almost there. You’re such a good boy. My very good boy.”

Tom heard him clear as a bell and that praise created a shiver that snuck down his body to where Cypress was stroking inside of him so relentlessly. The pressure came over him like a tsunami and then suddenly released, and Tom felt the most intense waves of pleasure shaking him to his very marrow as he came.

He howled, he cried, he laughed deliriously – the feeling didn’t stop. It was too much and perfect, and Tom thought he was going to pass out. He’d never come like this, never for this long, and all he could do was blissfully sob, “Yes, Cypress, yes, fuck, yes!”

Cypress’ fingers finally began to slow and released Tom from his orgasmic prison, pulling out gently. “Mmm, there. How was that?”

Tom was pretty sure if his body slid back even so much as an inch, he would melt right down onto the floor in a puddle. He gave a thumb’s up and Cypress draped himself over his back to kiss his shoulder.

“Good boy,” he whispered.

“Thank you, sir,” Tom said when he was able, still feeling little twitches and shudders. “Thank you so much.”

“Toys are much more effective,” Cypress said, “but mmm, I wanted your first one to be all mine.” He picked up the plug and slicked it up generously. “Breathe for me.”

Tom took a deep breath, preparing himself for an intense stretch, but the plug slid in easily. He could feel his hole involuntarily clench around it and bit his lip. It was a little strange, and he had the urge to push down, but the plug didn’t move.

“Spread your cheeks for me,” Cypress ordered. “Let me see.”

“Yes, sir.” Tom reached back to spread his cheeks, burying his face in the bed. He could feel Cypress tracing the base of the plug and arched up into his touch.

“Beautiful.” Cypress was smiling. “Come on. Now that we’ve worked on your patience, it’s time to work on your self-love.”

With Cypress’ help, Tom moved to the center of the bed and rested his head down in the pillows. His muscles still felt fuzzy and strange, and any change in position made the presence of the plug inescapable. It created constant pressure, but it was tolerable when he was still.

Cypress kneeled between Tom’s spread legs, running his hands over his thighs up to his ass. “I am going to give you some affirmations to recite for me. Do you understand?”

“And if I don’t sound sincere, you’ll spank me?”

“Oh, no.” Cypress chuckled. “I won’t spank you unless you do.”

“But… sir…?” Tom’s mind reeled.

“Pain isn’t always a punishment,” Cypress explained. “It can be a reward because the rush of adrenaline that it creates is quite enjoyable. The pain itself can be cathartic, a physical release for any emotional distress that you’re experiencing.” He rubbed his hands over Tom’s ass. “So, do you know what you have to do?”

“Yes, sir.” Tom’s mind had cleared somewhat, the drag of the alcohol cleansed by that intense orgasm. He had to be convincing if he wanted to be spanked – and God, finally admitting to himself that’s what he really was its own victory.

“Now,” Cypress began, “repeat after me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I am beautiful.”

“I am… beautiful.” Tom actually smiled. He was sweaty and flushed, his ass stuffed full with a thick silicone plug, and he could not stop smiling because he did feel beautiful. He could feel the ravenous way Cypress was looking at him and-

Cypress cracked his hand across Tom’s cheek, a stinging flash of pain that made him gasp.

“Good boy. Say it again.”

“I am beautiful. I am so fucking beautiful-ah, fuck!” Tom cried out when the next slap made his back arch, and he clenched around the plug.

“I am worthy.”

“I am… I am worthy.” Tom closed his eyes, knowing that no spanking would be coming. He savored the lingering throb from the earlier hits, and tried again. “I am worthy.”

“Why?”

Oh, Tom didn’t have the brain power to do this right now. He whined, writhing against the bed as he panted, “I don’t know… because, because I’m beautiful?”

“Come on.”

“Because…”

“Come on, my good boy,” Cypress urged.

Another pain invaded Tom’s thoughts, but this wasn’t the pleasant burn of freshly spanked skin. It was an echo of the conversation they’d had before dinner, but now Tom knew exactly what to say.

“Because I’m talented. Because I’m smart. Because no one else can do what I fucking do. No one is as good as me, and they never will be because they’ll never care like I do. I’m worthy because there’s no one else fuckin’ like me.”

“What a very good boy,” Cypress purred, rearing his hand back and bringing it down like a hammer.

Tom moaned excitedly, the sting bringing tears to his ears as the warmth spread through his body. Another sharp spank made him whimper, dragging his hands over the pillows and holding on tight. He was getting hard again, his hips restlessly grinding against the bed as Cypress gave him another fierce slap.

Cypress was quick to rub Tom’s burning cheeks, giving him a little squeeze as he said, “You’ve been so very good for me, Tom. Such a very good boy.”

“Thank you, sir.” Tom was positively beaming. He could almost taste the wicked heat coming off his scarlet cheeks.

“Roll over for me. We have one final affirmation to recite.”

Lazily twisting his hips and willing the rest of his body to follow, Tom managed to flip onto his back. He groaned breathlessly from the plug moving as he did so, his cock standing right at attention as he gazed up at Cypress. “I’m ready, sir.”

“This last one is going to be the hardest, so I’m going to alter your motivations.” Cypress took off his underwear and straddled Tom’s hips. “If you are unable to say ‘I am worth loving’, you will be spanked as a punishment.”

Even in this lusty haze, Tom was able to put two things together: one, that was going to be almost impossible for him to say in any manner that would convince Cypress, and two, Cypress was not going to spank his ass in this position.

Cypress used the heel of one hand to pin Tom’s cock against his stomach and confirmed his suspicion. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Repeat after me. I am worth loving.”

Tom inhaled slowly, licked his lips, and said firmly, “I am worth loving.”

Cypress immediately brought his other hand down, popping the underside of his fingers across the shaft of Tom’s hard cock.

Tom yelped, stunned by how unforgiving the sting was, and he moaned as the tender skin there throbbed.

“Well?” Cypress raised his hand.

“I am worth loving,” Tom weakly replied, cringing as he prepared himself to be struck.

Cypress spanked Tom’s cock twice in rapid succession, keeping his heel firmly at the base.

“Oh, fuck! Fuck!” Tom groaned, his back curling off the bed and bucking up against Cypress’ hand, desperate for any friction to counter the pounding in his cock. He clenched around the plug and moaned again. “Fuck…”

“I am worth loving,” Cypress repeated.

Tom closed his eyes, hot with tears, and tried to focus. Beyond his physical appearance and skills, he had so much to give. He was tired of one-sided affairs where he invested everything he had and barely got pocket change in return.

He deserved a relationship with someone where they would take care of each other and lift one another up, challenge and encourage each other and build something to last a lifetime.

He deserved someone to love him back as much as he would love them, and all of his previous partners’ inability to provide that was merely a reflection of their insufficient value…

Not Tom’s.

“Tom?” Cypress pushed again.

“Yes!” Tom cried passionately. “I am worth it! I’ve always been worth it! Always!”

“Yes,” Cypress hissed triumphantly, surging forward to kiss him. “My good boy, yes. That was perfect. So fucking perfect!”

Tom kissed back fiercely, groaning loudly as Cypress removed the plug. He was empty and wet, but Cypress’ cock was right there, gliding inside silky smooth, and Tom sobbed in relief to be filled once more.

He needed movement, something, anything, and he begged, “Please fuck me! Cypress! Fuck me, God, please!”

Cypress took him fast, hard, a brutal pace that ended with Tom’s legs up on his shoulders and him screaming Cypress’ name until he came inside him and finished Tom off with a few quick pumps of his hand.

As they both drifted back down from the heights of bliss, they held each other close and traded breathless kisses.

“So,” Tom panted. “Cock spanking. That’s a thing.”

“Did you like it?” Cypress smiled happily.

“Very much.”

“Just wait ‘til I bust out my riding crop.”

“Oh, ha ha, very funny.” Tom rolled his eyes, but then he realized Cypress didn’t appear to be joking. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh, fuck.”

<333