Do It Now!

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Meet Lance Condroit from SEX AFTER MASS --

Bending rules lead to such hard things!

Lance Condroit made up his mind to do what he vowed never to do again. He overheard a conversation between two men outside the rectory about club Evolve and tonight he would see it for himself. Lance reached the upscale men’s club, removed his hard, white collar, and placed it in his jacket pocket. Entering the door, he was quick to blend into the crowd in search of a little piece of Heaven right here on earth.

ReligErotica

EXCERPT:

Fire coursed down his throat and into his stomach where it swirled in the empty pit leaving him breathless. Lance Condroit had drunk nothing stronger than communion wine since he left seminary and his intention was to savor his brandy, enjoy a flash of confidence he hoped his drink would bring. Lance had not expected the dragon blast of heat choking him as he twisted away so as not to splatter the bar and the men on either side of him. Liquid left in his mouth splashed the stranger who had jostled him from behind and caused Lance to gulp the strong liquor in the first place.

The same stranger he’d stolen looks at across the crowded room.

“Jesus Christ, I’m sorry man.”

Struggling to stem sermonizing words about using the Lord’s name in vain only choked him more. “My fault,” he finally sputtered.

“It’s just a tee shirt.” He reached around to grab napkins from the bar top and Lance stifled a groan at how delicious his cologne smelled as it assailed his nostrils. The man dabbed his shirt before he pushed a handful at Lance. “I’m staying at a hotel down the block.” Lines crinkled corners of blue eyes level with Lance’s which meant he was at least five feet ten inches tall. “I can’t be arrested for drunk driving if an officer nabs me jaywalking.”

The mention of clothing drew Lance’s attention downward. A black tee did nothing to conceal muscle lacing his torso and as he glanced further, Lance took in strong thighs covered by denim. “I apologize.”

“Pierce James.” He extended his hand.

Lance grasped it, “Lance.”

“Ah, you’re from around here.”

“How’d you know?”

“First name only is usually a good sign someone is from the area.” He shrugged. “It makes it harder to locate you should anyone attempt to.” He smiled and took tattered napkins from Lance’s hand and placed them on the bar. “I’m in town on business.” Signaling the bartender, he asked, “What are you drinking?”

“Brandy, but I’m okay.” Lance hoped he concealed tremors of desire running through his body. “So, you do this often?” Probably shouldn’t have another. He yearned to reach out and touch Pierce’s chest, feel his body. Such a long time—too long.

“As often as I like. You sure about the drink? You might want it later.”

On second thought, Lance wanted another. Most of the first one was on Pierce’s shirt and the floor. Perhaps it would settle nerves frayed with excitement. Pierce spoke with the bartender and Lance took the opportunity to continue his perusal. Mid forties, good looking as well as athletic, and from the firm, callused handshake, Lance could tell he worked with his hands. Closer inspection revealed he didn’t wear a common tee shirt, and the name on his jeans indicated Pierce’s outfit wasn’t run-of-the-mill. Gray streaked otherwise dark hair worn neck length and Lance would have bet his meager salary Pierce visited a stylist earlier which made work-roughened hands an anomaly. Lance stole a peek at his crotch and sighed inwardly. Swollen, beckoning—please, please, let this happen.

Hard to believe a mere hour ago, Father Lance Condroit had said five o’clock Mass.

“So?”

Lance blinked and shook his head. “Excuse me?”

Pierce’s soft laughter eased down Lance’s spine and relaxed him a little. “If I hadn’t been checking you out from behind, you may still have your first drink.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. I saw you watching me.” He ran his knuckles over Lance’s chin. “There’s a lot happening in those brown eyes.”

“I…umm...”

“First time at Evolve?”

“Yes.” The men’s club situated in Los Angeles was far enough away not to run into a parishioner, though he did learn about Evolve from two gay members he prayed did not show up tonight. Lance’s small congregation did not discriminate against anyone for any reason and he meant to see it stayed that way.

“Nothing to be nervous about. I know the owner and you can be sure Evolve and those who visit are discreet.”

Nerves and indecision had kept Lance from observing his surroundings upon arrival. Pierce’s quiet, calm manner continued to relax him. Glancing about, he noticed couples sitting at open tables laughing and talking, while in more secluded booths along the wall nearest the corner of the bar he rested against, men kissed or just held hands.

“You okay?”

“I haven’t been with a man in five years.”

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

Not Hardly Soft

2 DAYS left - CLUB EVOLVE is .99ȼ. Hurry, sale ENDS 9/30/18.

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Meet Anthony Calhoun. If you like a little rough play and some spanking with your cocktails, you'll like NOT HARDLY SOFT --

Touched softly, unbreakable will shatter!

Anthony Calhoun designed and tailored men’s clothing but in no way is his prim and proper white ass a pushover. Ant transplanted to Los Angeles from Philadelphia and damn if he didn’t bring some South Philly with him! He wants a lover not a partner so unless the gorgeous black, and very debonair, Gunner Bonds can handle business, he better step off.

EXCERPT:

“Don’t get pissy with me because you didn’t have nerve to say something to Gun.”

Gun. The name rolled around in Anthony's head, made concentrating on Jim’s garment difficult. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t forget how well I know you.”

Placing the last pin, he smacked Jim on the butt. “Done, go take them off.” He waited for him to disappear into a dressing stall before he remarked to Lodge, “I thought about him.” All night long that first night, and then some. At least six feet tall with cognac colored eyes and beautiful brown skin that had glistened under lights behind the bar. The way his ass tightened, thighs quivered with each step when he moved to serve someone else, it was as if a bronzed God had been erected in Club Evolve. Anthony retrieved spare material from the floor and tossed it on his work table where a matching jacket lay ready to be completed. Both pieces fit Jim perfectly and only required finishing touches. “So what?”

“It’s okay to do something for yourself, Ant. Might loosen your tight ass up.”

“If you’re lobbying for the job, you missed your chance.”

“I’m just saying.”

“I’m too finicky.” He owned a spacious house on two and a half acres in Topanga Canyon he had worked hard to acquire. Anthony loved being surrounded by beautiful things and he’d amassed quite an array of antiques and art work which he made sure remained in tip top condition. More importantly, every item stayed in its place. His view of mountains, a large swimming pool, and meticulously kept landscaping was all he needed to complete his very disciplined life style. “I like being able to pick and choose who I want when I want them.” No need to mention how badly he craved the handsome black man.

“You don’t have to marry the bastard, Ant, let him screw your brains out.” Lodge’s grin widened, “Or vice versa.”

He stared out the window of his shop and watched cars speed by heading to various destinations to connect with family, friends, or lovers. “He’s barely approaching the backside of twenty.” When had forty-two become old?

“Hard to keep today’s greedy young men in their place.”

“I do it.” Turning to look at Lodge, Anthony declared, “By keeping them out of mine.” He never took them home.

“Why don’t you have dinner with us at Evolve tomorrow night. We’re dining with friends and I’d like you to meet Zedidiah Mandrake who owns Evolve.”

“I’d like that.”

Hustling Lodge and Jim out, Anthony left a few notes for his staff since he expected to be late tomorrow morning. He needed to release a lot of pent up stress. Anthony could think of a few ways to do that with one other participant who had taken up residence in the forefront of his mind.

Gunner Bonds.

He likes to play rough.

* * * * *

Gunner watched as the man, wearing another of the finest suits he’d ever seen, left Zed’s table and meandered toward the bar.

Last time he visited Evolve, he spoke no more than four words. First two—Screaming Orgasm. Who the hell drank Vodka, chocolate and coffee flavored liquor mixed with amaretto and Irish cream liquor! Jesusfuckingchrist, did Gunner want to give him something to scream about but it in no way correlated to a drink. He’d watched the lean, stunningly gorgeous, white man, whose height matched his, twirl dark curls back and forth around a slender finger nursing the godawful sweet concoction for damn near an hour while he remained standing. All Gunner could imagine was how his sensuous lips would feel wrapped around his thick, black dick. Emotionless brown eyes peered around Evolve seemingly uninterested though Gunner did catch him eyeing his crotch once or twice.

His last two words—thank you. Then he vanished as quickly as he had arrived.

Gunner had not expected to see him again and damn it, his shift was ending.

Reaching for necessary ingredients, he quickly mixed the same drink he requested on his last visit. Another bartender sidled up and said, “I’ll get it if you want to run.”

“I got it.”

“You sure?”

“All yours after this one.”

“Okay.”

When the man reached a stool in front of Gunner, he slid the drink toward him. “Screaming Orgasm, right?” Again, he remained standing.

“You remembered what I like.” He sipped his mixture and when he slowly licked his lips, Gunner’s body barreled into overdrive. “Gunner, my name is Anthony, I’d like you to call me Ant.” Head tilted questioningly, “Do you do everything this perfectly?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Splendid.” Saluting Gunner with his glass, he proceeded to swallow what remained.

Anthony, Ant, knew Gunner’s name which meant he asked around about him. “You know my name?” He peered over Ant’s shoulder to catch Jim heading in their direction. Fucking Christ, he held a key card. Was it possible…

“Gun, Zed requested I bring this over.” He proffered the key.

So, they had talked about him over dinner. He leaned to see Zed nod in his direction. How important was Anthony? Gunner seized the card and audibly sighed when he noted not only was it gold, it carried room number eleven. BDSM. After Jim left, he stared at Ant. “Did you have anything to do with this?”

“I had everything to do with it.”

“What do you want?”

“You.”

“If I say no?”

“I reply have a nice evening and leave you wondering what you may have missed.”

“Maybe it’s you who would lose out.”

“I won’t.” Lips curved mockingly. “Perhaps you will discover a different side of yourself in my care.”

“Your care?” Did he actually believe he’d be in control? “Goddamn if you aren’t fucking sure of yourself.” Ant winced. Was it Gunner’s use of foul language? Please don’t let him be that prim and proper.

“I’m sure of one thing.” Ant leaned and whispered, “Tonight, I want you.” Warm breath tickled Gunner’s ear, sent a shiver of pure delight straight to his crotch. “I’d bet one of my best suits your penis is swelling.”

Penis! Gun stepped back to give him an eyeful. “Keep the suit. I own an array of costly outfits.”

“I’d attire you much better.”

“Doubtful. Anyway, I prefer buying my own apparel.” As impeccable as his suit was, wouldn’t surprise Gunner if the wise ass did tailor-make his clothes. He hoped to set the prudish bastard back on his heels a little. “But I will fill your tight ass with every inch of my black dick.”

“We shall see.”

He pivoted toward his group leaving Gunner to stare after him. “What the fuck?”

Stopping dead in his tracks, Ant spun and narrowed lifeless eyes. “We’ll do something about that nasty mouth of yours when I join you. Restraint is exceedingly important to success.”

“Restraint?” Anthony kept walking. Oh, having this motherfucker would be the highlight of his year. Gunner had never been enraptured with a man who appeared, for lack of a better word, fey! Decorous and seemingly unbreakable, Gunner swore to himself he’d have Anthony cursing like a sailor by daylight and begging for more. He pondered allowing the prick to believe he controlled their encounter and, accordingly, Gunner would get exactly what he wanted. He whispered to himself, “You’ll bend for me.”

Growl and roar—it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

The Essentiants

The Essentiants – Full series

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Healing Hell – Book 1

A soul is a terrible thing to waste.

Ion Toso is an Essentiant—a creature who steals souls. A world-renowned model who also poses as a live mannequin, Ion is weary of loneliness and dreams of finding someone to accept the part of him that steps off the runway or from the window, the part no one dares look at twice. 

Breaking Heaven – Book 2

A soul for your thoughts...

Dresdan Mati thrives on stealing souls and he possesses the strength to heal. He can conquer the pain of a thousand deaths but he can’t overcome his desire to bed a virgin tethered to God. To have the one woman who eases his torment he must show his true self—a minion of pure evil responsible for stealing the last breath of the living.

Excerpt from Breaking Heaven:

Rosalind would not have chosen Dresdan, but fate had thrown them together. She had dreamed about it long enough, and her body willed her to act on the feelings. She tightened her fingers around his shaft through the material, wanting to feel it touch the skin of her hand. She lifted her head and was dizzy with need when she murmured, “I want to feel it.”

“Ah, Ros.” He moved his hand from the small of her back, eased it between their two bodies, and unfastened his slacks.

When he pulled his hardness out, she sucked in a draught of air. “Dresdan?”

“Shhh, touch it.” This time he eased two fingers inside of her. “Tell me you want my dick. Say it.”

“I, ohhh!” Cream slid from Rosalind, causing her knees to bow.

“I got you.” Removing his fingers, he lifted and carried her to the bed. He sat with Ros cradled in his lap, pulling her sandals off and removing her jeans. “Fucking beautiful,” he whispered as he feathered fingers over her belly. “Deep, golden honey.” He shoved a hand under her shirt and lifted it over her head. Returning his attention to her body, Dres pinched a painfully taut nipple. “Say it.”

“I… It’s…” She floundered. The word had never crossed her lips, but she wanted more than anything to say it for Dresdan. “I want your…your dick.”

He smiled at her, and it lit his eyes once more. “God, you are precious.” He touched her lips with his fingertips. “You’ve never used that word.”

She shook her head.

“I’m going to eat your pussy.” He laid her on the covers, knelt on the floor, and spread her legs.

When his tongue touched her, Rosalind cried out. “Dresdan!” She hoped the sound of the engines drowned out the cry. What would she say to Sandy? What would Ion think of her? Suddenly, she didn’t care. All she thought about was the man whose lips pressed tight to her…to her…pussy. Saying the word in her head, visualizing what it would feel like to have his shaft inside her sent Rosalind spiraling out of control. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.” Totally out of control, she arched her body in a desperate effort to get more.

“Yeah, give me that sweet cunt,” he mumbled.

She rose using her elbows and watched his head bob up and down. Grasping a handful of black hair, she drew him tighter against her nether lips. “More. Please, please, more.”

He lifted his head and gazed at her. “You want my cock?”

“Yes, yes.” Rosalind fell back, and when she felt his weight hit the bed, she regained some sense. “I need to tell you something.” He pushed her thighs wide and used his fingers again. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach, and she envisioned unraveling it, letting go of what she’d held precious. Stop him! She had to stop him. Rosalind wanted him, oh, God, did she want Dresdan. Yet it was moving too fast. Something in her mind screamed wait, make it special and make it last. Knowing what he was didn’t sway her. Something made her believe he wasn’t as evil as she’d initially thought. The same something told her if Dresdan knew, he wouldn’t want her. “Wait.”

“Talk to me, Rosalind.”

“I’m… I’ve never done this.” How had she let it get so far? His fingers continued to work inside her. They went much deeper this time, and a slight pain made her wince.

Dresdan stilled as he stared at her. His gray eyes darkened. “No.” His head shook. “No. No.”

“I tried to tell you.”

“Goddamn it to hell, Rosalind. You’re a virgin?”

His head went back and his bellow of rage filled the cabin and felt as though it rocked the bed. Standing, he zipped his pants, reached for her clothes on the floor, and placed them on the bed. “I’m so fucking sorry.” He turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Dresdan didn’t hear her plead, “Don’t leave me like this.”

* * * * *

“What the hell, man?”

Striding through the cabin, Dres had never felt so confused and angry in all the centuries he’d roamed the earth. He ignored Ion’s question and glanced at Sandy. “She might need you.”

Sandy ran to the back of the plane and vanished through the door.

Ion glared at him. “What the fuck did you do, Dres?”

He stopped at the cockpit door and turned to his best friend. “She’s a virgin.”

“Christ, I thought someone died in there.”

Dres struggled to contain the blazing white fire within him that was threatening to dance through the cabin and burn everything in its path. “Ion, she’s…she’s, shit, she’s too good for me.” He yanked the door open and disappeared into the cockpit.

His copilot looked warily in his direction. “You okay?”

He probably had the same idea Ion did. “Yeah, why don’t you go have a bite to eat. I’ll take it from here.”

The door opened and closed behind the copilot. After checking the instrument panel, Dresdan looked at his fingers locked on the control wheel, the fingers he used to touch Rosalind, feel her heat, and give her pleasure. Dres stared out into the blue sky and remembered the last line of John Gillespie Magee Jr.’s poem, “High Flight.” He whispered the words in his cockpit. “Put out my hand and touched the face of God.” He glanced at his hand. It trembled.

How in hell did anyone not a nun reach her age and still be a virgin? Dresdan was many things but he couldn’t imagine taking from her something so wondrous and beautiful, something that should only be given in love. His fist slammed the steering control. “Unfuckingbelievable.” He brought the hand to his face, stroked the stubble of growth there, and smelled her scent. Touching his lips, he tasted her, and it made him rail against God. “Why? Why put her in my path now?” Rosalind’s God had found a way to keep her pure and safe for the man who would have and hold her heart forever.

Agitation brewed in his mind even more when a glance at his watch as he touched down at Van Nuys Airport showed him seven minutes behind schedule. He had made this trip too many times and had never taken more than three hours and twenty-five minutes.

Control of his life had already begun to slip.

“Shit,” he exclaimed, taxiing to his private hanger. After situating the plane, he rested his head against the seat, allowing an audible sigh to fill the cabin. Ion had a limo standing by, and he would see to the women disembarking and getting safely to Malibu. Dres would make the ride home alone. As he listened to the luggage being removed from the belly of the jet, he rolled his stiff shoulders. His soul swirled with need, one he wouldn’t deny himself. The importance he placed on control meant he must regain a semblance of balance before he reached home. Otherwise, he’d only brood as he strolled on the beach remembering. Remembering the sweet taste of Rosalind.

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

You've Got Time

I've got a story... Wait, there are 7 stories in one big book and they're on sale for 7 more days! CLUB EVOLVE is .99ȼ. Hurry, sale ENDS 9/30/18.

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Up for some light BDSM? Today, I give you Lodge Davidson from COMING TO STAY:

What he looks like is not what he is!

Jim Heights lands the unenviable responsibility of getting rid of a biker due to Club Evolve’s strict dress code. Forearms riddled with tattoos and wearing leather, neither a sign Jim’s task would be easy.

Lodge Davidson has never been tossed out of a club but a quiet voice and a firm grip coerce him toward Evolve’s entrance before he even orders his beer. One thought ran through LD’s mind—return and make the pretty bartender his for a night.

EXCERPT:

“For crying out loud! You are aware we have a camera in the parking lot.” Zed’s anger caused Jim to worry about his job. “Evolve isn’t some sleazy club where you screw someone in the parking lot and drive away.”

“We didn’t screw. He wasn’t dressed appropriately so I couldn’t bring him in.”

“Who the fuck was he and why was he out there in the first place?”

Should he explain to the owner that the rough ass dropped in earlier and Jim escorted him out? Tell him the bastard turned him on so much he’d thought about him all day. “Name’s Lodge and he’s not a bad guy.” Flipping his ponytail from his shoulder, Jim kept talking with hopes of convincing Zed his biker wasn’t corrupt or depraved. His biker! Damn, situation went from bad to worse. “He’s got a college degree.”

Zed spun on him so rapidly, Jim jumped back. “I have a degree and I’d have ripped his fucking balls off for pulling a stunt like that.”

“Goddamn it, Zed. I could have gotten in my car and drove away but I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted him.” Plain and simple truth.

“Sanders and his fucking dress code.” Falling into a chair, Zed exhaled noisily. “This time I agree.” He eyed Jim. “I don’t want Evolve’s parking lot to become a hangout for wild, boisterous bikers.”

“He’s not like that.”

“You know this how?”

“When I showed him out earlier yesterday he didn’t give me a problem.”

“Earlier? He was here? Inside!”

“Lord, Zed, I didn’t just meet the guy riding through the parking lot.” Heat flooded Jim’s face thinking of what he must have looked like shoving cock into LD’s mouth.

“Son of a bitch, Jim! You met, no, saw him twice in your life and he’s snacking on your dick in the parking lot?”

Twice… Only twice and he’d have done anything Lodge asked. Shit! Jim wiped hands down his face. “I know, I know. Christ, I didn’t think he’d come back.”

“Humph. Well he did and he waited for you to come out. Must be a reason.”

Yeah, he wanted to suck my dick. “It meant nothing to him.”

“Not so sure your right.”

“What do you mean?”

“That man on the camera was a handsome piece of shit.” Zed hesitated as if he remembered something. Shaking his head, he went on. “Men like him can take anything or anyone they want in their type of crowd.”

“He’s not some hard ass biker.” Which was exactly the type Jim wanted. Lodge wouldn’t be gentle; he’d take him fiercely, do things to him no one ever had. “He said he likes to ride alone.”

“Keep telling yourself that and everything should be hunky dory until his gang shows up.” Zed stood, picked his keys up, and then headed to the door. He opened it and chatter from Friday night’s after work crowd filtered through. “We’re near capacity so I called in a second bouncer for out front.” He scowled, “That means no leather, no bikers, and no more cock sucking in my parking lot. Let him grab a meal somewhere else for God’s sake.”

He walked out and left Jim wondering how LD would circumvent the damn cameras. He didn’t even have a number to reach him and warn him in case he decided… Goddamn it, he could have any of his sort. Why would he race back to Evolve to see Jim? What had Zed called it—snacking on your dick.

“He’s not coming back.” Jim’s stomach sank.

He wanted LD to return and fulfill his promise.

* * * * *

The man exiting Evolve stopped and stared at him and Lodge discerned the instant recognition dawned. He pointed, “Davidson… Lodge Davidson. Unfuckingbelievable! I thought that face was familiar. You bought a warehouse in Simi four months ago to start your own business. A piece of property with twelve acres and a lake?”

“I did. You work for Drake Corp?”

“I am Drake Corporation. Name’s Zedidiah Mandrake. I also own Club Evolve.” He squinted. “I came in just as my brother, Danton, wrapped things up and I seldom forget a face.”

“Worse luck,” he mumbled. Lodge headed toward the entrance but stopped and spun. “I need a favor?”

“You ballsy bastard.” He glowered. “Not sure you’re in position to ask for special treatment.”

Fucking hard ass. “If it’s money…”

“I know your worth. Checked you out on paper before turning you over to Danton.”

“I don’t want your bartender, Jim, to know.”

“Jesus, you want him to believe you’re some fucking biker?” Zed slouched against a German four-door Turbo S parked at the curb. “He’s also my assistant manager. Do you even know his last name?”

“For now, yes, and no, I only got Jim.”

“It’s Heights and why, for God’s sake?”

Being ripped off once in a lifetime is enough. That and other things kept him from screwing around over the last four or five months. “I have my reasons.” Why Jim, and why now? Too much needed to get done before embroiling himself in anything.

“Two things.” Zed strode back to where Lodge stood. “First, Jim’s going to know something is up when he sees you in an expensive suit. He’s not stupid.” He poked his finger in Lodge’s chest. “I will hurt you if you harm a hair on his head.”

“Take it easy.” He shoved Zed’s arm away. “He doesn’t know I’m here tonight and my only intention is to give Jim what he wants.” Why for God’s sake? Folding arms across his chest, Lodge asked, “Any particular reason for your interest in Jim?” Mandrake better not be… Shit! This would be the second time, actually his third seeing the man. No way should he care who else might have designs on him.

Lodge wanted one night.

“If I did have an interest you wouldn’t get through that door.” Laughter ricocheted from the stone wall behind Lodge. “I like the kid.”

“Trust me, he’s not a kid.”

“Figure of speech.” He spun and took no more than two steps before he twisted around. “Second thing—fuck with him in my parking lot again, I’ll rip your nuts off. Jim deserves better than that.”

“Goddamn. Cameras in the parking lot too?”

“Everywhere but the private rooms.”

“Jesus, you sure keep close tabs on people who work for you.”

“I take care of my employees. Wait until your company is up and running then you’ll understand. How’s that going by the way?”

“Things haven’t quite come together but I finished my house on the lake.” Lodge might learn to like Zedidiah. Motherfucker ran a tight ship. He remarked, “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

“My gut feeling is you won’t either.” A genuine smile curved his lips. “If there’s anything I can help with, give me a call.”

“Might do that.”

Pivoting, Zed looked confused. “Shit, this isn’t my car.”

Lodge’s turn to laugh. “It’s mine and your ass better not have scratched it.” He opened the door, walked in, and blended into Evolve’s crowd. For some unknown reason, he wanted nothing more than to watch Jim for a while. Pretty bastard could finagle his way into… Whoa, that’s not going to happen.

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

Come on in...

Take a look around—feel the heat! CLUB EVOLVE is on sale for .99ȼ. Seven (7) great stories for an awesome price. Sale ENDS 9/30/18.

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There is never a chill in the air at CLUB EVOLVE. Grab your copy today for .99ȼ. Snuggle up, stay warm, and meet Pierce James from BOY IS PRETTY:

How do you give back what you asked for?

Pierce James asked a friend to introduce him to Sanders Cain, but he didn’t ask to be belittled by the prissy bastard. Nor was he interested in having his old college roommate’s leftovers, and if it meant curtailing his visits to club Evolve—so be it. Somewhere in Los Angeles is another place he can seek what he desires. Pierce only had to find it, and then hope the face and voice of Sanders didn’t go there with him.

EXCERPT:

One weekend, one lousy freaking weekend off and Evolve’s entertaining the Pope.

“Oh, for crying out loud, Sanders, he was a priest, not the goddamn Pope.”

Zedidiah Mandrake owned Evolve and happened to be Sanders Cain’s boss both here and at Drake Corp. “It isn’t right to allow a man of the church to have access to Evolve’s private rooms.”

“Are you espousing discrimination?” Zed pivoted to order a drink before adding, “I should have never divulged Pierce’s business.”

“A priest, Zed. Furthermore, I understand your jean and tee shirt wearing thug has become a regular fixture here a few times a month.”

“He’s not my anything, and thug is a bit over the top even for you. Pierce could damn near buy Drake Corp if he wanted.” Zed ran a hand through his hair just as Kerr walked up. “Kerr, talk some sense into him.”

“I’d be careful what this Pierce person does for a living.”

“Sanders, he went to university with Zed, and they’re in the same business.” Kerr laughed. “I do agree, however, Evolve’s dress code should be taken seriously.”

“I’m done with this, let’s go.” Sanders watched as Zed downed his drink and prepared to leave.

“Aren’t we going to wait for Pierce?” Kerr rested a hand on Zed’s arm. “You should introduce him to Sanders before we leave.”

“What! Oh God, I’m not interested in meeting anyone who dresses so shabbily.”

“You’re right. Pierce isn’t someone you should meet.”

“Lord knows, he’s probably out there right now planning his next heist.”

“I’m sure.” Zed’s lips curled into a smile. “Of course, Pierce’s day job is just a front for all kinds of foul play.”

“Did I hear my name?” Sanders spun to look into serious blue eyes. “Shabby? Really?”

He twisted to glower at his boss. “You knew he was behind me?”

“I couldn’t resist.” Zed reached to shake Pierce’s hand. “Pierce James, meet Sanders Cain.” Sanders wanted to sink through the floor when Zed told Pierce, “You missed the part where he called you a thug.”

“That I can live with because, hell, might still be true.” Pierce’s eyes blazed. “But shabby.” Hands motioned up and down his body, “What I’m wearing would cost you a month’s wages, you snotty prick.”

That got Sander’s ire up. “You arrogant SOB, you don’t know what I make?”

“I know how stingy Zedidiah can be.”

“Both of you kiss my ass. Kerr, let’s go.”

“Zed, you are not going to leave this… This criminal…”

“Criminal?” Pierce grabbed Sanders by the arms and pulled him against his body. “You feel my cock?” He kissed Sanders so hard; he drew blood when their mouths smashed together. He forced his tongue through lips Sanders failed to keep closed. Deep, long, a kiss that spit fire into his lungs as it robbed him of air. When he thrust Sanders backward, cold, blue eyes assessed him. “If it somehow finds its way up your ass, I’d cut it the fuck off.”

* * * * *

Pierce walked with Zed and Kerr to the door. “What the fuck were you thinking, Zed?”

“Hey, you wanted to meet the elusive Sanders.”

“Yeah, well, big mistake. Highly unlikely I’ll continue to come here if there’s the slightest chance of running into his ass again.”

“Bullshit.” Zed winked. “You’ll spend the rest of the night trying to get into that pretty boy’s pants.” He took two steps toward the door and stopped. “Nice suit by the way.”

“Screw you, Zed.” His friend left him standing inside Evolve’s door, mouth agape. “Goddamn it.” Pierce whipped angrily around and headed to get a drink. To think he dressed up to meet the fussy jackass. Sanders stood at one end of the bar talking with Jim, the regular weekend bartender. Pierce strolled to the opposite end of the bar. “Wish this damn thing was longer,” he mumbled under his breath. He scowled toward Sanders and observed his dark head bent to listen to something Jim said. Light behind the bar revealed a curl of almost black hair fall forward and Pierce watched him sweep a hand he knew would be soft across his forehead to nudge the tendril away from his handsome face.

Not in this lifetime would I fuck his prissy ass. But oh, the pretty motherfucker had Pierce’s cock on the rise.

Another bartender approached and slid one of Evolve’s coveted key cards across the bar. “Zed ordered champagne for you.”

“Bastard.” Pierce could stand here and simmer or he could go to the private room and collect himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this angry. Shit, he’d worn one of his best suits to meet Sanders, and Zed assured him the elusive manager looked forward to getting to know him. “Lying piece of shit.” Taking a deep breath, Pierce walked around the bar toward the entrance of Evolve’s private rooms. He had to pass Sanders on the way but he damn sure wasn’t going to give him satisfaction of making eye contact.

Pierce slid the card through the slot, grunted at the guard, and made his way to the room Zed had given him for the night. If he had paid for it, he’d definitely seek a refund. Damn it to hell, Pierce liked Evolve, but if the saucy prick said anything else offensive, he’d deck his ass and face the consequences.

“Christ.” Pierce flopped into a sumptuous wing backed chair beside the table holding the champagne bucket. Reaching for the bottle, he opened it and poured a flute full of golden liquid. Zed only served the best in his club so Pierce knew he wouldn’t be disappointed yet after taking a few sips, he found himself wanting something stronger. Pierce pressed a red button located on the phone and leaned back to wait for a server. He rested his eyes until he heard a light knock. “Come in.” The electric lock clicked open and Pierce turned his head to see Sanders waiting just inside. “Shit, don’t tell me I have to deal with your…”

“Call me a snotty prick again I’ll smack you from here to hell.”

“What the fuck did you say?”

“You heard me. Our regular server became ill and left. What can I get for you?”

Pierce stood and covered the distance in a few strides to where Sanders waited. “You can get the hell out.”

“Okay by me, but if you need anything, I’ll be bringing it.”

“Can you find me a real man?”

“Ooh…ooh… You motherfucker.” Sanders balled his right hand into a fist and swung.

Pierce stopped it midair. “Try something that stupid one more time and I’ll…” What? What the fuck was he going to do? Zed wouldn’t allow him to walk through the door ever again if he hit anyone in Evolve who wasn’t paying to be spanked. He’d certainly kick Pierce’s ass if he harmed a hair on Sanders’ head.

“Let me go you…you...” Blue eyes sparked with anger as Pierce held his fist trapped.

“Thug?” He remembered Zed’s stories about Sanders who was years younger, how he had protected him growing up because other boys bullied him. Pierce grew up in a tough neighborhood, and yeah, he was rowdy most of his life, but thug? Those days were long gone. His company damn near carried as much influence as Drake Corp did in the area of real estate, and he didn’t need to be a bully anymore. Pierce studied the man. So fucking sweet. Had Zed lied when he said he had never made a play for Sanders? “Did you ever fuck Zed?” Pierce released Sanders hand fairly sure he wouldn’t try that approach again.

“Excuse me?”

“Zed, did you and Zed ever fuck?” If they had, Pierce wouldn’t touch the man. One thing he had vowed never to do—have Zedidiah Mandrake’s leftovers. Pierce’s self-imposed rule left the playing field slim when they attended university together. Zed attracted men like a magnet. Every size, shape and color. Unfortunately, Pierce and he had the same taste and Sanders fit that bill perfectly. Why the hell was he considering touching Sanders?

“That is none of your business.”

Prissy bitch may have well added sir. “I’m making it my business.” No. No. No.

“You can go screw yourself, Mr. James.”

“But I’d rather screw you.” Aww, shit! Eyes filled with mortification, his slight frame shook with indignity at Pierce’s affront as hands clenched and unclenched at his side. Christ, his cheeks turning pink served to make Sanders even more attractive to the part of Pierce he considered a thug. He was right—enough of the old Pierce still existed to take what he wanted. “I’ll fuck you much better than he did.”

“If you lay a finger on me, I’ll tell Zed.”

“Will you tell him how well my dick filled your ass?” Pierce stepped closer and touched his cheek. “So fucking pretty.” Reaching behind Sanders’ neck, Pierce pulled him into another violent kiss just as hard as the one they experienced earlier. Somehow, this one carried more heat; it satisfied Pierce much more causing him to groan when Sanders’ permitted him access to his mouth and tangled his tongue with Pierce’s in a fierce fight for supremacy.

What happened next shocked the shit out of Pierce.

The last glimpse he’d had of Sanders’ hands, they were clenched at his side so when Pierce felt one grip his nuts hard, he damn near dropped to one knee. “Ow-oww, goddamn you!”

“You won’t have to cut it off if I tear it off for you.”

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele