Excerpt From: Yes!

“Are you calling me a slut?”

“I’m merely making an observation,” Kevin’s friend corrected. “You seem to have trouble saying no to men.” He swallowed a mouthful of his coffee and set the mug down on the low table between them.

Andrew Holt raised an eyebrow. He took a sip from his own steaming mug and carefully considered the young man sitting opposite him. He was certainly the type of man Andrew would enjoy saying yes to.

If he hadn’t turned up on Kevin’s arm, Andrew was quite sure he would have said yes, along with far more interesting things, to him weeks ago. However, while Andrew might not be willing to admit to having many morals, he did have standards. Poaching his friend’s lover was beneath them.

A bit of harmless flirtation on a quiet Saturday morning was quite a different thing, he reassured himself. There weren’t any other attractive men in the coffee shop—Kevin would understand how easy it was to get bored in that situation.

“No.” Andrew smiled across the coffee table. “I appear to be quite capable of saying the word to you.”

Kevin’s friend met his eyes and held his gaze for several long seconds. “I’ve never asked you anything that would tempt you to say yes to me.” As serious as he was obviously trying to appear, a hint of a smile continued to play around his lips.

Andrew sighed. For all his faults, knew when the ice was getting thin. It appeared Kevin’s new guy really was Andrew’s favourite type—cheeky, cute and ready to play. If he wasn’t very much mistaken, there was also something about Kevin’s friend that hinted he had the potential to be a very interesting dominant in a few years’ time.

Andrew set his coffee mug and his inclination to give in to temptation aside. “He may be a submissive, but Kevin would still have your balls on a platter if he found out you were screwing around behind his back. Mine too, if I was the one stupid enough to help you cheat on him.”

Excerpt From: Yes, Forever: Part One

“I do want to apologise,” Benji began.

John gave him his full attention and Benji continued.

“I do tend to over step, and I’m pushy and loud and obnoxious,” Benji rushed out. “And it’s worse when I’ve had a few drinks, so maybe it’s best that you didn’t have any beer, really. I am sorry for being an asshole Sunday.” Benji hitched one shoulder. “I do think you’re pretty hot in this controlled, I don’t make mistakes sort of way. Don’t know that I could handle it in a relationship, but maybe we could get off together?”

It was on the tip of John’s tongue to point out he hadn’t mentioned being interested in a relationship with Benji, but he refrained. Partially because he didn’t want to argue with the guy, and he figured that was what would happen if he did speak up. Benji’s apology seemed sincere enough, but John noticed he didn’t seem to be a whole lot different sober than he was drunk, if that’s what Benji had been on Sunday. There was still an almost confrontational air about Benji.

“It’s okay. I could have handled things better myself,” John finally said. Benji seemed to relax, that combative part of him vanishing, at least in John’s opinion. “Here, have some.” He set half of the sopapillas on Benji’s plate. Benji opened the small containers that held the Dulce de Leche and honey. John hoped he wouldn’t bring up the part about them getting off together, because his dick had perked up when Benji had mentioned it.

What would it be like to fuck that sweet ass? No, he didn’t need to know the answer to that. Didn’t need to, but he wanted to.

Benji dipped a sopapilla into the creamy sauce and moaned when he took a bite of it. “Oh my God, so good,” Benji said around a mouthful of the treat. He closed his eyes and moaned again. There was a dab of the sauce on his lip, and it took all of John’s self-control not to lean over and lick it off. He almost whimpered when Benji licked it clean.

Benji opened his eyes just a little and looked at John. “So what do you say about getting off together? No strings, nothing but feeling good and coming until we can’t move?” He leant forward and put a hand on John’s arm, squeezing the muscles there. “I know you stared at my ass when I was going up the stairs, that’s why I wanted to go first. I could feel you watching me.”

Would it really hurt anything? John was so hard his gut was aching. It’d been over two years since anyone other than himself had touched him in more than a friendly or familial manner.

“It’s okay to say no.” Benji stood and jutted his hips, the swell of his cock beneath his tight jeans unmissable. “But I don’t think you want to say no. I think you want me to get on my knees and suck you until you come. That’s okay, I want that, too. You don’t even have to suck me back.”

“Oh, God,” John rasped, his sopapillas forgotten as he imagined Benji kneeling and blowing him. “Yes, please,” he got out before his brain could decide anything for him.

Benji bent and brushed a sloppy, wet kiss over his lips, then he was crawling under the table. John scooted his chair back enough to give Benji some room. His hands shook and his chest was so tight with nerves he could hardly breathe as Benji got between his knees.

“Lift your butt up for me,” Benji whispered, his eyes piercing John’s with a hot look before he glanced away.

John was so tangled up in his body’s need that he couldn’t do anything but what Benji told him to. He canted his hips and Benji reached for his belt. In seconds, Benji had John’s cock and balls freed.

“Nice,” Benji murmured, stroking his length slowly. “Thick. I bet this would feel so good in my ass.” He flicked a glance up at John then went back to watching his hands. “It’s going to stretch my mouth, make me ache. I don’t know if I can take it into my throat—”

John moaned then, and closed his eyes. He was going to come and embarrass the heck out of himself if Benji kept it up. The touching alone was pushing him to the edge, but add in the talking, and he was in real danger of shooting off already.

John swallowed his pride as he gripped the sides of his chair. “Please,” he begged. “Please, suck me.”

Excerpt From: Yielding for Him

"Miss Scott, you can’t go in there," Donovan James’ secretary yelled.

"It’s fine, he’ll see me, Marianne."

"No, he asked not to be disturbed," Marianne called out.

Even through the door he could hear the mad scramble of a chair sliding across the floor and the rapid staccato of high-heeled shoes clicking across the floor. His office door swung open and Lisa Scott stood at the entranceway. "Van, call off your dog."

His harried secretary Marianne stood beside Lisa. The fierce set of his assistant’s shoulders and her pursed lips almost made him laugh. Part of the reason why he’d hired her was because she intimidated practically everyone, but Lisa wasn’t like most people.

"I told her you were busy," the older woman told him. Her displeasure with the other woman dripped from her tongue.

"It’s fine, Marianne," Van assured her.

Lisa rolled her eyes at him then turned to the smaller woman and smiled. "Can I get a cup of tea when you get a chance?"

"Of course," Marianne gritted.

He bit his lip to hide his amusement at the interplay. Marianne disliked every woman he dated on sight and Lisa had been no different, despite the fact that Lisa had remembered Marianne’s birthday and anniversary. Still, the older woman had no patience for her, now Lisa seemed to take pleasure in annoying his assistant.

Setting his pen down on the mountain of paperwork on his desk, he sighed. So much for getting through his work. Although if he was going to be interrupted, he couldn’t think of a better reason than Lisa. He scanned her body in the fitted skirt and blouse. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into some kind of knot and with her glasses on she had this whole librarian thing going on. And damned if the look didn’t just make him want to muss her up.

Her blue eyes twinkled as she pointed a finger at him. "Don’t even think about it, mister. I have a meeting to go to when I finish here."

Excerpt From: Yin Yang

London, fifteen years ago…

Timothy whistled all the way home from rugby practice. In just a few hours, Basho would be back from that bloody family wedding in Tokyo and this torturous two-week separation would end.

What would be the first thing he’d do to Basho once he got him alone? The mere thought made Tim smile at everyone he passed. The fat woman walking her poodle probably thought he was barmy, but if she could see into his head right now, she’d have the bobbies arrest him for sodomy and buggery.

First he’d rip Basho’s clothes off and run his hands over that smooth golden skin. Basho was lanky, with sinewy, graceful muscles. Basho would moan from his mere touch and then start panting when he played with the man’s small dark brown nipples. Tim felt blood rush to his cock. Come to think of it, he’d better not be thinking all—

What the bloody hell?

Turning down his block, he saw a crowd of neighbours huddled together in front of Basho’s family’s flat. His blood rushed suddenly from his groin to his stomach, setting it churning. His heart lurched when he saw his mum. What was she doing in the centre of the group, a newspaper in her hands?

Tim came to a stop in front of her. “What’s going on, Mum?”

She looked up. Deep lines furrowed her brow, and her eyes and nose were red. “Timmy, oh, Timmy, love. I’m so sorry.”

His blood ran cold. “Sorry for what?”

“The Sakai family…Basho…they’ve been…murdered.”

Tokyo, present day…

Basho lay on his futon in the dark, thinking of the first time Timothy had ever sucked his dragon. Golden-haired, blue-eyed Timothy, his muscular body like a Greek athlete.

He threw his head back, remembering the way Timmy’s lips, velvety pink and soft, slid up and down Basho’s hard shaft. Perfection. Beauty. Before all the horrible shit had happened.

Excerpt From: You First

Saturday

Luke Anderson was not going to come first.

He repeated the mantra over and over inside his head as he held his hands out to be bound. Justin Collins deftly buckled the soft leather around his wrists. Tugging on the chain between the cuffs, he positioned Luke on his hands and knees in the middle of the bed.

Justin attached the cuffs to a little hook screwed into the headboard for that precise purpose. He pulled at the chain, testing how securely it would hold Luke in place. The metal links clinked together. Luke took a deep breath. All his best sexual experiences occurred to that theme song. The sound went straight to his cock.

Luke was still not going to come first. He was Luke Anderson, newest and highest flying barrister in the best chambers in London. He could bloody well do anything he set his mind to.

Justin’s hand applied pressure—a steady pressure to the back of his neck. Luke lowered himself onto his elbows. The pressure didn’t ease. Luke turned his palms up and rested his head in his hands. Head down and arse up, Luke closed his eyes. He told himself for the thousandth time it must be possible.

Just because he hadn’t outlasted Justin yet, didn’t mean he couldn’t do it. He just needed to focus. He was twenty-three years old—five years older than his lover. He’d topped and bottomed more partners than he could count or remember in both genders. False modesty and jokes aside, Luke was well aware he knew tricks even most really expensive professionals hadn’t mastered.

He shifted his knees further apart on the mattress as Justin moved into position, kneeling on the bed behind him. He had to outlast Justin just once, just so he knew he could do it. Just for pride’s sake, because Luke knew his lack of self restraint was the only thing that kept sex with Justin from being perfect.

Justin’s fingers slipped briefly inside him, checking he was slick, relaxed and ready to play. Luke bit his lip and held back a moan as Justin crooked his fingers and found his prostate.

He could do this. Practicing a little bit of restraint wouldn’t kill him.

The rustle of the packet when Justin slipped on a condom was his only warning. Justin slid into him in one smooth movement. Luke gasped. For a perfect moment, Justin stilled inside him, stretching him and filling him completely. He began rocking his hips, building up the movement in tiny increments. Only when Luke whimpered his frustration did Justin begin to thrust into him in earnest.

In what felt like moments, lethal frustration was a growing possibility. Each stroke pressed against Luke’s prostate in a rhythm calculated to throw him over the edge at any moment.

He tried to remember he didn’t want to fall into pleasure—why he didn’t want to jump over the ledge with his arms spread wide in enthusiastic abandon. All he could think about was just how glorious it would feel when he came with Justin still buried balls deep inside him.

But still, in the back of his mind the mantra continued. Luke was not going to come first.

Desperately trying to concentrate on anything other than Justin’s erection pounding into him, Luke scrambled for any other details and senses to focus on.

The cotton sheet underneath him was pale blue. At this angle, with his nose barely an inch from the surface, Luke saw it was actually two shades of thread blended together. He couldn’t bring himself to care. His prostate sang inside him, coaxing him to join in with it in harmony, groaning his pleasure at every inch of delicious friction.

The scent of their arousal filled the room, mingling with Justin’s aftershave. Justin always smelt fantastic. Another perfect thing to add to all the other perfect things Luke had noticed over the months they’d been hooking up for sex. He always smelt like old sandalwood and well worn leather. Luke loved pressing close against Justin’s body and taking deep breaths of his scent when they danced together. He loved sliding his fingers up into Justin’s hair and pulling him close, to wrap Justin’s scent around him.

Excerpt From: You'll Think of Me

“I’m still his housemate, not his personal chauffeur.”

Melanie Roberts waited by the ticket counter at the Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport for her friends to arrive. Waiting by the gates ensured she’d see them faster than if she waited on the lower level by the baggage claims. She mumbled to herself as she gazed at the empty gateway. “I don’t know why I let him talk me into this.” A woman turned, glaring at Melanie who shrugged. “Who am I kidding? I can’t wait for Cade to return.”

The air in the terminal enveloped her in a personal sauna. What happened to the high-dollar air-conditioning system mentioned in the local newspaper? She fanned herself, trying to remember whether she put on deodorant this morning. Beads of sweat trickled between her breasts and dampened her bra. She blew out a puff of air and tucked her humidity-frizzed hair back under her hat.

An announcer interrupted her private sweltering. “Flight two-two-three-three from Dulles is on a thirty-minute delay due to heavy thunderstorms. Repeat, flight two-two-three-three from Dulles is on a thirty-minute delay.”

Melanie removed her ball cap. She ran a shaky hand through her hair. Her ruby ring caught on a few strands and she cursed under her breath. She replaced the tattered hat and tucked her hair under the frayed edges. Her heart thudded, making it hard to breathe. Her boys, Cade and Rhett, weren’t on that particular flight. She checked the nearby screen. Flight one-five-two-seven from JFK International Airport—their flight—was already on the ground and in the process of debarking.

Any time now, guys…

In the distance, someone’s cell phone played an old country tune, ‘He Loved Me’, and took her back to a time when things had been much simpler and her heart hadn’t been broken. She hummed a few bars and scanned the crowd once more.

The image of Cade and the words to the song stuck fast in her mind. If he hadn’t cheated, he’d still be mine… She fidgeted with the ruby ring and fought off the anxiousness that naturally came when she waited for him to return from a deployment. Nervous energy sizzled through her veins as she cracked her knuckles. She didn’t know what else to do with her hands when she couldn’t watch the world through the safety of her camera lens.

Where were they?

A barrage of laughter rang in Melanie’s ears and a shimmer of excitement slipped through her. She knew that baritone—Staff Sergeant Rhett Ione. “Give me sugar, Melanie!”

Opening her arms, she turned. “Rhett! How’s my guy?”

Crushing her in his grasp, he whirled her around. “You make coming home a blast, little girl!”

When he plopped her back onto her feet, she continued to clutch his biceps. “I missed you, but where is Cade? I thought you got leave together?”

Rhett tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “Leave, yes. The same flight, no. Cade flew out of Germany and I came straight from the Gulf.”

Embarrassed by her lack of tact, she averted her gaze. Rhett tipped her chin. “Hey, I know you missed me, but you have a thing for him. But I’m still one of your best friends and only passing through. Chill. He’s due to land—” he glanced at his all-weather watch, “—in a moment or two.”

Melanie sighed. She opened her mouth to speak, when a voice from behind interrupted her.

“Excuse me?”

Ginnifer Larkin stood a foot away and narrowed her green eyes. “Are you here to give them a ride?” She folded her arms and shifted her weight. The pale yellow sundress clung to her slender figure and accentuated her pert breasts. Her silky caramel-coloured hair fell around her shoulders.

Why the hell did Cade’s fuck-friend have to show up? Melanie forced a smile to her lips. “I’m taking them home, yes.” Speaking under her breath so no one but Rhett would hear, she mumbled. “Just like an ex would…”

Ginnifer chewed her ruby-red bottom lip. “We never broke up, you know.” Her eyes lit up and a smile brightened her heart-shaped face. “You’re home!”

When Melanie tried to turn, a pair of strong arms enfolded her and restricted her movement. Warm breath tickled her cheek and the scratch of day-old whiskers abraded her neck. While her legs turned to jelly, her heart raced. Desire pooled low in her belly.

“I missed you, Melly.”

Excerpt from: Your Treat or Mine

Getting hazed on Halloween had to be a clear indication that Amelia was in trouble. Especially when one considered the fact that she was damn near thirty. She grimaced and pulled her coat closer to her cold body before stepping out of her vehicle. The north-eastern autumn weather was unnaturally cool. She took that as an omen.

A bad one.

She gritted her teeth and reminded herself she’d decided to start fighting for what she wanted. Straightening her shoulders, she marched on. Getting hazed was the first step in her fight for the corner office in her company’s marketing division. The click of her low heels seemed to thud through her mind as she took each step towards the front door. The walk up the cobblestone path reminded Amelia of her freshman year in college. Of her first experience with hazing.

Despite her familiarity, she was no less nervous about the coming experience.

She’d joined a sorority then for the camaraderie and connections the organisation had promised. She’d never once regretted her actions. Now she was about to embark on a journey that was going to allow her to join an more elite organisation. The Council of Promise.

That was the whispered name of the three-person organisation that reportedly determined who climbed up her company’s corporate ladder.

JAK, Inc. Using the initials from their first names to title the company, Janus Christensen, Agostino Bonacelli, and Konstantin Jovovich had come together to create JAK, Inc. The company specialised in consumer technology. Amelia was a lower level executive in the marketing division.

She stopped several feet away from the cascading steps that led to the main door and simply stared at the building before her. According to the invite that sat in her front left pocket, the massive log home in front of her was one of the many houses provided for the executives of JAK, Inc., one of the nation’s fastest growing companies.

But JAK, Inc. was unique in the corporate world because it was owned and managed by paranormals. The Christensens were werewolves, the Bonacellis were-tigers and the Jovoviches were vampires. As a human, Amelia had one strike against her. She’d been shocked when she discovered the true nature of her colleagues, but more than that she’d been disappointed to find her career was going to be hindered by her humanity.

Then one night, Rickard, one of her co-workers and a trusted friend, had whispered that the Council of Promise could help her overcome her issue and rise higher in the company. Rikard also mentioned it wouldn’t be easy to get the Council’s attention. But more importantly she had to capture the interest of at least two Fates.

The Three Fates were the ruling body of the Council.

They were the true leaders of the corporation and it was no small feat to snag their attention.

Actually, the word the man had used was impossible. Few humans were worthy of the Fates’ notice. But Amelia was used to accomplishing the undoable. When she’d seen the blood-red invitation card sitting on her desk when she returned from her lunch break, she’d nearly passed out in relief. She’d been even more surprised when she saw the address on the note. Amelia glanced back at the building before her.

Rumour had it, the home was currently being occupied by none other than Mr. and Mrs. Christensen, one of the three couples who’d founded the corporation more than five hundred years ago.

The anxious feeling about the upcoming hazing doubled—no, tripled.

At least this time it’s for work, she thought as she gripped the doorknocker.

She breathed into her cold palms as she waited for someone to answer the door. After the third blow the door swung open to reveal a dour looking butler. “Yes?” he sneered.

Amelia stared at him blankly for a moment, torn between the desire to call him “Alfred,” or sneer right back. She could do neither since she had to be on her best behaviour.

“I’m Amelia Brockman. Ms. Christensen and Mr. Bonacelli invited me,” she said in one long breath as she searched for the invite card that had arrived on her desk less than five hours ago. Rikard had warned her about addressing the butler. Before being allowed in, she had to identify which of the two Fates had invited her. If he was not satisfied, she would be escorted off the property.

One snowy white eyebrow lifted and the sneer became more pronounced. “So you are the straggler?”

“Everyone has arrived?” Amelia heard herself asking, though she already knew the answer.

“Yes. We wait on you. Alone.” He turned around, giving her his hunched back and walked into the building. Feeling she’d been chastised and insulted, Amelia followed the butler into the building. She glanced around as she walked, taking notice of the simple elegance of the home’s foyer, the quiet glamour that marked the halls, and the sophistication of the small room the butler pointed out to her. “You will wait here,” he fairly growled before toddling away.

A quick glance around the room confirmed Amelia was alone. Though it was too late to do anything about it, she couldn’t let the butler’s comment about her timing go. She looked at her watch, needing to know if she was late and just how tardy she was.

If she had to grovel, she was going to be prepared to beg for forgiveness.

She blinked at her watch and shook her arm for emphasis. According to the overpriced piece of steel, she was more than thirty minutes late.

“Shit,” she cursed softly.

“And here I thought you were as pure as newly fallen snow, Ms. Brockman.”

She whipped around at the softly whispered words to find bright green eyes watching her. They seemed to glow in the barely lit room. Feeling as though the green gaze was hunting her Amelia took an instinctive step back.

Green Eyes took a step forward, moving into the dim lighting that cloaked the room. Amelia sucked in a deep breath at the sight that greeted her. Green Eyes was cloaked from head to toe in a costume complete with a mask that covered the top half of his face. A five o’ clock shadow hid the other portion.

But there was no denying the fact that the man before her was handsome. Breathtaking really, as all of the Jovovich vampires were.

“Come, Ms. Brockman, let us journey together to start the rest of your life.” He held out one broad, tanned palm, beckoning her to him.