Deviations: Discipline

Contributors: Jodi Payne and Chris Owen
Series: Deviations #3
Genre: , , , ,
Release Date: December 30, 2019 (Third Edition)
Pages: 312

Tobias and Noah explore their relationships more deeply than ever, not just through their own Dominance and submission, but by engaging with their friends. As Noah helps Tobias through the loss of someone dear, he finds Tobias helping him too, leading Noah through some intense sexual games, breaking down the last of his fears, and helping Noah face the biggest one of all: the cage.

Meanwhile, Tobias's ex-lover, Phantom, becomes close friends with Noah and they discover and try to resist the simmering sexual tension between them. Their playful teasing turns to real support when Phantom reaches the breaking point due to a lack of consistent Master in his life; something Phan desperately needs.

While Bradford decided he has to stand in as that Master for a while, Tobias and Noah go to Paris, where they see the sights, go to a sexy club, and re-negotiate their contract. Returning from Paris to their own lives brings them all sorts of new difficulties, from deciding whether they should live together, to trying to figure out just where Phantom belongs in their ever-changing relationship.

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EXCERPT FROM DISCIPLINE

Tobias cursed as he came across yet another torn up intersection. Traffic was a mess all through the downtown core, and his frustration level was rising with every one-way street he had to navigate. He was going in a circle, he just knew it, and Lincoln Avenue was always just out of reach.

The trouble, he decided, wasn't so much the damn construction as the sheer idiocy of the drivers who simply wouldn't get out of his way and let him get home. "It's not even close to rush hour," he muttered, talking out loud in uncharacteristic frustration and trying to ease around yet another truck offloading dirt or equipment or something. He hit the gas and then the brakes as a woman in a PT Cruiser cut him off and gave him the finger.

"And you would think," he added, "that with all this crap going on... I could at least lose this fucking erection." An incredibly persistent one at that, one that had been with him to varying degrees since he'd woken up from a morning dream about Noah and new leather wrist cuffs that had complex and intriguing chains dangling from them. He'd been hard off and on since then, and his body was definitely settling on full hardness at the moment.

He took another breath and looked around at the traffic as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his irritation growing. "But no. Not today. Today, I'm cursed with an iron dick, a schedule that's opened up, a submissive at work, and endless traffic. God damn it!" He slammed his hand down on the steering wheel and a miracle happened: the road in front of his car emptied.

So he hit the gas and took off, heading for home. The sudden siren and flashing lights in his rearview mirror made him glance down at the speedometer in dismay. "Ah, shit." With a sigh he pulled over and undid his seatbelt.

A chest in uniform appeared at the driver's side window. A knuckle tapped on the glass, and Tobias rolled down the window, stifling another sigh. The cop had one hand on his gun. As if Tobias could make a bid for freedom in this traffic.

"License and registration, please," a voice requested in an official tone, and Tobias dutifully reached for the glove compartment. "Wait a minute." The cop rested an arm on the door and ducked to see better into the car. "Do you have any idea how fast you were going, sir?"

"Jesus Christ," Tobias groaned, his head falling back on the seat. "Yes. Too fast. Would you like to know why, Noah?"

"That's 'Officer Dolan,' sir, and, yes. Yes, I would." Noah grinned widely.

Tobias rolled his eyes. "Well, you see, Officer Dolan, I have a smart-mouthed lover whom I can't get out of my head." He pointed to his lap. "I was in rather a rush to call him. Or at least think about him in private."

Title: Discipline
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0839N7PBF
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-19-2

 

Discipline is available in AUDIO!
Purchase it at Audible, iTunes & Amazon!

 

Submission est disponible en FRANÇAIS !
Achetez-le directement auprès de  Juno Publishing,
ou sur Amazon, 7switch, ou Kobo!

Find Jodi's full catalog with links to all your favorite formats at Queeromance Ink!

No Ghosts

Contributors: Jodi Payne and BA Tortuga
Series: The Cowboy and the Dom Series #3
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: March 10, 2020
Pages: 297

 

Razor's Edge: The Cowboy and the Dom Trilogy, Book Three

Months after James’s brutal murder, Sam gets an opportunity to help Thomas find closure. That means leaving New York City to travel to the O’Reilly’s Texas home, to meet Sam’s parents and get a taste of how and where the O’Reilly brothers grew up.

Their vacation is also an opportunity for Thomas and Sam to move beyond the past, drop their remaining baggage, and finally solidify their tumultuous relationship.

But that may be easier said than done given that Thomas has a secret he’s been keeping from Sam, and Sam is sick and tired of everyone in his life knowing what’s going on but him. It’s the worst time for their trust to break down, because their final confrontation with James’s killer looms, and if they’re going to walk away, they’ll have to do it together.

Note to our readers: Each of the three books in The Cowboy and the Dom Series has a fully realized, romantic ending. However, the overarching suspense element will leave readers on a cliffhanger after books one and two, to be fully resolved in book three (this book). Readers should begin the series with book one, First Rodeo.

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EXCERPT

Chapter One

“No, Sam can’t be alone yet. Can you set up a conference call?” Thomas stared at the Scrabble board. “After three.”

“Three thirty?” Thomas’s assistant, Ally, was on the phone, being her usual organized self and covering for him while he was out of the office, looking after his lover.

“Yes, that’ll work. Put it on my calendar and email me the slide deck?”

“Sure thing, I’m doing that right now.” He could hear Ally typing. “Doctor Kinessey called about continuing his sponsorship for next year.”

While they were talking, Thomas pulled a handful of Scrabble tiles off his rack and placed them on the board, spelling out C-A-N-D-Y. Not great, but not terrible. He gave Sam a shrug and a smile and paced away from the board, one eye still on his lover, his sub.

“When did he call? Did Kathy call him—”

“Yesterday. She’s on it.”

“Oh, good. That’s promising.”

Sam tilted his head, playing Y-O-D-E-L-I-N-G. “You can go in, Mister. I swear.”

He shook his head and mouthed the word No to Sam.

“So how’s the cowboy?”

He stared at the board and sighed. “Jesus.”

“That bad?”

“What? No. No that wasn’t for you. He’s much better. I’m just getting my ass handed to me in Scrabble. Sorry.”

“Okay…that’s not sexy at all. So…ah. Amanda wants to know if you’re planning on making an appeal at the donor gala next month.”

“Yes. Tell her I’m interested, and I’ll try to get in to see her early next week.”

“She goes on vacation Wednesday.”

“Oh. Okay, well Monday, then.”

“You’re sure?”

He had to return to work someday. Sam would be coping by then. “Yes, Monday.”

“Okay, Boss. That’s all I got. Check in with me later?”

“All right. I’ll call you around four.” Thomas looked at his watch. He was pretty proud of himself. He was up, showered, shaved, he’d made breakfast, and even gotten dressed today. It was as if he were real.

“Kiss your cowboy!”

He snorted. “Thanks, Ally.” He hung up the phone. “You cheated.”

“I did not. I’m just brilliant.” Sam stuck his tongue out at him and rolled those pretty eyes. Once Sam’s stitches had come out, the boy shaved his head, and with the knit caps he wore constantly these days, Sam’s eyes seemed huge.

“I liked it better when you still had the concussion and you thought the Hs were Ls and the Vs were Ws.” He picked five tiles and stared at his new letters thoughtfully. “Ah.” He grinned. Maybe he could keep up after all. He played D-E-V-I-C-E off Sam’s D in “yodeling” and replaced the tiles in his rack. “Looks like I’m going back in on Monday.”

“I’m more than capable of managing. I’ve got this. I’ll even make you chili.” A-X-E-S and D-E-V-I-C-E-S? Thomas was about to pinch Sam.

“We’ll have to talk about some ground rules while I’m not home.” He turned Sam’s “axes” into T-A-X-E-S and also put down A-B-L-E off his T.

“Nicely done. What kind of ground rules? I’m just going to work, mostly. I’m still five hundred emails behind.” Sam played V-O-L-E.

“Well, for starters, no working out.” God, he had impossible tiles. He sighed and used the C in “candy” to make R-I-C-E. Pathetic.

“I’ll get soft in the middle, you know.”

“You can do some crunches when I get home. But no running at all.”

“No. Not yet. Maybe in a little while, but…no. Not yet.” Sam reached out for him.

He abandoned his letters, moved around the coffee table to sit closer to his boy, and took Sam’s hand in his. “Yes. That’s right. Not yet.”

“Mmm…hey.” Sam twined their fingers together, holding on to him.

“Hi.” Thomas gave his boy a smile. “It’ll be good, won’t it? Getting back to our routine.” If they could even call it that. Sam had only just moved in when he was attacked and hospitalized, so they hadn’t had a routine in place for more than a couple of weeks. But Sam had been happy before all this insanity, working on his book and making progress on his research projects. The focus had been good for his boy.

“You know it. I’m aching for a little normal. Just a little. Maybe a lot.”

“Aching, yes.” He’d been fine all week. His body had been just as focused on Sam’s recovery as his mind. But talking about normal suddenly made him want his lover back.

He reached for Sam and pulled his boy in for a kiss.

Sam’s hand was warm on Thomas’s cheek, his thumb moving lazily, stroking under his eye.

His boy smelled like Old Spice and tasted a little wild, just like his cowboy should. He slid a hand over Sam’s hip and tucked it under one firm ass cheek, giving it a squeeze. The grin he got was pure happiness, Sam leaning hard into his touch.

His boy’s energy lit him up and he grinned, catching those hazel eyes, loving the little extra green he saw there this time. “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere, cowboy?”

“That’s the rumor. You found me wandering, I hear. All aimless and shit.” Sam licked the corner of his lips, the sensation featherlight, intriguing.

“Right, aimless. I remember now.” He huffed out a soft laugh. “Well, we can’t have that. I’m sure I’ve got something you can focus on.” He nudged Sam’s chin up with his own and inhaled against smooth skin, breathing his boy in.

“Mmm…” That satisfied sound settled deep in his balls. “Oh, that’s just right.”

“Mhm.” He licked and kissed his way past Sam’s throat, humming as he felt the boy swallow against his lips, and tested the bend near the boy’s shoulder with his teeth.

Sam moaned for him, moving sweet and slow against him, almost like he was dancing. It didn’t take anything at all to encourage Sam into his lap; then he had that perfect ass rocking into him.

“Yes.” That was what he was after. Heat spread up his spine, making him suck in a quick, deep breath. “That’s good, sweetheart.” He slipped his hands up under Sam’s T-shirt and explored the hot skin and hard muscles with knowing fingers.

Sam stared at him, letting him see all the hunger, the love. It could get addictive fast, that open desire.

A piece of him was so ready for a throwdown, but he took a breath and made that wait because his hands needed to feel Sam whole; to feel his lover’s strength, make sure it was real, make sure Sam could handle what was building in him.

He reached up and traced the edge of Sam’s cap. “Are you sure?”

“I am. I got this.” Sam kissed him hard enough that he forgot to breathe. “I need to feel us together, you know?”

He found a breath, thin though it was. “I do. I want you. God, so much.” He urged Sam off his lap and stood. “I have to have all of you.”

“Yes. Every bit.” Sam nodded and led him to the bedroom, hands sweating just a little. Thomas followed eagerly, captivated, recognizing the gesture for what it was. As they moved into the room, he tugged off his T-shirt and tossed it, going for another kiss, chasing down Sam’s lips.

Sam opened up, hands sliding down into his sweats, easing them over his ass.

Thomas kicked his jeans off, stepping past them and reaching for Sam’s T-shirt. He got hold of the fabric but stopped himself, eyes glancing up at the knit cap on Sam’s shaved head. He lifted the shirt off, careful not to bump anything that might still be sore, and dropped it.

“May I?” he asked, catching Sam’s eyes, fingers reaching for the hat, the only garment his lover was still wearing.

“I don’t want to turn you off, Mister.” There was a question in Sam’s expression, a test.

Thomas tilted his head, wondering why his lover couldn’t see how entirely unnecessary that was, but he gave Sam the only answer he had…and his heart with it. “I want all of you, sweetheart. I love all of you. Every bit. Always.”

“All right, then. Yeah.” Sam took the hat off, no more hesitation, trusting in his word.

He was continually in awe of the depth of Sam’s trust in him. He smiled, gave his boy a nod, and ran his fingers lightly from front to back, across Sam’s skull, examining the scars and what was left of the bruises, learning them a little and accepting them as part of who the boy was to him. “Thank you.”

He planned to reward that trust tonight for as long as they could stand it. He took a kiss, bumping against Sam as they shuffled toward the bed.

Sam snuggled in, pressing into him, shoulders to hips, holding nothing back.

“Mmm.” He got his arms around Sam. “You feel so good. I was missing you like this. I’m so ready to get lost in you, sweetheart. Inside you.” He shifted, trapping Sam’s cock against his hip and rocking them together.

Sam made the best sound—half moan and half happy yelp—and his eyelids went heavy. Thomas tugged Sam in tighter, giving him more friction, making his boy feel the pressure.

“Good, yes?” He could feel Sam moving…always moving, his boy. One more thing he’d missed. He was aching in earnest now, wanting Sam’s attention, his boy’s touch. He was patient, though. He’d get what he desired most. For now, he was enjoying watching Sam feel, watching his boy begin to dissolve.

“Oh, Mister. Good don’t begin to…” Sam’s words trailed off, a low moan taking their place as a deep flush climbed his chest.

Not even close, he knew. “My boy,” he said with a growl that started down deep. He moved to the bed, pulling Sam with him by the hand. “Come on, sweetheart, off your feet.”

Sam crawled up onto the bed, arms open to him, begging for him. His boy did need so well. It was a beautiful sight. It made him breathless, eroded what was left of his patience. He moved over Sam and into those arms, gliding his stiff prick along hot skin and kissing his boy until they were equally unable to breathe.

He made sure that tender, bruised head was cradled in the pillows, but that was where he let his worry stop. Sam’s body would tell him everything he should know.

With his eyes on his boy, he curled his fingers firmly around Sam’s cock and stroked, thumb dragging up the back and circling around the head, just to see it in Sam’s face. Just to see what he was doing reflected in his boy’s eyes.

Sam’s lips dropped open and one leg drew up, his knee bending to give him more access.

The knowledge that two weeks ago Thomas might have lost this, that he might not have had his boy in his bed again was present with him as he touched Sam, watched the boy move. It wasn’t distracting or even painful, not with the reality of Sam right in front of him, but it made him appreciate this first time together since the incident, made him more acutely aware of what they had, what they were together.

It made some of his other worries feel less significant, less pressing. That was their work. This was their world, and he was more than content in it.

He reached for his nightstand, craving his lover beyond words.

“Damn, you’re pretty.” Sam reached up, fingers stroking his nipple to hardness, pinching the barest bit, teasing him.

He hissed at the quick little jolt that sent across his chest, raising goose bumps and making him shiver. “Thank you.” He was going to accept those words, the same way his lover had accepted his own earlier. Simply. He was trying to be better about that.

He smoothed the rubber over his cock and offered his boy two slippery fingers and a little pressure. “Soon, boy. Need you soon.”

Sam pinched again before bearing down, taking his fingers in. Sam was silk inside, tight and heated, and Thomas groaned at the promise Sam’s body made.

He twisted his fingers as Sam took them in, slicking and teasing, stretching and making sure his boy relaxed. The last was hardly necessary, as Sam felt loose and ready. That made the corner of his mouth twitch in a knowing grin. His boy wanted everything he did.

He’d never known a man that had so little sexual experience and so much natural instinct, such deep desires. It suited him to be Sam’s first and only. It made him just that much more proud, and it was hot as hell. He groaned as that thought settled right into his groin, making his balls tight and his cock stretch. Fuck. “Sweetheart…”

“Mister. Please, love me, huh?” Sam spread wide, knees bent in a clear offer.

Damn, it didn’t get any hotter than that. “Love you.” He lined up, one fist around his cock to guide himself, and sank into his boy to the root with a long sigh. Sam rippled around him, the sensation driving another spike of heat up along his spine.

He stretched over Sam, instinct already driving him. Sam’s need was making him high, making it hard to think but easy just to let his body have what it wanted. Sam met his thrusts, gaze dragging over his body like his boy wanted to devour him.

“Fuck, Sam.” He leaned down and kissed his boy, hard and deep, thrusting in with his tongue even as his hips went wild. “Feel so good. Perfect.”

“Yes.” Sam nodded, biting his bottom lip, white teeth just digging in.

Sam’s prick pressed into his belly and he reached for it again, giving the boy just enough of a grip to feel it. That soft cast slapped against the sheets, Sam’s right hand fisting tight. “Oh, damn. Fuck. Want you so bad.”

He ducked his head and shifted his hips a bit, the steeper angle giving him a little more rub. “Fuck!”

Sam wrapped those strong legs around him, adding all that core strength to his, and shit, he was going to lose it. Sam rode him like no one else, frantic, hungry, pushing them both. He grunted and gave in, breathing hard, single-minded, taking everything Sam offered and returning it. He loved the way they worked together, no shame, no boundaries, just giving and getting everything they needed.

“Sam!” He had to let go of Sam’s cock to brace himself before he fell over; his boy was so strong, and he had to balance.

Sam bore down, squeezed hard around his cock, and Thomas barked out a sharp cry. Thomas trembled and gulped in air, thrusting uselessly, his cock choked by Sam’s body. To his own ears, his shout sounded hoarse as his climax roared through him, just a breath before he was ready, one second before he’d have lost control himself, his own pleasure summoned by his beautifully impatient boy.

“So-so fucking fine,” Sam breathed, right hand pulling at his needy cock, clumsy, harsh, awkward.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Jesus, his voice felt blown. He pushed Sam’s hand away and took over, strokes solid and steady, Sam’s cock gliding through his fist as he watched the pleasure roll over his boy’s face in waves.

“Mister!” Sam shuddered and shot for him, ass still clamped tight around his cock.

Thomas groaned as another jolt ran through him, making the blood roar in his ears and his vision blur. He blinked it clear, wanting to see his boy, wanting to watch. “You’re stunning, love.”

Sam panted for him, blinking up with a purely dazed expression.

Oh, that was adorable.

He leaned down, took a slightly breathless kiss, and smiled at Sam. “That was…you’re…fuck, I love you.” He had so much to say, but he didn’t seem to have words yet, so he hoped that summed it up well enough.

“Love.” Sam moaned for him, licking Thomas’s lips. “Wow, huh?”

He nodded. That about covered it. “Yes. Wow. Incredible.” He kissed Sam again. “The way you drive me out of my mind.”

Sam grinned at him. “Good. I’m so glad. I want to make you feel as good as you make me.”

“Oh, sweetheart. Without even trying.” He put a hand on Sam’s hip and shifted, dropped the rubber in the bin by the bed, and stretched out alongside his boy.

“Mmm…that is one of my favorite feelings on Earth.” Sam sounded utterly tickled.

He laughed in agreement. It felt good to have this back, the warmth, his boy so relaxed, nothing between them but skin.

“It feels much better than being crushed at Scrabble.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Sam patted his leg, fingers trailing over his skin. “I missed making love with you, Mister.”

His chest tightened at Sam’s words. “Yes, so much. We needed this, sweetheart. I was craving you.” Mindful of the boy’s injuries, he pulled Sam to him, helping his lover settle in his arms. Sam didn’t hesitate for a second; he snuggled in with a satisfied sigh, resting hard against Thomas’s chest.

He held his boy close, grateful to have felt Sam’s strength, to know for sure that every bit of Sam was solid and whole. They still had other pieces of their relationship to visit, other aspects of their lives to bring back around to normal, but as far as new beginnings went, this was the perfect start.

 

Title: No Ghosts, The Cowboy and the Dom Book Three
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0851V13ZS
ISBN13: 978-1951011291

 

Find Jodi's full catalog with links to all your favorite formats at Queeromance Ink!

Deviations: Bondage

Contributors: Jodi Payne and Chris Owen
Series: Deviations #4
Genre: , , ,
Release Date: December 30, 2019 (Third Edition)
Pages: 492

In this final installment of the full Deviations series, Noah and Tobias come back from Paris with a renewed contract and a deeper personal bond, but find that things don't go as smoothly at home.

They face a crisis that could threaten their brand new contract, as well as their personal intimacy. This has a ripple effect, but with careful and deliberate communication, Tobias and Noah finally learn that they can evolve with it, instead of collapsing.

They experiment with scene after scene, making them longer and deeper, which allows them to explore more than they've ever dared. They even move in together. When Noah is forced to face the dangers of his job, he begins to question why he became a cop in the first place.

Tobias is also questioning his commitment to his own work, and soon enough, their external life is changing enough that they're forced to lean on each other to get through. How will they achieve a comfortable balance between their outside lives, their scenes, and their deep, love and devotion to one another?

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Also in this series:

 

EXCERPT FROM BONDAGE

Noah didn't have much in the way of souvenirs from his vacation in Paris. He didn't have a tan to show off, or a tattoo. He didn't have a shelf full of knickknacks or a stack of postcards. But he did have a pair of worn-in chaps, a couple of very nice welts from his Master's whip on his back, and some great stories. Even his pictures, the few he had taken, had come out fairly well.

Dinner was spaghetti. It was a simple meal; after eating out every night for a week he was ready for simple again. He hoped Phan would bring his usual bottle of Coke, of course. Beyond that, he'd made no plans for the evening, thinking that Phan might have something to unload if things were shaky with Bradford, Phan's provisional Dom. When the doorbell rang, Noah found himself hurrying to answer it.

Phantom grinned and bounced at him as soon as he'd opened the door, the bag with the Coke thumping solidly against Noah's back as Phan hugged him. "Oops, sorry! Hey, missed you! God, it smells great in here," Phan babbled at him, all smiles. He was dressed in loose jeans, which was a change for him, and a fuzzy sweatshirt that smelled like incense. "Have a good trip?"

They were still in the hall, for God's sake.

Phan had a way of making Noah smile despite himself. Sure, all this happy cheerful energy could be covering something, but for now it was fun and Noah went with it. "Oh, my God, Phan. I've never had a vacation like that. Paris is beautiful, and one of the kinkiest towns I have ever been in." He took Phan's bag and headed for the kitchen. "Come in, come in!"

"Paris? Really? Ah, you've never been to Rio." Phan was hard on his heels, one hand skimming Noah's back. "So? Pictures? Shopping? Did you go to the Louvre? The Eiffel Tower? Tell me everything! Well, not everything, just the highlights, but tell me everything. And feed me."

"I've never been anywhere until now. Sit!" Noah laughed and went to the stove. "Pictures are right there on the table. The Eiffel Tower was my favorite touristy thing, I think; the view and the evening air, it was romantic and beautiful and I felt like such a kid in love. The Mona Lisa was cool, too, I guess. But, Jesus, we had to wait in this long-ass line."

"The lady still draws a crowd," Phan said absently and Noah looked over to see him rifling through the photos. "God, it's beautiful," Phan said, flipping to the next one. "Some of these are really nice, Noah."

"Thank you." Noah put a pile of pasta in the center of Phan's plate and then one on his own. "Did you check out the one I got the other American tourists to take of us? That's my only picture of Tobias and me together; it came out pretty good, huh?"

"Uh-huh. You both look insanely happy," Phan said with a grin. "And he should always smile. Well, unless he's whipping your ass; it wouldn't work so well then, but you know what I mean." Phan looked through a couple more photos and finally set them aside. "He looks good," he said simply. "So do you."

"Thanks." Noah smiled at Phan, who looked a little thin to Noah, but he couldn't be sure, so he decided not to say anything about it. "It was such an amazing week. I have a couple of other things to show off, but eat first." Noah handed Phan a serving pitcher of sauce. "That's homemade, but quickly. I didn't stew it all day like I should have. Hope it's okay."

"If it's got garlic, it'll be good. You worry too much." Phan grinned again and dug into his plate with flattering speed. "So, what's this other stuff you wanna show off? Sir buy you presents?" He winked outrageously and took another mouthful. "Mm. Good."

"One or two notable ones, yeah." Noah had planned to wait until they were done eating, but he was too proud of his marks not to show them off. "Look." He stood up, turned his back to Phan, and tugged his sweater up to his shoulders. "Bullwhip. In public, in this club that was so strict I wasn't allowed to speak at all."

There was dead silence behind him and then he heard Phan's chair scrape back. "Shit," Phan breathed, and warm fingers traced around the mark on his right shoulder. "That's... wow. Not at all? God, did you make it?"

"I don't remember breaking the rule, but Sir says that sometime after the whipping, when he finally let me get off, that I was begging. Honestly? All I remember is that I needed the fucking cock ring off, and then just feeling a lot better and waking up from dozing in his lap. Can you believe that?" He didn't turn around, letting Phan explore the marks. "It was tough. I didn't really like the rule. I mean, I get not speaking to other people, but not being able to speak even to him, or to respond to his crop or the whip, I didn't like that at all."

"Yeah, it's always better to yell," Phan agreed. He was tracing the other mark, his fingers gentle and soft. "Christ." A moment later he cleared his throat and stepped back. "Did you get punished for losing it at the end?" he asked, going back to his plate, a little slower than he had been moving before.

"Oh, yes. But not for a day or so; my ass was way out of commission for about twenty-four hours." Noah smiled as he remembered taking Tobias in the hot tub, but as much as he'd like to brag about it, that moment had been so intimate, physically and emotionally, that he couldn't bring himself to say a word about it. It was private, and better kept just between Tobias and him. He lowered his sweater and sat down again, then picked up the bottle of Coke and poured himself a glass. "It was just... an incredible trip.

"Sounds like," Phan said with a grin and a nod. "Shame to come home from something like that, sometimes. Oh, did you sign? Bradford wouldn't tell me anything." He set down his fork and reached for his own glass as Noah passed him the bottle.

Title: Bondage
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0839NFJWJ
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-23-9

 

Bondage is available in AUDIO!
Purchase it at Audible, iTunes & Amazon!

 

Submission est disponible en FRANÇAIS !
Achetez-le directement auprès de  Juno Publishing,
ou sur Amazon, 7switch, ou Kobo!

Find Jodi's full catalog with links to all your favorite formats at Queeromance Ink!

The Soldier and the Angel

Contributors: Jodi Payne and BA Tortuga
Series: The Cowboy and the Dom Series #4
Genre: , , , ,
Release Date: June 23, 2020
Pages: 342

In this stand-alone companion story to The Cowboy and the Dom Series, Sam’s only remaining brother, Army Ranger and EOD Specialist, Jim Bowie O’Reilly, suffers an injury in the line of duty, and is sent home to the family ranch in Texas to recuperate.

But sometimes you can’t go home again.

Thomas and Sam welcome Bowie for a visit in New York, but their D/s lifestyle doesn’t easily lend itself to long-term house guests. Enter Thomas’s trusted friend, EMT and former combat medic Gabriel “Angel” Rogers. The two men met once before when Bowie visited Sam for his birthday, and it doesn’t take the men long to admit they had an instant attraction. They soon discover their desires overlap as well and they set each other on fire.

But two big men need space and, as neither is in love with the city, Bowie invites Angel back to Texas to vacation in one of the run-down beach houses he’s flipped. On the eve of their departure though, Angel’s coworker and friend is gravely injured in an accident leaving his ambulance crew shorthanded, and Angel stays behind to help his team get back on their feet.

The distance might be more than either man can handle. With a whole country between them, they manage to derail something that had been going so well and it takes a risky intervention to stop them from ruining the best thing they’ve ever had.

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CHAPTER ONE

Gabriel never had a bad day.

He had some weird days, days that wiped him out, days he saved a horrible person or couldn’t save a good one, a day here and there that he’d like not to repeat, thankyouverymuch—but never a bad one. Nope. There wasn’t any such thing as a bad day if you made it home from Afghanistan.

Today had been like a nine out of ten though, man. They’d had winners on the bus: babies on the way, kids that were more scared than hurt, a little old lady with a busted hip that said she was a princess, a homeless guy named Augustus that could recite Shakespeare backward and was going to get a bed and three squares for a night or two. He’d take more todays if he had a say.

He fought his way through the crowd at Mike’s, just trying to get to the bar because, goddammit, he was going to toast this day with a beer. The biker bar was always a madhouse on Saturday nights, but as the weather got warmer even more fools came out, and tonight he wasn’t sure there was enough room for him anywhere.

Fortunately, his six-foot-four frame made him easy to spot.

“Angel!” Darla shouted to get his attention.

He waved to the bartender, and she pointed at a bottle of beer crowd-surfing its way over to him. He grinned and blew her a kiss, grateful for friends who always had his back.

She waved back at him, all smiles and boobs. Lord, that woman could work her butt off.

He grabbed the beer, giving the guy who handed it over a high five, before taking a deep swig. Oh, hoppy goodness. Hell, yes. All he needed now were his two favorite people on earth. He pulled out his phone, texting Sammy and Tommy. One of them would answer. Mikes or club?

Mike’s. I’m half into a grenache already. Where are you?

Into a what? He swore sometimes Tommy just said shit to confuse him. Tell me ur not in this swarm

Lounge

Thank fuck. Omw

He finished his beer before he stomped down the stairs and, with thick fingers, punched in the code for Mike’s little private lounge. It was a sweet setup—couches and a few tables, quiet and peaceful, a place where men and women of their persuasion could chill out.

He closed the door behind him, and all the noise stopped. “Ah. Better.”

“That was quick.” Tommy was his usual vision all in leather, sitting in a deep chair, his boy curled against one leg. “I guess angels really can fly.”

“Ha!” He laughed, the sound echoing off the ceiling tile and making him wince. Shit. Inside voice. “You look comfy.”

Little Sammy smiled up at him, the look warm and happy. Someone was in a fine mood—new haircut, old jeans, loose button-down that was two sizes too big. In a fine mood and had been busy too.

His fingers twitched. He wanted a hug. Sammy gave the best hugs. Then—talking about friends that always had your back—Tommy leaned over and whispered to Sammy, and the boy slowly got to his feet.

“Angel.” Sammy launched into his arms, hugging him tight. He grabbed the boy by his hips, because if Sammy was moving that slow, his back was probably well-striped. He wanted to see. Tommy did the best work, and Sammy was built like a tiny brick shithouse.

How about that? An ancient princess, a beer, a hug from Sammy, and everything was right in his stupid little world. Right on. “Hey, Sammy. You feeling good?”

“So good.” Sammy looked up at him, and there was zero question his friend was on cloud nine. “You need anything? Water?”

“Yeah, water would be great. You wanna show off your stripes?”

Tommy jumped in. “Only if you want to, sweetheart.”

“Oh. Yeah. Only if you want to.” Please let Sammy want to. Thank you. Amen.

Sammy blushed but nodded to him. It was still so new for Little Sammy, but he was blooming, working and happy, and making Tommy more relaxed in his own skin than Gabe had ever seen.

Sammy got him a bottle of water along with one for Tommy. Then Sam carefully removed the loose, soft shirt, turning so Gabe could see Tommy’s work.

Oh, yeah. Tommy was so good with a flogger. The boy’s skin was flushed red, and the lines from the flogger’s falls were consistently deep and evenly laid out. It was Tommy’s favorite instrument, and it totally showed. “Looks like someone was a good boy.” He smiled. “Very pretty, Tommy.”

Tommy gave him a nod. “My boy’s inspirational, as you might imagine.”

“Looking good, Sammy.” Really good. He patted a spot on the boy’s arm, well away from any marks.

“Thank you.” Sammy returned to Tommy, leaning hard against Tommy’s leather-clad legs. Tommy rested one hand on Sammy’s nape, the act possessive, the “mine” clear to anyone who looked.

Tommy and Sammy met after Sammy’s brother, James—Tommy’s sub and lover—was murdered by a jealous bartender who worked at Tommy’s BDSM club. They’d come a damn long way since that day. Sammy had seemed little more than a hotheaded cowboy then, and Tommy had always spent his time deep in the tradition and formality of the lifestyle. Apart from their shared grief over James, it seemed like the two had little in common.

Gabe would have bet money it wouldn’t work out, and he was happy to be wrong. Mostly. He’d take Little Sammy off Tommy’s hands in a heartbeat.

Heh. Who was he kidding? He loved them together. And he’d found a real friend in Sammy.

“Sit, craning my neck is uncomfortable.” Tommy laughed and pointed to a chair nearby.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He plopped down and sprawled, nodding to a married couple and their boy held between them while they played a game of cards.

“So how’s things? Work good?” He asked about work because it was polite and all, and work was important to Tommy, but he was always in over his head once Tommy—and Sammy too, for that matter—started talking. He tended to hear art and money and research and donor and blahblahblah and he tried, but after a while he’d kind of tune out.

“…reception for the photography exhibit, and I’m trying to find a list of donors that would be willing to…”

Whoa. Yeah. He’d ask about football next.

Sammy grinned at him, eyes twinkling and wicked, like he knew.

“That’s about it I guess. You?”

“Same old, same old with me. It was good day today, though. Met a guy who could recite Hamlet backward.” He hadn’t read it since…a long-ass time ago, but it sounded like Hamlet.

Tommy laughed. “That’s a talent.”

“He was funny. Sick, though. Bad flu, I think.” He’d had better stories as a field medic, but he liked being an EMT. He was good at it, he met tons of people, and no one was shooting at him.

“I don’t know how you don’t catch every bug in the city.”

“Masks, gloves, don’t touch your eyes.” He grinned. “I did in the beginning actually, but I’m pretty sturdy. Aaron’s still getting sick every other week, but he’s a baby.”

“You’re just old.” Sammy was a turd. Adorable, but a turd.

“Didn’t you bring something to hit him with, Tommy? You know, nipple clamps are great for occasions like this too.”

“Actually, I like it when he says that. It makes me feel younger.”

Gabe snorted. “If the pair of you got any younger, you’d be in diapers.”

“Hey, I’m over thirty.” Tommy pretended to be offended. Or he thought that was pretending.

“Yeah, by the seat of your Pampers.”

Tommy’s jaw dropped, he made a little tick mark in the air, and they all started laughing. Sammy most of all.

Tommy sipped the water Sammy brought him and caught his eye. “So, have you heard about Clint’s new bartender yet?”

“He already hired someone?” He was still working up to going back to the club. He would. He probably could now that things were settling down.

“It’s a bar, Angel. How long did you think he’d be able to go without?” Tommy picked up the buzzing cell phone on the arm of the chair and looked at it. “Stephanie is calling me.”

Nothing like a call from your mother-in-law while hanging out at Mike’s.

Sam lifted his head, that frown immediate. “Answer. What if it’s Daddy?”

He caught the look between them, and Tommy answered. “Hello, Steph—yes, he’s right here, is everything all right?…Oh…bad?…Oh…of course, Momma, hold on.” Tommy held the phone out to Sammy, looking very much like he’d gotten bad news. “Sam.”

“Is it Daddy?” Sam reached up and took the phone.

Tommy shook his head no. “Talk to your mother.”

After James was murdered, Sammy’s dad had a stroke. But Gabe thought the man was recovering well. If it wasn’t Sammy’s dad, then it had to be…shit. Sammy’s big brother, Bowie, the Ranger, was deployed overseas. Fuck. He leaned forward in his seat, watching Sammy closely.

“Hey, Momma. What’s…oh. Oh, damn. How bad?…Okay. Germany. Right. Well, let me talk to Thomas, and I’ll call you back. Love you.…Yeah, yeah. I love you. Bye.” Sam hung up and shook his head. “It finally happened. Bowie lost to a bomb.”

Gabe sighed. Lost to a bomb. Bowie was a specialist. That could be some ugly shit. “How bad?”

Tommy slid off the chair to the floor beside Sammy. “What can we do?”

“He was lucky. He knew it was going bad. He was running. He’s got some damage to his left leg. They think they can save it.” Sam grabbed Thomas’s hand. “He’s in a hospital in Germany. How do you feel about going over to see him?”

“I’ll do anything you want, sweetheart. You tell me where and when, and I’ll get the tickets.” The look that passed between them was so intense; Tommy just took it on for Sammy without any thought at all.

It was hard not to be envious of that. Not of them, but of that look. That kind of connection. He cleared his throat and stood up. “I’ll get you guys a car, sneak you out the back. It’s a zoo up there.”

“Thank you, Gabe.” Tommy nodded to him. “Can you water the plants? We’ll text you when we know when we’re leaving.”

That request was not in any way, shape, or form meant to rub salt in a wound, but fuck if it didn’t anyway. What was wrong with him?

“Of course, man. Whatever you guys need, you know that. Hang here, I’ll text you when your car is outside.”

Tommy was getting Sammy up, putting that shirt back on the boy. “I’m real sorry, Sammy. You tell him thank you for me.” He gave Sammy’s shoulder a squeeze.

“He’ll be fine. I swear. I know he will.” Sammy sighed. “I guess this means he’ll be going home.”

For a lifer like Bowie, that might be harder to deal with than whatever happened with the leg. “He’s a tough nut. I’ve got faith.” That was about all Gabe was going to say. In his experience, the words “bomb” and “fine” didn’t cross paths that often. He headed upstairs to get some air and call an Uber.

 

Title: The Soldier and the Angel
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B089R7DYSW
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-31-4

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Lost Boy

Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: Les's Bar #5
Genre: , , , , , ,
Release Date: January 28, 2025

Lost Boy is an opposites attract, sub top, size difference, BDSM romance featuring a strong but gentle veterinarian and a K-9 police dog trainer with a fiery temper.

Veterinarian and Dom Leo Aetos adores animals, has a great apartment in Brooklyn, and even has a favorite bar. The only thing he doesn’t have is a lover and a sub to share it all with. Finding that man is easier said than done because he’s searching for someone with very specific needs. He needs a sub who steps out of the stereotype and that's tall order. Much like he is, at well over six feet.

K-9 Police dog-trainer and sub Chris Kinney figures there’s no way he’d be anything close to what Leo wants. His last D/s relationship failed miserably and he is convinced it was his own fault. He just couldn’t be sort of sub his ex needed him to be. Worse, he struggles with his temper, and he’s not even sure he belongs in New York.

Leo wants to take Chris on despite Chris's misgivings, with some help from his friends at Les’s Bar. He knows pretty much right away he’s not going to want to let Chris go, but will he be able to convince Chris they can both get what they need, without the ex threatening their new relationship?

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Lost Boy – Chapter One

“Hello, is this Mr. Muffins?”

Leo walked into the exam room where a little girl was holding an all-black cat with gorgeous golden eyes. She nodded to him, her pigtails swinging around her shoulders.

“He’s getting fat.” She was very serious, but her father snorted a laugh.

“We’re not overfeeding him.”

“Okay, so, let’s see what’s the matter with him. What’s your name?” Leo took the cat and put him on the table. He was very well-behaved, well-socialized, and didn’t mind being handled. That was very helpful.

“Amy.”

He did a quick palp of the cat’s belly. “I think I may know…” He flipped the cat over carefully and had a look, pushing fur aside. “I have your answer. Mr. Muffins is pregnant. So…she’s not a Mr.”

“She’s having babies?” Amy looked absolutely thrilled.

“What?” The dad actually took a step forward he was so surprised. “He’s a she?”

Leo nodded. “The chart says she’s an indoor cat, but has she gotten out in the last couple of months? She must have, right?”

“Yeah, actually. She jumped out an open window, and we lost her for a couple of days. Amy was so upset. But he—she—turned up near our building, and my wife found him. Her.”

He wasn’t sure how no one noticed a cat in heat, or why she wasn’t fixed as a kitten, but none of that mattered now so he didn’t even ask. “Well, she is now Ms. Muffins, and she’s got some babies on board. Congratulations!”

“Wow. Okay. I was thinking tumor, so I guess this is best-case scenario.”

He put the cat in the carrier that Amy set on the table for him and closed the door. “On the way out, stop by the front desk, and pick up the brochure on dealing with pregnant cats. And once she’s had the kittens, bring her back to get her fixed.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Aetos.” The dad stuck out his hand.

“My pleasure. Good luck.”

Amy skipped down the hall behind her dad and he followed. “Lexie? No charge for Mr. Muffins, and please change his name to Ms. Muffins and her sex to female in the chart.”

Lexie laughed. “You got it. You off the clock?”

“Yes. I am going home. But before I go, can you order me some more scrubs?”

“Sure. Let’s see… size super extra crazy tall, right?”

“You got it. And husky.”

Lexie laughed again. “Husky. I like it.”

“Do they have Minions?”

“Uh…” Lexie started scrolling. “Captain America?”

“I have those.”

Lexie pushed her dark bangs out of her eyes. “Kermit the Frog…”

“Got ’em.” He loved them too. They were actually fuzzy pajamas, not scrubs, and they were comfy.

“Sully?”

Hold up. “Ooh. Yes. Get me Sully. But do they have Minions?”

“I don’t see Minions except in normal big people sizes. Not Hulk.”

“I have the Hulk.” He had several pairs in fact, because people thought they were funny and gave them to him as gifts all the time. He would never run out of Hulk pants. He sighed. “You know, are Minions really too much to ask for?”

“Hey, they have Little Mermaid!”

“No shit? In my size?”

“They totally do.”

That was a no-brainer. “Well, I need those. Obviously.”

“Obviously. Is that enough for now?”

“I guess so. But I’m going to keep asking about Minions, so keep your eye out.”

“If I see them, I’ll just order them.”

“Perfect. Thanks, Lexie.”

“You got it, King of the Jungle.”

He rolled his eyes. There wasn’t a big, tall, or giant joke he hadn’t heard. Not one. But they were all in good fun, and he didn’t mind.

There was no reason to get all caught up in drama when there was so much joy out there to discover, after all.

He changed out of his Lightning McQueen scrubs and clogs and into blue jeans and boots making his six-foot-four frame even taller, pulled on a clean T-shirt and his jacket, and headed out into the still-cold early-spring evening.

He got on the subway and had two stops to make up his mind before the train took him home. If he got off and changed trains, he’d leave Brooklyn and head into Manhattan where he’d spend his evening at Les’s Bar.

Or, he could go home, curl up on his couch, and watch a movie.

One stop… two stops…

Oh why not? He got off and switched trains.

The bar would be warm, busy, and a decent place to spend an evening. There was something about Les’s—not fancy, but absolutely not a dive. It was simply a good place for men of his predilections to hang out.

The only drawback, living in Brooklyn, was the bar was a bit of a trip. But he always sprung for a ride home. He could afford it, and at the end of the week, he deserved a little treat.

He got off the subway and walked the last couple of blocks, arriving after happy hour, but it wasn’t too late to order a bite to eat. He smiled as soon as he walked in the door, glad he’d decided to come out. He was always so relaxed here. He glanced at the booths where they normally sat people that wanted to eat but walked right by them.

He just didn’t fit. He always ate at the bar.

“Master Leo! How’s it going?” One of the bartenders offered him a warm smile. “Good to see you.”

“Drew.” He smiled. “Always good to see you. May I please look at your menu?” He always asked to look even though he practically had it memorized. “And whatever cabernet you have open. Thank you.”

“Of course, Sir.” In moments, he had a glass of wine and a menu, along with a warm smile.

“Thank you, boy.” Drew was adorable, and every sub in here knew just how unattached he was, so he got a lot of hopeful smiles. He wasn’t that guy, though. He didn’t take just anyone home for some fun. He had a weird tendency to crush on adorable subs whether they were really suited to his needs or not.

He couldn’t help it. He didn’t just like people; he fell a little bit for almost everyone.

“Dude, did you hear about Master Neil’s friend?” One of the little ones was gossiping to his bar mate. “My Master took me to the diner, and we saw him. He’s crazy, man. You can see it in his eyes.”

“Boy.” He interrupted in an admonishing tone. “I don’t think that kind of gossip appropriate in this setting.” Neil probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

One of them whispered, “Dammit,” while the other said, “Sorry, Sir!” in a tone so bright it was ridiculous.

Neil was in law enforcement, if he remembered correctly. It didn’t seem like Neil would have an unstable friend who worked in a diner. But then, one of Neil’s partners was a shrink, so anything was possible.

They weren’t at the bar often, honestly. He saw them once a quarter, maybe. Isaac didn’t seem like the bar type.

He looked the menu over and put it down, waving Drew back to him. “Spaghetti and meatballs, please. And what is this about Neil’s friend? Is Neil okay?”

“Master Neil? Oh, they’re talking about Chris. He’s a dog trainer. He’s from… somewhere with mountains. His apartment flooded, and he’s been staying with the three of them. I’d question more if Master Isaac is okay…”

“Four of them under one roof? That’s a lot. A dog trainer is cool though.” It sucked to lose an apartment, though. “You’re probably right about Isaac; he’s a routine guy.”

“Yes, Sir. Very much, and Alain and Neil are up and out at four a.m., while Chris is a night owl, so…”

“Oof. That sounds terrible.” He shook his head. “Why are they saying he’s… unstable?”

“He’s a bit of a wild one, that’s all. You know, a little bit of a drinker, one of those ‘I’ll submit if you can force me’ types.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “Oh yeah? So, no Dom of his own, I take it.” Interesting. He wasn’t sure what “wild” really meant though. “I’m sure Isaac loves that.”

Isaac could put his foot down, but he wasn’t one for a fight. He knew that much.

Drew shook his head, lips twisting. “No, Sir. They were in here a few nights ago, and Master Isaac took Alain home.”

“Hm. Maybe I’ll give Neil a call and see if he needs some help.” He could take the boy out for an evening, give them all a break. He knew his way around a willful sub; they’d be all right for an evening.

“Somewhere with mountains” made it sound like the boy didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“Oh, you are the sweetest man, Sir. Let me put your order in. Xavier’s in a great mood, so the food should rock.”

“Tell him extra garlic.” He wasn’t going to be kissing anyone tonight.

Leo pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts to see if he had Neil. Neil was a switch, an interesting guy. They’d flirted a little once, but he backed off when he found out about Neil’s needs. He knew he had a problem with investing in subs, and that would have been a poor investment for both of them.

Neil was a fascinating person, though, and could tell stories about when he’d been a cop for days. Now that he co-owned a diner with his lover, Leo could only imagine how amazing the stories had become.

He didn’t have Neil’s number. Hm. “Hey, Drew? Can you find me the number for Neil and Alain’s diner? Or even Isaac’s number would work.”

“Let me get Les for you, Sir. He’ll be able to help you.” Oh, good boy—protecting their customers.

He ought to have known better. “Of course. Thank you.” Drew ducked through a swinging door, and Leo waited for Les. Just as well, because Les might have more details. Maybe he was overstepping by thinking he could help. It was possible that Neil wouldn’t want it, of course.

But Neil was capable of saying “No, thank you,” and being perfectly polite about it.

Les came out from his office, a smile on his face. “Dr. Aetos! Welcome.”

He stood and offered a friendly hand to shake. “If it isn’t the Les, of Les’s Bar.” He grinned. “Good to see you.”

Les bowed, then snorted. “It’s good to be seen. Sorry about Drew. We have rules about giving out information, and he is… scrupulously honest.”

“No, Drew did exactly the right thing, I ought to have known better. I overheard something about Neil having a challenging visitor, and I thought I might be able to help. I can contact him another way. Stop by the diner, maybe.” The food was amazing, it would be a worthwhile trip.

“Yes. Oddly enough, Isaac had to take Alain out when they were here, and I believe Neil and his company are staying in a hotel…”

“Oh my. That’s worse than what I’d imagined. Did you meet this friend when they were here?” Maybe volunteering to help was a poor idea.

“I did. He’s…” Les pursed his lips. “Not a man you would take as a submissive. He’s very willful, strong, hungry for a struggle and unapologetically so.”

Not a man he’d take as a sub. Interesting. “Is he actually a sub? Or is he just a guy with issues?”

“Neil seems… very sure. Incredibly sure.”

“Hmm. It sounds to me like Neil has a problem.”

“Yes, well—we do know that is an issue for our friend, don’t we?”

He nodded. “Do you have any sense how long this guy is going to be in town?”

“Oh, he worked with Neil. He trains K9 dogs for the police.”

That probably meant that Neil was going to get the guy a job. “So… permanently. Issac must be a wreck. I barely know him, but I know enough.”

Les rolled his eyes, but his smile was fond. “Hopefully things will work out quickly. Isaac hates being at odds with Neil.”

“I’m going to drop by the diner. I kind of like the headstrong ones. They can be fun. Maybe I can give them a night off. Thanks for all the info.”

Drew came out with a plate of pasta and meatballs that made his mouth water from three feet away. “Oh. Come to papa.”

“Enjoy, Sir! Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Let me know how things go with Neil. I’m interested.” Les tapped the bar. “Enjoy your dinner. Always good to see you.”

He nodded and managed to say thanks around his bite of meatball.

Dinner at the diner tomorrow. That was a plan. The rest he’d play by ear. He didn’t mind. It sounded like fun.

 

 

Title: Lost Boy
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0DSCQQHM1

Safe Words: A Deviations Novel

Contributors: Jodi Payne and Chris Owen
Series: Deviations #5
Genre: , , , ,
Release Date: December 30, 2019 (Third Edition)
Pages: 294

NOTE: The following blurb contains spoilers for the Deviations series. If that matters to you, stop here and read the series first, beginning with Deviations: Submission.

Safe Words picks up where the Deviations series left off. Tobias, Noah and Phan are all working on finding their place, both at Bradford's club and in their personal lives. They're all living together too, and Tobias has taken on the role of full-time Dom to both men, which he loves but finds incredibly challenging.

While Noah finds comfort in their new arrangement and is looking forward to deeper submission, Phan has a harder time finding balance and peace. There are many changes happening too fast and making Phan act out, and neither Tobias nor Noah are sure how to deal with it.
Life is not perfect for Bradford, either, as he finally confronts his feelings for his sub, Nikki. How will Tobias help his closest friend, manage his job training other Doms at the club, and juggle his relationship with Noah and Phan without allowing the house that he's built for himself fall down around their ears?

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EXCERPT FROM SAFE WORDS: A DEVIATIONS NOVEL

Tobias leaned in the doorway, one shoulder against the jamb and his arms folded over his chest, watching silently. He was wearing riding clothes, intending to go for a ride on his horse, but he hadn't yet made it down the stairs to the lower level of the farmhouse.

Instead, while dressing, he'd heard the clink of free weights coming from the newly created workout room, and, a little too like Pavlov's dog for comfort, he'd gone there instead.

Tobias had a weakness for watching Noah exercise. Noah had kept himself in insanely good shape after leaving the police force, maybe even better than he had done while working for the law. He tended to do a lot of work without his shirt on since his change of employment, and while he wasn't ripped and cut, he was certainly firm and tight. Tobias rarely missed a chance to look his fill.

"You're in here early," Tobias said, watching Noah's arms curl so his biceps flexed.

Noah glanced up at Tobias briefly, then back at his biceps. "Nine, ten," he counted out loud. "Good morning. Thirteen..." He grunted his way through fourteen and fifteen, his teeth clenched and his brow furrowed.

Tobias found he had more than a passing appreciation for Noah's intensity, and he smiled to himself as he felt desire lick up his spine. It never failed -- Noah and weights, that was all it took. Well, Noah and just about anything, but the weights were a sure thing.

"I can't sleep alone," Noah explained, still panting. "In that great big bed." He gave Tobias a suggestive wink as he set the dumbbells back in their rack. "Plus, I'm heading into town today." He patted his face with a towel and smiled mischievously.

"I know." Tobias tried not to sigh. Usually, he had no issue at all with Noah having a day off from his duties as Tobias' submissive. Usually, Noah wasn't all sweaty and glossy from working out on his day off. "Do you and Phan have plans?"

Phantom, Tobias could hear, was in the kitchen making breakfast. It was his day off as well, but Phan didn't seem to think that Tobias was capable of making his own breakfast. Though why toast needed the noisy rattle of a frying pan on a gas range, Tobias didn't know.

"We do." Noah approached Tobias slowly. "Breakfast," he said, just as something clattered in the kitchen, "which you've no doubt noticed, and then shopping and a downtown, greasy dinner. This would be why I need the extra workout." He leaned close and kissed Tobias lightly on the lips. "Are you going to miss us?"

"I always miss you. Well, usually. There are times I'd happily send Phan to town just so he'd stop pinging around the house and making it hard for me to get paperwork done." Tobias slipped his arms around Noah and kissed him again. "But I suppose he does have a valid point that I'm supposed to do that sort of thing in my office and not here."

"Well, you did insist that Bradford give you that swanky office at the club and a very sturdy desk to keep all that paperwork organized. I have to admit I don't think of the farm as work, either. I tend to leave that mentality at the club. But I'm just a sub; who am I to tell my Master where to do his work, right?"

Tobias snorted. "You do it all the time."

Noah grinned. "But I pay the price."

"One of these days, I'll stop letting you get whatever you want." Tobias barely kept himself from laughing. Noah teased, but he was never actually bad; if there was something to discuss, they handled things far better that way than with mental tug of war. They both liked the teasing, however, and Tobias would have been bored with compliant and malleable submissives.

Even if having two of them was a bit of a handful at times.

Title: Safe Words: A Deviations Novel
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B083B6TWBN
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-25-3

 

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The Trouble with Cowboys

Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: The Sin Deep Series #6
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: February 6, 2024

When Kacey Lowe shows up at his friend Sam’s place in New York, it’s because he has nowhere else to go. He’s lost his shot as a bullrider, and he’s beat up as anything to boot. He doesn’t want to impose on Sam, and he and his buddy tend to get into trouble together anyway. That’s how he ends up at River’s place.

River McIntyre doesn’t really understand Kacey, but he wants to help the tough little cowboy with whatever demons he’s wrestling. He’s not sure he can, and he’s not sure Kacey can be everything he needs, but he sees past Kacey’s pain and insecurities, and knows they could have something special together if they can just figure it out.

The trouble with cowboys, River finds out, is that they might be speaking a different language than a city man like him. But if they can meet in the middle somewhere, it will be worth all the effort.

The Trouble with Cowboys is set in The Cowboy and the Dom universe and features a hurt-comfort, opposites attract, D/s romance in New York City.

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Also in this series:

 

Chapter 1 

 

“Come on, man. Answer your fucking phone.” 

Kacey Lowe tried hard to know certain shit—one, where his boots were, two, where his phone was, and three, where he was going to be able to sleep in a world that had little to no use for a broke-dick bullrider. He had two out of three. 

Now Kacey needed a couch to surf. 

Sam O’Reilly would let him stay, have a little fun, and not ask too many questions about the bruises, why he was in New York, and what the hell he was going to do next. 

lo?” O’Reilly sounded drunk. “Who’s this?” 

“Kacey. How you been?” He could handle drunk. 

“Fine as frog hair. Where the hell are you?” 

“Um… Times Square, I think. I’m pretty sure.” The place was so lit up it felt like daytime. 

“Like in the city?” 

“Well, I am totally in a city. The New York one.” The last ride was a flower delivery dude. He’d been cool, and they’d shared a spliff. 

“What? When? Why? How?” 

That was a lot of questions in a row. Sam hadn’t changed a bit. “In New York. Now. Because of life and things, and really fucking slow?” 

“Wait. Hang on.” The music in the background faded away, and Sam got back on the line with more questions. “Okay. Did you get hurt? How did you get here? Where are you staying?” 

He couldn’t answer the first two questions without opening a can of worms. “I was sorta hoping you’d have a couch I could use for a day or two while I’m visiting.” 

Or until he got his bell unrung. 

Sam O’Reilly had been his mentor on the arena floor when he was a junior, and the man had been fun to hang with the few times they’d been together on the circuit. 

“Yeah, of course. Not many of us with couches up here, huh?” He heard street noises as Sam put him on speaker. “I’m texting you the address. We’re not home… uh… I’ll just see if I can convince Mister—Thomas—to make it an early night.” 

“Is it a bad time? I can wait til tomorrow, dude.” He could walk around for hours, no problem. He had enough cash to eat for damn near a year, if he was careful, and he would do near anything to win a bet, so… 

“Right. Just stay on the street tonight, and I’ll see you after breakfast.” Sam snorted. “Get your ass over there. Tell the doorman you’re a friend of mine, and he’ll let you wait in the lobby. We’ll be there in a little bit.” 

“You sure, man? I know this is a surprise.” 

“Shut up. See you in an hour, give or take.” 

Oh, thank God. Kacey sucked in a deep breath. “Thanks, man. Just a day or two.” 

“Yeah, while you’re in town.” 

Okay. He had himself a place to stay. If he remembered right, Sam liked a bar so he might get to have some fun too, while he figured out what to do next. He looked at the text—he could walk forty blocks in an hour, right? 

If not, he’d text and say he was running late. He was good at that. 

He set his GPS and started beating feet. 

Lord have mercy this place was wild. Maybe a guy could have some fun here… 

He found the address and slowed down as he moved up the block. The building was big. And tall. Really fucking tall. There was a big white awning held up by gold posts and a dude in a jacket and hat hanging out near the front door and watching him as he got closer. 

“Move on,” the guy said in a deep voice as he slowed down even more. 

“I got me an invitation from a friend.” He wasn’t going nowhere. “Sam O’Reilly. You know him?” 

Mhm.” The guy nodded. “You’re friends?” 

He arched one eyebrow, trying hard not to be a bitch. “Yessir. We rode together in Texas, couple times in Vegas.” 

“Understood. What’s your name?” 

“Kacey Lowe.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Lowe. Mr. O’Reilly isn’t at home. You can wait inside if it’s cold out here for you.” 

“That would rock. Thank you. It’s damn chilly.” He held out one hand to shake, but the dude stopped before grabbing his fingers. 

Oh. Right. 

They were a little tore up from the last fight, and that one finger was…wonky. 

“You’re definitely a friend of Sam’s.” They clasped hands gently, the door guy shaking his head. 

“Yessir. Since I was a teenager, you know? He’s wild as anything.” And a great drinking buddy. “I’m looking forward to hanging with him.” 

“Mm. Wild.” The guy waved an arm and the doors slid open. “There’s a pot of coffee behind the desk.” 

“Thank you, sir. I do appreciate it.” He headed in and grabbed a cup of coffee, heavy on the sugar and creamer. 

Calories were good. They kept a man warm. 

He hadn’t gotten one sip down before Sam came through the door, followed by a tall, handsome, very… hot…uh. Had he mentioned tall? 

“Kacey.” Sam came right to him with a smile. “I can’t believe you’re here.” 

“Sam.” Damn, Sam looked so good. Healthy. Strong. Almost like a grown-up. Weird. “I missed your skanky ass, man.” 

“Hey now, I’ve cleaned it up a little since you saw me last.” Sam gave him a hug, and he was proud of himself for not wincing. “You look good.” 

“You appear to have been in a fight,” Mr. Handsome said. Was that a growl? 

Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Kacey, this is Thomas.” 

“Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand. Again. “And I swear, I haven’t been in a fight.” 

He’d been in a few dozen. 

Thomas took his hand, but not to shake it. He looked at it critically, turned it palm-side up and back again, then sighed. “You need to get some ice on that. I think I might have a splint for the finger. Come on upstairs.” 

“Dude, seriously? What the hell happened?” Sam grinned at him. “Tell me it was fun, at least?” 

“I wish I could, cowboy.” 

Thomas led them to the elevator, and when the big, shiny doors opened, they all got on. Thomas was… not really staring but looking him over. It was weird, but it wasn’t creepy. 

Sam nodded to him and rested a hand on his arm. “I’ll make us coffee.” 

Oh god, don’t leave me with him. “I’ll help.” 

“It’s no pr—” 

“I’ll so help.” Helping, helping, la la la. 

“Let him help.” Why did it feel like Thomas could see right into his soul? God, that was unnerving. 

“So… this is your… roommate?” He didn’t read like a roommate. More like a grumpy fuckbuddy. Possibly a sugar daddy. 

Dude. 

Dude. 

Did Sam have a sugar daddy? He had a decent belly, but he was a little un-twinkly and sparkly. In Vegas, boys like that had glitter. 

Thomas laughed as they stepped off the elevator but didn’t answer the question. “I thought you said he was a good friend, Sam?” 

“He is. He’s a rodeo buddy. He was a junior rider that I mentored.” Sam sighed and shook his head. “Thomas here, he’s my lover. My guy. My… person, huh? If you’re not cool with that…” 

“Dude. I know you’re into dick. I just didn’t know you were into…” Big growly dudes with biker boots and a fancy apartment. “Permanent guys.” 

“Yes, he’s permanently into my dick.” Thomas was still chuckling as he opened the apartment door. 

“Kinky,” he whispered. 

Sam started chuckling, the sound started soft and built. 

And built. 

And built. 

Thomas leaned close to Sam and kissed his forehead. “I’m not touching that.” 

Sam led him toward an open kitchen, and Thomas went the other way down a long hall. 

“Lord, he’s a biggun. Pretty, though.” That seemed the most polite. 

“He’s amazing. I’ve never been happier.” Sam started making coffee. “What the fuck happened to you? And don’t say nothing, because I’m neither blind nor stupid.” 

“Did you just say ‘nor’?” 

“Neither… nor…” Sam shot him a look. “I asked you a question.” 

“It’s a long story, but the short version is, got dumped, got outed, lost my sponsors, got reminded that I ain’t supposed to be in Texas.” Hell of a short version. 

Sam puffed out a breath and went back to making coffee. “I’ve heard that story before. I’m sorry. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. Just been traveling. Seeing stuff. Wandering. I looked you up—sorry about your brother, by the way.” 

Sam nodded, took a deep breath. “Thanks. It was tough, but we caught the son of a bitch.” 

“That’s good. I hope he got what he deserved.” 

“Neosporin, band-aids, ice pack, Tylenol, and one finger splint.” Thomas appeared and set everything down on the counter one by one, then held out a hand palm-up. “Will you let me see?” 

Oh, how decent was that? Pretty damned, if you asked him. He held up one of his hands. They hurt pretty good, and that one finger needed something to encourage it not to fall off. 

He wasn’t a damn roper, after all. 

“Hm. I’ll be careful.” For the next few minutes, Thomas gently cleaned his hands up with damp cotton balls and covered the one bad cut with the cream and a band-aid. Thomas’s hands were warm, and those fingers moved over his skin like… like he cared. 

And the man never growled once. 

Okay, weird. Again. “Thanks. Seriously. I’ll slam the finger in the splint, if it grosses you out.” 

It grossed him out some, but it was easier to just do it, right? 

“Pfft.” Thomas shook his head. “I have a brother who has broken this finger three times, and several others more than once. Fists and walls don’t mix well.” There was a blinding light, and he was dizzy for a few seconds, and when he could see again, Thomas was wrapping tape around the splint to keep it in place. 

“Whiskey?” Sam asked, and he groaned. 

“Fuck me yes.” All the whiskey. 

“Rock on.” 

“You didn’t faint, and you didn’t lose your balance. You’re like my Sam.” He wasn’t sure how to read Thomas’s smile, but the man rested his hand on the counter and gave it a gentle pat. It was weirdly… what? Parental? Something. “All good.” 

“Thanks, man. I appreciate this. I’ll be on my way in a day or two. I just wanted to get a face-to-face with Sam-I-Am.” 

Sam rolled his eyes, shook his head. “I swear to God, Kacey. You carry trouble like a landed bass.” 

“I sure do try, yessir.” 

Thomas took Sam by the chin and kissed him. “I’ll leave you two to talk, sweetheart. Good night.” 

“See you in a bit, Mister.” Sam poured two coffees, calm as all get out. “Are the hands the worst of it?” 

“Nah.” No, the worst of it was in his soul, and what could he do about that now? He’d thought Mitch and him, they’d had something workable. Something nice, even, but when they’d been caught, Mitch had said he wasn’t willing. He’d never forced no one to do anything. Not ever. 

But that didn’t matter, and that wasn’t something he was ever gonna talk about. That secret belonged to him. 

Sam gave him a knowing smile, which didn’t hurt so bad, coming from him. “I didn’t reckon. The core shots are the ones that are the worst. Come on. Let’s sit and bullshit a minute.” 

Core shots. He hated that Sam seemed to know something he didn’t want to tell. 

“That I can do. I’m full of bullshit.” His laugh didn’t make that funny like it should have. 

“We all are. Sometimes, we find the thing that we need to empty us out.” 

That was damn near deep, and he didn’t believe it for a second. “Whatcha doing with yourself these days, buddy?” 

Sam shrugged, cheeks pinking. “Believe it or not, I got my damn PhD. I teach. I write books…” 

“Cool, man. That’s… wild.” Kacey felt himself shrink inside. Sam O’Reilly had retired, become a professor, wrote books. He wasn’t broke dick, but he had a couple thousand bucks, his boots, his phone, and a single silver buckle. Fuck, he needed to find another place to go. 

“Totally is. How’d you end up here?” 

Kacey curated what he wanted to tell Sam, and he finally settled on, “I was in Columbus, and the guys were heading west, so I came over. I was on a bus, googling, and happened on your name. Thought if I came here, I’d look your happy ass up.” 

Sam took a slow sip of his coffee, then looked at him. “Why not go home?” When he didn’t answer, Sam added, “Rough weather?” 

“Yeah. My folks—” He waved one hand, because he didn’t know what say. He watched the coffee wave in his cup, back and forth, and finally words just fell out of his lips. “I fucked up, Sam. Bad. There ain’t no coming home from that.” 

Sam set his cup down. “Shit, Kace. Are you in trouble? We know people…” 

He shook his head, even as he desperately wanted to nod. “No. No, I ain’t here to fuck your life. I just need a day or two to rest, yeah? Then I’ll go traveling again.” 

“I’m telling you we can help. You rest, get your head right, but you think about it.” 

“Thanks for answering your phone.” He needed a friend, a minute to breathe. 

“Thanks for trusting me, man. Drink your coffee and breathe. You’re safe here.” Sam winked at him. “Thomas is way more badass than he looks.” 

“Is he a teacher too?” Kacey was betting on librarian more than teacher. 

“No, no. He’s the head curator for the Metropolitan Museum.” Sam sounded proud. 

“Damn.” Sam had just left his whole world behind like dust. “Good on y’all.” 

He didn’t even know what the hell he was going to do to make money. He needed to google canned rodeos. 

Mechanical bull competitions. 

Daredevil shows. 

“You’ll figure it out. I was lost when I got here, and I couldn’t go back home. This is home now.” 

“I’m tickled shitless for you. You got work tomorrow?” You want to go find some trouble with an old friend? 

“I’m not teaching. I can skip a day of writing to hang, sure.” Sam tilted his head, lips twitching. “After all, it is Friday…” 

“Yeah? No shit? Surely we can find ourselves something to do.”

Title: The Trouble with Cowboys
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B0CSW7DS8F

Soft Limits: A Deviations Novel

Contributors: Jodi Payne
Series: Deviations #6
Genre: , ,
Release Date: November 12, 2019
Pages: 250

A DEVIATIONS NOVEL 

Note: Soft Limits a prequel in the timeline, but can be read first, last, or anywhere along the way. It contains no spoilers for the series.

Fans of the iconic Deviations Series will fondly recall Bradford as the beloved owner and Master of the exclusive, male-only, BDSM club that anchors the series, and also as the wise man who introduced Tobias and Noah.

Dominant Bradford’s story is one defined by sudden opportunity, unimaginable heartbreak, and new-found purpose. His calling is to provide a safe and supportive environment for men in the lifestyle. Bringing Doms and subs together is his superpower, yet ironically, he feels fated to be alone himself.

In this prequel to the series, you’ll discover how Bradford is first drawn to Nikki, a hungry young man living on the streets, and the unexpected ways Bradford grows and changes while helping Nikki understand a world of strange, new desires.

Deviations readers already know how Bradford and Nikki find their happy ever after. Soft Limits is a deep-dive into Bradford’s story, into what makes the Dom tick, and how he ended up with ownership of the club. It also introduces Nikki, the sub that tests Bradford’s patience, steals his heart, and soothes his soul.

Available for purchase from your favorite retailer!

Buy the Book: Amazon~~Barnes & Noble~~iBooks~~Publisher~~Kobo~~Smashwords~~Universal eBook Links

Also in this series:

Chapter 1

The city was lovely in June with the onset of warmer days and summer just starting to take hold. Bradford enjoyed a soft rain shower; it was a welcome respite from the growing heat. A downpour like this one though, was nothing short of a goddamn nuisance.

As he hastily shouldered his way into the local coffee shop to escape the deluge, he found himself longing for the familiar, comfortable, and dry confines of his club. With his cozy brownstone right next door, he rarely headed outdoors anymore, except for the occasional stroll to clear his head or take in some fresh air on a nice day.

This was not a nice day, but he’d had an important meeting this morning with his leathersmith that required his presence at the craftsman’s workshop, and so he’d been obliged to venture out of his neighborhood. He shook out his umbrella and retreated into the breezeway, taking another moment to remove some of the water from his overcoat as well before pushing his way through the second set of glass doors. He smoothed his hair back with one hand and sighed as the cooler air of the café and welcoming scent of coffee washed over him.

Ah, yes. Coffee would set him to rights.

There was a decently long line, but Bradford didn’t care. He planned to sit in a window seat with the newspaper and slowly sip his coffee, silently cursing Mother Nature as he waited for the weather to pass. Besides, rain or no, he had no intention of rushing home to the club after he’d gone to such lengths to make sure he was covered for an afternoon off. No, he was going to sit right here, read and people-watch, and remind himself that although the nonstop hustle of the city wasn’t the reason he’d relocated here many years ago, it was one of the reasons he’d stayed. He really ought to try to get out more.

A couple barreled into the café sans umbrellas. The pair of them looked like drowned rats and were laughing about just that when they took their place in line behind him. Bradford shook his head. He remembered being young and penniless, though not fondly. He much preferred being mature and comfortably situated. It afforded him the opportunity to do exactly as he pleased, which, for an experienced Dominant with particular and often expensive tastes such as himself, was essentially nirvana.

They finally moved a bit, and Bradford took two shuffling steps forward. In front of him was a young man of perhaps twenty, who was tapping a chewed-up pen against a damp newspaper. He leaned around the boy for a better view, curious and assuming it to be a crossword puzzle, but discovered it was in fact the classified ads. He became acutely aware, now that he was in closer proximity, that the young man smelled faintly of vanilla.

Bradford blinked and shifted away slightly, thinking that being close enough to take in a young man’s scent and enjoy it was fine in the privacy of his club, but here in a busy café it might make him appear to be a dirty old man.

Never mind that he was one.

“Who’s next?” a barista called out and the line moved.

Bradford couldn’t seem to refrain from looking the young man over. His army-green jacket was a bit large and hung on narrow shoulders. He wasn’t terribly tall and his shoes were worn and soaked through. He had a gray scarf knotted around his neck, water still beading on it in several places.

“Next!” They moved again. Bradford heard the young man sigh and watched him rub each eye in turn with the heel of his hand. Bradford frowned, keenly aware that the city could be rough on young people. It certainly did seem to be rough on this one.

While he was contemplating that, the young man stepped up and ordered.

“Small coffee, black.” The boy tapped a granola bar on the counter and dug through numerous pockets but in the end, put the granola bar back.

“Just the coffee?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Oh, hey.” He leapt into motion, smiling at the barista. “I’ve got his coffee. A doppio for me, please, extra hot. And a turkey club.”

The young man looked startled and very confused. “I…uh.”

He remained stoically silent until the barista slid their coffees across the counter, followed by the sandwich in a to-go container. He paid, still not answering the young man for the time being, then hustled the boy away from the counter and over to a nearby table. “Sit, boy,” he ordered.

The young man glanced up at him sharply with wide blue eyes. Not just any blue, he noted, but a deep sapphire, and they were moderately terrified. Bradford swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. Please, have a seat.”

The young man didn’t sit, but after a long moment, Bradford did. He put the sandwich down on the table and slid it over toward his young companion.

“I don’t do that,” came a quiet reply.

“You don’t eat?” Bradford asked casually, pretending not to catch on. The young man was hungry; that much was evident. He was thin and he hadn’t yet bolted. “Look, it’s yours. Take it to go if you’d prefer to eat alone, or I invite you to sit with me.” He set his umbrella on the floor and shimmied out of his wet raincoat, letting it fall off his shoulders and over the back of his chair.

After another moment’s hesitation, the young man abruptly sat down and tucked into the sandwich. “You dint haf to,” the boy said as he chewed, his mouth overly full. “I ate yesterday.”

Well, that explained the sunken cheeks and the narrow shoulders. “Naturally, I didn’t have to; it pleased me to do so,” Bradford replied a bit defensively and followed that with a sigh. Really, he wasn’t fit for conversation outside of the club anymore. “That is to say, I wanted to buy it for you.” He watched the young man devour the sandwich, pieces of bacon and lettuce sticking out of the corners of the boy’s mouth. He rolled his eyes at himself and touched the edge of the young man’s newspaper with one finger, sliding it closer to look it over as he sipped his doppio slowly. “Delivery boy, third-shift stocker, parking lot attendant, hm…” Bradford glanced up at the boy. “What’s your name?”

“Nikki,” the young man answered, chewing still.

“Nikki. I see.” He shifted in his seat. “Do you have a last name, Nikki?”

Nikki shook his head. Whether that meant “no” or “none of your business” was difficult to tell, but he assumed the latter and didn’t press the issue. After all, he could count on fewer than the fingers of one hand the number of people who knew his own last name.

“Well, Nikki.” He drew out the name, trying it out on his tongue. “Been in town long?” It was obvious the boy had not, and as Bradford expected, he got another shake of the head.

“I see.” He leaned forward, closer to Nikki, who eyed him warily but didn’t appear to have any intention of putting down his half-eaten sandwich. “Boys without last names have a very hard time getting work in this town.” Nikki searched his eyes for a moment and sighed, his shoulders slumping. “However,” Bradford said grandly, much too grandly for a small local café, “I have need of a dishwasher, and perhaps some other errand-type work, if you are interested.”

The offer hung in the air between them, and he couldn’t be sure which of them was more startled by it: Nikki, who stared at him frozen in midchew, or himself. He most certainly did not need another dishwasher. Where the hell had that come from? Damn those blue eyes. And that soft voice. And smooth skin.

“Christ.” Bradford swore under his breath, hiding his consternation behind another sip of strong coffee. You’re too old for such lechery.

Nikki shrugged, finally. “Yeah? Okay. Thanks.”

And just like that, Bradford had himself a brand-new dishwasher.

Huzzah.

 

Title: Soft Limits: A Deviations Novel
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B07ZJSK58Y
ISBN13: 978-1-7330076-4-1

 

Soft Limits is available in AUDIO!
Purchase it at Audible, iTunes, and Amazon.

 

 

BUY LINK: https://readerlinks.com/l/2251903

Temptation Ranch

Contributors: Jodi Payne, BA Tortuga
Series: Standalone #6
Genre: , , , , ,
Release Date: July 20. 2020
Pages: 186

Playboy Tad Dawson dedicates his Saturday nights to looking for a strong man with the firm hand he craves at a certain sort of club in Austin. So when he heads out to his favorite neighborhood gay bar for a more casual Friday night, he’s looking to drink, dance with his friends, and maybe have a little sexy fun on the side. Tad certainly doesn’t expect to run into a man like Strait McMasters, a stunning, deep-voiced, stoic cowboy who seems to be everything Tad wants in one studly package.

Billionaire Strait intends to have a drink in honor of a friend who passed away when he stops in at the bar, but he’s not one to question his gut, and his instinct says that Tad, the young man with the unruly blond hair, is worth a second look. When their one-night stand turns into a several-day binge, Strait knows he’s found something special, and he hopes to keep it.

Tad is sure Strait can give him a stern look and a firm hand if only Tad can find the right way to tell him what he needs. Strait, meanwhile, isn’t sure Tad is ready for what it means to be part of his life, which includes a private island and full-time security. Will they find a way to truly understand each other, or is this temptation short term?

Buy the Book: Amazon~~Barnes & Noble~~Universal eBook Links

 

Chapter One 

 

“Tad! Tad, we’re over here, man!” 

Tad had just arrived, and his eyes were still adjusting to the low light in the bar, but he knew that voice well. His Friday night crowd was here and ready to party, and he was all in. He needed a beer first though, so he pointed to the bar, and Cooper gave him a thumbs up. A shot and a beer, and then he’d pump some money into the jukebox. 

His Friday night crowd was all about putting the work week behind them, getting drunk and getting laid, and that was his expectation: to blow off some steam, get stupid, and find someone to take him home. 

Sheila was behind the bar, hair up in a messy bun, her T-shirt with the faded Guns and Roses cover on it just tight enough to get attention. “Tequila and a Shiner?” 

He nodded to a guy sitting at the bar and then smiled at her. “Man, I come here too often.” 

“Jack and Coke.” Sheila sat the drink down on the bar in front of the cowboy and pulled down a bottle of tequila. 

“Thank you, ma’am.” Oh, that voice was slow and rough, like honey poured over river rocks. He took his ball cap off and tucked it in his pocket, then leaned an elbow on the bar. He did come here too often. Every Friday night and the occasional Monday through Thursday if he was bored, but he didn’t recall that voice; he’d have remembered it. 

“Tad!” He’d just been about to introduce himself when Cooper came over, cheeks glowing and eyes a little liquid. Someone had gotten quite a head start. “What is taking so long?” 

“I need a beer, bud. Give me a second.” 

Cooper hung on him and licked his ear. Did he want Cooper tonight? He’d been thinking maybe Rory. Cooper was sweet and a ton of fun, but usually only good for one round. Rory was heavy-handed and liked to draw things out, keep him up half the night. 

“Oh, Coop. Quit hanging on the man and let him have his drink.” Sheila set a shot down and his beer beside it. 

Cooper pulled back without arguing but pouted, lounging on a barstool beside him. “Bossy.” 

“Never change, Sheila.” Mmm. Bossy. Yeah, he set his mind on Rory. He picked up his shot, swallowed it down with salt but skipped the lime, going right for his beer instead. 

He glanced back over at Pretty Voice, finding a crisp white button-down shirt, a gray cowboy hat that cast a shadow, and one large, tanned hand with a gold nugget ring. Okay, that was fine as hell. 

Fine. Listen to him. How long had he been living in Austin now? Three years? Or, well seven if he counted his time at UT. He was losing Jersey and gaining words like “fine” and “y’all”. And his friends in both states teased him about it every chance they got. 

Still, fine was what it was about, wasn’t it? Guys in hats like that, hell not even as nice as that one, were the main reason he’d stayed here after he’d finished school. That, and he had no intention of ever working for his dad. 

Oh, and the music. He loved all the live music. 

But mainly it was the cowboys. 

“Okay, come on, baby.” Cooper got an arm around his narrow waist and tugged him right off his stool like he weighed nothing. He took another gulp of his beer and then dragged it off the bar as Cooper hauled him across the room. 

“Hey, Tad!” Half the crowd called his name at once, and he held up his beer, but he kept one eye on the bar. 

Oh. Wrangler butt. Nice. 

He swore that he could see the cowboy’s gaze following him all the way to their table. 

What was the universal sign for stay right there, and I’ll come say hi in a bit? Was there one? He was still working that out when someone took his beer. 

“Hey, sugar.” 

Oh. Rory. “Hey, there. That’s my beer.” 

“Uh-huh.” Rory took a sip without losing eye contact and handed it back to him. Damn, that was hot. Rory must be thinking what he’d been thinking because he couldn’t seem to look away all of a sudden. “Mmm. Shiner.” 

“My go-to.” 

“I know. Come sit.” Rory gestured to a chair at the end of the table, and he sat, making room beside him. 

“You think the cowboy at the bar knew what he was walking into?” Cooper asked. “This is not his crowd.” 

He looked over at the bar again; he’d take any excuse at this point. “I don’t know. What brings a man like that into this part of town anyway?” 

“Oh, that’s a good game.” Rory slid a hand into his hair and tugged just a little. “Maybe he’s investing in something. Building another strip mall.” 

“What? God, Rory. Use some imagination. He’s looking for someone who owes him money and was told the guy would show up here.” 

Tad snorted. “He’s…brooding. He had a bad breakup, and he needs to be where his friends won’t find him.” 

“Ooh. I like that one.” Rory gave his hair a playful tug and let him go. 

Juanito snorted. “He’s trolling for blowjobs, ese. You can tell by the boots.” 

“Yeah?” Cooper grinned wide. “Well, if that’s what he wants then he is in the right place after all!” That got a laugh from all of them. 

He wondered if it mattered that he was hoping Cooper was right. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to break away from everybodyfrom Rory in particularlong enough to even get the cowboy’s name. 

Sheila poured the cowboy another round, laughing at something he said. He pushed money across the bar, and that made her smile even bigger. 

All right, Pretty Voice was staying. 

“TGIF!” Rory’s deep voice growled, and they all clinked beer glasses. 

“Long week?” He asked first, so nobody would ask him. 

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.” Rory said that every time someone asked. He worked in the prosecutor’s office, and he always had good stories. He was right too. Tad almost never believed him. People were crazy. 

“Mine was fine. The rush is over for another semester. Shit, why I became a financial aid administrator is beyond me.” Cooper grinned over, eyes catching the swirling lights. “Who’s drunk enough to dance with me?” 

More dancing, less talking. He tipped his beer back and chugged down the second half, then slammed it down on the table. “Me. Soon enough.” Not really, but he wanted to dance anyway. Coop was pure sex on the dance floor. And Rory liked to watch. 

Cooper took his hand, and Tad followed willingly, right out into the middle of the floor where the lighting was purple. 

The music thumped, the floor vibrating with the sound. Cooper grabbed him, writhing against him like a slut, and damn, it felt good. 

He was happy to play with Cooper and enjoy a little of the buzz from his tequila. This was what Friday nights were for. And then tomorrow, like nearly every Saturday night, he’d hit a different kind of bar and see if anyone was looking for a boy like him. 

Cooper covered one ass cheek with a hot hand, and he looked up, and then toward the edge of the dance floor to see if Rory was watching. Rory was kissing Juanito, but the cowboy? That one was watching him like a hawk. 

Damn, had he lost Rory? What were the chances that cowboy would leave the barstool? It seemed like the man might be happy to sit there and watch him all night. Well, he could have fun with that, show off a little, build a little steam under that gray hat. He made a point of staring back, and then turned his attention back to Cooper. 

“Rory’s just trying to make you jealous, rev you up, man.” Cooper licked his ear, bit his earlobe. “We’ll give him something to watch.” 

“You just like showing off.” He liked Cooper’s brand of flirting, and he liked that his buddy seemed to get that he wanted more than something sweet tonight. He let Cooper handle him a little, spin him, pull him in close, kiss him quick and hard enough to make him blink. He smiled. “You’re drunk, Coop, huh?” 

“I’m not hurting, honey, but I’ll remember this in the morning.” 

“When Rory takes me home, I’ll make sure you get into a cab.” He kissed Coop on the cheek. He thought Cooper was the closest he had to a best friend. They’d tried being more, but neither of them was enough for the other that way. It didn’t stop them from taking advantage of some benefits now and then, though. 

“You’re a good guy. I wonder if the pretty cowboy dances?” 

“Nah. Not here. He’s a two-step guy, don’t you think? Isn’t that how that type rolls? He drinks Jack and Coke. That’s all I really know about him.” That, and he’s been watching me since I walked in. That was fair; he’d had his eye on the cowboy too. 

“Classic. Classier than beer. Dressed to the nines.” 

Maybe Cowboy had stopped after supper or a meeting. 

“Right? You think Juanito is right about his boots?” He winked at Cooper. 

“What do I know about cowboy boots, honey?” Coop scoffed. “Juanito isn’t exactly Western.” 

He laughed. “I thought you knew everything about men. Wasn’t it you that told me that? Oh my.” 

How shocked was he when a blond and smiling hottie danced in between them, sights set on Cooper? Far be it from him to come between his friend and a good time. He waved over the guy’s shoulder and winked, then made his way off the dance floor. 

Oh rats, he’d finished his beer. He’d just have to head back to the bar for another. 

The cowboy was still sitting there, strong and silent and still and sexy as fuck. God, he loved that stoic cowboy thing. Just getting close to that energy made his skin tingle. Made him want to hit his knees. 

“Sheila, I lost my dance partner!” He was going to say something to the guy. He didn’t know what yet, but something. 

“Oh, no! What are you going to do?” Sheila winked at him. 

“I’ll have what he’s having.” 

“You sure?” 

He gaped at her, jaw dropping. “Yes, please, bartender.” 

Sheila just shook her head at him, laughing. “Coming right up, honey. Sit.” 

He did sit, one stool over from Cowboy. Despite the way he’d been watched, he was still getting a bit of that arm’s length vibe. “Hey. TGIF, huh?” 

The cowboy turned to look at him, near-black eyes burning at him like a demon’s over sharp cheekbones and a trimmed dark beard. “You know it, honey. Long damn week.” 

His heart rate sped as he looked into those eyes, and he was thoroughly intimidated. Not scared, not worried, but he definitely had respect. And, Jesus, that voice made his balls ache a little. “Want to talk about it?” 

“Nothing much to talk about. Had a good friend and a good man pass away. We put him in the ground today.” 

“Oh. God, I—I’m so sorry about your friend. He lived in town?” 

“Jack and Coke. Enjoy.” Sheila winked at him and set it on the bar. 

“My treat,” the cowboy said, sliding a bill across the bar. “Dave was a local, yeah. We were frat brothers.” 

“Thank you, sir. UT? Which house?” He picked up the drink and took a sip, wincing a little at his first taste of the Jack, but mostly it went down pretty well. He looked at the glass. “Not bad.” 

“Fiji, and yeah, I’m a fifth-generation Longhorn. Hook em.” 

“Hook em.” He did love football. He held up his glass and took another sip. That one went down better. Fiji. Damn. The guy must have been deep in the closet, or richer than God. Which, okay. Look at the guy’s hat. “Fifth-gen? When did you graduate?” 

“I got my undergrad in 09, my graduate degree in 11. How about you?” The gravel never left the man’s voice, never smoothed out. “I’m straight, by the way.” 

The cowboy held out one hand. 

What? That was impossible. He shook hands with the guy. “Class of 2015. And you have no idea how sorry I am to hear that.” 

“Pardon?” He got a blink, a single raised eyebrow, and then a grin appeared. “No. No, honey, that’s my name. Strait, like King George. Strait McMasters.” 

“Oh! Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” Ordinarily he’d feel like an idiot, but the cowboy—Strait had to get that all the damn time, right? “Tad Dawson. Man, that’s a name, huh? Your parents gave you some big shoes to fill.” 

Class of 2009 made Strait…thirty? Thirty-one? But that voice and the look in those dark eyes…the man came across older. 

“Indeed. Daddy’s a big fan.” 

Tad was fascinated by the way Strait’s hand wrapped around the glass, brought the whiskey up to his lips. Those lips were pretty interesting too. They definitely had his attention. 

“His name doesn’t come up often where I’m from in New Jersey, but I was schooled big-time once I got here. I joke that I stayed for the music, but it’s actually pretty true. I love the music scene here.” And men like Strait were another reason. Though he couldn’t say he’d met anyone quite like this cowboy. 

“Yeah, there’s nowhere quite like Austin. It’s special.” 

“What are you drinking?” Rory’s hand landed on the small of Tad’s back, as Rory reached around to grab his glass. 

“Jack and Coke.” He covered his glass with one hand. “Rory, this is Strait. Strait buried a friend today. I’m keeping him company for a while.” 

Rory stopped short, stood, and held out one hand. “Man, I’m sorry. That sucks.” 

“You know it.” Strait shook with Rory. “Pleased.” 

“Rory’s another Longhorn, a couple of years before me. 2012? Is that right?” 

“You got it. You look a little out of place, Strait. How’d you end up in this bar tonight? Don’t seem like your crowd.” 

“The wake was three doors down. I wanted a drink before I headed home.” 

“I’m glad you picked this place.” 

Rory looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “Ah. So, I think I left Juanito alone over there.” Rory turned to Strait. “Sorry about your friend. Good to meet you. Safe home.” 

He winked at Rory and squeezed his friend’s hand before Rory headed back toward the dance floor. 

Those dark eyes landed on him with an almost physical weight. “Did I piss off your lover?” 

He stared into them a second, so infatuated with Strait. Then he blinked and laughed. “No. God, no. He’s a fuckbuddy, not a lover. A good one, but just a friend. And he knows me well enough to understand what I meant when I said I was glad you ended up here.” 

“Yelp said it was friendly, and I’m not looking for a fistfight.” Those eyes dragged over his body, making it clear what Strait was looking for. 

“Not a fistfight, no. No.” He moved over to the empty stool between them and played with the fabric of Strait’s dress shirt. “But I’m sometimesdifficult. I like a little convincing.” 

“Do you now.” It didn’t sound like a question, not really. Just a statement. “I wouldn’t mark that pretty face of yours with a fist.” 

He shook his head. “I won’t consent to that anyway. But…” He reached out and pushed back the cuff of his shirt, letting Strait see the faded marks from last weekend’s play. 

Damn, honey, you got you some bruises. I hope it was worth it.” Strait traced the marks with one fingertip, sending lightning through his arm. 

He wasn’t sure how to feel about the light touch over a spot that had been so roughly used just a week ago. It felt good, kind. Not at all like the Dom who had put the marks there. “I got what I needed.” 

It had been his third time with Bryce. He’d even thought about texting and seeing if the Dom wanted to go for four. Bryce was heavy-handed and rough as hell, but the Dom respected his few rules, played safe, and got him out of his head. He just wished he liked Bryce better. They played well, but they’d never be friends. 

He covered Strait’s fingers with his other hand and leaned in close. Close enough to allow a kiss. “You’ve had your eye on me since I walked in.” 

“I have. You walk like you know how to take it good and hard, and you have a mouth made for sucking.” 

Mother of God. 

Every nerve in his body responded to that: his heart raced, his face flushed hot, and his cock went from interested to…well, fuck. He wasn’t sure he could get up and walk right now. He closed the short distance between them like he’d been summoned, pressing his lips to Strait’s. 

One hand cupped the back of his head, tilting his face and holding him so Strait could take his lips, demanding control of the kiss and fucking his lips like he was storming a beach. 

Fuck, yeah. He didn’t think he’d ever been kissed like this in a bar before. Or anywhere. Strait’s complete focus made him groan, made him want to leave the bar and get naked. 

Right. Now. 

He let Strait have control for a second, but just long enough to show he was willing before he fought back, tongue shoving and defending. Tad knew he’d lose; he was looking forward to it, but he wanted the cowboy to know he wasn’t an easy mark. 

Strait chuckled softly into their kiss, those eyes watching him as Strait eased back. “This isn’t the place for this, honey.” 

God, even that laugh sounded like it was running over gravel. He liked it, the sound and the intention both. 

“No, Sir.” He took a breath and one more sip of his drink, then slid off his barstool. “My place?” He knew his buddies were watching and probably just as stunned as he was. The phone call from Cooper tomorrow would be epic. 

“Works for me. I’m parked right outside. You want to ride or follow me?” 

He smiled as sweetly as he could manage at Strait. “Can I trust you with my virtue? No? Good. We can take your car. Mine stays in the garage when I’m drinking.” 

“Good boy. I had two. I’m good to drive.” Strait caught Sheila’s gaze and shot her a smile. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” 

Sheila grinned back. “Y’all have a good night. Be good to our boy.” 

“Night, Sheila. Here comes Coop to get the gossip.” He waved to Cooper who gave him two thumbs up and the universal sign for “call me tomorrow”, then he hooked his arm through Strait’s, and they headed out the door.

Title: Temptation Ranch
Published by: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC
ASIN: B098LQ7F4Z
ISBN13: 978-1-951011-53-6