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MM Valentine’s Freebies and What Really Pulls The Trigger of a Gun 💔

Hey, peeps!

Shout out for all the newbies who picked up The Autumn Prince which was featured on Instafreebie Monday. I’m Sadie Sins and this newsletter is about free and discount mm (gay) romance and erotic books, and whatever I feel like rambling about at the time. You’re not obligated to hang around—click the unsubscribe button if you’re in newsletter overload, no judgments—but if you do hang around, hi and welcome. ^^

I’m putting my gun rant at the bottom. It’s not really a rant, it’s more just a thing. Life and death and not having the outrage in me anymore. But first, a quick update of all the things that happened book related.

You can read Drunk, Blind, Stupid Cupid on the site for free along with its sequel, My Broken Angel. Valentine’s special! I wanted to clean them up and get the edited versions up (Gail, you did an amazing job) but time just wasn’t on my side. When everything is a priority, nothing is a priority. (I’ve been saying this so much lately. @[email protected]) Still, they’re wonderful and heartfelt and, uh, pretty boys with wings. Can’t go wrong with that.

I’m nearly done writing Episode #3 of Teddy’s Naughty Adventures. I wanted a break from Hellcat before Hellcat broke me. Everything is turning into a long ass novel lately. I need to find a way to stop being so long-winded. Ugh. I’m going to be trying some speed writing, actually. Like, I came up with a template for the kind of formulaic erotic writing I do for the shorts (think Coffee Guy or The Drunk Email,) and I’m going to just fly through a story and see what happens. I need to finish something! My brain needs to be able to go ‘STOP!’ and I can feel content and satisfied in something. It’s getting overwhelming, all these novels without any end.

What else… oh, I did some pretty pictures of the Demon Bonded guys.

Wasn’t really even planning it, but instead looking for a break from the novel writing. I don’t know what it is but this week feels like it was twice as long as normal. So far I have Ky, and Lovely. And I did a little video thing of Lovely from start to finish! There’s something really satisfying to watch a painting get to the end. I think it’s the same trigger in my brain that paints in the first place—seeking a balance.

I want to make a video for the book covers I create. I don’t know if I want to put the time in to make it ‘instructional’ but you can learn a lot from a walk through about composition, placement, and how to get to the end of something when you don’t realize you’re still in the middle.

Call for REVIEWS!

Okay, so Wendy’s book, Zeus: Conquering His Heart is officially live and free to read on KU! It’s all about Eros (aka, Cupid) so very Valentine’s Day related. Wendy has that beautiful way with prose I dream of fondly while absolutely ignoring it in my own writing. If anyone has some extra time, I know she’s looking for reviews. It can always be hard to get reviews—it’s the bread and butter for a lot of authors, and always greatly appreciated. <3

Don’t miss the books down below (aka, if you don’t want to read about my take on gun control, scroll away. XD)

Where all My Opinions Lead to PTSD… Again. XD

So I heard about the Florida school shooting in passing (I’m not watching the news anymore,) and as terrible as it might sound, I didn’t feel a thing. Because this keeps happening. It’s going to keep happening because nothing is being done to change it. There is a problem in this country and it will not evaporate on its own. It’s only February and there have already been 6,965 incidences of gun violence in the US.

I heard a line from someone who was previously on Cracked (can’t think of his name) that went along the lines of ‘just what do you think the generation who grew up afraid of being shot up in their schools is going to do to your guns when they’re in power?’ It really got me thinking. That statement sounds so obvious, right? When we can’t even get reasonable regulations, just what do you think people who have lived afraid for their lives will do when given a chance? They’ll definitely not want to be shot, so they’ll definitely call to regulate guns, maybe even ban them completely. The next generation will be smarter than this one. Except, every argument from people who want to keep guns is the same fucking thing—we don’t want to be unarmed against a gunman. Guns save lives.

Yeah, the instrument made solely to murder totally saves lives. That’s why we use them all the time in hospitals. To save lives. They’re totally not what puts people in morgues. When they made that model that literally brought people from the dead (Lazarus .45) I was sold. (I make no excuses for my sarcasm. Deal with it. XD)

Logic has no place in this problem because gun violence isn’t a problem of logic, it’s a problem of fear. Perceptions of safety. Every day people all around this country are sitting at home waiting for someone to walk through their front door and murder them. That’s why they want a gun; they don’t want to be murdered. They are terrified of the world, they believe people (or at least the people they don’t know) are innately evil and murderous, and this is the only way they can grasp some sanity. With a gun, not a shield. Safe. They bring a weapon of murder into their homes to feel safe. This is not logical, but it is the human condition.

I don’t know what war is happening in America today, but there are a lot of people waiting for one. When people don’t perceive the world as safe, they want to feel safe and that drives them to do irrational things like kill a teenager for being black or assume a gun is unloaded after a safety demonstration or spend their entire life waiting for some huge disaster by stockpiling food and useless shit and telling themselves how smart they are for cheating death. Death is still coming no matter how far you push it off, and you have no control. Period. Nothing you do will stop death, but my fuck, people are sure causing a lot of death in their fear.

People who want guns to protect themselves from people with guns, really want guns to protect themselves from their own insane minds. And guess what, it’s not going to do the trick. The gun isn’t the problem, it’s the desire to feel safe in an unpredictable world. It’s choosing to see fear has more value than every single life lost because no one will regulate a series of machines made solely to murder. There is no other purpose for a gun than to kill. It is not a paperweight, it is not a collector’s item, it is not a magic shield that makes everything safe and shiny—it’s a specifically designed killing machine being put into the hands of people who are not required to train to make sure they know how to use that weapon, or even see if they have the mental capacity to keep them from using that weapon on fellow human beings.

There are no locks on these guns, no keys—imagine having a car where a child could just sit in the driver’s seat and start driving? How irresponsible, and yet the fingerprint technology we have is not being used for gun locks. Guns are made to murder people, and we have laws to keep people from being murdered, and yet, the disconnect continues because ‘guns save lives.’

What we’re seeing is trauma 101. Give me control over the uncontrollable. This is what turns rational human beings into unbearable assholes, religious fanatics, rule creating neurotics, and obsessive fortune tellers. They will seek any mental concept to allow them to feel safe in an uncontrollable world. They will create rules, gods, laws, constructs to a false reality, and tell themselves as long as they follow it all, they will be safe. Immortal. Maybe even important and brilliant cuz they have it all figured out. They know no harm will come, they can predict and control the future, all because they followed those arbitrary rules they made up.

As you can see, I’m enjoying my PTSD writing. XD And for this, my mindfulness. Because I cannot take the unbearable feelings of being unsafe away from people. This irrational pattern of thinking is a coping strategy people use when they’re overwhelmed. This irrational action of killing before being killed (even when no danger is present outside of the mind) is what humans in trauma do to feel like they have control. They do this to themselves, and to everyone around them because this is the only way they know how to cope. I have the ability to see through that problem and cope differently, but it’s not something you can stamp into people’s brains and force them to follow. Many are extremely happy to live in fear thinking they have the answer to it all. They have their rules; they’re in control.

When I sit in my house, I have a choice of how I want to feel, and I choose to feel comfortable, happy, loved, compassionate toward my fellow humans, joyful and free. I am not afraid. I don’t know many of my neighbors, I know even far less of the people in my state or the country or the entire world, but I love them all, and believe that they don’t want to harm me. That’s all a belief is and it allows me to live feeling safe verses fearing for my life. The world doesn’t change depending on my belief, but I certainly enjoy living my life far more when I believe there is nothing to fear.

I will never fear one of my loved ones being shot in this house by a gun, because there will never be a gun in this house. There’s no question of it. If a gun isn’t here, it can’t be used to shoot us. And if a gun is brought in, we had no control and that’s that. It just is. Control is an illusion, safety is an illusion, fear is an illusion. I will choose the world around me where no one has hurt me, over the lies in my head that people find me so interesting that they’re waiting to murder me—how interesting one must be in that scenario. XD

I truly feel for the people so terrified that they would rather surround themselves with the thing they fear—death—than live in life. But more, I feel for those who keep being victim, who keep suffering because these people refuse to wake up to the environment they’re perpetuating. When you believe the world is a dangerous place to be, you are very likely reacting in ways that make it dangerous. I am the kind of person who will help a stranger, smile, have a conversation instead of that cold, hostile, terrified girl I used to be because of my PTSD filter. The world didn’t change, it’s all my perspective.

I contribute to the world I want to live in, as do we all. When your inner world is consumed with seeking a need for control in a terrifying existence, the outer world you create will reflect it. Everyone will be a potential enemy who may want to harm you, every dark night full of potential monsters, every helping hand hiding a devious intention. And as someone who still struggles with those neurotic control freak mental patterns, I know what little joy there is being around someone like that. It’s fucking misery. The first part of this newsletter was me needing to explain how I’m ignoring or working around those impulses because living with a need to control shit that doesn’t matter is miserable.

Compassion is still my keys to living free. If I can be compassionate for my own flawed, broken, traumatized self enough that it got me this far into freedom, surely compassion for others can allow them to change. It cannot force them, even nudge them, but so many are waiting for permission to change and stop being so afraid. They can’t give themselves that permission for whatever reason, but compassion from others can. If we reflect our inner world, we can hope that the outer world can work to transform the inner worlds of those so lost inside. They’re trying to grasp control in the uncontrollable instead of enjoying this wonderful ride on this spiral of a planet hurtling through the galaxy in an immeasurable universe—maybe it’s why they’re grasping on so tight, huh? Do they feel the planet move? XD

We’re living on a fuzzy, waterlogged rock but we still think everything we do is so damn important… aka, I accept I’m probably not going to have Hellcat finished this week. Just sayin. >_> It can be hard to let beliefs go that hurt us, that construct a familiar world we understand but also terrifies us. But it’s that need to understand what can’t be understood that causes this in the first place. Sometimes terrible shit happens and you can’t prepare and you can’t avoid, and all you can do is love the people and the life you have right now. This is the one guarantee, this moment. I don’t want to waste it fearing something that may never come to be.

MM Reads!

Zeus: Conquering His Heart – Free in KU

I do not yet know how to be a god, for I am only 18 and still just a silly boy who has fallen in love with Love himself, while my father Cronus plots and schemes to lock me in his dungeon and make me his slave forever.

When I throw the lightning and summon the thunder, it isn’t always out of anger, but often from a love so all-consuming it could only be the effect of Eros himself. Yes, he is beautiful. Of course he is. How could he be otherwise, with hair the color of sunlight and white-feathered wings that drape to the floor? And he is as ancient as the myth of time itself, an immortal with powers and glamour beyond my ability to imagine. He struggles to teach me wisdom, control, strategy, yet I sit here babbling like a child, for all I can think of is how I might try – at least let me try! – to prove myself to him in some way that will cause him to crave my company and my touch, just as I crave his.

Spanking the Boss – $0.99

A secret night of passion just got a lot more complicated…

Young and savvy CEO, Trent Davis has a reputation for being in control—of everything. But when a case of mistaken identity puts him in a situation more pleasurable than he’s ever imagined, Trent knows he needs more.

Hungry for success as a new junior analyst, Charlie Reynolds is determined to prove himself at work. Winding up in his boss’ arms isn’t exactly his best career move—especially since the powerful CEO has no idea who he is.

Will Charlie admit the truth and destroy his future in the company or will “spanking the boss” be the beginning of something deeper?

Omega’s Rockstar

A rock star doesn’t need a babysitter.

It’s just the stupid record label forcing them together. They think a reckless Alpha like Seth needs a nice Omega from Nebraska to keep him in line. Whatever.

A self-made Alpha doesn’t need another lover to bring him down.

After what his ex boyfriend did to him, Seth would rather stay single. Mister Rockstar in his pants can find his own action, without any stupid commitments. And Seth especially won’t get involved with that beautiful “sobriety companion” the record label sent over.

Mike doesn’t need Seth. But he does need this job.

Going For It – $0.99

What Happens When These Two Teammates Accidentally Get Married?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Free to Read for February!

Drunk, Blind, Stupid Cupid

Aiden didn’t expect to spend Valentine’s Day doing anything but cursing the color scheme. He’s built a wall around his heart filled with bitterness and cynicism created by years of disappointment and neglect. A wall two winged boys are determined to ignore as they claim that Aiden is their destiny.

My Broken Angel

I didn’t know that one bloody kiss could change my life forever. I‘ve found my soulmate and nothing makes sense anymore. He’s a half demon, half angel who just got out of the pit. Danyal doesn’t know how to be human—Worse, he doesn’t know how to keep living. There’s nothing I won’t do for him but I’m only human and when Danyal runs, he flies.

Bullying Teacher Full

Bullying Teacher

This book contains all five episodes of Bullying Teacher previously published by Sadie Sins and bonus material never before read, totaling in over 60,000 words of content.

Beau Ashford has again found himself the victim of bullying. Surprising, considering he’s an established teacher now. His pretty face and weak demeanor have made him the target of every aggressive eye that’s turned his way, this time his own students.

Darien Castello—strong, confident and son of a billionaire senator—is willing to protect his pretty teach, but for a price. Either he gets paid $500 a week for his protection services, or he’s going to help make Beau regret starting his science position in the wealthy university. If Beau can’t afford it all, Darien is happy to take it out in trade. $450 worth of his teacher’s body.

What starts as a bizarre protection scam quickly spirals into something else as Darien awakens dark, confusing desires in his once innocent, straight teacher. Can Beau find a way to free himself from the strange obsession taking him, or will he be bullied into something that could lose him his job and life as he knows it?

18+ This completed serial contains explicit m/m sexual content, graphic language, violence, and an exploration of bdsm and a master/slave relationship through the eyes of a controlling top and needy bottom. Expect spanking, bondage, multiple partners and exhibitionism in a school setting.

60,000 wrds, Published May 27, 2016.
Heat level: XXX

WHAT READERS ARE SAYING ABOUT BULLYING TEACHER

on April 4, 2017

P Leslie rated it it was amazing

Enjoyed Bullying Teacher; it was hot, sexy yet dirty as hell. Beau and Darian had amazing chemistry – it was raw and intense. The story has elements of BDSM, extortion, and a gang bang – so be prepared. Fantastic smutty read with a sweet ending.
on July 25, 2016
READ AN EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE

Darien Castello could not take his eyes off of Mr. Ashford. The guy had the face of a model; a really naughty one that wanted so badly to be pushed down and messed up. Damn, he had never really gotten off on just a face, but with his soft blond locks, bright blue eyes, and pouting red lips, Darien was totally hooked on his new teacher. Unfortunately, so were his classmates.

Mr. Ashford looked like prey, plain and simple. He was average height, slender, and had a way to his shoulders and walk that just screamed ‘jump me.’ Currently Tony and Radford were doing just that. They had cornered the new science teacher by the lockers and looked ready to start punching and maybe even stuffing if they didn’t get some cash off the cutie.

Darien took his time, dragging on his cigarette as he approached. No one had noticed him yet, which was fine by him. He wanted to take the opportunity to look at Mr. Ashford up close. The guy was hot. Really fucking hot. Pale skin, golden hair, and damn those lips. The nasty things he would do to those lips. Radford better not punch the man’s face or he’d have to beat the fuck out of him for ruining perfection.

“What’s going on, guys?” Darien casually slung his arms over Tony and Radford’s shoulders. Both of his classmates immediately froze. Darien was top dog for a reason. He was the tallest kid in school, the strongest, and when the mood struck him, the meanest motherfucker there was. Everyone knew. The ones that didn’t, figured it fast. Mr. Ashford would be getting that privilege soon enough.

“Fuck, hey Darien,” Tony said hesitantly. He glanced sideways at the tall brunette who had crept up behind them. When his eyes fell on Darien’s bicep right next to his face—the flesh hard and tattooed—he swallowed. “We were just having a chat with the new teacher. Nothing to get involved in.”

Darien’s gaze traveled over the blushing teacher who was currently glaring holes at the three students as he tried to straighten his rumpled shirt. Darien took his cigarette from his mouth. “Ah, well that’s where you’re wrong. I happen to have Mr. Ashford for fourth period. And if you’re messing him up, well, that’s going to mess up my grade.” Darien fixed on Tony again. “You wouldn’t want me to fail, would you?”

Radford immediately took a step back and ducked from his heavy arm. “Right, so I’m getting the fuck out. Sorry ’bout that, Mr. Ashford.”

Darien smirked at the incredulous expression on the man’s face when Radford apologized. “Um, don’t think anything of it,” Beau mumbled as he straightening his tie.

“What about you, Tony?” Darien asked, his voice full of implication.

Starting, Tony winced. “Hey, I got the message loud and clear. You wanna be teacher’s pet? By all means.” He went to duck away, but Darien grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled Tony sideways while he hissed.

“Wallet.”

Glaring, Tony reached into his back pocket and slammed the leather into Darien’s hand. Flipping it open, Darien raised his brow at his ever watching teacher. “This all of it?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” Beau answered, expression full of surprise and gratitude.

Damn, he had amazing eyes. Sexy, wide, glowing blue eyes. Not bothering to look at Tony, Darien shoved the punk aside and listened to him huff away. He used the time to study his new teacher, one he hadn’t met until that moment. That was definitely going to change.

Darien let his gaze move from Beau’s handsome face, sturdy shoulders, and down his lithe body still trembling in aftershock. Sexy. Sexy, and sleek, and in desperate need of a very hard fucking.

There was no way he was letting things end here.

“You’re Darien Castello?” Voice quiet, Beau combed shaking fingers through his shoulder length locks. His gaze had strayed to where the other two had dissapeared, as if just waiting for them to turn around and come at him.

“That would be me, teach.” Tilting his head, Darien offered the man a drag on his cigarette. When Mr. Ashford shook his head, Darien finished it off, then dropped it to the hallway floor. He crushed it carelessly with his heel.

“You really shouldn’t…” Mr. Ashford’s eyes widened when Darien pushed him back and blocked him in with his taller, stronger form.

“You saw how easy that was for me, right teach? I just showed up, and those losers walked away.”

“Y-Yes, I was meaning to thank you.”

Darien smirked. The guy had the cutest fucking stutter too. “You might want to hold off on that.”

He opened up the wallet again, pulled out the cash and counted it while Mr. Ashford watched him with growing trepidation. “I’m going to take this… $300, and you’re going to bring me another $200 by Friday.”

“I am?” Mr. Ashford’s eyes narrowed even as his voice broke.

“It’s a good deal.” Cash now free of the wallet, Darien slowly snaked his hand around until he found his teacher’s back pocket. Ducking closer, he slowly pushed his hand into the man’s pants, watching intently as Mr. Ashford blushed and refused to meet his eyes.

Yeah, the guy was smoking hot and definitely interested. What it would take to get him to admit that interest, Darien was looking forward to figuring out.

He left the wallet but not before stealing a small squeeze of that tight, firm ass. “You pay me $500 a week, and I’ll make sure guys like that don’t mess up your pretty face.”

“You’re out of your mind—Ah.” His eyes closed as Darien’s arm suddenly pressed across his throat and he fell silent, head forced back against the locker.

“Mr. Ashford, it would be really easy for me to hurt you. And believe me, I wouldn’t feel bad about it in the slightest.” No, Darien would love every moment of covering this hot man with as many bruises as he could handle. Moving his head so that he was pressing his mouth to his ear, he added softly, “But if you’re a good boy and you do as I say, I’ll take care of you. No one will hurt you as long as I’m here to protect you.” Mr. Ashford gave the slightest of tremors and Darien fought back a smile. “It’s not a free service, teach. If you don’t want to pay me in cash, I might be willing to accept a trade.”

He slowly pulled a lock of Mr. Ashford’s hair aside, letting the silky strands run through his fingers. “I can think of a lot of things a sexy guy like you could do for me, teach.” His eyes locked with stunning blue, Darien pushed a thumb against those damn enticing red lips and smirked when Mr. Ashford gasped and turned his head away.

“Think about it. Next Friday once school gets out. Your room.” He pulled away, eyes lingering on the man’s lithe form. Mr. Ashford’s face was flushed with a mix of anger, embarrassment, and shame. It was sexy as hell, and Darien could think of a million ways to make him look like that all the time—starting with forcing him to his knees.

Fuck, it was his teacher’s fault for having such a damn sexy face. He might as well be begging for it.

Darien walked away whistling, hands folded behind his head. Breathing heavily, Mr. Ashford leaned weakly on the wall and watched him go.

***

This was not the first time Beau Ashford had been bullied. Hell, it seemed to be a constant in his life, starting as far back as preschool when the other kids figured out that his first name meant beautiful. That his face happened to match his name hadn’t helped matters. Beau had thought once he became a teacher and was seen as an authoritative figure, things would change.

They had not. At 35, Beau was still dealing with the idiots of the world that would judge him on something as superficial as his face and appearance.

He had left his last teaching assignment when a group of punks had gone so far as to burn his car. He hadn’t been inside it at the time, but it had been enough for him. Maybe he should have just given up on the whole teaching thing after that, but he was ridiculously stubborn to a fault and still young into his career. He was determined to help these young, troubled kids get a real future for themselves. Just, preferably, without getting his ass kicked at the same time.

That said, he had never had to deal with someone like Darien Castello.

He only knew Darien by name. The young man had yet to show up to a single class even though Beau had been teaching for over two weeks now at the prestigious private university. He wasn’t sure just how Darien was able to get away with not attending class, but he suspected it had a lot to do with who his father was. Reginald Castello was a senator. Beau had learned of the fact when he had sent in his attendance sheets and asked if he should be filing a formal reprimand with the office for Castello’s absence. He had been told to ignore it.

There was something terribly ironic about a rich brat demanding four-fifths of his income in the name of protection from punks just like him. Hell, at his last school Beau had only had to deal with a beating. He had learned enough to stop carrying cash with him there. For some reason, he’d assumed the richer students would be better behaved. Apparently, he’d been fooling himself.

A protection scam. He had to hand it to the little bastard—fine, huge mountain of a bastard—the guy was ambitious. At twenty-two, Beau sure hadn’t been thinking about blackmailing his teachers, and he sure could have used the money a lot more. As for Darien’s other threat… trading services… He was pretty sure the student had just been trying to freak him out.

Beau wasn’t into guys even though a few through the years had taken one look at his pretty face and slim form and assumed he was. Just because he didn’t date much–well, at all–didn’t mean he was into guys. He just wasn’t that sexual a person. He was too busy working and trying not to get his ass kicked.

He had tried to bulk up. He exercised every day, lifted weights—He wasn’t as weak as he looked. But even if he had muscle, it was compact, and he didn’t intimidate anyone. Not when they kept looking at his face. He just wasn’t a fighter. And normally he wouldn’t think that was a problem. But he really, really, really didn’t want to give up on his life’s dream because every damn punk thought he could be manipulated just by beating him.

Shit, but he hated his face. If he had been born a girl, it would have been an asset. As a guy, it was just a huge target for every aggressive asshole to treat him like shit. He had never had a bad thing to say about how anyone looked. Why the hell did he have to be judged by something so beyond his control?

It was Friday. Beau had been trying to ignore that fact for the entire day, but when the last bell rang it grew very difficult.

He didn’t have the money. Even if he did, he wasn’t going to let some cocky, rich punk steal his hard-earned yet pitiful salary. He had taken a beaten before, and he was likely going to take plenty in the future. Just another shit day having to deal with being born beautiful, brilliant, and also a guy.

Darien didn’t keep him waiting. Beau was just filing the rest of his paperwork away for the week when he walked in dressed in jeans and a tight, sleeveless t-shirt. He had a feeling it was to intimidate. Darien’s tanned, tattooed arms were ripped, shoulders broad, chest sculpted above rippling abs. It really wasn’t fair; Beau would have killed for a body like that. It didn’t matter how much he worked out; he just couldn’t get buff. He almost wanted to ask the guy what his secret was, but figured now was not the time.

“Hey, teach. How’s your week been?” Darien strolled up while pulling a cigarette from behind his ear, his dark hair cut short except his bangs that were spiky and streaked with red dye. With his sharp green eyes and thick dark lashes, Beau had to wonder why he was wasting his time tormenting his teacher when he could be off chasing cheerleaders or something. That’s what those jock types did, right? Got drunk in the parking lot and screwed the chicks that couldn’t stop talking for even five minutes. Beau couldn’t stand cheerleaders; the bitches made fun of him more than the jocks, like he was their competition or something.

“Hello, Mr. Castello. I do believe this is the first time you’ve been in my classroom. Unfortunately, you’re hours late.” Refusing to comment on the cigarette being lit when there were nearly a hundred no smoking signs in the building, he turned and began wiping down the whiteboard.

“Sorry, but science bores the fuck out of me.” Darien didn’t sound sorry. His eyes followed Mr. Ashford’s ass as the teacher obliviously reached and stretched to wipe the top of the tall board. “I was wondering if anyone’s bothered you since our last talk.”

“The one where you threatened to beat me up if I failed to pay you protection money?” Beau snapped bitterly and wiped the last of his writing away furiously. “No, surprisingly no one has bothered me since then. You must be quite terrifying.” He slammed the eraser down on his desk and turning back.

“You seem upset,” Darien observed blandly, his gaze calm and steady as he met his teacher’s blazing eyes.

“I’m not paying you anything.”

“Oh?” Exhaling slowly, Darien took another drag of his cigarette. “Were you under the impression that I wouldn’t beat the crap out of you? I thought I was very clear on that.”

Pursing his lips, Beau jutted his chin out stubbornly. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t just go extorting your teachers. It’s illegal, for one. Damn rude, too. You’re not even out of college, and you’re already on the way to being a career criminal. If I had my way, you’d be—”

“Right, so I didn’t really come here for a lecture, Mr. Ashford,” Darien interrupted smoothly. “You owe me 200 bucks, and I’d much prefer that to you nattering on like a whiny bitch.”

Snapping his mouth shut, Beau fumed. Darien stood taller, flexing his shoulders and looking even bigger. It was hard not to notice, and he swallowed hard as Darien took a step around his desk. “I don’t have that kind of money. I’m a teacher. We don’t get paid much for the privilege of teaching the next generation of extortionists. I have bills. Rent. I enjoy actually eating once in a while. Next time you try this game, I suggest you consider the income your victim can provide before asking for such a ludicrous amount.”

His eyebrows raising in surprise, Darien flashed a small smirk. “I’ll take that into advisement, teach.” He took another step and Beau turned his head away when Darien pushed into his personal space, their chests nearly brushing. “So what can you afford?”

Beau had actually thought of this. He didn’t know why; it wasn’t like he could give in to this sort of thing. If one student started this crap, the rest would surely follow. But not only was Darien Castello damn intimidating, but he also had a senator for a father. Beau knew there would be no help for him after learning that fun fact.

“Fifty. It barely leaves me enough for gas to get to school every morning,” he muttered. He glancing at Darien, only to quickly look away when he found him staring at his mouth.

“Fifty? That’s a very different number than what I’m asking for,” Darien pointed out with a sigh. “But I’d be willing to consider it.”

Beau wasn’t expecting that, and he met his student’s gaze hesitantly. “Really?” If it only took fifty bucks a week to keep this bastard from giving him shit, along with the rest of the damn punks in the school, he might take him up on his offer.

When Darien had first shown up the other day and saved him from those assholes, Beau had thought him a godsend. Nearly a black knight coming to his rescue. Strong and intimidating, the other students had feared Darien. And well, no one had ever stood up for him before. Beau had honestly been grateful until he had tried to extort him.

“I’m not unreasonable, Mr. Ashford. I know not everyone is rolling in dough. So what are you going to give me to make up for the other $450 you can’t afford?”

Ice chilled his veins, and Beau bit his lip. Right. Of course. God, kids were monsters these days. “I think you seem to misunderstand just how little I have,” he said coldly. “I have no assets. I don’t own my apartment or car. I live paycheck to paycheck.”

“No, I got that.” Darien crushed his lit cigarette into the palm of his hand and then flicked it into the waste bin. “I was thinking more of services. Teaching is a service, isn’t it? You use your expertise to help others learn a topic?”

“I… I guess you could say that,” Beau answered hesitantly. “Did you want me to tutor you?”

Darien chuckled darkly. Beau had only a moment to realize he’d definitely misread the situation when fingers wrapped around his chin and pulled him forward, lips suddenly an inch from his own. “Mr. Ashford, how much would $450 get me with a guy like you?”

“W-What?” Trying to fight the way his face was heating up, Beau took a step back, only to have his back press up against the whiteboard.

“Let’s say I took you out on a date.” Darien’s free hand came up to lean against the wall and block his teacher’s escape on one side. “Someplace nice. Someplace where I could throw down $500. I’d get something back for that, right? I mean, it’s just expected, really.”

Beau didn’t know what was more offensive; that Darien thought that dating automatically meant you were buying affection, or that he just assumed he was the type to exchange money for sex.

“Mr. Castello, you seem to be confused. I’m not interested in men, and most certainly not my student who is also trying to extort me. And to answer your question, you should not expect anything back. A date is not buying sex. It is not expected, at least, not where I’m from. The very notion is offensive and—”

“Heh, you’re really cute when you’re angry.” Darien’s eyes ran down Beau’s form, and the teacher trailed off warily. “Teach, when you throw down $500 on a guy, you expect him to put out. It’s just natural.”

Beau was starting to get very nervous under that hungry stare. Yes, he’d had a few men try to pick him up before, but none of them had put much effort into it. They’d all been shy, intimidated by his beauty. Darien wasn’t like that at all. No, he didn’t seem very interested in how Beau felt about him or the situation, just so long as he got what he wanted. It made something clench inside Beau, made him hot, dizzy, and flustered.

“Mr. Castello, what you’re suggesting is highly inappropriate, never mind illegal. Immoral,” Beau managed to get out as he edged away from his towering student.

Darien shrugged unconcernedly and slammed his other hand down so that Beau was trapped between his muscular arms. He dipped his head closer, nose pressed to the side of Beau’s, lips just brushing. “I really don’t care, teach. I want to fuck you. Hard, rough, until you’re screaming my name.”

Blinking, heat rising to his cheeks, Beau tried to turn his head away. Darien followed and kept the same uncomfortable closeness. “I’m not into men,” he said, hating how shaky his voice sounded. Darien was nearly on top of him, heat roiling off his tall form, his breath even hotter as it puffed on his cheek.

This was very new for Beau. He’d had plenty of men threaten to hurt him. None of them had seemed into doing it while also wanting to fuck him.

“I told you; I don’t care.” Eyes moving over Beau’s face for a searching moment, Darien flicked his tongue out and traced his teacher’s upper lip.

Beau froze, breath hitched, eyes wide from the hot, wet touch. Something shuddered through him he didn’t want to identify. It only grew stronger when that tongue moved down, lapped his mouth, and teased slowly against the seam of his lips. “S-Stop,” he whispered. A groan tore from him when Darien’s large hand cupped his jaw roughly and held him in place so he could press their lips together.

It was hard, hungry, and like no kiss Beau had ever experienced before. Darien wrapped his fingers into his long hair, pulled demandingly, forced his head back and lips open. Tongue shoving deep into his mouth, he used his larger body to pin Beau tight against the wall, and grind his hips against his trapped body.

“Oh, hell,” Beau gasped into the kiss. Another groan escaped when he felt what could only be Darien’s hard cock rub against his hip. It was big, so hot and demanding, and for the first time, Beau allowed himself to wonder just what it would feel like to touch another man’s dick.

He shouldn’t. He really wasn’t like that…

Grunting, Darien pulled Beau’s hair harder and forced the whimpering man to bend his neck back in his strong hold. He crushed their lips together again, plunged his tongue against Beau’s, exploring his mouth heatedly while suffocating the lithe man. He rubbed unceasingly over his tongue, stealing his breath, grinding against him so hard, so hot, Beau’s knees started to waver and he slid down the wall with a moan.

“That’s it, teach.” Darien wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him back up, then higher. He crushed Beau back against the board on tiptoes and sucked and nipped down his long, pale throat. “Fuck, you’re one tight piece of ass.” He pushed his knee between Beau’s slim thighs, groaning when he found a responding hardness pushing against his leg. “Yeah, that’s fucking it.”

Darien’s leg pushed him further up the wall. Beau could only gasp for air, his eyes half closed, moans escaping him with every grind of the strong thigh against his rock hard cock.

Fuck, what was happening to him? He shouldn’t… shouldn’t like this. Not with a man. Not with a stupid, arrogant punk that thought he could just bully him into anything.

Beau raised his arms, meaning to push Darien away, to show that even if his body was responding, it didn’t mean he wanted it. But once his fingers found his student’s hard biceps, he could only grasp onto them weakly and feel the powerful, hot flesh beneath his palms as his ass was grabbed and squeezed hard.

“God… Oh, god,” Beau moaned dizzily, and his head fell back against the wall. Darien gave a final nip to the side of his neck and moved back up to claim his mouth forcefully. Beau didn’t resist. His lips parted readily and body arched into the strong one moving against him, holding him close, pushing him down against the wall.

“W-Wait,” he whispered shakily but Darien swallowed his protest the moment it was free. His student’s large hand continued to work on his belt, quickly pulling the buckle open and tearing the button and fly to his slacks down. Blushing crimson, Beau moaned, his voice cracking when Darien boldly reached into his underwear and wrapped his fingers around his aching cock.

“Mr. Ashford, I think you might be interested after all,” Darien whispered against his lips, his grip tightening as he held Beau’s dick in the palm of his hand and felt it pulse with every gasping breath his teacher took.

Forcing his eyes open, Beau found Darien staring down at him, green eyes blazing fire and sex. He wanted to deny it, wanted to tell him to get the fuck off and never touch him again. Instead his hips jolted forward, his body pushing against his student’s hard muscles as another moan escaped him.

“That’s it. Fuck, you look damn slutty with your dick in my hand.” Darien gave Beau’s shaft a single stroke, then withdrew his hand reluctantly. “I’m going to give you a week, teach. A week to decide if you want to give me the proper fee for my protection. Or if you want to spread those fucking tight cheeks of yours and let me fuck you.”

His head spun as Beau tried to figure out where the hot hand had gone and soon after the hard, suffocating body. He slid down the wall without Darien to hold him upright and looked around blearily. Heavy pants fell from Beau’s parted lips, his head thrown back. He found Darien watching him from his large desk while lighting up another cigarette.

Once Darien’s eyes met his, Beau couldn’t look away. He wet his lips and struggled for air, half hating that his body wanted him to come back, to finish what he had started. He was aching. Beau had never ached like this before. It was maddening, confusing, and he needed release.

His breath caught when Darien slowly stepped back in his direction, the other’s gaze roaming over him like a predator sizing up a kill. He stopped inches away, Beau hyper aware of his student’s towering height, strength, the way Darien’s erection was bulging above his head.

Eyes locked with his, Darien pressed two of his fingers to Beau’s lips and pushed the long digits into his teacher’s mouth. Eyebrows furrowed, Beau groaned as his lips spread, his face hot with embarassment and arousal. He felt every push and pull as Darien began to fuck his mouth with his thick fingers in rough thrusts, dragging over his tongue, pressing deep down his throat, using his mouth however he pleased. Darien hooked his digits into his cheek, pulled hard enough for Beau to turn his head, then pulled him back to face him again.

“Pick the second option, teach. I have a strong feeling you’re going to like riding my cock.” Darien’s thumb squeezed his lower lip and tugged. He pulled his fingers from between Beau’s swollen lips and drew a line of saliva down his chin and long, pale throat. “Even if you don’t like it, you’re going to look so fucking hot with a dick up your ass that it’ll make up for it.”

Groaning when Darien’s hand wrapped possessively around his neck, Beau didn’t answer. He just stared up into his heated gaze as his head was forced back, lost in those burning green eyes.

“I have a previous engagement, teach. Otherwise, I’d stay and listen to how loud you scream when you come.” Darien’s gaze dropped to his glistening lips. “Yeah, you’re definitely a screamer. Maybe even a crier, which is just sexy as fuck. Make sure you’re thinking of me when you jerk off.” He released Beau’s neck with a dark smile, stepped back and headed for the door.

His eyes closed as Darien shut the door behind him and Beau let out a low, desperate moan.

Fuck… Holy fuck.

He was only twenty-two. His student. His extortionist, assholic student. He couldn’t.

God, he really, really couldn’t.

So why the fuck was he thinking about it?

A whimper escaping him, Beau hesitantly ran his hand up his hip, fingers pushed slowly under the band of his underwear.

Don’t… Anyone could walk in. He was in school. In a classroom in his damn school. Don’t think of him…

But he couldn’t stop. It was all he could think about; Darien’s strong hands, those damn muscles he had thought he wanted for himself but now he was pretty sure he just wanted to move against him, that fucking tongue of his, so demanding, so forceful and possessive.

He couldn’t. A senator’s son. His student. It would be a huge scandal—Fucking his gay student. God, he wanted to. So bad. He’d never wanted anything like this.

Licking his palm, Beau wrapped it around his dick. He bit his lip to stop his groans as he began to stroke firmly. No one had ever touched him that way before. He threw his head back, gasping, mouth tingling still from the feel of Darien’s rough kisses and rougher fingers. God, he could nearly feel it, the hard heat of his tongue, the cruel grip holding his hair, his strong body forcing him back, suffocating him and taking everything he wanted from him as if it were his right.

His gliding hand began to lose rhythm. Beau panted desperately, head rolling back and forth on the wall as he rocked his hips up. He came with a muffled shout, free hand clamped over his mouth as Darien’s eyes flashed in his mind.

Fuck.

Oh fuck, he was in trouble here.

Looking down slowly, Beau stared at the pearly white cum stringing over his fingers. He hesitantly raised his hand up and tentatively tasted his seed.

Would Darien’s cum taste the same?

Eyes closing at the realization of what he was about to do, Beau pushed two fingers into his mouth with a husky moan. He imitated what Darien had done to him only minutes ago, except this time with cum coating his fingers and dripping tangy into his mouth. It was the blowjob he had imagined when his student had forced his fingers boldly into his mouth and made him suck.

Fuck, he was in serious trouble.

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Free For New Years!

Hey lovelies,

Happy New Year! I am determined that this year will be happy. This might involve me blindly only looking at good stuff, seeking out the brilliant dazzle in the darkest night—I’m going to do what it takes. Because this world hasn’t changed, the people I love haven’t changed, I’ve just been seeing a lot of the ugly lately.

A heads up for anyone that’s an All Romance reader. I was looking forward to telling you guys that I put a few books up there and two of them, Demon Arms and Blackthorne, already hit their bestseller list. Except, All Romance has abruptly decided to close and will be paying their authors $0.10 for every dollar they owe them. This isn’t huge for me because I just got set up there (but believe me, that they didn’t warn me when they had to have known is pretty shitty, imo.) But there are authors that are looking at a loss of thousands of dollars, some that haven’t been paid the last quarter either–that’s their rent money, their food, their kid’s food. So if you have a fav author on All Romance, I recommend you check up and see if they need any help, even if it’s just to get the word out. It’s New Years and if we can start this year on a compassion filled note, it would be damn awesome.

I’ve got a few deals for you this week. R. Phoenix has just released a contemporary romance masterpiece I had the privilege to help edit. If you ever wondered why people don’t leave abuse, this is about as honest a look in I’ve seen in a while in a mm story.


Too Close by R. Phoenix ($2.99, free in KU)


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Skylar Orion’s life has been complicated ever since his mother abandoned him and his sister Evie. Making ends meet seemed impossible until Tate Chandler took them in — his knight in shining armor who promised to make life about more than just surviving. But Tate is not the man he seemed to be, and even his whispered I love yous and generous gifts do little to soothe the pain he causes. Knowing he can’t give his sister all that she deserves without Tate, Skylar stays with him, relying on bad puns and a worse sense of humor to keep up the charade.

He will do anything for his sister, even if that means acting the responsible adult and going back to his old high school to meet Dexter Weston, the hot math teacher who can make even algebra interesting. Sparks fly between the two of them, but with his dependence on Tate, Skylar isn’t free to follow his heart. He wants what is best for Evie, but can he pass up the chance to find love that heals instead of harms?

Warning: This book contains scenes of domestic abuse and violence that some may find triggering to read.


Sunlight by Beau Bishop (free on Instafreebie)


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The classic bad boy…
Joshua Teel is hardened. Between his prison time and his lack of love in his life, he realizes it is time to straighten up. Meeting Ayden at his new job opens up new feelings of vulnerability and hope.

Meets a hipster bartender…
Ayden Knoll is tender-hearted; from being vegan to his boyish charm, the man has a simple existence. Until he meets Joshua and his world of order goes right out the window!

When emotions enter the lives of two people who thought they had it all figured out, things may never be simple. But it just may feel like sunlight after the rain.


Robyn: Forced To Be Their Sister (free on Instafreebie)


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Last weekend to get Robyn free!
A MMMM Incest Dubcon Erotica

Rob has had enough of his older brothers teasing him. Just because his mother insisted he was her honorary girl when she was done raising sons didn’t mean he was an actual girl! He’s sick of being treated like a chick and he’s looking for vengeance.

Rob’s three older brother’s are sick of their little brother acting like an angry, spoiled brat. When Rob crosses the lines with another one of his childish pranks, they decide it’s time to teach their little sister a lesson in being a girl the only way three muscular, controlling guys know how.

This story is 17,000+ words long. It contains graphic language, sexually explicit content between brothers, a great corset and leather boots, spanking, and mild humiliation mixed with some tears. 18+ Only


I’ve been doing a lot to help other authors while I’ve felt kind of frozen. I didn’t expect that being healthy would be such a shock to my system but I’ve definitely been going through the last few months in a bit of a daze just trying to figure out where I fit into the world. It’s been kind of tough for me. I tend to put my value into the things I make: books, pictures, characters–and I feel lost when I don’t finish something. Lately it’s been in the connection I’ve been growing with other creators. I don’t know if being sick isolated me or being healthy made me seek out people. It’s been interesting.

I’m working with a pretty awesome guy that’s taking the time to edit Demon Arms. I was going back and forth on this, but the reality is, I was really freaking sick when I wrote everything I have out, and assuming that my work is the best it could possibly be would be naive on my part. There are some books, like Demon Arms, where I want it to be my best. It’s the start of a series and I don’t want to find myself writing the last book only to reread the first and cringe, you know? It’s just superficial changes that the grammar police will be content over… some pronoun switching so I don’t have to hear another person bitch about seeing ‘the boy’ or ‘the blond’ etc. XD Damn, people seem to really hate that for some reason. Once it’s all done, I’m going to update the file and offer the new one for free—I know how annoying it is to try to get an updated version on Amazon.

I’ve rough outlined the 3rd, 4th, and 5th book in the Academy series while working on Sorcerer Slayer. Yeah, for real. My mind has clicked on and I’ve been getting some damn creative moments. It’s been interesting trying to work with my new brain. I feel like I’m learning to do simple shit all over again. Don’t get me wrong, I am fucking happy to be healthy. There’s just been so much processing. @[email protected] Blah. It’s really easy to get overwhelmed and I’m relearning coping skills for all the many thoughts I have. My inner stillness returned recently and things are slowly falling back into functioning human.

I’d like to thank everyone for the Christmas wishes and return back with a Happy Holidays and just awesome days in general if you’re atheist/agnostic. I took a break the last week and I’m more mellow. I’m going to hold off on releasing the short Christmas at the Academy story until after Sorcerer Slayer is out because I did end up going canon and I don’t want to have spoilers for anyone.

My New Year’s resolution is to listen to people more. There is something about human nature where we feel the most validated, worthy, and accepted when we feel like our peers hear and understand us. If I can do one little thing this year, it is to help other people know that they’re worth something—and they are. People are fucking amazing, varied, beautiful, and have such a capacity for growth. We all have value; sometimes you just need to reflect it back at someone for them to see.

StepDaddy

StepDaddy

Ethan never expected to fall for his mother’s new love interest. He had never thought he’d ever look at a man that way at all. There’s just something about his caring but controlling stepfather that has everything upside down for the eighteen year old, his crush only getting worse the longer they share space.

Jeff has been doing everything he can to avoid his new stepson. Ethan is sweet, lonely, and absolutely beautiful. And worse, Jeff can’t help but want to protect the boy, especially when Ethan insists on dressing in provocative, hot ways. His stepson might just be trying to bait him, but for what he’s not sure.

When the two finally realize their attraction is mutual, Jeff knows he must leave to keep from crossing the line. Heartbroken, Ethan comes up with a plan. He’s just not sure it will be enough to convince his stepdaddy to stay.

18+ This novella contains explicit m/m sexual content, graphic language, and themes of bondage and discipline between adult men. Over 35,000 words long.

35,000+ wrds, Published August 27, 2016.
Heat level: X


WHAT READERS ARE SAYING ABOUT STEPDADDY

This was a hot, sexy, funny yet dirty read. Ethan can’t help checking out his hot stepdad and his stepdad Jeff has been lusting after his stepson for ages. Whose going to cave into their lust first?
Ethan made me laugh when he dressed to impress, with a provocative flare, to get Jeff’s attention.

The book is written well but I wouldn’t expect any less from Sadie Sins.

This was a fun and naughty read, and also a very provocative guilty pleasure. Jeff is the sexy, hot step, dad who is trying his hardest not to give into the raging lust that he has for his step son, Ethan. Ethan feels the same way and tries many little schemes to get Jeff’s attention. The only thing that bothered me about Jeff was his constant regret when he did give in to him at times, although I don’t want to spoil anything since it was an enjoyable read. Ethan’s mother is never there and they have somewhat of an open marriage, so there’s that. 🙂 The writing, of course, was excellent (as usual) and the characters were very tantalizing. I can’t wait to read about what happens in that home next. Super titillating.

Arghh, good, so good! This was kinda tame for Sadie, with the stepfather spending most of the book being a dang upstanding and respectable man *grumbles* I really wish this book had been longer, if for no other reason than to have lots more steamy Daddy kink scenes :p I loved both characters a lot! (cont…)

READ AN EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE

“Damn, kid, don’t you ever go to school?”

Ethan blinked up from his phone screen as his stepfather came into the kitchen, his eyes lingering for a moment on the man’s tattooed arms. “Summer vaca,” Ethan mumbled, ducking his head back down and hiding behind his box of cereal as the man made his way to the stove top and began cooking up a late breakfast. “Don’t you have work?” He asked, not really expecting an answer. Jeff didn’t talk much. The guy had moved in six months ago after a whirlwind engagement and besides hanging out in the adjoining garage painting all day, Ethan rarely saw the man outside of the occasional times Jeff would try and catch up with him.

He was kind of glad the guy was so busy. Jeff unsettled the fuck out of him.

“I’ve actually been up since dawn. Just grabbing something to eat before I get back to the canvas. Got that gallery showing in a week and I need to get some last minute touchups done before framing.”

Ethan nodded to himself, having a bite of his now soggy cereal while sneaking a peek at the man. Jeff was still in his pajamas, wearing a pair of black flannel night pants and a black wifebeater that was flecked with spots of paint. He wasn’t wearing shoes—the man rarely did while around the house. Both of his arms were covered from shoulder to wrist in tattoo’s, his tanned skin colored in elaborate, geometric patterns in blue, gold, and black ink. It was apparently inspired by one of Jeff’s own paintings. A badass painting if he was to go by the man’s bulging biceps.

Ethan’s new stepfather was a lot of eye candy. With his piercing blue eyes and brown, shoulder-length wavy hair, the guy could have been a model. He had the body for it—tall, lean, and buff—as well as the not giving a fuck attitude. Jeff always looked like he was two days late to shave, a light fuzz prickling at his jaw and neck, and he rarely dressed up beyond jeans and a t-shirt. He was also one of those health nuts, having filled their refrigerator with tons of fresh, organic produce when he moved in, his blender heard before any of the alarm clocks went off.

“You looking for a job?”

Ethan ducked his head back down, shaking it silently when the man glanced over at him from the stove. He tried to lose himself in his video game but couldn’t stop from being distracted by Jeff’s presence across the room. The thing was, Ethan didn’t like guys. He was pretty fucking sure. But it was really hard to look away from Jeff whenever the man was around. There was just something about the guy that drew his eye and kept him looking. Like his colorful biceps. Or the way the man’s thin pants clung to his sculpted ass.

It was unsettling. Confusing. Ethan just couldn’t stop getting hot whenever around his stepfather and it had been going on for months now.

“You need a job, kid. An internship. Something. You going to waste your life hanging around the fucking house all the time?”

Ethan looked up when his cereal box was suddenly taken away, watching as Jeff placed a plate with an omelet in front of him, the man nudging his bowl of cereal aside on the kitchen island to make room. “You also need to start eating some actual food. There is no way there are enough calories in that sugary shit to even get you out of your chair. I don’t know how the hell you get through your soccer games on this shit.”

Jeff was damn near intimidating when up close, the man’s face predatorial and eyes stunning as they met his. He was also bisexual, something Ethan’s mom had mentioned in passing and now he couldn’t stop thinking about. Ethan nearly dropped his phone, quickly grabbing the fork that was pushed his way to hide his tremor.

“Your mother ever teach you how to cook?” Jeff asked, cocking his hip and leaning against the island while he waited for Ethan to try the food. The hem of the man’s shirt was stretched over his hips in a way that revealed a flash of tanned abs and a sparse trail of hair leading beneath his pants. It was very distracting.

Ethan really wished the guy would look somewhere else so he could fucking breathe and stop feeling like an idiot already. He shook his head silently, finally giving in to his stepfather and scooping some food onto his fork. “Shit—I mean, this is really good. Uh, sir. T-Thank you.”

Jeff raised a brow at the stuttering boy, silently mouthing the word ‘sir’ to himself. His gaze slid down to where the blond had just nearly dropped his fork. “Well?”

Ethan jolted, looking up, the utensil now caught between his lips. “Um…?”

“Did Leah ever show you how to cook?” Jeff repeated, a slight smile curling the edges of his lips when Ethan began to flush.

“My mom’s not… She doesn’t cook,” Ethan mumbled, reaching for his phone with his other hand in the hopes of ending this absolutely alarming conversation where his stepfather looked at him and kept asking him about stuff.

“You wanna learn how?” Jeff prompted, watching as the blond boy tried to hide behind the small cell phone screen and eat another bite of food at the same time. “Seeing as you’re going to be around all day, and I do try to make it a point to eat.”

Ethan shrugged, grunting something noncommittal.

Jeff was not deterred, the man’s fingers curling around the boy’s wrist to guide his hand away from his face. When Ethan looked up, only blushing brighter now, he added, “And while I’m showing you how to cook, you can fill out some job applications.”

The man’s words sinking in, Ethan scowled, pulling his hand away to rest it on the table instead. His wrist felt like it was tingling where Jeff had touched it, an annoying distraction as he tried to state his case for not needing any job now that he had gotten his last year of high school out of the way.

“I don’t want a job. I’m starting college in a couple of months and I just want to chill for a bit before all that.”

“What, are you ancient? Decrepit? Eat your omelet.” Jeff turned away, going back to the stove and cracking more eggs into a bowl and whisking them with a fork. “You’re going to want money, right? You’re going to want to hang out with your friends. Gas cost money, kid. Concerts, food, the mall—Believe me, you’re going to want a job.”

“Really, I’m not,” Ethan muttered, glaring at his plate. He had only just started to feel the freedom of being out of school. All he wanted to do was hang out with his friends and maybe his house. “My mom will pay for all that shit.”

Jeff snorted, the trash bin rattling as he threw the eggshells into the wastebasket. “Like fuck, she will. Leah does enough without needing to pay for your lazy ass.”

“I’m not lazy,” Ethan said with a growl.

“Oh, did you pay for that $600 phone your face is always glued to? What about the nearly $100 a month it costs so that you can text your friends your every riveting thought as you have them? The motorcycle you’re driving or the insurance that allows you to do so?” Jeff turned, pointing the spatula at him when Ethan stood, the boy getting ready to escape. “What about rent? All that cardboard food you keep eating? Just where do you think the money for all that comes from? Not your schooling.”

Pursing his lips, Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not lazy. I’m just a kid.”

Jeff scoffed. “Not anymore, you aren’t. I don’t get why Leah didn’t have you working through summers. It’s time to grow the fuck up and start contributing. I’m not painting every day to keep your ass in designer jeans, kid.”

Glaring, a million scathing retorts swirling in his head, Ethan opened his mouth but nothing came out. Jeff’s eyes were blazing, the man unblinking and deceptively calm as he just stared him down. “No one asked you to buy me anything,” Ethan finally muttered, unable to meet the man’s glare any longer. He liked it, though. A part of him liked that Jeff cared enough to lend him money for things. His mother was never around but Jeff was, even if the guy didn’t talk to him as much as he’d like. Ethan had never had a dad before and Jeff was the closest thing to perfect in a lot of ways when it came to things like that.

“Hm.” His eyes narrowed, Jeff turned back to the stove, flipping his omelet before it started browning. “Don’t go running off until you eat. I don’t think you’ve had more than pizza and Cheetos this entire week.”

Sighing in exasperation, Ethan sat, glaring at the man’s back. Only to have his eyes inadvertently slide down, his gaze caught on Jeff’s ass when the man leaned over to grab the salt and pepper shakers. It was a decidedly interesting ass; firm, symmetrical and muscular. He hadn’t really known that he liked muscular asses but he definitely liked Jeff’s.

“You interested in anything in particular?”

Ethan jumped, his eyes snapping up. But the brunette was only looking at the pan, poking it with his spatula. “What?”

“For work. You have anything in mind you’d like to do?”

Ugh. “Play video games,” Ethan said flippantly.

“Cute. I’m sure people just hand you money for that shit.”

“Coming from the artist,” he muttered, stabbing at his omelet. That it was about the best thing he had tasted in as long as he could remember didn’t help his mood at all. “People pay you to hang out around the house painting pictures.”

“Not exactly.” Plating his food, Jeff turned the stove top off and poured himself a glass of fresh juice before sitting across from Ethan at the kitchen island.

“People buy a product from me. Now some pay for a service if they want to hire me to paint as a demonstration, or to design a mural, tattoo, whatever. But for the most part, I create something and people buy a print or the original. That’s how I can get away with hanging around the house all day; I’m selling even when I’m asleep. That doesn’t mean I don’t have to work it for clients at galleries and meetings that get my art on walls where people can see. Renting out one of my paintings to a business requires me to do more than just paint, but it’s worth the money that comes in. Half my income this month was just on rented paintings. They’re not even new pieces but they can pay the bills if you know what you’re doing.”

Ethan really didn’t want to care just how Jeff made his money. Unfortunately, he was finding it interesting and he sighed again, daring to look up at the man. Jeff’s head was ducked, a long lock of wavy hair brushing over one of his eyes, his mouth open as he took a bite of his breakfast. The man had ridiculously lush lips, full and red. Combined with his sharp features and strong jaw, he really was just the epitome of male beauty. Ethan idly wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips. They probably weren’t as soft as they looked. With Jeff’s bristle, it might even be prickly, a little rough.

Glancing up, Jeff caught Ethan staring at him, the boy immediately looking away. “You pick a major yet?”

Ethan shook his head weakly, hating how flustered he felt. “Mom said she was going to help.”

“Yeah, well waiting for Leah to pull herself from her work is like watching paint dry.” Jeff smiled grimly. “I can help you if you want. I’m surprisingly good at that kind of shit.”

Glancing his way a moment, Ethan shrugged. “Okay. Um, maybe tonight? Once I get back from hanging with my friends. I was thinking of something business oriented.”

He couldn’t help but wonder how quickly it had taken for Jeff to figure out just how unavailable his mother really was. It would probably still take the man a good year to realize she wasn’t going to change. And seeing as he married her, he might even stick it out longer trying to make it work. He was young still; he might think it was worth putting the effort in.

Ethan hoped he would. Not because he wanted to see Jeff break his heart but because he really liked having the man as a stepfather. Jeff was cool. Scary, but cool. Ethan had never had anyone actually care about him and even though Jeff breezed in and out most of the day between painting, the man was always saying and doing stuff that made it clear he gave a fuck. He was a calming presence. Sturdy and reliable. Ethan wasn’t used to having something like that and he’d be really pissed if his mother ruined it for him.

His mother had tried this time, he knew that much. Jeff was very different from what Leah usually dated. He was self-driven and had interests outside of just their relationship—Really important seeing as Ethan’s mother lived for her work and her last three relationships had failed because she couldn’t put enough time or energy into them. She was always at the office and when she was home, her head was at the office, planning new ideas, designing new rooms and buildings.

Leah Walde was an architect, a highly sought after one, and she had started her own firm ten years ago. Jeff had actually been commissioned to create a portrait of one of her more famous buildings and that was how they had met. That Jeff could balance his creativity with business savvy had been a good fit for Leah, even if Jeff didn’t have much interest in doing much beyond supporting himself so that he could continue his painting. It was still a step up from the last guy who had thought he was going to be some sort of jobless house husband.

“Any thoughts on what you want to learn how to cook for tonight?” Jeff asked, having a sip of his juice.

Ethan couldn’t help but stare; a droplet of moisture dripping from his stepfather’s mouth to trickle down his chin. God, what was wrong with him? He blinked, finding Jeff staring at him with a raised brow, the man waiting patiently for an answer. Ethan really didn’t have one. “Um, whatever you feel like eating, I guess.”

Grinning wickedly, Jeff put his glass down, leaning close and crooking his finger. “Careful there. I don’t think you could stomach half the things I eat, kid.”

His breath curling hot around his ear, Ethan’s breath hitched. He glanced Jeff’s way, feeling stupid as fuck when he caught the man still smiling. His eyes were sparkling at him, flashing with some hidden laughter that was making him feel hot inside. For a frozen eternity, he was certain the man was flirting with him and he had no idea how to respond.

Thankfully, Jeff seemed oblivious to his panic, the man reaching over and patting Ethan’s shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, kid, I won’t make you eat anything too healthy and green. Seeing the diet you’re coming from, I wouldn’t want to overwhelm your system with anything of substance.”

“Oh.” Gnawing on his bottom lip, Ethan slowly sank back in his seat, hoping his cheeks would stop burning soon. He had a sip of his soda, his gaze inadvertently drawn to his stepfather again. “Um… So, like, when did you know you were bi?” Ethan asked daringly, his heart feeling trapped in his throat once he got the question out.

Moving in a way that seemed just a little too casual, Jeff placed his fork down. “Young. Younger than you are.” He met Ethan’s curious gaze, his head tilting slightly. “Why? Does my sexuality make you uncomfortable?”

“Jesus, only when you say it like that,” Ethan muttered, covering his face with his hand for a moment. He peeked out, combing his fingers through his short blond locks. “Just… Did you know at the same time? Or was it, like, you liked one and then realized you liked the other later?”

Considering the question a moment, Jeff finally answered after having another drink of his juice. “Both. I had at least half a dozen crushes back then and it was pretty easy for me to see that gender was not a barrier for my attraction.”

“So bi people, they all know, like, at the same time, then? Like, if you’re going to be bi, you’re definitely going to know when you start getting crushes. It doesn’t, like, change?” Ethan asked nervously, his fingers twisting at his placemat.

“I’m not sure that would be the way I’d word it,” Jeff said carefully, studying his stepson’s face while Ethan bit his lip and looked at the table. “I think attraction is based on more than just a body, and sometimes when all the right elements come together, you might just find yourself looking at someone you weren’t expecting to be looking at.”

His brows furrowing at the answer, Ethan forced himself to look the man in the eye. “I’m not talking about love or shit. I’m not saying people can’t, like, fall in love and overcome gender or what have you. I just want to know if, you know, you can suddenly be attracted to…” He trailed off, waving his hand nervously.

“Are you worried you’re going to wake up wanting to suck cock?” Jeff asked blandly.

“Now you’re just being an asshole.” Scowling and beyond embarrassed, Ethan stood, more than ready to get away from this man that flustered the fuck out of him on so many different levels. “I don’t think there is anything wrong with gay people. That’s not what I was—”

“Sit your ass down, brat,” Jeff ordered quietly. “Did I say there was anything actually wrong with sucking cock?”

Ethan paused and glared at the man, his brain unfortunately now stuck on the question of if his stepfather had ever sucked cock and what that might look like. A beat later and he sat back down, his leg bouncing nervously. “I just want to know if you can, well… Like a…” He couldn’t say it and was only feeling more upset by the fact because it was Jeff he was trying to explain it to.

“Can you suddenly like someone of the same gender and still like the opposite sex as well?” Jeff supplied when Ethan seemed unable to continue on.

Pursing his lips, Ethan nodded sharply. “But more, can you just, like, suddenly like someone of the same gender. When you never did before. Not ever.”

“Not ever?” Jeff repeated, his eyebrows rising in disbelief.

“Not ever,” Ethan repeated sternly, daring him to call him a liar.

“Well, I’ve only ever had my own experiences to compare to, but if this has happened to someone, I’m pretty sure it’s not the end of the world.” He flashed the boy a comforting smile, placing his elbow on the table so he could lean his chin on his hand. “It’s not like this person would have to act on anything just because he felt something new. People get crushes all the time and don’t act on them.”

Ethan nodded, fairly certain Jeff had no idea just who he was crushing on by the casual air the man was giving off. “But it’s, like, normal?”

“As normal as the huge range of human sexuality can get.”

“But is it bi?” Ethan added, his expression again growing tense.

“It’s whatever that person wants it to be. A fluke. A one-time attraction… Or maybe it’s bi, and they’re just finding out.” Jeff’s smile had only grown, his eyes sparkling, and Ethan was feeling decidedly uncomfortable with just how nice the man looked with his perfectly white teeth.

“Stop smiling at me like that. I never said it was me,” he grumbled, grabbing his plate and jumping up to rinse it in the sink.

“Did I say I thought it was you?” Jeff asked, his smile now beaming. “Shit, are you going to start calling me dad now?”

“Fuck off,” Ethan snapped, grinning despite himself. “You’re lucky I call you sir.”

“Yeah, could you not do that? It’s weird—Children of the Corn weird. That would be a movie you’ve never heard of, by the way.” Jeff stood as well, stepping up behind Ethan at the sink with his empty plate in hand. “Just call me Jeff. ‘Hey you,’ if you’re feeling lazy.”

Ethan was having trouble focusing, Jeff standing far too close for him to notice anything else. God, it might be ‘normal’ but it was still really annoying to feel so fucking hot over someone. “Here, just…” He turned, taking the plate and fork from the man, nearly dropping both when their fingers brushed accidentally. Spinning back, he quickly washed them and put them in the dryer rack, his heart racing too fast in his chest. God, he hated this. Fucking hated it.

Jeff had stepped around the island and was drinking the last of his juice when Ethan finally got up the nerve to turn around. The faucet off, he crossed the kitchen to grab his phone.

“I start cooking around 6:30,” Jeff said, Ethan pausing mid-stride.

“Right. Um, I’m going to meet my friends tonight. Like, eightish.”

“Alright. It’s a plan.”

Nodding, Ethan edged to the door, slipping through with a quick backward glance. Jeff was staring back at him and for a frozen moment their eyes met, Ethan’s heart racing in response.

God, he really needed to get over this thing.

***

Son of a bitch. Bi? Was the kid bi now? Why did Ethan have to tell him he thought he might be bi? What was he trying to do to him?

Groaning inwardly, Jeff pressed both his hands on the kitchen island, leaning heavily over the countertop as he willed his erection down. One fumbling touch from the kid’s hand on his and he had gotten hard. Not good. Really not good.

Talking to Ethan had been a terrible, terrible idea. Sure, he had known he was being too antisocial and that he was worried the kid would start thinking he hated him. Leah hadn’t been around in forever, and he was pretty sure the kid had no adult supervision in his life but fuck… Fuck.

The things he would do to Ethan Walde if he hadn’t married the boy’s mother.

He was too young for him, didn’t know shit about life—And only ten minutes ago, decidedly straight. Many very good reasons Jeff had focused on whenever he found himself in the same room as the young man. But Ethan was also fucking delicious. He had soft, golden hair and wide, clear, green eyes, flawless skin and his average height was already filled out with muscle from his competitive soccer playing. That summer vacation had started and Ethan seemed content to haunt the kitchen and living room most hours of the day, half the time without a shirt on, had become a special type of hell for Jeff.

Cooking lessons? The kid needed to learn how to cook—to eat—but shit, why the fuck had he suggested cooking lessons? Knives and fire and the two of them in the somewhat cramped kitchen? Alone.

Dumb. Really fucking dumb.

He needed to get laid. That was all. He had gone into this thing with Leah with a predefined understanding that he needed sex more than she did and that she was more than happy to let him go out and get it as long as he was safe about it and he was home for the weekends to do family stuff. Of course, it had turned out that he had no problem being home on the weekends while Leah couldn’t seem to find her own house. Jeff hadn’t gotten around to checking out his options in the area. He had moved to a new town for Leah and although he was enjoying his large art studio, he hadn’t done much outside of the house besides grocery shop and jog in the morning. Something that was going to have to change if his sexy-ass stepson was hanging around all summer. And now bi.

The kid needed a job. Like yesterday.

Jeff could only hope that whatever reason Ethan had been looking at him strangely the last few weeks had to do with that conversation and would finally stop. The staring had been the icing on the shit cake of this insane situation. Ethan was probably just curious about the bi thing. More than a few guys were curious about the bi thing. It used to be the quickest way for Jeff to get a straight guy into bed—Just tell him he was bi and let him ask a million questions until he explained how much easier it was just to show than tell.

Not something he could do with Ethan. Not something he should even be fucking thinking about doing with the kid. Stepson. Young, naive, and very much off-limits for anything.

Hot, though. Really fucking hot. He had great nipples, the perfect size, pink spots just begging to be kissed, licked and then nipped sore. And his neck—he wanted to coat the boy’s long throat with his cum until it dripped down his toned torso like a pearly, dirty river. And if Ethan wanted to call him daddy while he was doing it, well, that would be more than fine with him.

“Jesus, get it the fuck together,” Jeff grunted to himself, his body lighting up with heat and his cock again hardening until it was pressed up against the side of the island.

It was time to start checking out his fucking options in the area. There was a bar within walking distance; some pool joint where he’d seen a mix of ages and sexes go in. He just needed to fuck something—preferably a hot twink that could pass for half his age so he could get this out of his system. Until then, he was going to have to settle for his hand and get the fuck back to work. He had a set of three paintings that Leah had commissioned from him for one of her older clients. It was guaranteed money and a potentially lasting connection if he got it all done in time and kissed ass well enough. That on top of his gallery opening in a week had him completely swamped. He couldn’t be wasting his time fantasizing about fucking his sexy-ass stepson.

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Robyn

Robyn

Rob has had enough of his older brothers teasing him. Just because his mother insisted he was her honorary girl when she was done raising sons didn’t mean he was an actual girl! He’s sick of being treated like a chick and he’s looking for vengeance.

Rob’s three older brother’s are sick of their little brother acting like an angry, spoiled brat. When Rob crosses the lines with another one of his childish pranks, they decide it’s time to teach their little sister a lesson in being a girl the only way three muscular, controlling guys know how.

This story is 17,000+ words long. It contains graphic language, sexually explicit content between brothers, a great corset and leather boots, spanking, and mild humiliation mixed with some tears. 18+ Only

17,000+ wrds, Published June 11, 2016.
Heat level: XX


WHAT READERS ARE SAYING ABOUT ROBYN

Sizzling hot story with four brothers! Loved the characters and the plot. Great job!
story warning: contains incest between 4 brothers. Wheew! This was another great story by Sadie. One thing you will always get with her books, is lots of heat! The best Thing about them though, is they have an actual storyline with that sex. If you like taboo books, this one is perfect! Rob and his older brothers heat up the pages.
Shocking debauchery.
READ AN EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE

Rob had finally had enough. His assholic older brothers had crossed him for the last fucking time. The three jerks had once again—well, Frank had and he totally fucking hated Frank—Frank had said he was a girl. Worse, a cheerleader. This time in front of the entire fucking football team. The bastard had stood in front of everyone and said the reason his little brother couldn’t try out for the team was because he was really a chick and they should have him cheer instead. And then everyone had laughed. Dan, his other asshole of a brother, had laughed the loudest and even Joey, who was usually the nice one out of the three, had joined in. Whenever he was around Frank and Dan, Joey always took their side. It wasn’t fair. Rob had three older, stronger, meaner brothers and they always picked on him.

Today, he was going to show them.

Rob stalked into their family kitchen, his parents still at work and his brothers still at practice. He placed the bag of sugar he had bought at the convenience store on the table, pulling a chair out and standing on it so he could reach the higher cabinet over the fridge. Fucking Frank was always laughing about how he needed to stand on something to reach the cabinet just like their mom. But Frank was a goddamn giant, as was Dan and Joey, and normal people needed a stool to reach that high. He wasn’t short and petite, he was just being compared to fucking giants. Everyone looked like a matchstick compared to his brothers.

Grinning viciously, Rob grabbed the container of whey protein powder out of the cabinet, gasping when he fumbled the large, plastic container and nearly dropped it. Fuck, that would have been a total mess. He cradled the container to his chest as he jumped down from the chair, then headed straight for the sink.

They thought they were so fucking great with their bulging muscles and tall, athletic forms. Just because mom had wanted a girl for the longest time and used to call Rob her baby Robyn didn’t mean he was a girl. Just because she had spent the first five years of his life dressing him in pink and calling him Robyn and telling everyone he was her honorary daughter didn’t mean he was actually a fucking girl. And what the fuck did his brothers do? Did they show sympathy? Did they try and help him bulk up like them or help him practice so he could join a sport? No. They just made fun of him too, teasing him for his slender body and cute face. They were always calling him Robyn, and cutie, and their pretty sis. God, he hated them all.

Just wait until the three of them were fat and slow, then they’d wish they were even close to as skinny as he was.

Rob poured three-fourths of the protein powder straight into the sink, turning the faucet on and running the garbage disposal so it wouldn’t clog. Taking the container with him, he hefted the five-pound bag of sugar and tore at the top of the heavy paper bag. Only to scowl, his fingers not strong enough to actually rip through the thick material. Goddamn, he hated his brothers. He could just hear Dan jeering in his ear about how weak he was. He didn’t have girl’s hands!

Grabbing the nearest knife, Rob stabbed into the bag, tearing the instrument out and pouring the sugar into the nearly empty protein powder container. He didn’t need to be strong; he was fucking smart. Once the plastic jar was filled, he replaced the wide cover and gave the powder a good shake to mix the contents. He got back on the chair, putting the container back where he had found it.

His brothers mixed the stuff into everything. Everything. It wouldn’t take long before they started getting fat, then they’d see how terrible it was to make fun of someone because of their body. Rob couldn’t help that he was short and thin. It was just the way he had been born. Just because his three older brothers had been born looking like Greek gods didn’t give them the right to treat him like shit. Fuck them.

Putting the chair back, Rob had a moment of quiet worry, his gaze sliding up to the cabinet. They always mixed the powder in stuff, usually flavorful stuff because it tasted like crap. He was pretty sure none of his brothers would be able to tell.

He snorted, grabbing the empty bag of sugar and crumpling it between his hands, then stuffing it into his backpack. He’d dump the evidence at school. He didn’t want to risk anyone seeing the bag in the house trash. No, he was fucking brilliant and didn’t have to worry about shit. His older brothers were a bunch of idiot jocks. Like they’d fucking figure it out?

***

It was after five before the once nearly empty house was full, Frank, Dan, and Joey coming home, sweat still clinging to them from their time working out. They all beelined it to the kitchen, crashing through the house like a small herd of animals. Their parents wouldn’t be home till much later seeing as it was their weekly date night, meaning the boys had to fend for themselves for dinner. Rob was nowhere to be found but the sound of the shower could be heard from the downstairs bathroom. Joey’s expression was grim as he scolded the eldest of the three tall, tanned, dark-haired brothers for his earlier comment.

“You know how sensitive Robbie gets, Frank. You really shouldn’t have said that. Not in front of the entire team.” Joey’s hair was longer than the other three, black and shoulder length with a soft curl that was currently dripping sweat while he chugged a bottle of water.

Frank, the tallest and strongest of the three, looked far from apologetic as he reached above the refrigerator and grabbed the protein powder from the cabinet. His hair was short with bangs that teased over his forehead when they weren’t spiked back. “Come on, Joey, the kid gets asthma walking to the fucking mailbox. He can’t join the team. Those guys would break Rob to pieces and you know it.”

Joey flinched, his kind, gray eyes full of worry as he imagined their petite, slim-limbed brother trying to go up against an entire football team. Rob was just too small and delicate even if he was all punk attitude.

“Besides,” Frank continued, taking the glasses Dan handed him and putting the three out on the table. “You know what Johnson would pull if Rob even stepped near a fucking tryout. No way in fuck I’m letting that happen.”

At Frank’s unhelpful lack of explanation, Joey turned with furrowed brows to Dan, the youngest of the three rolling his deep blue eyes back at him.

“Seriously, Joey? Don’t you fucking pay attention? Johnson’s been perving on Robyn for a fucking year now. You really want to let that creep near our little brother?” The glass clinked, Dan stirring milk into his protein shake. “Rob doesn’t know how to handle himself with a guy like that. Johnson would have the kid stripped and on his knees sucking cock in five minutes flat.”

His spoon held in his hand like a knife, Joey pointed it straight at Dan’s face, the brunette’s expression dark. “Could you please not put that mental image in my head, asshole? I will stab that fucker if he touches my Robbie.”

Dan and Frank exchanging a silent look, Frank carefully pulled the spoon from Joey’s hand. “Yeah, well, to save you from a life sentence in prison for murder with spoon, I made sure the kid wouldn’t step near the field,” Frank said flatly, using the spoon to stir his own drink. He dumped a final scoop of powder into Joey’s glass, replacing the lid to the container. “Robyn is too sensitive for sports. Remember when he tried to play kickball, then spent an hour bawling when he stepped on that butterfly?”

“Come on, he was ten,” Joey reminded, unable to stop a small smile from gracing his lips. Robbie had always been ridiculously adorable. It was kind of hard not to pick on him. He had the cutest face and just got so worked up over everything. How could you not want to piss him off until he threw a little hissy fit? Robbie’s beautiful, violet-blue eyes would flash angrily and he’d always try to take a swing at you even though the kid had the scrawniest damn arms. Of course, it always ended in tears, the boy so emotional, he’d be hiccuping by the time the older brothers relented.

Joey admitted to a dark, secret thrill in seeing his little brother cry, especially when Robbie would cling to him for comfort after, burying his face against his chest until he finally calmed.

Joey slowly frowned, growling internally when his mind flashed for a second on Nate Johnson who had started hanging out with the three of them more, always asking to come over to the house. If that fucker so much as looked at Robbie funny, he was going to beat the guy’s face bloody. He’d beaten guys for less when it came to his little brother. All but Frank and Dan, who he shared an unspoken agreement with to back off when things got too rough when picking on their little brother.

Maybe it was time to teach Robbie how to take care of himself. If a creep like Johnson was looking at the kid…

“He asked me to show him how to get strong,” Joey said after a moment, meeting Dan and Frank’s eye as his glass was handed to him. “He wants to learn how to fight.”

“Like fuck,” Frank growled. “The kid would be fighting everyone that looked at him sideways. He’s too mouthy, too undisciplined—Way too angry all the time.”

Dan agreed with a grin, raising his glass. “Besides, if Robyn was strong, then he wouldn’t be our cute little sis anymore.” They each took a sip from their respective drinks, Joey immediately spitting his back into his cup when the overwhelming flavor of sugar hit his tongue. Frank and Dan slowly followed suit, their eyes growing dark.

“Son of a whore—Didn’t we just get this stuff?” Frank tore the lid off the protein mix, scooping the powder up and putting it in front of Joey so his brother could inspect it. It was clearly sugar, the crystals unmistakable, large and nonclumping.

“The little bitch,” Dan growled lowly.

“He must have been really pissed,” Joey muttered, going to the sink and dumping his glass down the drain. He cupped some of the running water into his hand, rinsing his mouth from the teeth-itching sweet flavor.

“Yeah, but sugar? He knows that can kill you, Joey.”

Joey shrugged but his expression was grim as he glared down while the sink drained. Robbie had never tried to get him to eat sugar before. Watching his older brother take daily injections of insulin since the age of seven had set a line none of the Conner brothers had dared to cross before. “You know how he gets when he’s angry. He forgets shit. Says and does things he doesn’t really think out.”

“I’m the one that called him a cheerleader,” Frank said with a growl, tossing the protein powder straight into the garbage bin. “He should have come at me.”

“We all use the powder. Rob knows as much,” Joey reminded reasonably. “He wasn’t just going after me.”

“Fuck, fine, what the fuck are we going to do about it?” Frank fixed his forgiving brother with a hard look. “That shit was expensive and we can’t have Robyn dosing the diabetic with a daily shot of sugar. He’s got to stop with this shit already. It’s getting old, man.”

Joey sighed, slumping against the sink. “Come on, guys, you’re just going to get the kid more upset. You can’t keep picking on him. He’s never going to grow up if you’re always on his case about shit.”

Frank and Dan exchanged another look, Dan stepping up and whispering into his taller brother’s ear. Joey watched them warily, his arms folded over his chest.

“It’s just a punishment, Joey,” Frank assured him. “So Rob won’t do it again. Think of it like training.”

“Like fuck,” Joey said with a scowl. “What are you going to do, duct tape him to the door again? Robbie was pissed for weeks and only acted out more. This prank war hasn’t helped anything.”

Snickering at the memory, Dan shook his head. The boy’s eyes were full of mischief, Joey even more anxious to see. “Nope, I think it’s time our little bro grew into a full-fledged woman.”

“Damn it. You guys know that shit pisses him off the most,” Joey growled in exasperation. “He’s tired of us calling him a girl.”

“He looks like one,” Frank said flatly. “He’s sure underhanded and bitchy like one. And if Rob keeps this shit up, we’re just going to have to treat him like the girl he is.”

Joey inhaled sharply, his stomach tightening against his will. A part of him loved the idea of Rob as a girl. It was the same part that used to love to tease the boy merciless until he’d cry and cling to him, whimpering into his shirt front. For the longest time growing up, Robyn had been their little sister and it was really hard to let go of seeing the boy silky and in pink. But Rob wasn’t a girl, he was a really angry boy who had been a total pain in the ass lately. One that he really wanted to protect from whatever revenge Frank and Dan had up their sleeve. His other brothers knew Joey could take care of himself but because of his illness, they still felt the need to overreact. Something he was pretty sure the two were going to do again as Dan suddenly bounded down the stairs and out of the front door right after flashing Frank a grin.

Fixing his remaining brother with a glare, Joey pushed himself from the sink. “What the fuck did you mean by that? What are you going to do to him?”

“You mean, what are we going to do to him.” Frank wasn’t intimidated by Joey’s scowl, returning it with a tilted chin. “You’re the one babying him, Joey. You let Rob get away with all kinds of shit.”

“I have to,” Joey said reasonably, used to this particular argument. “You guys are total asshats to him. He thinks we all hate him.”

Frank wasn’t impressed. “We just say shit, bro. Robyn’s been a total terror. He poured soda in our beds, put glue in the shampoo and I’m pretty sure he’s the one that left out Dan’s porn for mom to find. He told Jessica that we all have crabs and that—”

Joey sighed heavily, running his hand through his shoulder length hair. “Fine, I get it. He’s been a total dick lately. Just, you freaking out on him isn’t helping shit.”

Frank shrugged, opening the fridge and pouring himself a glass of orange juice instead. “You babying him hasn’t done shit either. You notice when it all started?”

Joey thought back but couldn’t really pinpoint when Rob had started being quite so angry. A few years back he had gotten really defiant about mom pretending he was a girl but it had only been recent that the kid had started pulling these stupid and sometimes dangerous pranks.

“Well, I noticed,” Frank spoke up when Joey didn’t have an answer. “It started when he was passed over for that bit in the school play.”

Blinking, Joey nodded after a moment in agreement. That could have been about the time.

Frank poured him a much smaller glass of juice, handing it over. When Joey went to take the glass, Frank didn’t let go, meeting his brother’s eyes steadily. “The play you prep’d him for like two weeks straight. Where he kept making doe eyes at you until you were wrapped around his finger.”

Huffing in annoyance, Joey rolled his eyes. “Come on, man, he’s a good kid. Annoying at times but he’s—”

“Joey, he’s in love with you,” Frank interrupted curtly. “Head over fucking heels. Absolutely, completely smitten with you.”

Nostrils flaring, Joey put more pressure into his grip until Frank relented the glass. He drank it down like a shot, trying to ignore the way the cold liquid felt like lead in his gut, heat rising over his skin in an anxious wave. “That’s crazy,” he finally said after the silence had stretched on too long, his voice gruff.

Frank was unaffected, looking completely at ease. “It’s pretty obvious. Robyn threw that hissy when you started dating that chick from the next town over. He sulked the entire time, you know, when he wasn’t spreading rumors about the three of us and hiding all our fucking shit. Dan figured it out before I did,” he added as if Dan thinking the same thing confirmed it all. “I was ready to hold the little brat out of a window by his ankles until Dan spoke up.”

“This is crazy,” Joey muttered, turning and rinsing his glass to give him something to do with his hands while his mind reeled. He glared over his shoulder, his expression full of accusation. “You’re just saying this shit to get me to agree to whatever terrible you’re about to do.”

“He loves you, Joe. He was auditioning for the role of a chick—”

“There weren’t any male roles!”

“Yet he still wanted to be in the fucking play,” Frank replied, his eyes narrowed on the way his brother’s face was flushed in anger. “Believe me, Robyn is in need of facing some facts about himself and that is not going to happen if you don’t face the fact that our little bro wants your dick. Bad.”

Glaring stonily out the small window that looked into their backyard, Joey held his tongue. There had been times, glances, sometimes hugs that had gone a little too long that had made him wonder. But that had been a while ago and he had told himself it had all been in his head.

“He doesn’t,” Joey said, sighing softly. “He really doesn’t and you’re going to freak him out if you suggest such a thing. The kid is angry enough, Frank.”

Giving his younger brother a calculating look, Frank tilted his head, indicating Joey should follow. After a moment, Joey did, dragging his feet as they walked down the hall past the bathroom, stopping in front of Rob’s room. There was a pretty pink unicorn superglued to the boy’s door covered in swipes of black sharpie. One of Dan’s jokes after Rob had deliberately erased one of his video game saves. Mom had set aside a room just for the girl she had always wanted. Instead, her Robyn had been born a Rob and the woman had still insisted her youngest get a room of his own. It used to be all pink until Rob had finally put his foot down a few years back.

Frank pushed the door open, stalking immediately to Rob’s backpack. The room was painted a mellow sage green, no remnants of the soft pink and white lace curtains their mother had inadvertently tormented her son with in view.

Maybe it had been all their faults. Just, Rob had never really seemed to mind. He used to like his pink clothes, used to like getting to wear socks with fun patterns and do twirls to show off his latest dress. It was really easy to forget that their little sister was a boy, especially when it was just so easy to make Robyn cry.

“Come on, Frank, don’t go through his stuff…” Joey trailed off, Frank pulling out the empty bag of sugar from Rob’s pack. Gnawing on his lip, Joey didn’t say anything when Frank turned the bag over, searching for whatever evidence he was determined to find. He looked around the room again, taking in the posters on the wall Rob had started putting up. Most were of girls in elaborate, funky clothes from school girl outfits combined with combat boots and crazy, sparkling pigtails to a wall dedicated to leather, gothed out vamp girls. They had a subtle sexuality to them, very subtle when compared to some of the posters Frank kept on his side of their shared room. Rob was young in a lot of ways still, Joey reminded of it at every turn.

Grunting, Frank continued his search, finding what he was looking for deep in the pages of Rob’s math book.

Joey sighed heavily when Frank held up the photo that had been carefully hidden away, his own face staring back in a quiet, easy-smiling pose. Fuck.

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