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?Catching Up With MM Freebies and Goodies?

Hey babes, it’s been a while.

Things are actually really good. About (3?) weeks ago, right around Halloween, something shifted in my life. Not sure if it was the mold going dormant from the winter weather, the new probiotics I started up—magic? There’s always hope for magic XD—but I found myself adapting up instead of down for a change. I have so much energy. I actually hadn’t realized how little energy I had until it all hit me. I suddenly had a clean house, was eating daily, cooking again, getting errands done. I was able to focus writing for hours on end and not feel like crawling up the walls. I caught a cold soon after, and yet I still had more energy with the cold than before. It’s been damn good.

So, for those who checked up to see how I’m doing, no worries. Besides a few annoying things (such as a broken tooth with an exposed nerve just in time for Thanksgiving,) I’m damn fabulous. A little nervous as I wonder what might happen when the heat returns and the mold sprouts. I may have to find a frozen wasteland to live in full time…

So, what fun stuff to share? I carved a pumpkin for the first time this year! Not like carved, er, sculpted? Is that what they call it? It’s a 3d thing. Let me hit you with some pics. It’s of Pan from Pan’s Labyrinth, one of my all time favorite movies to be honest. I ran out of time, but I think his face came out pretty cool, if not totally orange. <3

Writing has been amazing. It’s flowing, it feels good, and I’m really happy with the direction it’s all going. Delving back into Demon Arms has been awesome. I love having the viewpoint of Theodore and Michael, some older (although not always mature) voices to balance out Wylie and Dorian’s younger perspectives. Theodore is such a study in grumpy coolness. XD

A little unedited preview for those curious <3

He unclipped the strap from beneath his despoiler coat and pulled free the sheath and encased diamond sword. When Theodore could trust that his voice wouldn’t reveal too much of his evening, he finally spoke. “Worried I was dead?”

Michael grimaced at the accuracy of the statement and lowered his cup of tea. The intricate clock on the wall behind him displayed it was just after 3 A.M. “It’s the first time a dragon has been placed on the registry, ever. If I didn’t have the boys to protect…”

Theodore turned toward him. The white cloth folded in his hand carefully moved along the laser smooth surface of his sword stained red. “I would have called if I needed help.”

Michael’s eyes sharpened at the blatant lie, and Theodore looked away. He busied himself with cleaning the deadly blade. Michael’s gaze felt like a razor as he accessed every sign, every tell of when he’d been too slow that night, when his reflexes failed and his speed hadn’t been enough. It was as if he were flayed from his coat and clothes, and every injury, every bruise was revealed.

Michael’s unwavering stare landed on the blood dripping down Theodore’s fingertips. He sipped his tea. “So, how did it go?”

Theodore shrugged noncommittally. Pain lanced through his shoulder from the movement, and his jaw tightened. His eyes slid over his desk and to behind Michael where he kept a collection of rare, beautiful objects. Some were weapons as well, but most were art. Dragons of lore from different cultures representing sea monsters, fire breathers, and earth burrowers posed along the shelves. His gaze stopped on a coil of an Asian style dragon formed from gold, and then returned to the blade in his hands.

“The skinners found a dragon tonight, just not the one they were expecting.”

Michael exhaled slowly and placed his mug on the desk. Without looking, Theodore flicked his fingers, and a coaster appeared and went sailing across the room to land right next to the cup. Michael blinked at the sudden appearance and obligingly nudged the coaster beneath his tea.

“Dead?” Michael asked quietly.

Theodore licked his fangs as his inner dragon shuddered at the memory of hot blood. “Two. I lost the third in the ether before I could get a tracer on him.”

Michael jumped up from the chair. “You were hunting in the ether? Have you lost your mind completely?” He moved around the desk, and his green bunny slippers flopped with each step as he headed right for Theodore.

Theodore fought the impulse to throw his hands up, to strike out, to slash with the very convincing weapon in his hands that would prevent whatever physical contact was imminent. A shadow flickered in Michael’s stormy gaze, and he stopped short as he read the discomfort in Theodore’s stance. Michael’s fingers twitched at his side as he held back whatever compassionate impulse he had intended on indulging.

“It wasn’t planned,” Theodore said tersely. “I’m not reckless.”

Michael shook his head and reached up to rake at his golden hair. “No, it’s never planned. But if you were sensed in there…”

“Clearly, I wasn’t. I’m alive. I’m here.” Theodore’s pale, violet eyes flashed steel. He turned and carefully placed the clear sword into its display sheath. He stared at it once he was done, not really seeing anything but the swirl of black and scent of blood still around him. “I still have prey to find. I’m sure he’ll offer me a chance to take his life soon enough.”

Michael’s gaze slid down to the splatters of blood beneath Theodore’s feet. “You reek of blue ash. Can you even feel your arm?”

“It’s fine,” Theodore muttered. He gripped his upper arm delicately and gritted his teeth when pain lanced down his side. “You know how quickly I metabolize.”

“Maybe when you were twenty,” Michael shot back. “That shit is dangerous in high doses, even for shifters. I feel lightheaded just smelling it. The last thing I need is you falling into a coma.”

Theodore rolled his eyes as he turned from the wall. He resisted the urge to brace himself no matter how much the room insisted on wavering. Michael’s disapproving glare came into view, and he growled warningly. “I’ll stop in with Rob once I’m updated on the kid.”

Michael’s mouth remained tight with worry. “You can see Wylie for yourself in the hospital. He hit the nullifiers on the way out of the transport. He’s down for the night.”

“Fine,” Theodore grunted. He hitched the sleeve of his despoiler jacket up his bleeding arm and brushed past Michael. He paused at his desk and pulled the stack of wards from a pocket and threw them next to the cheerfully bright cup of tea. He scowled when scarlet splattered onto the top heptagon ward and blurred out the intricately drawn insignia. “Fuck.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed, and his suspicious glare followed to where Theodore was scowling at his desk. “It usually takes a lot more to knock a dragon out.”

Theodore sneered as he used the outside of his coat to clean the blood from the ward. “He didn’t hold up well to interrogation.” He pulled the chiggers and a poisoned dagger from his pockets and slammed them into the desk drawer. He immediately spelled it shut while ignoring Michael’s outraged shout.

“For fuck sake, Theo!”

“For fuck sake, Theo,” Theodore mimicked under his breath. He lifted his head when Michael stalked over, and his tone turned defensive. “The kid’s fine. There was no time, the little punk had a mouth on him, and, well,” Theodore grinned sharply, “He started listening to me once he realized I was the strongest thing he was ever going to meet.”

“No! You will not stand here and justify your sadistic, territorial bullshit.” Michael grabbed Theodore by his good arm, the tension in his fingers revealing he’d rather be shaking him. “These are patients, not enemies, not challengers. Patients!”

Theodore stiffened in the grip and his breath stilled in his chest. When he met Michael’s gaze, the violet color had drained from his eyes to reveal an otherworldly white.

“Whiteheart, my dragon has feasted on death tonight. The scent of blood is all around us. Kindly refrain from touching me unless you’re volunteering to be the next offering.”

Michael’s angry expression grew darker, but he pulled his hand away and took a step back. “Theo, he needs protecting.”

Theodore tilted his head, and color sparked back into his eyes as his dragon withdrew. After a beat, he waved his hand dismissively. “It won’t happen again. I was worked up.” His lips tugged down into a grim frown, and he turned away to dig through his pockets. A cell phone, five empty vials in need of refilling, and a compact mirror clattered onto his desk. “I was afraid for the ignorant punk. My fuck, what an idiot.”

“He’s not the only one,” Michael growled under his breath. “It better not happen again, or I’m going to be the one who links with Doe.”

“No.” Theodore whirled back, fire flaring in his eyes. He went to point at Michael, then thought better of it as his blood splattered in an arc on the floor. “Shit.” Theodore took a steadying breath and tried again, calmer. “I’m Doe’s guardian. No one else can protect him the same way. It has to be me.”

Michael’s chest heaved, and he exhaled heavily. “I know. We all know. I just need you to not hate him for it.”

I think way back in the day, Michael and Theodore probably fucked. I mean, you don’t end up being the few to survive while everyone you know ages and dies around you without hooking up once in a while out of basic companionship for sanity. They’re BFFs even if they totally can’t stand each other some days. They hated each other way more when they first met. XD I wonder if I’ll ever get an excuse to write the two of them when they were young and Theo’s family is killed off one by one… Hmm.

I’ve been writing their backstory, if you can’t tell. Just filling out some more extensive character sheets I plan on sharing eventually. Doing a terms sheet too, because I want the world building to be more extensive. Squee, I’m totally nerding out over it. <3 I’m sorry it’s taking so long but I’m glad I’m making the effort because it’s going to make all the books going forward way better. If you missed it, you can read the first five rewritten scenes on the site here.

This Week’s MM Goodies

$0.99 Nocturnal Beloved: MM Immortal Lovers Romance

Julian Castrow is a young man tending at the local bar, the Hopper, serving drinks during the night and going to college during the day. Life is going at a steady pace until a vampire walks in one night changing Julian’s life forever.

Graham Beliviston is a considerably young vampire whom finds his attraction to Julian, strange and alluring. Usually he feeds and moves on, but something about Julian makes him yearn for more understanding of the mortal. But love can be hard for an immortal when there are vampire hunters on the move, and they’ve got their eyes set on the young mortal lover.

What will happen when a bond between an immortal and a mortal is inexplicably created?

 

$0.99 Beneath the Autumn Sky

“I could look into your friend’s disappearance,” Daniel found himself blurting out. After a few minutes of awkwardness, he mentally kicked himself. The sheer look of shock was more than enough to make Daniel regret those words, but even more so when Alec’s grip tighten. “No, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I know a couple of guys at the police station. I could-”

“Please Daniel. Just…leave it be.”

Daniel stopped. He couldn’t help but turn away, looking at the small plate of vegetables. Before he knew it, he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

He was about to take his hand back, but he couldn’t. It was warm, and it was the first thing he noticed. “Hey Daniel?”

“What’s up?”

“I love you. You know that right?”

In which love and death dance within the confines of Autumn. This collection includes The Devil’s Playground, Mayhem, Hero, and Promises.

$0.99 Game Time: Gay First Time Sports Romance

Things Can Get Hot Off The Ice 

All Scott has wanted since a child was to represent his favorite hockey team, but after a couple of seasons toiling away as a second string he’s traded away unceremoniously. At first it hurts, but he vows to play well enough to make them regret ever letting him go.

He’s welcomed at his new team by Mark, the personal trainer, and the two of them form an instant bond. Scott is unable to deny the attraction he feels, even though exploring it could jeopardize his standing among his new team-mates. Mark is an anchor to Scott, until everything around him starts to sink.

Scott is forced to ask himself if his career is more important than his personal life. He’s already lost one dream, can he afford to lose another? And when it comes time to face his former club, will he prove them right or wrong?

Free! Surrender: An MM Erotica Short Story

Jonathan Estes could have just went home for Thanksgiving. Fortunately, he stayed behind to enjoy the solitude of campus. When his roommate and crush, Jake Kettleman, decides to stay, Jon begins to fantasize about what the holiday could bring.

Jon knows Jake could have any girl he wants. But on Thanksgiving Jake gets something more than a girl, he gets his kinky dorm buddy.

Self-revelations turn into sexual revelations in this short story about two men exploring their own bondage fantasy, and each other.

This is a story with BDSM

 

?Dark Fantasies For Abuse Survivors And A Ton Of Rainbows?

Hey babes,

So the boyfriend and I are on the road this weekend for out 8 year anniversary. I was super excited cuz it’s the first time in years I got to celebrate our anniversary while healthy. So, naturally, I sneezed the morning of our big trip while still in bed, and my back seized up. Motherfuck. XD But I don’t care. Life is short (much shorter than first anticipated) and I threw my little back support thing on and we went out despite the pain cuz I want to enjoy now.

We ended up checking out the Norman Rockwell museum cuz it was on the way and we both love art. I have to say, I’m particularly jealous of Rockwell’s studio. Having so much room in such a peaceful area to be able to create feels like a dream come true I’m never going to reach. We then drove to Burlington, Vermont to see the last night of the fabulously funny, Jen Kirkman. I love intelligent humor and she was this wonderful mix of quirky eccentric and damn brilliant.

The view was spectacular on the drive. Saw so many rainbows (seriously, double rainbow!) along with the beautiful leaves turning. And one disgusting, giant confederate flag that was a stark reminder even now, even how far we have come, hate is still breeding and festering in the most beautiful of locations.

 

How To Help The World…

I wrote a blog post this week as something constructive and positive after all the damn pain of the Kavanaugh bullshit. I hope you find the time to read it during the week. I go into things that I haven’t shared with most readers before, things I only recently learned about my past. But I knew for a very long time this was a truth for many families, in many different walks of life, and it’s been hiding beneath the surface tearing people apart.

It’s only been recently women have been allowed to talk about sex. It’s only been recently we’ve gained financial independence through bank accounts, credit cards, employment, birth control, equality laws, and voting. We don’t have to wear the ‘dress code’ of a dress for the female gender, but you’ll see, when a man wears this perceived dress code he faces humiliation because to be a woman is still to be lesser in the eyes of society. Women still don’t have equal pay, we don’t have equal representation, and we don’t have our voices taken seriously even now–and this is just in America. Reason is not what drives this world, but instead those little pockets of repression, hate, fear, and I want to help tear the darkness away and reveal our monsters for what they are. Human.

I think the world needs this. I know I needed it. Fear isn’t just the mind killer, it is the nonlife. When we reject our bodies and our sexuality, we reject our very lives. We have suffered too long like this, and now it the perfect time to change it and heal. I want to see #metoo mean more than just a battle cry of the traumatized, but an actual step in changing these common, hidden, and far too many times justified atrocities.

You can read about it here; Dark Fantasies For Abuse Survivors
 

This Week’s MM Goodies

$0.99 Dead In The Garden

Join bestselling author Dahlia Donovan on a cosy mystery adventure in Grasmere Cottage Mystery book one. With love, wit, and a murder to solve, life for Valor and Bishan is about to get bloomin’ complicated in this sweet gay romance.

Dead body in the garden? Check.

Mystery to solve? Check.

Police focused on the wrong person? Not good.

All grown up and graduated, Valor Tarquin Scott, son to Earl and Countess Scott, owns The Ginger’s Bread, a biscuit shop, in Grasmere in the Lake District. The love of his life, Bishan Tamboli, has turned his music studies into a successful career playing with the London Symphony Orchestra. It’s a perfect life with their cat, spending evenings watching Poirot on the television.

The nightmare begins with one dead former schoolmate, leading police to believe Bishan is responsible.

Valor struggles to solve the cryptic puzzles left behind in a race to prove Bishan’s innocence.

He can’t help wondering how far the body count will rise before they manage to stop the killer.

Buyer’s Remorse

Will love persevere when the truth comes out?

LEE
I changed my name, but I can’t change what I did. My brothers died, and I spent three years in witness protection. Returning to Fields, where I once hid out, feels right. Seeing Miguel again feels even better. But when a dead body interrupts my tour of a building for sale, my start isn’t as fresh as I’d like.

MIGUEL
I’ve been trying to curb my habit of leaping into bad relationships, but when Lee comes back to town, he’s hard to resist. Kids are dying, and life’s too short to shy away from a good thing. But will Lee’s mysterious past come back to bite me?

Between police questioning and trials of trust, it’s far from smooth sailing. If we don’t figure out who’s selling synthetic drugs and convince the police Lee is not their man, we may all have a severe case of buyer’s remorse.

The Heights

Twenty-one years ago, a four-year old child was kidnapped from his front yard. He was never found. Until now.

All Nat Walker wants is to make his late father’s dream of running a father/son woodworking shop come true. And he had the perfect building in mind—until the new guy in town came in and bought the place right out from under him. The fact that the new guy is adorable means nothing. For all Nat cares, he can take his new dance studio and waltz back to New York City.

Professional dancer Quinn Carroll couldn’t be happier that he made the move to the small town of Lakeshore, Oregon. Sure, it’s not New York, but now he’ll be living closer to his adoptive brother. And since his studio will be the only one in the area, he should get enough business to keep him busy. Besides, there’s something about this place that seems familiar…

He doesn’t expect to fall hard for the local, grumpy woodworker who won’t even smile at him.

Or find out that his entire life is a lie.

Last Chance To Snag Hellcat For $0.99!

Sean knows what those wicked, hellfire eyes want. Him, on his knees, taking every finger, tongue, tail, and tentacle.

This is what being corrupted by a demon feels like. It’s the only explanation. Sean’s not supposed to have fangs or know magic, damn it. And this bs where he’s horny and begging all the time? No, not freaking happening. He’s just a nerd—a hot, gay, totally panicky IT specialist—who needs to find a solution to his destroyed business, asap. He doesn’t have time for whatever weird this shapeshifting demon is into. Soot can’t just claim him whenever he wants, over and over again. He’s about to be homeless!

If Sean doesn’t save a witch from a dragon, it’s game over. But he’s changing, turning into someone he doesn’t recognize. He’s not sure if he can play hero, not even when Soot abducts TJ, Sean’s painfully straight crush, to the top of a tower full of witches, gargoyles, and one very pissed off dragon. TJ doesn’t know who to fear more, the demon prince or whatever it is Sean is turning into.

There has to be a way out. Stealing a 3 million dollar hellcat isn’t a binding contract to be a sex thrall, no matter how much his demon master disagrees.

 

You Ever Wonder How Books Make Money

Hey, Babes,

Hmm, so another different newsletter this week only cuz my brain is on fire… mostly metaphorically. I could spend my time talking about all the fucking injustice in my little slice of the world (mostly what I focus on when not writing but I know how oppressively unhappy politics can leave people.) Or I could talk about the mold that has taken over my neighborhood this week. Like, it’s a cloud of spores every time I drive near the house and the rest of the surrounding area isn’t much better. But that just depresses the fuck out of me because I have no idea if and when it will improve. My heart is set to hummingbird, blood pressure is in the pits, and everything hurts. I was in the house for a good couple of week, writing consistently, brain working gloriously, etc, but now it’s back to being in the car seeking little spots of relief.

But hey, I got a car and can find places that don’t kill me too much, and I just got to wait it out. The town where I used to work basically blew up from a giant gas disaster (40 houses on fire) so that was intense and there are a bunch of people without homes in eastern Massachusetts because of it. Mold doesn’t look so bad atm. So I’m talking business strategies today, cuz that’s where my brain is to avoid those other topics. (Ah, avoidance. Such bliss XD) Also, I like this kind of stuff: pattern recognition, problem solving, cause and effect, trial and error, etc. It’s cool beans.

Strategizing a new sales model—aka, a peek into my brain

I hopped onto my Book Report page for the first time in a while (I’ve been ignoring a lot of this shit so I can just focus on writing and getting healthy) and got some interesting numbers with my Amazon sales. For those who don’t know what Book Report is, it’s an app that allows you to view your Amazon book sales and page reads and break it down in a gazillion different ways to understand what is selling and what’s not.

So, the numbers were revealing. Out of 48 books, 6 of them were making over 77% of my Amazon income. Intense. That means I have 42 books just sitting there barely making money. What a waste.

So, a couple main thoughts this resulted in: what is similar about these 6 books, how do these 6 books brand me as an author, and how do I get those other 42 books to start making money? Here’s my breakdown.

1) What do these 6 books have in common?

To figure out why these books are a success, we need to look at a few different aspects of what makes them similar. These aspects aren’t what an outsider to selling books might automatically think. You might be asking questions like how good is the story, or the characters personality, or did each one totally have a quirky best friend; or you might want to know if it’s a horror MM verse a romantic MM. Unfortunately, it’s rarely so deep when it comes to writing. The genre plays a roll, but you need to take into account things like cover design, blurb writing, Amazon algorithms, length, etc. Some examples.

  • 3 of these books were KU (kindle unlimited) reads. Hellcat, Demon Bonded #11, and Taken By Beasts. These are my only books enrolled in KU, and they’re already at the top of the income pile. Be it algorithms or just readers unwilling to throw down cash outside of KU when on Amazon, this program generates income.
  • 4 of these books are either bundles or collections: Taken By Beasts, Demencious Saga, Apprentice Saga, and Bullying Teacher: the complete serial.
  • 5 of these books are between 60,000-100,000 words
  • All of them have newer covers verse my old, moldy style
  • 4 have newer blurbs with an understanding of genre copy-writing
  • 4 have been extensively edited, or written originally in my mold free style, aka, quality of writing is better
  • 5 books are paranormal, with Bullying Teacher being the odd man contemporary title out
  • All of these books are high heat
  • Demencious Saga and Apprentice Saga are books previously to my most recently released Demon Bonded book #11. It’s known that books just released in KU get about a month of a ranking boost before a different set of algorithms kick in, meaning all 3 could be a fluke to watch for.

2) If I had a smaller catalog of books on Amazon, would it be easier for new readers to find these 6 books that are already drawing the most attention? What kind of ‘brand’ am I presenting right now, and would it be improved by only having these 6 books on Amazon instead?

This is a question I’ve been poking at for about 2 years when I realized just how much my brain had been impaired by the mold. And even if it hadn’t been an illness at the root, I think it’s a good question for any author to ask after a few years of self-publishing. What are you presenting to your audience, and is that message clear? When someone sees your name on a book, do they already know what that book is going to be about? Do your stories have a consistency of genre/trope, quality, subject matter, etc?

For the varied author, this might be a terrifying question. What, I’m supposed to only write one type of book? If you enjoy writing a variety of topics, no, but if you’re looking to create an income off your books, fuck yeah. Consistency is important. What do you think of when you hear names like Anne Rice, Stephen King, Nora Roberts, RR. Martin, J.K. Rowling, Diane Steele, James Patterson? If you’re familiar with these main stream authors, you immediately think of the ‘type’ of book they write. The genre, be it horror, romance, political intrigue, vampires to wizards to castles and assassins. If J.K. Rowling came out with a contemporary romance in the modern world, wouldn’t you be confused as fuck? If she did decide to write a book like that, it would be smarter to put that book under a completely different pen name so she wouldn’t water down her wizard brand. Otherwise, you might pick up that new book and wonder why there are so many wizards in the rest of her books.

So yeah, here I am looking at my catalog of books asking myself, what am I selling to people as an author, and is that message clear? Not only that, is what I’m selling what I want to be writing?

Books like Hellcat, The Paranormal Academy for Troubled Boys, and Demon Bonded are series I want to write. I wake up thinking about them, plotting them, wondering what those characters are going to do next. And the shorter fics that you find in Taken By Beasts? I enjoy making those even if I don’t usually write them in groups but once in a while between novels. As for Bullying Teacher, I love everything about that book from the high heat to dirty sex, but I don’t like contemporary fics the same way I do paranormal. I don’t like having to make everything feel ‘real’ which is why that book is still such an exaggeration (which probably makes it less believable, but fuck it, real life isn’t that interesting.) So yeah, I can at least say I 100% enjoy writing the books that are selling.

But the other question, is the message of what I write clear? That’s much harder to discern (aka, probably not clear at all.) The genre/trope of dubcon and paranormal are pretty strong themes but other things like consistency in quality and plot are not. Being sick did not allow me to really grow as a writer but just write to escape thoughts of being sick. What I thought was good enough back then isn’t remotely so now that I’m healthy. As a writer, do I want to be known as someone who has interesting ideas but doesn’t follow through, doesn’t push to make a complicated story that really satisfies? Do I want to be known as the author who can’t be assed to edit and ensure every sentence actually makes sense? I’ve tried to read some of my first published books, and my fuck, I don’t even understand what I was trying to say sometimes. (looking at you, Blackthorne @_@) It’s not pretty.

3) How do I get the other 42 books to make me money?

Now, if I was any other author, this would be a question of do I continue to sell the old books, remove them permanently, or edit them and then try to sell them? Do I seek out other platforms and go wide (put my books everywhere you can) and see if that draws in an audience of new readers? Which made me ask very bluntly: has going wide done anything positive for me?

No. I don’t know how to rank on other platforms outside of Amazon, and the platforms themselves have a poor algorithm and SEO set up. I don’t want to do the work to climb to the top of those platforms, especially when it’s much harder to even gain a foothold without those algorithm aspects. I think I made a little less than $100 a month on my books total on other platforms. These platforms can’t compete with Amazon—that fucking monopoly is taking over everyone, let’s not pretend, and KU is part of the problem. But fuck, I want to make money so I’m going to feed the beast for now.

But I have an option most authors don’t take, and that’s the subscription site. Something I realized I haven’t been putting center. The subscription site is how I can make those 42 books generate income while keeping them from watering down the quality of my brand, and stupid me, I was competing against that subscription site by putting those books on other platforms instead of making it so the only way to find them was on the site.

Which leads me to the key: Exclusivity

It goes against the grain as a writer, lol, but so do a lot of marketing strategies. For example, free books. Free books are the quickest way to get people on your mailing list and notice that you exist (at least before Instafreebie started making free so redundant people hoard those digital files and will never have enough time to read them all.) But there are so many authors terrified of giving their work away. They don’t see it as fishing for new readers, but just throwing their hard work away, and because of it, they don’t take the risk and they don’t get noticed.

In the same way, exclusivity on one site instead of spreading your books out everywhere to find as many eyes as possible seems risky, potentially suicidal. How will people find you? Well, through Amazon. Because that’s where most readers find you anyways because it is so fucking hard to compete against that corporate giant. The readers are already there, so that’s where you seek them out.

It helps that those in the KU program already understand the idea of a subscription service. Will they all think that my small number of books is worth the same cost as the thousands of books in KU? Probably not. But the ones who enjoy my type of writing, the genre, the tropes, will be interested enough to give it a month and see. And if they like the new stuff coming out, they may stay.

Crafting a new strategy

So, after I went through all those questions above, I came up with a new strategy I’m going to be focusing on for the next year. The two main goals of this strategy is to

  1. create books that work for the KU program which will push views, ranking, and ideally sales
  2. ensure the subscription site is utilizing all those books of exclusive content to the best of its ability
  3. make sure I focus on branding for both sites

For part 1, it’s about taking those aspects that work in KU and focusing on them. This includes longer stories and bundles. So, if I wanted to have Heat in KU, I would make sure I bundled it with its sequel, Bite, maybe even Feral if I have it written by that time. This would allow for more pages to be read, pushing more income out of one sale instead of the hope the reader would seek out the sequels and read those too.

KU allows for a different strategy in this regard compared to selling book by book. When you’re selling pages, you want as many pages there to be read instead of leaving it up to the reader to seek out the rest of the pages in another book. Make things easy for your reader and give them everything up front. This would also mean rewriting and editing the fuck out of Heat and Bite to ensure my writing is cohesive and at a quality that could sit side by side on the shelf with a book like Hellcat, which is high heat, novel length, and has a cohesive plot that’s well edited.

For part 2, I want to go into creating an exclusive feel to the website and that content. I want to push that there are books to be read that you can’t get anywhere else, and while you’re waiting for me to finish a novel, you can read this too. I need to convey to readers the value of this content, a value that has just gone up if it can’t be found elsewhere. This also means working on my sales funnel and ensuring that my ads in the back of books are pulling people where they need to go.

Part 3, is two fold, and should be thought out on all the different levels. Branding might seem like one of those buzz words, but it matters big time. I want my main series to be my brand on Amazon. When someone picks up a Sadie Sins book there, I want them to think, oh, like Demon Arms, or Mated to the Demon Prince, or Demon Bonded. That’s my goal of a brand on Amazon, those 3 main series going forward. That means those series have to be front and center, be of the highest quality writing I have, covers and blurbs must be exemplary, and the books that are shown side by side with them need to have elements that reflect those series.

Branding for the website, though? Oh, we’re pushing the hardcore erotica and taboo nature of my books you can’t find elsewhere. Not only is it exclusive, but it’s super naughty, and way too hot for Amazon. It’s the idea that these books, if left out in the public, could somehow bring the world crumbling down (or so those shame based censors would have us all believe when it comes to erotica. XD) I want to use that not as a reason to hide my books, but as a reason for readers to come find my dangerous books. Selling sin, basically. <3

Sales Funnels

I mentioned this when it came to the website, and I want to expand because if you’re selling something on the Internet, you need to understand what a sales funnel is.

You ever see those totally transparent, kinda sleazy blog posts where someone is saying how much they love a product, it helped them after they had this terrible problem (let’s say it’s a weight loss product,) and hey, if you have trouble losing weight too, you should BUY NOW!!! In bright link letter and giant font? Yeah, that’s a sales funnel of the most obvious type. I’m not judging sales funnels (they’re a structure while it’s up to the user to decide if it’s used for good or evil,) I’m just giving you an example that I think we’ve all come across where it doesn’t feel like the end goal is to actually give the reader of that blog a solution to their problem, but just put some cash into the blogger’s pocket

Sale Funnels are all about conversion. Grabbing as many eyes as you can, pulling in the ones interested, and leading them to the end. Cuz I study other authors and marketing, I’ve watched as some authors push certain marketing books in other people’s newsletters with the intent to sell a how to market, or how to brand, or how to write—or breath through your fucking nose and hop on a leg—e course at the end of that sales funnel. I saw an annoyingly transparent sales funnel for one of those master classes (I get the ads on Facebook all the time cuz Facebook knows I’m a writer) where another author claimed to have taken the Master Class of the author in question, and how it was worth the time, etc. Sales funnels may come in different shapes and sizes, might stretch across different areas and employ many strategies, but the goal is still always the same, to get people to the end of the funnel.

So, for myself, when I’m putting books up on Amazon, my end goal is not to make a fuck ton of money there because I had a bestseller (don’t get me wrong, that would be fucking awesome XD) but more, my end goal is to put out work that a certain group of people will enjoy consistently enough to want to see what else I write and invest their free time, and their money, in reading what I write. Instead of directing them towards my back catalog of books on Amazon, I would instead be directing them to that back catalog on my website where they can also get my taboo fiction they never would have had an opportunity to find on Amazon. It’s important that I’m putting my best work forward in that regard with those Amazon books, and creating a brand that promises to continue that quality when you come back to the site.

So when I say authors don’t understand the value of a free book, that’s because they don’t understand a sales funnel. That free book is at the top of the funnel, drawing potential readers in to fall in love with your stories and invest in you as a writer. Instafreebie is great for that, as well as Goodreads giveaways. When you have a blurb at the back of your book telling people about books they haven’t read yet, that’s part of a sales funnel. When you get your book in other author’s newsletters, that’s part of the sales funnel. My newsletter is part of my sales funnel where I might not even be advertising my books, but you’re seeing how I write, and that might interest you enough to pick up one of my books. Every free book on my website is part of a sales funnel where my hope is the reader will invest and want to stay and grow with my books.

I guess I don’t think of my sales funnel as sleazy because I know that it involves me keeping a promise to readers and to myself. That’s not just of quality editing and stuff, but of being committed to what I do, to taking the time to make the story the best I can, and knowing I’m not going to grow bored and run off and never finish a story or some shit. If my end goal was to sell a book, that would be when it all ends. An exchange of cash for story, but by making the focus about building a readership that wants to grow with my stories, I’m promising those stories will be there to grow with. I wish I could have started off healthy, that I could have made that promise look far more stable in the beginning, you know? As a sales pitch, that would have kept people invested. But reality is not a sales pitch, and all we have is reality at the end of the day in all it’s imperfectionism.

Complicated or clear?

I love this kind of shit because of the intellectual challenge. Patterns, structures, and then all the trial and error as you find out what works and what doesn’t. Whether I’m actually good at it? Eh.

So I just removed those 42 (or nearly) books from Amazon and I’m already seeing the KU sales fill in the income those other books brought in, as well as exceed it. Will it hold once Demon Bonded #11 loses it’s algorithm push? No clue. I haven’t been doing any advertising or cross-promotion lately, just playing with Amazon atm. I’d say it was just because of the experiment, but really, I’m so lazy about this kind of shit. =_= I’m looking to create a system where once it’s set up, I don’t have to fuck around with it. I can just add new content, publish books, and the system perpetuates itself. It’s like building a house around my books in the hopes that I can keep the writing process and my income completely stable. But first I have to make a system that works, that sells, and you know, I should probably advertise. >_>

If Amazon tanks, or the KU program fucks up and refuses to count pages again, or maybe they change it all completely again, my system would have to change to adapt. If Amazon decides to censor all mm fiction or says my books cross their acceptable line, again, the system would need to change. It’s always good to reevaluate and question your strategy for this kind of thing anyways, cuz just because something is working doesn’t mean it can’t be better, too.

So, yeah, there’s an inside look at some of the things I do to sell books. I find it all really fascinating <3 (I’m a nerd, sorry. XD) But hey, if you’re interested in understanding how some things on the Internet make money, this might be interesting to you as well. Nothing wrong with making a living.

Hope everyone is safe during this crazy hurricane season. Peace, babes.

Hellcat Mated To The Demon Prince

Hellcat : Book 1

Mated To The Demon Prince
$2.99
Sean knows what those wicked, hellfire eyes want. Him, on his knees, taking every finger, tongue, tail, and tentacle.

This is what being corrupted by a demon feels like. It’s the only explanation. Sean’s not supposed to have fangs or know magic, damn it. And this bs where he’s horny and begging all the time? No, not freaking happening. He’s just a nerd—a hot, gay, totally panicky IT specialist—who needs to find a solution to his destroyed business, asap. He doesn’t have time for whatever weird this shapeshifting demon is into. Soot can’t just claim him whenever he wants, over and over again. He’s about to be homeless!

If Sean doesn’t save a witch from a dragon, it’s game over. But he’s changing, turning into someone he doesn’t recognize. He’s not sure if he can play hero, not even when Soot abducts TJ, Sean’s painfully straight crush, to the top of a tower full of witches, gargoyles, and one very pissed off dragon. TJ doesn’t know who to fear more, the demon prince or whatever it is Sean is turning into.

There has to be a way out. Stealing a 3 million dollar hellcat isn’t a binding contract to be a sex thrall, no matter how much his demon master disagrees.

101,000+ wrds, First Published March, 2018.
Heat level: XXX

WHAT READERS ARE SAYING ABOUT MATED TO THE DEMON PRINCE

Jamie A. on April 1, 2018
on March 31, 2018
on April 1, 2018
WOW! Holy cheese curls!!! This book is scorching hot and makes you thrive on every word. I loved it!! I there were more stars available I would check each one.

READ AN EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE

Was it possible to go crazy listening to the man who owned the sexiest lips ever? Even if he was talking nonsense at the time, TJ was still the sexiest man Sean ever had the annoyance of arguing with.

“Just one kitten. He’s so small, he’s like half a kitten. You’d barely notice him.”

Crazy. TJ was going to drive him crazy. “There’s no way in hell.” Sean decisively typed out a string of code and hit enter. “No.”

“Please, man?” TJ whined over the wireless headset Sean was failing to ignore. “He has nowhere else to go. I swear, once you meet him, you’ll totally fall in love. He’s the cutest little ball of fluff. And his eyes! Oh, Sean, if you saw his eyes, I just know you’ll love him.”

TJ was his friend of forever and an all-around animal lover. Sean usually didn’t hold it against him until moments like this. Moments which were growing more frequent as TJ decided he was lonely and needed an animal friend to brighten his days. Sean didn’t need a cat; he needed a boyfriend. A hot, sexy, preferably fur-free boyfriend who didn’t meddle in his life.

“Stop calling me from work trying to get me to adopt one of those four-legged beasts.” Sean squinted at the nearest of his four computer monitors. “I have enough problems without adding a kitten into the mix. Do you even understand what their fur will do to my setup?” He had three computers dedicated to IT work, and he couldn’t risk them being clogged up by fur, or fleas, or whatever the hell the little beasts covered themselves in. Pets. Why the hell would TJ think he wanted a pet?

TJ, who worked at the local animal shelter, didn’t even pause at Sean’s bitchy tone. “I’m sending you a picture. Once you see him… Ha.” The sounds of a digital camera snapping filtered through his headset as TJ chased down the prospective kitten.

“Leather couch. I have a fucking leather couch,” Sean growled determinedly. “Do you even know how much the blinds on my windows cost? I’m not letting some little clawed monster near my Egyptian cotton sheets. It would be a fucking disaster.” There was no way in hell he was taking in a mangy cat. He didn’t care if it was a baby and it needed a home. He hated pets, and he most certainly hated fur. “I’m allergic,” Sean added in the hopes of stopping the conversation flat.

“Liar.” TJ snorted derisively, only to hiss a moment after. “Oh, claws are not for hugging, little guy. Shit.” The sounds of him struggling with what Sean could only assume was a monstrous kitten with ten extra claws filled his ears. “I emailed you the photo,” TJ returned after a moment. “He’s adorable. You have a huge fucking apartment and no one to enjoy it. Stop pretending rooms are for things. Love him, and take him home, and stop being a miserable bastard about everything.”

Sean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The only person he wanted to take home and love currently wouldn’t shut the fuck up and leave him alone. He never should have answered the phone.

Sean’s computer chimed. It was his personal computer, the only one not currently being used to remote into a customer’s hard drive for virus clean up. Damn it. Sean sighed as he rolled his chair to the side and woke the computer from its screensaver mode. He paused and licked his lips when the desktop image appeared. It was a closeup of a hot, short haired man being spit roasted by two buff guys cut mostly out of the shot. It was no accident the hottie in the middle looked just like TJ. Sean spent hours photo-collaging the image to ensure TJ looked as depraved and ruined as possible.

“Well?” TJ prompted excitedly as the silence stretched on.

Sean inhaled sharply and pulled his hand up from where he was unconsciously reaching for his half hard dick. “I don’t want a cat.”

“Just because you don’t like pussy doesn’t mean you can’t like a kitten,” TJ teased cheerfully. “Come on, look at him. He’s adorable. You know you want him.”

Sean grunted at the bad joke and opened the email reluctantly. A pair of bright, blue eyes surrounded by gray fur glittered back from the screen. “I’d have preferred a dick pic. It’s hideous.” Sean clicked the email closed and rolled back to the other monitor while TJ wailed dramatically. Seriously, you’d have sworn he physically assaulted the gray, ugly beast. Although not much larger than his fist, the kitten had a squashed nose and a ridiculous amount of fluff. It looked like the sort of thing Sean might mistake for a giant roaming dust ball when vacuuming. Probably even by accident.

“His eyes, Sean. He has the soul of a poet,” TJ insisted.

Sean rolled his own thankfully poet free eyes toward the ceiling. “Will you stop it already? I don’t want a pet. I don’t have time to feed kittens, and exercise them, and give them, you know…” he trailed off with a wave of his hand.

“Basic human companionship?” TJ supplied flatly.

“Attention,” Sean grunted. “Pets are a time suck. All they do is want food, then they poop the food, and sometimes they sleep. All the other time they want stuff from you. They’re just like people. There is nothing of value in any of it.” Living alone was much better. Easier. Not to mention, if he got a kitten, TJ would come over all the time.

Sean bit his lip and slowly rolled back to the other computer screen. His eyes fixed on the image of TJ being fucked senseless by two faceless men with big dicks. A cat could be the perfect excuse to get TJ to visit more. He could pretend the fluffball was sick or needed training. It could lead to them playing on the floor with TJ all sexy laughs that demanded kisses and blowjobs…

Sean shook his head roughly and reached down to squeeze his hard cock through his sweatpants. Bad. Very bad. TJ was his friend, his completely straight friend. TJ was his shy, sweet, straight friend Sean kept promising to himself he’d stop thinking about sexually. Just… Fuck, but just look at him! TJ was so hot, so unassumingly sexy with those flashing brown eyes and plump lips. He had that hot Latin lover look but with none of the confident swagger. No, TJ was impossibly shy, and it made Sean want to do things to him. Dirty things. Mean things that would have TJ begging him to stop all while cumming a river.

Sean clicked to a folder on his desktop. He teased his tongue over his teeth as he opened up the first of many nude images he had of men who looked suspiciously close to the same build and face of his sexy best friend. He was such a cockslut. Get TJ on his knees in front of a dick, and he would totally be a cockslut…

“This is exactly why you need a pet, Sean. You have no fucking clue how to share your life.” TJ’s voice took on a quality Sean tried very hard to block out as he gave a few experimental tugs on his cock. “You seriously need to get away from your computers before you forget how to talk to people. If you give them a chance, they might even like you.”

“They shouldn’t. I’m a fucking bastard and you know it,” Sean muttered. He closed his eyes as he held onto a mental image of TJ with his ass cheeks spread open, and his fluttering pucker waiting for his tongue, his fingers, his cock. If TJ even knew half of what he thought about when it came to his straight best friend, he would never talk to him again.

“Bullshit,” TJ snapped. “Sure, you say some stupid stuff, but that’s it. Everyone says stupid shit. People like you, Sean. I like you, and I happen to be an amazing judge of character. You should come out with me and some of my coworkers. We have a thing every Friday. It’s super chill, and I know you’d have fun if you gave it a chance.”

“I can’t go out,” Sean said a little too harshly. Fuck, he was so hard. Actually having TJ talking in his ear while he was playing with himself was beyond hot. It really didn’t matter what he was saying, just that it was him. The sound of TJ’s breath, his voice was all Sean needed. He could easily imagine TJ in the room, kneeling between his thighs with those perfect lips of his wrapped around his cock.

Aw, fuck. Sean wriggled in his chair and spread his legs wider. With one hand he pushed his pants down his hips, and with the other he reached in and pulled his hard cock out. Sean held his breath when TJ’s voice returned and washed over him.

“I know. I’m not asking you to actually leave the apartment. I was thinking we might have it at your place.”

“Oh,” Sean murmured as he stroked down his rigid shaft. Fuck, this was such a bad idea. “You want it here?”

“Don’t say no right away. Just hear me out,” TJ rushed on. And fuck, didn’t it just sound so fucking good to have TJ try to convince him to fuck him? To take him, and show him what being with a man would be like? Sean bit his lip and tried to drown out what his friend was actually saying.

“They’re really friendly, really nice. Some even help to train the service dogs, so they understand, you know, about people not all being the same. No one would judge you…”

“Uh huh,” Sean whispered as he clicked to another picture. This one was of a TJ lookalike with his hard dick hanging out of a pair of tight white briefs. TJ’s expression bordered on despair, and Sean made the image smaller so he could see the desktop screenshot of TJ being double teamed at the same time.

“And if you got to know people, maybe you’d be more compelled to want to go out, right? I mean, you can’t want to just stay in your apartment forever.”

“Right.” Sean breathed out slowly. His head tilted back as he thrust into his warm palm. “So right. TJ, could you just…?”

“What? What’s wrong?”

Sean grinned as he reached for the bottle of lube he kept in the desk drawer specifically for browsing porn. “Nothing. Just wondering how many dogs humped you today.”

“Fuck off, you ass. They’re just very enthusiastic to see me.”

“Yeah, but how many?” Sean snickered at TJ’s angry growl. He was forced to bite his lip and fight a moan as his lube-slick fingers wrapped around his cock. Fuck. Fuck, he wasn’t going to last like this. Talking to TJ was far more interesting when he could masturbate. “Two? Three? Seven?”

“Damn it, Sean. I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you. This is important. It might be life changing for you.”

“Uh huh.” His eyes fluttered shut as he slowly fucked into his hand. “So… you were saying?”

TJ huffed as he tried to regain his train of thought. “Damn it, okay. I just think it would be good motivation, something positive to make you want to go out into the world.”

“A kitten?” Sean asked with brows furrowed.

“No, having friends over. That is, well, meeting my friends, making friends, and, you know, getting to know people. I think it’ll help you want to leave your place.”

“TJ, driving me out of my apartment isn’t really… Oh.” Sean’s breath skipped as his balls tightened. Fuck, he was already close, so fucking close. He licked his lips and tried to pull back from the edge. He didn’t want to come yet. TJ in his ear was too fucking sexy to rush.

“Sean?”

Hell, if he said his name like that one more time, he was going to blow. “Hold on a sec. I’m trying to focus.”

“Oh. Sorry.” TJ gave him a beat but just couldn’t seem to stay silent for long. “You sound out of breath. Tell me you’re not freaking out over this. I don’t want to freak you out. This is supposed to help, you know?”

“Uh huh. Eight…” Sean murmured as he stroked his cock from base to swollen tip. He squeezed around his sensitive head and slicked his palm in a tight twist before sliding down his shaft again. He was well aware how breathless he sounded and was too far gone to care. He wanted to fuck TJ. He wanted to fuck him hard, relentlessly, until he was crying his name. “Nine.” He glared at the computer screen where his slutty TJ was sucking cock like he was made for it, begging for it. Sean stroked his throbbing length tighter and wondered what TJ’s ass would feel like gripping around him, riding him, as he took every inch of his cock. “Ten.”

“So, what do you think?” TJ prodded, oblivious to how Sean was fading in and out of the conversation.

“How many was it?” Sean chuckled when TJ swore in his ear. “Eleven.”

“Dude, I’m serious. This is… Why are you counting?” TJ’s voice, if possible, became angrier. “Are you exercising right now, you asshole?”

Sean groaned and threw his head back. “I’m seriously trying,” he lied shamelessly as he thrust into his palm again. “Twelve.” TJ would be tighter. He’d be tight, and the noises he’d make being opened by his cock would be loud, desperate. His. Sean’s breath stuttered, and he stilled the rocking of his hips and tried not to give in to the delicious pressure building. “Fourteen,” he shuddered.

“You forgot thirteen,” TJ muttered. “Let me know when you’re done and can actually focus on me.”

He was focused. He was so focused his balls were going to turn blue. “You’re an attention whore,” Sean whispered. He wondered if TJ could hear it, the hard, hungry part of him that wanted him to be his whore. He wanted him always on his knees, waiting for him, TJ’s body his and only his.

“No, I’m just trying to have a conversation,” TJ shot back. “Do you remember those, man? You know, where you don’t stare at a computer all day?”

“I’d go stir crazy… fifteen… if I just sat in front of a computer all day.” Sean’s gaze slipped from the tip of his cock dripping precum, up to the image of TJ with his mouth wide open and full of dick. “What, you want to come to my gym? I’d let you come.” He’d let TJ cum as many times as he wanted. He’d suck him until he was begging for release. He’d fuck that tight hole of his and his mouth; TJ’s lips were made for fucking. They were so plump, so fucking red and perfect for drizzling cum all over…

“Maybe,” TJ mused as the sound of a cage closing echoed over the line. “Free is always good. Gym memberships are so expensive in the city.”

Sean squeezed his eyes shut as a vision flashed in his mind of TJ bent over a weight-bench in a pair of skimpy shorts tangled around his sneakers. TJ’s face and shoulders were bright red, his caramel toned ass and thighs rock hard and wet with sweat. The moans he made were so perfect as he took Sean’s cock and every hard, demanding thrust he pounded into him.

“Fuck.” Sean grit his jaw tight, and his head fell back as his entire body jerked in the computer chair. He came with a drawn-out growl as hot, milky streams of cum pulsed from his tip and splattered onto his sweat drenched stomach and flexing abs.

“Ha, you know, on second thought…” TJ chuckled awkwardly, the sound nearly drowned out by barking as he passed the kennel. “I don’t want to tell you what you sound like, man, but it’s obscene. Pornographic. I hope you go to the gym alone, or people might get the wrong idea.”

Sean, who covered his hand over the mouthpiece of his headset to keep from letting TJ hear the many swears he was cursing as he tried to recover his breathing, returned to his counting in a more even tone. “Twenty… Twenty-one…”

“You’re so full of shit,” TJ exclaimed. “You’re at fifteen, tops.”

“Do you want to count?” Sean’s grin felt too tight on his face as a familiar depression sank around him. It was a dream, a lie of his head. It was always going to be a fantasy even with TJ’s voice whispering in his ear. “What exactly are you saying?” Sean reached for the box of tissues he kept in the same drawer as the lube and wiped the cooling cum from his stomach. “You think when guys do pushups it sounds like they’re fucking? Pervert.”

TJ snorted. His voice was a little too high-pitched when he retorted, “No, I think when you do pushups it sounds like you’re cumming. Totally different, you deviant.”

Sean stared moodily at the ceiling, his mind still full of images of TJ acting like a hungry cockslut for him. Not real. Fuck, it wasn’t ever going to be real. Sean ran his fingers over his chest and thumbed his nipple through his t-shirt. “Just how often do you think about me cumming, straight boy?”

“Gah, stop being gross! I said it sounded. Sounded! I didn’t say I was thinking about it.”

“Right, right. My mistake.” Sean gave TJ enough time to think he let it drop, then added in a low voice, “You’re thinking about my dick right now, aren’t you?”

“Damn it!” TJ yelped while Sean chuckled darkly.

“Hey, you’re the one bringing up fluffy pussy and cum jokes. You’ve got a filthy mind, TJ. I swear you called me just so you could have someone to traumatize.”

TJ’s breath hitched, and all the laughter drained from his voice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“For fuck sake,” Sean growled. “What, you think because I can’t leave the building, I can’t handle a dirty joke?” His voice was edged with an anger sourced straight from his own guilt. He was jerking off to the sound of his best friend’s voice while TJ—fucking perfect prince TJ—was worried he hurt his feelings.

“You know I would never…” TJ’s words were so slow and cautious, Sean couldn’t bear to hear them. Fuck, he was such an asshole. The things he wanted to do to TJ felt like a sick, demented disease he wasn’t ever going to be free of. He couldn’t have him. He wanted him, and he was never going to have him, and he was just fucking everything up no matter how much distance he tried to put between them. Why the fuck did he keep doing shit like this?

“Sean?” TJ called worriedly. “I said I was sorry.”

“Stop. It’s fine. I’m just fucking with you,” Sean snapped, desperate to have the conversation drop. “Stop acting like some virginal princess who can’t handle a dick joke. It’s just a fucking joke.” Sean groaned internally as he heard the callous words tumble from his mouth. Fuck, he was just digging a hole straight to Hell at this point. He was such an asshole. TJ was a virgin and so fucking sensitive about it, and still, still the perfect fuck was focused on trying to make sure Sean’s feelings weren’t hurt. Shit, why couldn’t he stop being such a dick?

Sean went to pull his pants up, and his gaze fixed on a droplet of cum he’d missed. His eyelids grew heavy as he thought of TJ licking at his skin to clean it. He’d hold it, savor it, a spot of pearly white on his red tongue. “You thirsty?” Sean asked. He couldn’t stop himself even now, even after having once again said something totally shitty to his best friend.

“Uh, a little, I guess,” TJ answered, his tone subdued. “Why, is my voice weird? I was shouting at one of the dogs earlier. It slipped its leash and booked it straight for the street.”

Sean closed his eyes and bit his lower lip hard. TJ sounded like he was sucking cock. He sounded like he was waiting for cum to be dribbled onto those perfect lips of his. He sounded like he was panting in his ear, inches away while touching himself.

“About the cat…” TJ was definitely more subdued. He was being cautious, tiptoeing around him, and Sean hated it.

“The pussy?”

TJ paused, and this time the awkward silence didn’t fill with laughter. “You know what I mean.”

Sean did, and he took no joy in harassing TJ over it. For whatever reason, TJ was a glutton for punishment today and still hadn’t hung up. He’d been calling him every day now. Sean wasn’t exactly sure why, but maybe he was really worried about the ugly little cat.

“The kitten. He’s a boy, for one. Not that you can tell when they’re so little.” TJ’s tone changed as he tried to lighten the mood like the upstanding, unattainable, perfect being he was always going to be. “He needs someone to love him, Sean. He’s all alone in the world and, well, when I see him I think of you.”

Sean sighed heavily. “Thanks, that totally makes me not want to slit my wrists. Care to throw in how I suck at dating and will never be happy as well?”

“Fuck—Sean, that’s not what I meant!” Sean was pretty sure he could literally hear TJ’s heart crack through the headset. “I want to bring the kitten over so you can meet him. What are you doing today?”

“Jerking off. All day,” Sean said without humor. It was probably true. He couldn’t stop thinking about TJ. Getting away with masturbating while on the phone with him sure as fuck hadn’t helped anything. TJ heard him cum. TJ heard him cum, and even thought he heard him cum. Fuck, yeah, he could totally jerk off to that for an entire day.

Sean sat up and tucked away the tissues and bottle of lube as he waited to see if his rude comment had pushed TJ to hang up or not. “When’s a better day?” TJ persisted, the stubborn fuck, his voice obnoxiously cheerful.

Sean grinned bitterly. “You ever think maybe you’re crowding me, man? I’ve got a shit ton of work to get done.”

“Take a break,” TJ snapped, and all the pleasantries stripped away. “I haven’t seen you in weeks, dipshit. It’s not like you have anywhere to go.”

Angry swearing. The perfect prince was close to breaking. Sean stood from his chair and headed for the kitchen. “Oh, are we throwing that in my face now? Maybe if you spent more time dating instead of worrying over my pathetic ass, you’d be laid by now.”

“My fuck—Sean! No. Giving a fuck about you is not worrying, first of all. Second, you are not pathetic, and I’m so fucking sick of you saying shit about yourself like that.”

Sean rolled his eyes. He should have insulted the cat. TJ was less likely to go into lecture mode when he wasn’t saying truthful as shit stuff about himself. “Uh huh, yup, I’m a perfect angel. You’re right, I’m brilliant. Genius. Yes, I’m a genius.” Sean kept his voice a bored drawl even as agitation tensed his muscles tighter and tighter. He hated this. He hated this more than TJ trying to get him to make friends like he was some pathetic outcast on the playground.

Sean stalked back into the living room and paced as TJ angrily rattled off all the many reasons he wasn’t a piece of shit while Sean continued to treat his best friend like a piece of shit.

“Are you done?” Sean asked when TJ finally took a breath.

“No. You’re an asshole,” TJ added sharply. “You’re totally being an asshole right now. You’ve been acting like an asshole for ages, and I’m sick of it. Stop being an asshole, Sean!”

This was when he was supposed to ask TJ something embarrassing that would send him over the edge and hang up with the declaration of never talking to him again. It was on the tip of his tongue, but Sean couldn’t bring himself to actually say it. If he were a decent human being, he’d just tell him. He’d tell him he loved him. TJ could have a nice cry about how he could never love him back, and then—only then—would it be a promise that TJ would never, ever talk to him again. Because, for whatever fucked up reason, TJ kept coming back no matter how shitty Sean acted.

Sean sighed dejectedly and threw himself into his chair. “Fine.”

“W-What? Wait, what?” TJ stuttered in shock.

“Bring the cat down,” Sean grunted. “Just don’t expect anything. I need order, and a fluffball will only fuck up everything. Not to mention litter boxes are totally disgusting.”

“Please, not having a litter box is way grosser,” TJ joked half-heartedly. “Uh… okay, then.” He managed to not sound happy even though he’d gotten the answer he wanted. Sean was far too used to that tone. He worked hard to make sure TJ wasn’t happy around him.

Fuck, he hated his life.

TJ coughed nervously. “Sean, about Friday. I really do think it would…”

An odd sensation weighed the air around him, and Sean blinked as the hair stood up on his arms. He looked up nervously as the lights faded and buzzed through the apartment. “What?” Flashes suddenly sparked and cracked alarmingly around the room, and he jumped out of his seat with a yelp. “Fuck!”

Sean whirled around, turned back to his computer, and stared in growing dread as the project he was working on for the last two hours flickered strange, glowing symbols.

“Oh, fuck. Mother fuck, no. No, no, no!” Sean grabbed at his hair as sparks shot up all around his computers.

“What… Sean? What a… his…?”

Sean twisted the headset off his ear so he didn’t have to hear TJ’s static confusion. This couldn’t be happening. Hours of work gone. Hours.

The flashing abruptly stopped, but Sean’s work screen didn’t return to normal. A single, large symbol stretched across the otherwise blank screen.

“No.”

He reached forward and clicked the monitor power, but nothing changed. The symbol remained on the screen, an obnoxious purple burning toward hot pink the longer it glowed. His mind whirred, and Sean crossed the hardwood floor with large strides to the windows. He shoved the blinds aside and peered down with dawning horror at the moving truck out front of his apartment building. “Aw, fuck. This can’t be happening.”

Spirit Movers. Fucker.

“Sean, what the hell is happening? Why is my phone screen glowing purple?”

TJ’s voice finally jolted Sean back, and he twisted his headset into place. “It’s a witch. A witch is moving in.”

 

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Intangible 2

INTANGIBLE
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SPECIALIST ON DIMENSIONS
Scene #71 last updated 8/14/19

Loyalties

LOYALTIES
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A HARRY POTTER FANFIC

Demon Arms

Demon Arms

The Paranormal Adademy For Troubled Boys Book 1

Wylie Doe has screwed himself once again with the help of his freakish demon arms. Sentenced to an academy for out of control paranormal boys, he finds himself surrounded by shifters, sorcerers, and halflings while facing an identity crisis. He has a dragon inside him that’s in love with a sorcerer he’s only just met.

Dorian Black is wealthy, cool, and extraordinarily powerful, but he hides a deadly secret. Drawn to Wylie and his alpha shifter ways, he can’t stop his dangerous attraction or the literal sparks that fly between them. Wylie’s everything Dorian’s been dreaming of but isn’t allowed to have.

When gangsters call Wylie out to face his past, he’s ready to take responsibility for his mistakes. Will Dorian finally make a stand for the boy he’s fallen for? Or will Wylie find out the hard way if his dragon scales can stop a downpour of bullets?

This novel contains explicit m/m sexual content, graphic language and violence. Expect sexual tension, animal behavior, mating of a very wet variety, angst, bloodlust, an institution filled with hot paranormal boys, first time experiences and some sweet sap near the end. All sexually active characters are 18+

101,000+ wrds, Published April 1, 2016.
Heat level: X

$2.99

exclusive-sins-dia

WHAT READERS ARE SAYING ABOUT DEMON ARMS

on August 20, 2016
Read this book NOW, you will not be disappointed. The chemistry between Wylie and Dorian so hot that you will need a cold shower. This book is so good that I have already re-read it about four or five times ?, and I have no doubt that I will read it again and again.
on August 23, 2016
I sincerely hope there will be a continuation to this series, man it was awesome!
It was sexy, funny, had great characters, great character development and even though it was a case of (almost) insta-lust/love it worked freaking well for this story, because they still took their time.
I really really want to know what’s going to happen to Dante, Vince, Fox, Wylie and Dorian, as well as the rest of the academy…
Awesome, awesome story!!!!
on February 26, 2017
I chose this book through the instafreebie giveaway program and I love it! Dragons, sorcerers, gangsters, magic, shape shifters and romance! What a heady combination. Take Hogwarts and Harry Potter and go a step further. I loved the action, angst and danger thrown in with two guys so hot sparks fly and a total transformation occurs for the first time. You’ll rejoice for Dante, grieve for Leo and laugh with Vincent and Fox. I was so excited to see that this is the first in a series. I definitely wasn’t ready to leave The Academy forever. And now I won’t have to!
READ AN EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE

It was Wylie’s first burglary and he already wondered how bad it would go down. It was off to a shit start and his expectations weren’t rising as time ticked by.

They’d been sitting outside the huge gates for a good ten minutes now. The engine of the black van rumbled while the group waited for the little tech-wiz to hack them in. It was a small crew and they were all new to the game except their asshole leader for the night, Diego. He was the driver, his job to point out shit to steal and all around bark orders like an angry motherfucker. Adam was the kid genius who kept humming nervously as he typed on his mini keyboard up front. Wylie was the freak in the back of the van. Muscle would be the preferred term, but Diego had insisted on calling him a freak since meeting an hour ago. Wylie chose to embrace it for the night instead of getting pissed off. The lookout with his hand in Wylie’s pocket and lips wet on his neck was his recent boyfriend, Beck.

Wylie was ready to smash Diego’s face in. The gangster was as mean as a junkyard dog and just as foul. He was surprised the vicious bastard didn’t turn into a wolf or even a badass mangy dog. But Diego smelled all human, just like the rest of the crew, which left Wylie as the only guy who could transform into something else.

What that something might be, he had no freaking idea. It wasn’t a full transformation, just his arms. Wylie’s black scales didn’t look like any shifter animal he knew of. Even so, the shift allowed the blond eighteen-year-old to break through locked doors, metal gates and even safes with a strength no human possessed. Not knowing what he was didn’t make it any less impressive, and Wylie’s demon arms were enough to get him into the initiation with Roth’s gang that night.

He hadn’t actually set out to join a gang when he started hanging with Beck a few months back. Beck was a tight piece of ass who liked to get into trouble to piss his religious nut-job parents off. He was the first person to not freak when Wylie’s arms transformed into scaled, demonically powerful weapons. Actually, it kind of got Beck off. Wylie never thought he’d find someone that fucked. But then again, he had demon arms and liked dick, so he supposed they were even on the freak level.

Diego’s irritated growl from the front of the van made Wylie again think of a mutt. Their timetable was going out the fucking window. Adam’s hands kept shaking and they had no damn clue if the kid was getting the job done. Wylie knew nothing about computers. Still, better to fuck it up while no crime was committed, than fuck it up shit deep in the mansion they were planning on emptying.

Wylie had only met Adam once before. The kid reeked of so much fear, he couldn’t understand what the hell he was doing running with Roth. But maybe Adam was one of those types who didn’t want to be afraid anymore. Wylie sure as fuck didn’t know. He stopped being afraid years ago when he realized no matter how many foster families told him he was no good, he could still survive on his own. Even if he didn’t get into the gang, Wylie knew he’d be fucking fine.

Beck’s hand drifted lower and Wylie grabbed his wrist. He gave him a look his boyfriend couldn’t see in the dark. “Quit being a pervy kink. Focus.”

“Don’t be that way.” Beck pressed his lips to Wylie’s jaw and smirked against his skin. “You’re going to fuck me tonight. We’re going to ace this shit, and you’re going to come over to my place and fuck me with those studly arms of yours out while my parents sleep.”

Beck was fucked and Wylie really had no complaints about it. Well, except the screwing with his scales out. He was always worried he might accidentally hurt him. When you could tear through metal, human flesh was fucking butter in comparison.

Wylie didn’t get a chance to answer. The gate gave a sudden shudder and the wrought iron blocking the driveway opened smoothly on motorized tracks. Hallelujah. Diego muttered a long line of relief-filled curses—apparently he was shit with computers, too—and pulled the van up the long drive. They parked close to the side door, their entry point into the downstairs lounge and bar.

Diego glared at the group as he killed the engine. “Remember, the house will be empty. It’s almost winter and the owner flies south to some fucking island. Beck, you’re lookout, at the door, ear on the scanner for signs of cops. No matter what we’re carrying, you don’t leave that post until it’s time to go. Adam, get your ass out. I want you tagging stuff that needs to be moved.”

All the outside lights were on along with a few internal ones, but that was to be expected with the place empty for months at a time. Looking full of people was as much a deterrent as actually being full of people. They didn’t bother wearing masks. Adam had taken the cameras down along with all the other security, and there was no fear of being spotted.

Wylie left Beck with the van. He gripped his boyfriend’s shoulder in farewell, which earned him a smile. Beck wasn’t fearless but he got off on adrenaline and that was good enough.

Adam practically threw himself backward when Wylie approached. He stared up at his heavily scaled arms like he was some hellspawn demon there to kill him and his entire family. It was a look Wylie had grown used to since the age of eight and was sometimes more comforting than Beck’s unique response.

Diego growled at him and pointed to the door just in case Wylie was too retarded to figure out the reason he was there.

“Alarm dead?”

“Of course it’s fucking dead. Open the shit and shut up,” Diego snapped.

Wylie licked his teeth; his fangs itched to bite the aggressive fucker on the face. He reached across and drew a long, black talon down between the seam of the door and molding. He found the metal bolts, three in all, and with precise slams of his palm, knocked each one through the reinforced door and into the room behind. Satisfied, he wrenched the handle, opened the door with a flourish and waved the scowling Diego in. Adam took longer to enter; he was very busy trembling like a hyperventilating rabbit. Diego snapped at him and he finally scurried past.

Adam’s fear scent was getting to Wylie and made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Sure, the kid could get past security but he was useless in the house. He was too waif-limbed to carry shit and skittish to trust as a lookout. Beck was a sweet talker and if some nosy neighbor came sneaking her head over the fence, Beck could come up with a lie and a smile on his pretty face in a second flat. Not so much Adam, who managed to trip twice just walking through the empty room.

“Start grabbing anything that looks worthwhile,” Diego ordered the shaking Adam. He pointed to the wall of electronics in the downstairs room to the right. Wylie followed with his eyes, brows furrowed. He really didn’t know shit about computers and tech and stuff, but there was a lot of shiny metal and plastic shit there. If he went by Adam’s expression, it wasn’t the run of the mill stuff you usually found in some rich bitch’s house.

“This is military grade,” Adam whispered. His eyes widened as he reached for something that looked to be solid steel and more than twice his weight.

“Figure out what’s important and we’ll be down to move what you can’t lift,” Diego said impatiently. “Come on, freak. The safe’s upstairs.”

His eyes strayed to where Adam was flicking something on that looked disturbingly like a laser. Wylie followed the muttering gangster through the long hallways. They must’ve gotten the plans to the place in advance or Diego had been there before. He seemed to know exactly where to go and didn’t bother to turn on lights even in the darker hallways. Wylie admitted to a mild appreciation of his skill, glad he wasn’t some bumbling idiot who didn’t know what he was doing. He could put up with the asshole if Diego managed to get them through the night alive and out of jail.

The stairs were a huge, wide expanse, easily able to fit a damn concert on the steps alone. Wylie kept his senses alert. He heard Diego’s breathing as the man muttered under his breath. There was a ticking as they passed a large echoing room housing a tall grandfather clock, along with…

Wylie turned his head as he caught a whiff of the flowers sitting in a vase on a table down the hall. Worry prickled in the back of his mind and without a word, he turned and walked toward the scent.

They were fresh, daffodils and small white daisies. Diego gave a low grunt when he realized Wylie was no longer behind him, and stomped over to his new location. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Fresh flowers,” Wylie said tightly. He glared when the gangster looked ready to go off on him. “They’re not even wilted. Who puts flowers out in an empty house?”

His eyes narrowed. Diego stepped forward and smelled the flowers briefly to see if they were real. He shrugged. “Look at the fucking place. Do you really think someone this rich does normal shit? Maybe the fucking maid put them out just in case they got robbed and wanted to make things look nice for us. Now hurry the fuck up.”

Not even remotely convinced, Wylie considered getting the fuck out. It was midnight and whoever was there—maid, butler, guest, or owner—would likely be in bed in one of the many rooms in the maze of a place. It was one thing to steal shit; it was another to terrorize people while stealing shit.

Diego turned and waved his hand in an exaggerated movement to tell him to get the fuck over there already. Wylie bit his tongue and followed. Fuck, for all he knew the fucking rich put flowers out every day even when no one was home. Rich people were fucking crazy where money lifted them as far from reality as drugs ever could for a strung out crack whore. Shit, whoever lived there had rooms for their stuff, not for their people. Who was he to say for certain what went on in the minds of the ultra-rich?

Diego led him surefooted down a long corridor. He touched doors and counted as they went. He stopped where dim light greeted through a narrow band of an open door. “The office. Jewels and bonds are in here, some cash.” He pulled something from the inside of his black leather coat, and unfolded a canvas duffle bag. “Safe’s on the far side wall past the windows and desk. Bunch of books opens up like a door. Empty the entire thing and then meet me in the bedroom, five doors that way, left side.” He pointed down the hall.

Wylie took the bag while wondering what the fuck was in the bedroom Diego wanted to go alone for. He kept his mouth shut. He was there for one purpose; to do what he was told so that he could get in with Roth. Wylie stepped into the study and paused on the threshold. He looked around carefully but the dim table lamp revealed no sign of life. Still, he was pretty sure he smelled the distinct scent of human flesh, only mildly stale. Older, male… Cigar smoker…

The butler, he told himself briskly as he walked the length of the room. Whoever left flowers probably checked the rooms on occasion during the day, and did dusting or some shit. He didn’t know; it wasn’t like he’d ever be in a situation where he’d need to keep a mansion looking nice. He found the false wall of books easy enough, and raised a brow at the ridiculousness of it all. The house alone screamed money. Clearly anyone who looked would know money was also inside.

The safe was large and bolted to the floor. A dial and handle revealed the need for a combination. He considered the metal contraption in silence. Wylie punched his hand forward, then his other, and slowly curled and bent the metal door down. He twisted it like a thin tin of spam. He really was just made for this shit.

He swept each shelf into the black duffle and paused as the stacks of money flipped past his view. Fucking rich people. If they put their money in a bank, people wouldn’t walk into their house to steal their shit. But hell, maybe the tens of thousands swiftly sailing into the bag was equivalent to spare change in the couch for normal people? Giant mansion, giant tech, giant amounts of dough; the rich were just too fucking large to comprehend.

The jewelry was harder to ignore, harder to resist the strange urge to grab, touch, hold the gems and stare at them for hours. He wasn’t a materialistic person, not really, but sometimes Wylie had issues, strange ones that came up when his scales were out.

The crazy wealth brimming in the mansion would have been a total orgy for Beck. Probably for the best they left him in the driveway. Thoughts of Beck got Wylie hustling faster; he didn’t want to linger and leave him exposed outside for too long.

The bag was bursting by the time the safe was empty, but he just pushed his scales further up his arms to reinforce his shoulders. Wylie’s demon arms were limited. Where the scales reached, his muscles and bones beneath changed to something beyond human, but only there. The shift also imbued his senses with the creature he couldn’t fully turn into. The scents in the room were vibrant with information when he breathed in again.

Yeah, there was a man in there recently. He could smell the sweat now and found a glass by the stand of alcohol that held the slightest sour hint of clinging saliva and bacteria. If it was the butler, he sure as fuck wasn’t afraid to leave his booze stealing ways out for all to see.

Wylie didn’t bother counting the doors. Instead he followed Diego’s scent down the hallway. The door was closed and he pushed it open only to inhale sharply as scent and sight revealed a shit storm.

“Don’t fucking do it, man.” Wylie stepped into the room.

Diego glanced his way and waved him off with the hand not holding a gun. “I’ll meet you downstairs. Help the twerp with the—” He fell silent when Wylie threw the heavy duffle on the ground defiantly.

“Pick it up and get the fuck downstairs, freak!” Diego yelled. He now pointed the gun at Wylie instead of the bleeding man crumpled on the floor of the bedroom. There was a safe built into the wall, door currently wide open with cash spread out on the hardwood like a paper waterfall.

“Why? So you can kill this guy?” Anger filled Wylie’s voice. “We’re here to rob, not fucking kill. You think Roth is going to pat you on the back for murdering some poor slob in his fucking bed? He’s going to fucking kill you for fucking things up so royally.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Diego sounded tough but doubt crept into his beady eyes.

“We’ve got the money. I cleared out the fucking safe, and the little shit downstairs is rolling in enough tech to give him a woody. Just walk the fuck away, man.”

“I can’t!” Diego shifted from one foot to the other and pointed his gun with two hands back to the man on the floor. The stranger’s eyes were open, hazy from the head-wound. Blood that looked black in the dark room flowed down his forehead and cheek. “The rich fuck saw my face. I’m not going back to prison. I am fucking done with prison!”

Wylie began to feel the first signs of fear trickle past his strong defenses. Diego was going to waste this guy. It didn’t matter what the fuck he said, no matter how much money was at hand; Diego was more afraid of being caged again than of taking a life. Wylie hadn’t realized he still had something left to be afraid of, but apparently seeing an innocent man get shot to death was it.

“Listen to me, really closely here.” Wylie took another step into the room. He was about seven feet from Diego. It definitely wasn’t close enough to do a flying leap faster than a bullet. But if he could just inch a bit closer…

“Let’s say he manages to describe you even though the lighting is total shit in here and he’s got an egg on the side of his head the size of my fist. Let’s just say he doesn’t have brain damage or memory loss and he can describe you.” He stole another step closer. Diego was still staring at the old dude and not at him.

“What’s he going to say? It’s just a face. There are a fucking million people who look like you. You’re not pretty, you’re not ugly. It’s just a damn face, man.”

“I’m not going back!” Diego snarled and snapped his gaze back to Wylie. “You don’t fucking understand what it’s like in there, freak. What they fucking do to you! Hands like yours, they might leave you the fuck alone. But me? You think they care if I’m pretty or not? You think they care if I run with anyone? They—”

“Stop. Chill the fuck out.” Wylie could just pick up the sounds of Adam calling softly down the hall; he was probably wondering what was taking them so long. “If it all goes to shit, you’re either in for robbery—which is a fucking cakewalk—or it’s murder. They’ll never let you out if you kill this guy. You fucking hearing me? They will lock you away with the animals forever!”

“Shit… shit!” Diego shook with indecision and his expression twisted in fear. “I have priors… It’s not robbery, it’s fucking armed robbery.”

Wylie’s patience was done. “This isn’t just about you, you selfish fuck!”

“What, I’m supposed to give a fuck about the rich asshole who wasn’t supposed to be here!” Diego shouted back, his face red.

“The lookout, you dick! The fucking nerd! Me! You’re setting us all up for life if you—”

Adam pushed into the bedroom and Wylie felt the trigger squeeze before it happened. His muscles screamed as he lunged forward and knocked into Diego’s tall form.

The gunshot was an explosion of sound in his ear. Wylie’s hypersensitive senses reeled from the sudden light and noise. Diego went down heavily. He fired off another shot before Wylie wrestled the gun from his hands.

Wylie lurched to his feet, and he hauled the whimpering gangster up. Diego’s flesh was torn and bloodied from where Wylie’s inhuman claws and sharp scales had sliced and scraped. He turned to the door. Adam smelled of piss and fear. His eyes were wide and fixed unblinking on the man huddled on the floor. Wylie didn’t dare look; he could scent the blood quickly pooling and heard the man’s shattered breaths gasping for air.

“Get to the van, kid.”

“What about… W-What about the stuff?” Adam choked out. Tears began to stream down his small face and with an effort, Adam turned from the view of the dying man. He looked green. Wylie really hoped he wasn’t going to hurl.

“Now!” Wylie shouted.

Adam quickly backpedaled away when Wylie stormed to the door. He dragged the now-screaming Diego, who couldn’t escape the clawed hand that gripped his arm and carelessly sliced deep into the muscle of his bicep. Wylie followed the scent of their trail and strode through the mansion. They left far faster and much less cautiously than when they arrived. Wylie held Diego’s slumped form under one of his monstrous arms as they descended the wide staircase. Each step of pain wrenched more blood and weaker sounds from the flailing gangster. Adam scurried behind and bit his fingernails. He was silent as he watched Diego’s clothes and flesh shred in Wylie’s merciless hold.

They found Beck at the outer door. His dark eyes revealed he heard the gunshots.

“You’re driving, B.” Wylie moved to the back of the van and threw Diego’s barely conscious form in with the pile of electronics Adam had salvaged. As an afterthought, he reached in and grabbed Diego’s cell, then slammed the door.

“What, are you getting in front—Wylie!” Beck chased after him when he headed back to the house. “What the fuck are you doing, man?”

“Making sure that guy doesn’t fucking die!” Wylie turned and jerked away when Beck reached for him, his scaled arms too dangerous to touch. “Get them the hell out of here, B. Diego might need a hospital. I fucked him up bad trying to get the gun from him.”

“Don’t! Just come with us—baby, fuck, don’t do this!” Beck pleaded frantically with tears glowing in his eyes. “No one will know it was us. No one will fucking know and we can just… just…”

“Hurry up, B. That asshole is going to need you to help him after his huge fuck up.” Wylie’s smile was grim when he leaned down and pressed a swift kiss to Beck’s cheek. “Don’t let him pin this on you with Roth. I gotta call an ambulance so I need you safe and out of here first, okay?”

“Shit… Shit, you’re such a fucking idiot,” Beck whispered. His eyes still pleaded for him to come with. Hesitantly, he stepped backward. His gaze never left Wylie until he reached the open driver’s door. He disappeared in the van and the headlights glared to life. Beck’s voice was rough when he snapped something at the hysterical Adam and turned the van around in the driveway.

Yeah, definitely. He was as fucking stupid as they came.

 

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I’ll Tell

I’ll Tell

A Blackmailing Stepbrother Romance
Exclusive Library
“Do you think I won’t tell?”

Jayce Flint, perfect stepbrother and all around nice guy is losing his mind. His once sweet, hero worshipping little brother has turned into a manipulative terror. One that has no problem using his hot body and pretty face to get everything he wants even from him.

Declan Rainer’s hiding a dark secret. He was the perfect son until his father finally married, leaving Declan all alone in a strange town and new house with a very muscular, overprotective stepbrother. He’s tired of playing nice, and after a drunken encounter he’s ready to get what he wants, starting with blackmailing Jayce.

Can Jayce keep from getting sucked into Declan’s twisted games? Or will his own dark obsession prove far more destructive for the both of them?

18+ Explicit Content containing m/m sexual content of pseudo incest, graphic language, lots of dirty talk, a naïve manipulative gothed out bottom that wants to be used and a very rough possessive top happy to oblige, suburban youth culture of pretty white rich people problems, and some light drug/alcohol abuse. Smut heavy, plot light, all very dirty.

56,000+ wrds, Published January 23, 2016.
Heat level: XX



WHAT READERS ARE SAYING ABOUT I’LL TELL

Fiona Lyle rated it it was amazing

First time reading this author and holy shit I want more. Yes the story is taboo but it is also god damn hot as hell. I think I could easily get addicted to this author and her stories.
on December 25, 2016
Format: Paperback
Por witchy tay en 27 de marzo de 2016
Intense!!!! That is the only way to describe this book. It is so wrong in so so so many levels… From the taboo if brother- brother relationships, to the blackmailing and the more than non- existing self control or communication between the characters. Yet, all that is what keeps you reading nonstop and cursing the story IN THE BEST WAY POSSIBLE!!!
READ AN EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE

“Hey, Jayce, isn’t that your little brother?”

Glancing over Paul’s large shoulder, Jayce searched to see where his friend was tilting his head. The mall was crowded as usual, but yeah, it wasn’t hard to spot Declan. “Stepbrother,” he muttered darkly. They didn’t look alike. Jayce was tall, muscular, tanned with shaggy, sandy blond hair and dark eyes. Declan was… well, Declan.

All black hair, blue eyes, and gothed out to the gills. The kid looked like he’d been dropped in a vat of black ink. Tight black semi-transparent shirt, long black shorts, black trenchcoat, black boots, black belt, black choker and bracelets; Declan had a very obvious theme going. Even his eyeliner and nail polish were black. Everything about the kid was black except for his skin. No, his skin was so pale, Jayce swore it glowed half the time. Then there were his eyes. Blue. Crazy blue. Manic and fucked up, and it was always so hard for him to look away from his brother’s eyes. Declan was beautiful.

Jayce wanted to fuck his little brother, and it was really starting to be a problem.

“What is he, some sort of vampire now?” Paul snickered, ducking his head when Declan approached.

Jayce kept his mouth shut, trying not to stare at his sexy-ass brother. There was something fucked up in his little brother’s head. Jayce wasn’t sure what it was but ever since they’d started sharing a room, things had gotten awkward. Part of that was on Declan for being an angry freak. The other part was on Jayce for wanting to do a lot of freaky stuff to the kid. It really wasn’t cool but he was behaving, so that was something.

He kind of felt sorry for Declan. Sort of. The kid had to move to a new town, start a new school, and, oh yeah, leave his old life behind. The kids there were total asses about the goth thing. Not all of them, but enough that his little brother hadn’t made many friends yet. Maybe not any. He was a total loner.

“Hey,” Jayce greeted when Declan was in range. The brunette looked him right in the eye, coolly raised a pierced eyebrow, and then kept walking like he hadn’t said a word. Asshole. There might be a reason Declan didn’t have any friends. Jayce sure as fuck didn’t want to be his friend. Still didn’t keep him from staring at his ass as he walked away, though.

“Harsh,” Paul muttered, grinning when Jayce met his gaze. “You two still fighting?”

“I don’t think we are. Hard to fight when we barely say two words to each other.”

It hadn’t always been that way. Their parents had dated for years and he and Declan had spent all their free time together. The kid had been practically tied to his hip. Declan used to idolize him and Jayce had been thrilled to have a brother. Even if the kid was younger and insisted on being nerdy. Declan had been his best friend. Then everything had gone to shit.

Jayce wasn’t sure what had happened exactly. Their parents had gone through a rough patch and took a break. It turned out to be exactly what the two of them needed because fourteen months later his mom, Sarah, married Declan’s dad, Greg, and the Rainers had moved into his house. But something had changed during that break. Declan refused to answer any of Jayce’s texts or calls as if their parents splitting meant that they couldn’t be friends. Jayce had been preoccupied with college at the time and hadn’t really realized just how much his brother had shut him out. After the wedding, Declan moved into his room a completely different guy. Cold. Goth. Fucked up.

Sexy as sin.

The revelation that his brother was beyond hot had been extremely uncomfortable on Jayce, and not just because they were currently fighting. Declan was the kid he had protected and damn near half raised, their parents always at work and leaving them on their own. He had done his best to protect his brother from the assholes that would look at his nerdy clothes and silly books and talk down to him. Now, well, now every time he looked at his little brother in his ridiculous skin tight black clothes and girly makeup, he just wanted to push him up against the nearest sturdy surface and fuck him raw.

He was pretty sure he was going to hell, perving on his little brother. They might not have been related, but Declan was still everything to him even if he couldn’t stand whatever dumbass phase the kid was going through at the moment. Which just made it so much more messed up that he dreamed about fucking D nearly every night now.

He almost wished he had gone out of state for school instead of attending the local university. Seeing Declan acting out sucked. He had lost his brother only to gain some angry, albeit really hot punk. The kid got pissed every time Jayce even said the word goth. Declan had grown his hair out, all sleek and cut spiky, and although Jayce had managed not to say a word yet about it, D sure hated when he hid his hairbrush.

“I heard a rumor about him,” Paul said while they were walking to the food court.

“What, that he’s an ax-murder that’s escaped from an institution?” Jayce had already heard that one. The kids around there were total dicks and had shit for imagination.

Paul looked around, ducking his head so he was talking into the blond’s ear. “Nope. That he sucks cock.”

Jayce snapped his mouth shut, glaring sideways at his giant of a friend. Jesus, why would he tell him something like that? He was fucked up in the head already about D.

“Jason Henley’s, to be precise. So, is it true? You share a house with him. You probably know if he’s—”

“I don’t.”

“Don’t be that way. Vanessa is crushing on him and just wants to know if she has a shot. She thinks he’s hot, even with his girly hair and makeup.”

Another thing Jayce didn’t ever want to hear. He knew Declan was hot. He didn’t want his fucking friends thinking it about his little brother too. Jayce stopped walking, turning on Paul. “Whatever strange my stepbrother is into has nothing to do with me. Definitely nothing to do with you. Now drop it.”

“Touchy.”

Jackass. Glaring straight ahead, Jayce tried to keep his mind from running in circles. Declan was gay? For real? The kid had never talked to him about guys, or girls, for that matter. He’d never met D’s old friends—the few he’d had. For all he knew, Declan used to have a boyfriend. Why the fuck wouldn’t he tell him? Declan knew he was bi. He had to know Jayce wouldn’t have anything bad to say about him if he was gay.

“How certain is this rumor?” He finally asked Paul, frustration clear in his voice. How could Declan have kept such a huge secret from him? Why would he have?

“Ah… pretty certain.” Paul suddenly grabbed Jayce’s arm, pulling him around a pillar and pointing down the line of tables ahead as they stepped into the food court. It was Declan, sitting with his book resting on the table. But he wasn’t alone. Some sleazy looking guy was hovering over his shoulder, talking in his ear. Sure enough, the guy suddenly leaned his head and gave Jayce’s little brother a kiss.

Son of a fucking bitch.

“Whoa, where the fuck are you going?” Paul grabbed the blond’s shoulder and Jayce jerked to a stop. “What, you going to go beat him up or some shit?”

Fuck yes. “It’s fucking Jason Henley,” Jayce hissed, glaring at the two of them as the loser sat his ass down across from his little brother and ran his fingers through Declan’s perfect hair. He was going to fucking kill that asshole!

“Keep it together, big bro,” Paul said in his infuriatingly reasonable tone while refusing to let Jayce go. “If Declan’s as smart as you used to say, he’ll see right through Henley’s crap. He doesn’t need you going in there embarrassing the hell out of him with your macho bullshit.”

Jayce wasn’t so sure. Declan had been messed up lately, acting out, looking for trouble. The kid wouldn’t talk to him for shit and it had been worrying him more and more. Now this. Gay with Jason Henley.

“Henley’s too old for him,” Jayce finally grunted, allowing himself to be pulled away.

“He’s our age,” Paul said with a snort. Jayce and Paul had been on the wrestling team together in high school. Paul might act like a gentle giant but under his flab was enough muscle to keep Jayce from making an ass of himself if he lost his shit.

God, if only it had been anyone other than Jason Henley.

“He’s too old. Old enough to drink. Old enough to get Declan in so much fucking trouble—And that asshole is total trouble. You know his rep.”

“You’ll only make it worse. Keep your mouth shut and let your bro make his own mistakes.”

Jayce growled but didn’t say anything else.

Shit, Henley was such a fucking loser. Like, drugged up half the time, drunk the other half, and all mean spirit. He had also already managed to flunk out of college while Declan was still in his graduating year of high school. Jayce knew it was none of his business, but hell, the idea of that asshole touching his little brother just really pissed him off. The kid could do better.

D was only one summer in Jayce’s town and had already hooked up with the biggest loser around. There really was something fucked in the kid’s head.

***

Jayce had hoped to talk to Declan once he got home later that night but D wasn’t there. Neither were his mom and stepfather, Greg. Not a huge shocker with the last two. They were both doctors at the local hospital and worked the worst hours. Jayce had foolishly expected when his mom finally got married that he’d see her more. Instead he’d been stuck with Declan, which just felt like being extra alone for all the icy distance the kid put between them. Impressive, considering all the shit he had crowded into Jayce’s room.

His mom kept promising they’d move to a larger house soon. Going from a family of two to four overnight had been intense. Declan didn’t get any say in being shoved out of his fancy mansion and into Jayce’s cozy house. The kid was probably hurting about that too—Not that D would tell him.

Jayce made himself a quick snack and then went to his room to get his homework done.

Declan was usually haunting the living room or backyard while reading his horror novels. He read scary shit; weird, dark, bloody stuff that made Jayce wonder if he might be a closet serial killer, as did the kid’s decorating sense. Half of his room was now covered in what he could only assume was vampire paraphernalia, Asian, at that. D had a lot of posters of guys with sleek spiky hair just like Declan’s dressed in elaborate coats, leather, ruffles, and lace. Oh, and they were all in makeup. It was weird. Especially when Jayce spent a day checking a few of them out, only to have Declan tell him they were men. All of them.

That might have been a big clue, now that he thought about it.

Gay. His little brother was gay. And D had never told him. It didn’t make sense. Jayce had told Declan when he was figuring out he was Bi. It had been a big deal to finally tell someone. Declan had been cool about it. Quiet, but hell, he was always quiet. But D hadn’t said shit about liking guys. Had he said something wrong? Did he somehow indicate that there could only be one sexually free brother in the house when he’d moved in? It felt like something he would remember. Fuck.

Maybe Declan knew. Maybe he knew deep inside Jayce’s messed up head he had been checking his little brother out all fucking summer and masturbating to his image. The kid had nothing to worry about. Jayce would only ever look. He knew it was wrong. D was a kid to him—even if he was angry as fuck lately. He was his brother and you just didn’t do that shit. No matter how much he really wanted to.

Jayce honestly didn’t think it was him. There was just something going on with D. Something kinda messed up. Even his bed was black. Black sheets, black bedspread, blood red satin pillows—He must have been feeling rebellious. Declan’s side of the room was covered in candles, all elaborate, drippy looking things in twisted silver holders. The kid kept dead roses in vases with incense smelling up the place. It was really starting to take over the room. Although he did like the incense; it smelled nicer than his gym clothes.

It was like D was living in a fantasy world and Jayce couldn’t figure out why he needed it. All the books, his themed room; he couldn’t imagine being so dedicated to a theme. He just had stuff. Clothes ended up in the bureau, sometimes the floor. He had a few posters, mostly of his favorite video games—And none of them matched. The bedspread was a gift from his grandmother. He could barely put the effort into matching his damn socks. Declan had a theme for his life. It was impressive and fucked up.

Jayce was done with homework and twenty minutes into a very difficult raid in his online game when Declan finally came home. And fuck his life, he wasn’t alone. The kid had finally made some friends. Three very loud, assholic friends that he immediately wanted to beat the shit out of when he realized they were lighting up in his fucking living room.

Seriously, who did that? Just walked into a stranger’s house and started smoking weed? No one had even given a fucking hello.

Jayce wasn’t shocked to discover Jason Henley sucking down a hit, his arm tight around Declan’s waist as they shared the couch. One of Henley’s friends—Jayce had seen him in the parking lot of his school and was pretty sure he was college too—was flipping through the now blaring television. Apparently being high meant also being deaf. The third was laughing about some shit while texting on his phone. Somehow he seemed the least obnoxious of the group, even though Declan was silent and sober.

Ignoring his brother, he focused in on the asshole trying to blow a smoke ring while stinking up his couch. He and Henley had gone through school together. Jayce had managed to not have to talk five words to the loser up until that moment. “Take your pot and get the fuck out of my house.” No, he wasn’t subtle. He was pissed. It was the first time Declan had brought people over and they plain sucked.

“Shit, chill the fuck out, Flint. Or is it Rainer now?”

“Flint,” Declan said in his quiet voice, looking at Jayce nonchalantly. “We kept our last names.”

“Whatever,” Henley snickered, grinning meanly. “Chill the fuck out, Flint.”

Jayce was about five seconds from punching the guy in the face. He could take him, easy. Heat racing through his body, Jayce turned to Declan. “I’m serious, D. Get them the fuck out or I will. You won’t like how I do it.”

Declan was three years younger than Jayce, nearly a head shorter, and his big brother could literally bench him. He knew it, and yet, cool as could be, grabbed the joint from Henley and took a hit. He held it between long fingers, unblinking as he looked at Jayce with his unnerving blue eyes. “Fine. There’s nothing to do in your shit house anyways.”

Motherfucking ass. Jayce waited, his arms folded over his chest to keep from swinging. Henley didn’t want to leave. Too fucking bad. By the time the three stoners were finally through the front door, Jayce was ready to start throwing shit. Namely them. He grabbed Declan before he could go, holding him by the arm while the brunette stared back defiantly.

“You want to bring people over here, that’s fine. But tell them to leave their fucking drugs at home.”

Blowing a strand of ink-black hair out of his eyes, Declan looked completely void of emotion. “Whatever. Not like it’s my house or anything.”

God, he wanted to punch the kid through the fucking wall. He had done everything to make Declan feel welcome. D just kept shutting him out.

“You have shit taste in friends. Normal people don’t get fucked up the second they walk into someone else’s house.”

“Fuck you and your normal.” Declan wrenched his arm free, slamming out the door. Jayce almost followed after, but there was really nothing to say besides a big ‘fuck you,’ and he was trying really hard not to lose his shit. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel slightly satisfied that he had managed to break through his brother’s infuriating icy facade for a moment.

God, the kid pissed him off. Worst brother ever.

Jayce might have been referring to himself. Declan had looked fucking hot. Sexy as hell.

Chapter 2

Jayce received a text around eight to inform him that his mom and Greg weren’t going to be home for the pizza he had already ordered and eaten. Also not a fucking shocker. He spent the rest of the night pissed off, playing video games and then pacing as the clock kept ticking and Declan didn’t return home.

His little brother had just met those guys. He was new to town, new to the school, new to everything, and he was letting some fucked up college stoners drive him around. Jayce couldn’t stop the paranoid fear that Declan had gotten into a car accident. Maybe he shouldn’t have let them go until they had gotten the drugs out of their system first. Fuck him if he’d inadvertently caused D’s death because he couldn’t chill over some pot. It wasn’t like it was ecstasy or meth, or even cocaine. He wasn’t tripping on acid.

God, but it had been so fucking rude. Walking into his house like no one else existed. Like it hadn’t been his home for the last ten years. He had helped his mom pick out the place. He was the one that had chosen the couch in the living room that the losers were stinking up with their smoke. Fuck.

He hoped D was alright.

Jayce knew Declan was only a few years younger than him, but he was such a fucking naïve child at times. The kid just didn’t know the world even if he got straight A’s in school. He was always reading, thinking that was the way shit happened. Like you could plan, like people made sense the way words did. The fucked up kids didn’t make sense. From everything Jayce had heard about Henley, he was a user. A user of drugs and a user of boys. And now Declan was just hanging around, not understanding that just because a guy got hard over him doesn’t mean he was in love. Guys got hard over everything; he knew firsthand.

He was going to kill Henley if he touched his little brother. Should have beaten his face in before they’d even left the house for having the nerve to put his arm around Declan in front of him. Fucking sleaze.

He was just about ready to change out of his pajamas and start driving around looking for his brother when he heard a car pull up. Voices raised in laughter flowed in through the window while Jayce looked at the clock on his phone. 2:25 am. The little fuck. The backdoor opened then shut. Hearing a small crash, Jayce quickly strode down the hall, flipping on lights as he moved.

“Hey… big bro.” Declan smiled lopsidedly from his slump on the wall. Jayce stopped cold, closing his eyes and slowly counting to ten.

For fuck sake, the kid was drunk.

He wanted to yell. He wanted to tell D how fucking stupid he was for hanging out with a bunch of fucking losers and then getting shitfaced with them. But he just bit his tongue. Saying that kind of shit would only make Declan want to do it again.

Jayce crossed the kitchen, grabbing the brunette by the shoulder and pulling him off the wall. Declan swayed, stumbling forward, snorting in laughter. “Oh shit. You’re not going to spank me, are you?”

He really fucking should. “You’re fucked up. Get your ass in bed and I’ll put some coffee on.” Jayce pushed him towards the hall. Declan nearly fell, grabbing onto the kitchen table for dear life. Fuck, he was really messed up. “How much did you drink?”

Staring down at the table, a smile slowly split Declan’s lush lips. “Not much… Couple shots.”

“Declan—Fuck!” It couldn’t have been fucking beer like a normal kid. No, he had to go get fucking hard liquor into him.

“No, it’s okay. It was all very sophis… sophis… sophisticated,” he mumbled, turning his smile Jayce’s way. Declan began to lose his balance, his eyes blinking in alarm as he tilted towards the floor. Jayce grabbed him before he could fall, steadying the brunette and pulling him into the hallway.

“You’re an idiot. What the fuck were you trying to prove to those losers? You think they’re going to like you more if you get just as fucked up as they are?” Damn it, he was nagging like some bitchy mother and he couldn’t seem to stop.

“Mmm… Maybe I want to like me more.” Reaching the bedroom, Declan nearly fell when his brother released him. Jayce directed him to his bed so when the kid’s legs finally gave he’d have something soft to land on.

“Change. I’ll be back after I put the coffee on.” Jayce left him struggling with his coat while he escaped to the kitchen and tried not to punch the wall in frustration. He should never have let D leave with those losers. Should have… What? Tied him up? Seriously, Declan did whatever the fuck he wanted. Jayce just hadn’t realized it was going to include fucking up his life.

Should he tell Greg? Was that the answer for something like this? Jayce tapped his cellphone in his pocket while he put the coffee on, his mind whirling. He didn’t know. He didn’t even know what the hell Declan’s father would do. Greg was a bit of a religious nut. He was always at the hospital, but while Jayce’s mom was there to provide a service doing something she loved, Greg looked at it like it was his calling.

Maybe he should just wait until morning. Talk to the kid when he was sober and he could feel him out to see if he was going to pull this kind of shit again. Jayce wasn’t his father. Hell, he was barely Declan’s brother. It really wasn’t his goddamn responsibility to make sure—

There was a loud crash from the bedroom. Scowling, Jayce jogged down the hall, only to find his lamp was broken. Not Declan’s lamp. No, that would have just been fair. No, the kid had knocked over his lamp with his jacket and was now on Jayce’s bed. One of his tall boots was halfway off his leg and he was staring at his feet blankly like he had forgotten what he was doing. Fuck his life.

Declan blinked up in surprise when Jayce walked into the room. “My boot broke.”

Yeah, just fucking perfect. Growling, Jayce knelt down, pulling at Declan’s boot. It wouldn’t budge and he had the horrible notion that he was going to have to unlace the godawful things. Then he found the zipper on the side. De-booted, he tapped Declan’s arms until the kid lifted them, then pulled his silky shirt up and over his head.

“Whoa, hold on,” Declan mumbled when Jayce reached for his belt. The brunette pushed himself up, trying to stand, only to stumble forward as he tripped over his boots. “Crap.”

“Stop moving,” Jayce ordered exasperatedly as he saved the boy from the ground again. It was hard enough to get him changed while trying not to look at him. Jayce refused to perv out on his little brother no matter how milky white his skin looked. “Where do you keep your pajamas?”

The question taking a moment to sink in, Declan finally pointed to the corner of the room where he kept his clothes’ hamper. Jayce took a step to leave, but Declan grabbed him, his knees wobbling unsteadily. “Wait… Dizzy,” he giggled, nearly falling again just standing still.

“Declan…” He was annoying as fuck, but D’s smile was heartwarming and made his eyes sparkle. The kid really didn’t smile much anymore. Shaking his head, Jayce tried to walk the boy over to his bed again, but the kid’s feet weren’t budging. “Come on. One foot in front of the other.”

Snickering, Declan made an attempt, managing to step on Jayce’s foot and slide down his body as he immediately fell forward.

Jayce inhaled sharply, his senses suddenly on high alert. Declan’s hands were on his hips, his face pressed into his abs, chest grinding firmly against his dick with only his thin pajama pants between them. Awkward. Especially when his brother looked up at him, his stunningly blue eyes gleaming, lush lips twisted in a smile that could only be defined as sexy. Very awkward. Getting hard awkward.

Swallowing, Jayce wrapped an arm under Declan’s shoulders and pulled him up to his feet, trying to ignore the fact that his brother was shirtless and very warm. He was determined to drag the kid to his bed and get the fuck out.

Declan gasped, his eyes wide as he stumbled and fell flush against Jayce, his face tucking into the crook of the taller boy’s neck. God, if he could just get this done before it got any weirder…

And now D was licking his neck.

“You have a very… very nice neck.”

“Please don’t suck my blood. I’m very fond of it remaining in my body.” Jayce dragged him as best he could because his brother had managed to go limp while at the same time clinging to him. It would be easier to just lift him but that would involve grabbing his ass, or thighs… Nope. Not happening. He had to drag him.

Declan snickered into his throat, his breath hot and tickling as he now tried to nip Jayce. Served him right for mentioning vampires. His brother was lithe and sleek in his arms, making it difficult to get a grip. He eventually got Declan across the room and to his bed. He turned, trying to push Declan down, but the kid was wrapped around him like a leech. His teeth kept sending sparks through him Jayce was having a really difficult time not responding to.

“Declan, get off me.” Jayce gripped his shoulders, carefully prying the boy back. Declan growled in protest and grabbed his arm. Jayce froze as their hips shifted. Declan was hard. Fuck. Seriously not cool.

“Ah… Sorry, big bro,” Declan snickered softly, his face again burrowed into Jayce’s neck. “You’re just really… really hunky.” Hands moving down his older brother’s biceps, Declan squeezed hard, fingers fanning and pushing his short sleeves up. “You have the sexiest fucking shoulders I’ve ever seen.”

Right. So apparently Declan was very gay and so horny he didn’t care who he was touching. “Declan, stop grinding your dick into my thigh and get the fuck off me.”

Jayce was having a really difficult time pushing the kid away. It felt so fucking wrong to have his little brother rub up against him. Wrong because it was his brother, but extremely hot because it was Declan, and Declan was really, really hot. Especially when his wet lips kept pressing to his neck, Declan’s hands now pushing under his shirt and touching his back, pulling him closer.

Jayce was a natural, hotblooded guy that could get hard if the wind blew, and he was trying to justify that now. Declan’s hair and makeup made the kid look so different from how he’d looked growing up. He really couldn’t be expected to not think he was hot. He had eyes. But that didn’t mean it was okay to act on it. It was just really difficult to set boundaries at the moment. Declan’s dick was rubbing against his and it was intense, and dirty, and the kid really needed to get the fuck off of him before he lost his mind.

“Declan, stop… Oh fuck,” Jayce groaned, one of Declan’s arms wrapping around his waist and crashing their lower bodies together. He tried to steady himself, his little brother’s weight threatening to knock them over, but it only pulled Declan tighter against him. God, he felt good. He had been dying to touch the kid and it was so hard to keep it together now that he was in his arms.

“Shhh… It doesn’t mean anything.” Declan’s tongue licked over Jayce’s throat, silky hair tickling as he nipped his flesh. “Fuck, you’re hot. Just want to… God, I want you… Want you so much.”

He was drunk. Fucked up, likely stoned, and definitely drunk. And his hand was down the front of Jayce’s pants. “Holy fuck.”

Jayce grabbed the boy’s wrist but couldn’t bring himself to pull him away. Declan’s fingers slowly wrap around his hard cock, brushing up Jayce’s length, teasing over his head. Jayce’s eyes closed, every nerve he had focused on those fingers first taunting and now bolder, wrapping tighter and stroking. “Hell, D. You really shouldn’t be doing that.”

He should stop him. He should really, really stop him.

“That’s it, Jayce… Fuck… Tell me you like it.” Declan licked up his brother’s neck while panting, gripping his other arm around the taller boy’s back. He tried to wrap his leg around Jayce’s, the room tilting from the move. Before he knew it, Jayce was crushing Declan into the bed, the brunette moaning beneath his larger body.

Shit, he had to stop. It was his fucking brother. His naïve, vulnerable, once sweet little brother that was totally messed up.

He tried to untangle himself from Declan’s long limbs, but the brunette was all over him, his knees hooked around the blond’s waist, arms tight on his neck. “Declan, come on… You’re not thinking.” Jayce was stronger, but he was afraid he might hurt him. The kid was just really drunk and fucking confused. He’d hate himself for doing this tomorrow.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” Declan gasped, then his mouth was on Jayce’s, his tongue shoving past his lips. Fuck. Oh, fuck.

There was something really fucking wrong with him when it came to his little brother.

Growling, Jayce grabbed Declan by his hair, wrapping the silky locks around his fist and pulling hard. Declan groaned, his head falling back in the harsh grip as he looked up at Jayce. His eyes were burning that crazy blue, his lids heavy, cheeks flushed, lips blood red. God, he so was sexy. Jayce wanted to fuck those lips so bad.

“Bro…” Declan whispered, his dark lashes fluttering as he panted.

Hearing the boy call him that sent a terrible stab of guilt through his chest. He was just a kid. A dumb, naïve, confused kid that had always trusted him to take care of him. But he was also beautiful. Declan had always been, even before he had started wearing all that shit on his eyes. Jayce had noticed more times than he had ever wanted to admit to himself, his sweet brother so hard to look away from.

“Don’t call me that,” Jayce growled, pulling his hair harder, watching Declan’s lips part in a low moan. Wet. His mouth was so fucking red and wet looking. Jayce pressed his thumb to his brother’s bottom lip, listening as Declan’s breath hitched. God, he shouldn’t. Really.

Eyes caught on Jayce’s, Declan licked his tongue out, moving over his knuckle. Jayce pressed harder and the brunette opened, pulling his thumb into his wet heat. Declan sucked firmly then ran his teeth lightly over the pad of his finger. A shudder running through him, Jayce pulled his thumb away, cupped his brother’s face and kissed him.

Groaning, Declan met him eagerly even when Jayce crushed his lips too hard, gripped his face too rough. He needed to taste him. Just once. Just this one time he would taste him. He plunged his tongue into Declan’s mouth, the brunette moaning, clinging weakly to his brother’s shirt, melting into him, giving in. It sparked something dark in Jayce, primitive and raw. He wanted Declan to give in to him. To stop his incessant fighting and icing him out, and just give in.

Rocking his hips down into his little brother’s, Declan’s thighs clenched Jayce’s waist, their erections grinding together. Their noises were loud and slick as Jayce kissed him relentlessly, exploring every plane, rubbing his tongue against Declan’s, biting the boy’s ripe lower lip sore and swollen. Declan didn’t resist, his reactions slow and uncoordinated the longer his brother suffocated him with every touch of his lips and thrust of his tongue.

It was so hard to hold back, so hard to not take all the many things Jayce had tried to not want from his brother. But he did want them. He had wanted them for the longest time. By the way Declan was moaning, Jayce wasn’t so sure he was alone with that crazy need.

“Jayce… Oh fuck, please. Touch me. Dreamed of you… touching me.” Gasping into the hard kiss, Declan grabbed one of Jayce’s hands, pulling it down between the crush of their bodies, knuckles scraping hot, bare flesh. He was sweating, his flat stomach slippery under Jayce’s fingertips.

He shouldn’t. It was definitely crossing the line. Fuck, kissing was bad enough. Grinding him into his stupid black bed was bad. But to touch him while he was drunk… There was no forgiving that. Jayce was supposed to protect Declan from the kind of losers that would try to do that to him, not be one.

“Please, bro… Please.” Declan pulled harder on Jayce’s hand, pushing until he had his older brother’s palm pressed against the bulge in his jean shorts.

Fuck. Oh fuck, he felt good. He was hard, and he was begging, and fuck, it was really wrong. “D, we should stop,” Jayce muttered, even as he rubbed his palm firmer, groaning as Declan bucked into his hand. “Fuck, that’s it.”

He was done thinking. Declan was whimpering soft cries as he humped his hand, and he was done trying to figure out just how wrong it was. Rolling the two of them to the side, Jayce quickly got to Declan’s belt, unclasping it and tearing through his button and fly. He pushed the boy’s shorts down his thighs, then his underwear—yup, even his fucking underwear was black—and pulled them off his brother’s long, toned legs. Fuck, he was breathtaking.

Pale everywhere. Long, slender, but still toned and strong. He was like something out of a fucking painting, perfect milky flesh and hard, flushed red cock. Jayce couldn’t stop looking at it, a question in the back of his mind of just what the hell D was on that he could be hard while so drunk. But he was. Dripping precum from his throbbing tip. God, he was beautiful.

“Jayce…”

“Quiet, D. Just lie there nice and quiet for a sec.”

Silent, Declan just watched, eyes glowing as Jayce began to move his hands over his brother’s body. Declan’s knee bent when his brother’s large palm roughly moved up his leg, his thighs spreading wide. Jayce slid his hand heatedly over the boy’s inner thigh, his smooth flesh trembling when he gave a squeeze.

He wanted D. He wasn’t supposed to, but god, he wanted him. When he kissed Declan’s nipple, the brunette gasped, and when their eyes met, his little brother looked near tears. God, he was fucking up. Fucking up, touching his brother because the kid was drunk and too fucked in the head to stop him.

“Please,” Declan whispered, his eyes caught in Jayce’s. “I’ll let you do anything. I just… I need you to touch me.”

God, he was so fucked up. Jayce could only pray Declan didn’t say that sort of thing to other guys.

“You’re drunk,” Jayce said hoarsely, trying to stop himself. The kid didn’t know what he was saying. He was just horny and drunk.

“You’re hard.”

The little fucker. Jayce ran his wide tongue over Declan’s nipple again, then pulled it into his mouth. Whimpering loudly, Declan’s fingers tangled into his shaggy hair. Jayce nipped at his slick bud and the brunette arched, and fuck, every noise his little brother made was so sexy. Jayce ran his hands down the sides of his taut body, letting his fingers dig in. When he reached Declan’s hips he held harder, sliding back to caress his ass. Damn, he had a nice ass. Tight and perky. Fucking tight.

Declan reached for his wrist again, Jayce letting him move his hand to his dick. “Please.”

He shouldn’t. Fuck, he really, really shouldn’t. Drunk. D was drunk. Don’t touch your little brother when he’s drunk. Don’t touch him at all.

He was heavy in Jayce’s palm, hot, silken flesh. When he wrapped his fingers around Declan’s shaft, the boy groaned, his hands coming up to grasp his brother’s strong biceps. He stroked Declan slowly, feeling his thickness in his palm, his ridges, wanting to memorize every perfect inch of him. When he reached his swollen cockhead, he let his thumb caress over his slit, wetting Declan with his own slick precum while the boy cried out.

God, he was sexy. He had never known just what the fuck his little brother had been hiding under all that fucking black.

“Jerk me… Fuck, please.” Declan’s hand grabbed Jayce’s wrist again, trying to get him to hurry the fuck up. If only he knew how he looked, begging like that. “Jayce, come on.”

Jayce leaned down, pressing his lips to Declan’s ear. “D, shut the fuck up and let me do my thing.” Declan groaned, biting his lower lip hard. “Okay?”

The brunette nodded, eyes meeting Jayce’s intense gaze, full of trust and need. “Do me how you want, big bro. Any way you want. Just do it.”

Jayce had to grip the bed to keep from swaying. Fuck, D really needed to stop saying shit like that. Declan didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know what that fucking meant. Because Jayce wanted to be inside him, making him scream, making him sob his name. He wanted Declan to tell him he was going to be fucking good again, and nice, and talk to him like he used to. Jayce was fucked up, and Declan didn’t understand what he was saying.

Pulling his hand away, Jayce ignored his brother’s whimper of protest. He licked his palm while pushing Declan back on the bed, trapping him between his thighs. Jayce was fully dressed. It couldn’t be that bad cus he had clothes on, even if Declan was fucking nude as could be. The kid still had a few bracelets on; that had to count for something, right?

God, he was going to hell.

He was slick in his palm when Jayce wrapped around Declan’s gorgeous cock again, and his moan was fucking perfect. He watched intently as his brother’s flushed tip disappeared into his hand, only to have it reveal again as he moved down his shaft, all the way to his base, Declan’s hips rocking to meet every stroke.

“Bro, look at me.” Declan’s hand tangled in Jayce’s hair as he tried to turn his gaze to his.

Hell, the kid was going to kill him. “Stop calling me that, D.” Jayce met his eyes, his breath catching. Beautiful. He was so fucking beautiful.

Stroking faster, Jayce drank in his brother’s expression. Declan’s head fell back on the bed, his mouth wide as he panted and gasped between toe curling moans. He was dripping saliva, trickling down his chin and jaw. Beneath his broken gasps, Jayce could hear what he was doing to the boy, his hot flesh slick in his fist, slapping wet suction with every pump. Declan grabbed the sheets, fingers clawing, his back arching as he moaned again and again.

God, D. Get there. He wanted to see him come so bad. He was the sexiest fucking thing ever, and Jayce wanted to see his face when he came. For him. Just this moment. Just this one fucked up moment Declan could be his.

Crying out, Declan’s entire body shook with his orgasm, his eyes squeezed shut, muscles rock hard as he held onto the sheets. His dick kept jerking in Jayce’s hand, spurting stream after stream of seed onto his stomach. Groaning, Declan went boneless, his eyes weakly cracking back open to meet his brother’s ever watching gaze.

Jayce couldn’t stop. He couldn’t let himself think. He just needed, and needed bad.

He grabbed a pillow and shoved it under Declan’s head. Watching silently as he caught his breath, Declan’s tongue drifted over his lips when Jayce climbed up his body and straddled his neck with his knees.

“Bro?”

“Quiet, D.” Jayce ran his hand over Declan’s cheek, tilting the boy’s chin back while he pushed his pajama pants down and freed his achingly hard dick. It wasn’t going to take much. Jayce was so fucking hard, and it was Declan, his beautiful kid brother beneath him, staring at his cock like he’d never seen one before, features twisted in want. His blue eyes kept shifting, moving to Jayce’s face and then to his dusky, dripping cock. Then Jayce started stroking and Declan picked his target, his tongue touching his bottom lip as he watched his older brother jerk inches away.

He wasn’t going to touch him. Just this. Jut have him watch. God, he was beautiful. His lips were fucking swollen and too red. Jayce wanted to fuck his mouth so bad, but that was beyond wrong. All of it was wrong, but that was beyond.

Fuck, would D let him?

Exhaling shakily, Jayce pressed the tip of his cock between his brother’s lips. Declan moaned, his tongue sliding out, teasing over his cockhead, probing tentatively into his slit. Fuck. Oh fuck, he really needed to stop.

“Open,” Jayce demanded hoarsely, the world rocking wildly when Declan parted his lips. He gripped the back of the brunette’s neck with his free hand and slowly pushed forward into Declan’s hot, wet mouth, those red lips contouring to his thick flesh.

God. God, he was actually fucking his mouth. Jayce’s balls were so tight, he knew he was going to come any second. He held off as long as possible. One time. Only fucking time this was ever happening, and he needed to remember.

Declan made a choking noise when Jayce’s tip hit his tonsils. But Jayce kept pushing, needing to feel his brother’s tight channel, needing to make sure Declan knew he was his.

“God… God, that’s it… Fuck, fuck take it, D… Open wide and take my cock, bro… Fuck… good boy… you’re so fucking good.” Jayce didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. He was grinding the back of Declan’s throat, his fingers painful in the brunette’s sweaty hair, taking his mouth hard while his little brother whimpered beneath his thighs. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t fucking think with Declan’s mouth so hot, throat so tight, those fucking lips of his so red.

Jayce held the boy still when he pulled out, forcing Declan to feel every dirty, sticky drop of cum as he covered his beautiful face with all his jizz. D’s moans were fucking music; low, raspy, filthy. God, that was it. All over his face. Covered in him. His bro. His.

Declan had tears in his eyes as he gasped to breathe. Jayce had been too rough. Could have hurt him… Could have done a lot of things he didn’t do. Fuck. Fuck.

Jayce rolled off his brother, pulled his pants up and left. Declan called for him and he nearly turned back. Bad idea. Really bad idea. The kid was drunk, covered in cum, and damn fucking easy prey for the many things he wanted to do. Jayce forced himself to walk to the bathroom and splash his face with cold water. He needed to stop the crazy in his head, the maddening heat that had won way too much already.

Declan was asleep when Jayce got the nerve to return with a wet facecloth in hand. He was exactly how he’d left him, sprawled out nude on top of his bedspread. Jayce washed him off, admiring his porcelain flesh, brushing the bruises already starting to bloom on his hips where he had dug in too hard.

Fucked up. He had fucked up big, and he had no clue how the fuck he was going to fix it.

Maybe D wouldn’t remember? He was really drunk, saying stupid shit about dreaming. Maybe he’d just think it was a dream if he remembered anything at all.

Part of Jayce wanted Declan to remember. It wasn’t the good part of him. It was the fucked up part that wanted him to be his even though it would ruin the kid. Ruin their parents. Ruin fucking everything.

Shit, when had this happened? When had he gotten so crazy over D?

Finding Declan’s pajamas by his hamper, he slipped them on his sleeping brother. Then he arranged Declan under the covers, making sure he was warm. Jayce sat on his bed for the longest time, watching him sleep. Hating himself. Hating how he still wanted him, even then.

God, he was so fucked up.

Declan wouldn’t remember. He was drunk and wouldn’t remember.

 

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