After meeting Terry at a motorcycle show, Gavin is sure he’s found the man of his dreams. While he’s fantasized about BDSM for years, Gavin has never had a play partner and Terry is happy to teach him. After playing together for a few months, Terry has to leave on a business trip. Terry gives Gavin the key to his apartment so Gavin can sleep in, but Gavin isn’t sure he’s ready for that level of commitment. While he likes and trusts Terry—and loves the kinky sex they have together—Gavin has to decide which he can’t give up: Terry, or his freedom. Part one was originally published as Boots and Leather by Torquere Press.
Pages or Words: 18,000 words
Categories: BDSM, Romance, humor, Contemporary, M/M Romance, Erotica, Fiction, Gay Fiction
About the author:
T. Strange has been interested in BDSM for as long as she can remember. She and her wife were active participants in their local community for a number of years, but lately they’ve been focusing more on their own relationship. When not writing or being spanked, T. enjoys gardening, playing with her cats and other animals, and playing video games. She writes vanilla fiction under the same pen name.
Where to find the author:
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorTStrange
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25257616-lock-and-key
Publisher: Torquere Press
Cover Artist: B.S. Clay
Weighed down by groceries and a bulging duffle bag, I rang Terry’s doorbell.
“It’s open!” he called.
I left the bag in the entryway so he wouldn’t see it and brought the groceries to the kitchen. He was wearing jeans, an apron and nothing else, and he was sexy as hell. I wanted him to ravish me, right there, right then, but he was busily stirring and chopping and other mysterious kitchen pursuits—I’m not much of a cook.
“Don’t come into the bedroom.” I kissed his shoulder.
“Sure.” He gave my butt a quick pat before turning back to his frying pan.
Making sure he wasn’t watching, I carried the heavy bag down the hall to Terry’s bedroom and started unpacking my goodies.
I’ve known I was interested in BDSM for a long time, though I’d never had a play partner of my very own before Terry. Every now and then I’d see something in an adult store or on a website that I just had to buy, for private use or the hope that I would eventually find a top to play with. “Every now and then” adds up over the years, and soon the bag wouldn’t be big enough to hold everything.
I laid it all out on the bed so I could see everything and try to narrow down exactly what I wanted to do with Terry—or rather, have him do to me. As I pulled out each toy, I remembered the fantasy that had made me buy it.
Terry and I haven’t discussed roleplaying yet, and I was still too shy to mention it, and worried he’d think I was immature for wanting to play “let’s pretend”.
Simple was probably best. A scene that took too long to set up could use up all our energy before we’d actually played. I tossed almost everything back in the bag, except for my matching set of black leather wrist and ankle cuffs, and what had quickly become my favorite toy. It was a jockey bat; similar to a riding crop, but the leather tip was hard instead of flappy. Terry has used it in all sorts of ways—using it the way it was intended, flipping it around to hit me with the handle, striking my thighs or ass with the shaft like a cane, even holding it across the backs of my knees to pin me down.
“I’m ready,” I called.
“Me too. We’d better eat first, or we might not get around to it.”
I was restless. I wanted to play now, but I knew he was right. If we played, we probably wouldn’t leave the bed until morning, and the dinner he’d cooked would go to waste. With a final glance at the toys neatly arranged on the bed, I sauntered out to meet him.
“Are you sure you didn’t own a restaurant in a past life?” I asked, bumping him with my hip while I grabbed a plate. I thought about serving him, but we hadn’t discussed that level of D/s yet, so I only got food for myself.
“I’d go crazy in a restaurant, surrounded by people, everyone in a hurry. I couldn’t even do your job.” He was used to being his own boss; if he felt like working fourteen hours one day, he did. If he wanted to ride to the coast for the weekend, there was no one to stop him but his own deadlines.
Sales Links: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=200&products_id=4383
Tour Dates & Stops: April 29, 2015
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