Monday, July 21, 2014


FLASHERS!! Got your attention, didn't I? Giggle. The idea is to write a piece of flash fiction based on this photo. Could be easy or hard...depending on how you work it. Here's how I'm working it. Check out the other flashes here! And now for mine!!!

The Slap ©Megan Slayer, 2014

My boyfriend and I have a great sex life. It's vanilla by some standards, but hey, we get what we want out of it. Lately, I could tell he wasn't happy. I didn't know if it had to do with our sex life or life in general. Sometimes he doesn't like to talk. I knew if I didn't push, he'd never tell me what was wrong. One way I get him to open up is to pose a challenge. He can't pass up challenges. It's fun, but it also brings us closer together. 
I set out these five utensils in the kitchen. I knew he'd wonder what I was up to. I left him a piece of paper that simply said, Pick one and meet me in the bedroom. This could be good or could be bad. If he picked the spatulas and wanted to use those on my ass, the pain would be pretty great. I blew out a long breath. I could handle the pain. To make him happy, I'd endure just about anything.
I knelt beside the bed and waited for him. I heard his footsteps on the carpet. My heart hammered. Just another minute and he'd be in the bedroom. My skin prickled. What would he choose?
"What's this?" He appeared in the doorway, the scraper in hand. He tipped his head to the side. "You're naked."
"I am." I looked him in the eye. "You've been upset and I wanted to make you happy."
"With a scraper?" He crossed the room to where I waited. "How did you know?"
"I just know." 
He bent over behind me and kissed my shoulder. "I needed some heat in our relationship. I have no control in so many areas of my life and I need one here."
"I know." I glanced over my shoulder. 'I'm happy to submit to you. I love you."
"You're ready to have your ass spanked red?" He smoothed the scraper over my butt. "Really?"
"I am. Punish me, sir." I closed my eyes and awaited his sensual assault. He could control me for the rest of my life. "I'm yours."

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Forsaking Truth by Lydia Michaels is out now!!

Forsaking Truth {McCullough Mountain 5}by Lydia Michaels

Genre: Erotic Romance (MM)

Heat Level: Romance (graphic) (MM)

Book Length: 224 pages

Date of Publication: May 5, 2014 (Available on Amazon, B&N, etc. 5/13/14)

His greatest conflict in life is that another man loves him unconditionally. He’ll forsake everything before he’ll come to face who he truly is.

When Luke McCullough’s athletic potential is diminished by a field injury, his pride pays the price. Returned to Center County a broken man, the long road to recovery seems dreary and overshadowed by opportunities lost, until he meets Tristan Hughes.

Tristan came to Center County to escape his past and start anew, but nothing prepared him for Luke. Intrigued, Tristan cautiously gets to know this powerful man, only to fall head over heels for the vulnerable soul hiding behind all that intensity and drive.

Luke has never been interested in men, so when he can’t get Tristan out of his head he doubles his efforts to fight the inevitable. Stolen glances lead to heated encounters, followed by punishing regret, but Luke’s inability to face the truth of who he really is may cost him the only happiness he’s ever known.

Buy Links:

Excerpt: (Adult Language)

He stepped close and his palm curled around the back of Luke’s neck. A split second later—too quick to pull back—Tristan’s lips met his.
Luke grunted and jerked away at the first stroke of the other guy’s tongue. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I…I thought you wanted me to. You touched me.”
He frowned. No he didn’t. Yes. You fucking did. You’re still touching him. He jerked his hand away. It was the beer! Shit, he needed to lay off the drinking.
“Luke, look, it’s okay. I just thought with everything today—the shower—clearly I misread—”
“Are you dating my cousin?” he suddenly blurted.
“What? No. Ryan’s straight.” Tristan’s answer shouldn’t have relieved him, but it did.
“You’re gay?”
Luke was distracted as Tristan took a deep breath.  Tanned skin shadowed with hair drew his gaze to the cut of his chest glistening with a hint of sweat or maybe spilt beer. “Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be an issue. If you aren’t interested, we can act like nothing happened here and just go back to five minutes ago.”
“Does Ryan know you’re gay?”
“Yeah. He’s fine with it. Most people are. It’s not like I openly maul anything with a dick. I have a specific taste.”
“Well…” He turned and forked a hand through his hair. “You’re very handsome. Christ, I already saw you naked.”
And for some reason Luke had purposely made sure he’d seen him. He wanted him to look, like it was some pissing match or something. Thinking back, it was stupid and nothing like he’d ever done before.
“I’ll go,” Tristan said, grabbing his soiled shirt.
Luke caught his arm. “Wait.”
“For what, Luke? I clearly misread the situation.”
“Did you think I was gay?”
“No, but then…I don’t know. I thought maybe you were bi. You hear things about football players playing grab ass in the locker rooms and shit. I don’t know what the fuck I thought. Then you touched me and I just…stopped thinking.”
“You like being with men?” Well, no shit. That’s pretty much what it was to be gay. He couldn’t fathom it. Did Tristan take the top or bottom? He didn’t look gay, whatever that looked like.
“What do you do with them?”
“Jesus, Luke, everything. What do you want to know?”
“Does it hurt?”
“Fuck no. It feels fantastic.”
He stepped back, needing to do something, but not the type to fidget. “Have you ever been with a woman?”
Tristan’s expression became serious. “No. It’s always been guys.”
“This is crazy. I need a beer.” He turned and pulled out a new bottle. He’s fucking gay.
Luke never met a gay person that he knew of. He lived in Center County, not the most liberal place. “Man, you picked the wrong town to move to.”
“Tell me where the right town is.” Tristan stepped into the den. “I’m just another guy, Luke. I just wanna work and live and have the right to the same happiness everyone else is looking for in this fucked up world.”
Luke’s gaze moved over his chest. There were over a dozen scars. “That’s why your dad beat you, for being gay?”
“Yeah.” There was so much gravity in that one little word something in Luke broke.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. Taught me a lesson I’ll never forget. No matter how hard someone hits me, or shuns me, or calls me ugly names, I’m still me. They don’t have to like it. They don’t have to live with it, but I do. And I refuse to be something I’m not.”
Luke dropped into the chair. “How old were you?”
“When I realized I was gay? Probably four.”
“No, when your dad did that to you.”
“Eighteen. Five days later my lover tried to kick the shit out of me in front of the whole school and called me everything he was afraid to call himself. Three months later I left for college and never looked back.”
Holy shit. “Did you ever think it would be easier to be straight?”
“I’ve thought lots of things. Sometimes I think it would be fun to fly, but that doesn’t make it possible.”
“No women?”
“No. Only men.”
“I’m not gay.” Luke stated, needing to hear the affirmation.
Tristan nodded. “And that’s cool. I didn’t mean to…”
The silence stretched between them. Finally, Tristan said, “I’m gonna take off.”
“Okay.” He was in a daze. This was some heavy shit.
“Thanks for…”
“Thanks for your help.”
They nodded at one another and Tristan slipped on his wet shirt. A moment later the door closed.
Luke sat there for probably five minutes just digesting everything. He liked Tristan. A lot. Just not in any sort of romantic way. He didn’t swing that way. He liked pussy. He was a boob man or maybe a leg man. Definitely wasn’t a gay man.
He stood and went to hit the lights. He was way past the legal limit and needed to sleep. Maybe things would be clearer in the morning.
He dropped the empties in the bin and went to lock up. As he approached the door it suddenly opened. He stilled and Tristan stepped back in. Why was he back? His return sent a rush of blood pumping through Luke’s veins and his breathing picked up.
“I don’t have a car here.”
Right. He’d picked him up. “I’ve been drinking.”
“I could call a cab.”
“Or you could crash here.” He hadn’t thought about his offer, it just slipped out.
“Or I could crash here.”
Luke stared at him and waited. Sure, Tristan could crash. He could sleep on the recliner. Luke swallowed. He felt like he was doing something very wrong. Part of him was glad he couldn’t drive. So glad, that when the thought of calling Sheilagh and asking her to take Tristan back to his Aunt Rosemarie’s popped in his head, he immediately shoved it away.
“I was about to hit the sack anyway,” he said.
Tristan nodded. “You got an extra blanket?”
“Yeah. I’ll grab it. Make yourself comfortable.”
He went to the closet in the hall and pulled out a spare blanket. When he turned, Tristan was in the den, kicking off his boots. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, Luke. Listen, I’m sorry about all this. I hope—”
Luke slammed his lips to Tristan’s mouth. He didn’t know who was more shocked, him or Tristan. All he knew was the thought of Tristan, who’d taken his fair share of beatings for only being who he was, apologizing to him, cut him apart. He silenced him the only way he knew how.

Author Bio:

Award winning author, Lydia Michaels, writes all forms of hot romance. She presses the bounds of love and surprises readers just when they assume they have her stories figured out. From Amish vampyres, to wild Irishmen, to broken heroes, and heroines no man can match, Lydia takes readers on an emotional journey of the heart, mind, and soul with every story she pens. Her books are intellectual, erotic, haunting, always centered on love.

Lydia Michaels loves to hear from readers! She can be contacted by email at

Other Titles by Lydia Michaels:

Falling In
Breaking Out
Coming Home
Sacred Waters
Faking It
Forsaking Truth
As Tears Go By
Simple Man
Breaking Perfect
White Chocolate
All 4 You
To Catch a Wolfe
Chasing Feathers
Called to Order
Calling for a Miracle
Destiny Calls
Call Her Mine

Thursday, May 1, 2014

Glory Lands by Vastine Bondurant - a Blog Tour

Vastine is giving away at the end of the tour the following prize: A 100.00 Victoria's Secret Gift Card or a 100.00 Amazon Gift Card. How cool is that? I'd comment if I were you!

A Texas Piney Woods Story   

Rural East Texas, 1931. Preacher’s son Emory Joe Logan and a fiddler from Shreveport, Glory Lands, meet and form a tender bond. When they are caught and arrested for homosexual acts by Sheriff Elihu Bishop, the lawman’s sanctimonious bigotry threatens to rip the young men from their families.

Emory Joe’s father, Pastor Charles Logan, is brought to his knees in terror, confusion, and anger. He still regrets not standing up against Bishop when the lawman murdered a youth in cold blood nine years ago.

Now there’s no longer a choice for the preacher to stand up to the lawman. Cold-blooded justice, bigotry-disguised-as-religion, and hatred take on a whole new meaning when they’re standing on his doorstep, ready to take the son he loves.
Buy links:
Readers' Remarks on Glory Lands

"...But every so often a story comes along and absolutely annihilates me. Glory Lands is that story...~ Astrid (Amazon)

Here's an excerpt for your reading pleasure!

Oh, Emory Joe was a skinny country boy, a kid hidden deep in the heart of the piney woods. No imposing deity. But to look at him right then—the light in his bashful smile, the trust beginning to bloom in his eyes—he was a god to me.

Eyeing me with a lifted eyebrow that signaled he surely expected to shock me, he shrugged. “I have kissed a boy, you know.”

Did you now?”

“Yes.” He braced his shoulders, his head tossed back. King of the county, he was. “I have.”

“Well, what do you know.” I nodded.

“Are you shocked?” So proud, so adorable.

“Do you want me to be shocked?”

“What I want is, if you were thinking of kissing me, for you to know it’s all right.”

Jesus Lordy Almighty.

“I’m not shocked.” The power of his gentle light paralyzed me. I wanted to step nearer, but couldn’t. “How could a fella not want to kiss you?”

Offering nothing but a faint turning up of the lips that eased the nervous needles burning my skin, Emory Joe slowly turned and made his way back to the bank.

Once standing on the sandy strip, he dropped his hands to his sides and scratched his fingers on his thighs. “Well, then….”

“You nervous, Emory Joe?” I advanced a step.

“Why, yes, kind of… I mean….”

“Those hands of yours, always a-goin’ to town on your pants legs.”

“Daddy teases me about it too. I am a might nervous.” Just as I opened my mouth to apologize, he tossed back his head, stopped his busy fingers, and smiled. “So….” And, his voice half-sure and half-trembly, he invited, “Would you like to kiss me?”

My pulse marched like a battalion of boots in my ears. I couldn’t hear my voice over the noise, but I thought I said, “I’d like very much to kiss you, Emory Joe.” 

And he just stood there. Waiting. Smiling.

Did I walk on the water or through it? Somehow I made it to the bank to his side.

He sighed. Those full lips parted and the blue eyes closed. Expectant. Willing.

I leaned, just inches from his lips, so close I could smell the readiness of him mingled with the red scent of the rose in my pocket, and something pleasant and electric filled the tiny space between us.

The touch of his lips. Soft, firm, giving, greedy, innocent, seasoned, sweet, spicy, playful, deadly serious. All that in one breath of a kiss.

Had I fainted? No, I stood on my two feet, but I couldn’t feel my legs. All I felt was Emory Joe and his want.

After a million years stuffed into one second, he pulled away, and I, like a baby bird straining for morsels at feeding time, stretched my neck to bring back the contact.

Happy and scared, I watched while he fumbled with the buckles at the straps of his overalls. Oh dear Jesus. “Emory Joe….”

I’d come to fish only to have the fish leap straight out of the water and into my hands, and it had set my brain spinning off-kilter.
“Shush.” He touched his finger to his lips.

Soon the straps fell from his shoulders and the bib unfolded, falling away. He pulled his shirt over his head to expose his pale chest with its glorious rosy nipples, then bent to carefully drape the shirt over a tree stump.
I wanted so badly to see the rest of him—naked, buck naked—but I was also afraid of that very thing. The desiring of something so bad you feared it might stop your heart.

But not heeding my silent terror, Emory Joe slowly tugged the overalls until they hugged his narrow hips to show me his flat belly and the tease of golden hair at his crotch.

“Emory Joe,” I whispered.

Had that been a protest or a plea?

With a soft curl of the lips, his eyes holding me in some beautiful suspension like a man leaping from a cliff but not falling, he gave one last pull of the overalls to send them and his underpants to a blue pile at his bare ankles.

In that sunlight filtering through the trees stood a man too comely and heavenly to be tucked out here in the middle of nowhere.

A beautiful erection nestled in a light patch of hair. The tip of his cock, pink as his nipples.

Gone were my thoughts of not being able to take him. I had to have him. Jesus Christ, that proverbial team of wild horses couldn’t stop me now, not with this delicate, naked beauty wanting what I wanted.

Emory Joe lifted a hand to pluck the rose from my pocket. Drawing even closer, he tucked it into the hair at my ear then began to unbutton my shirt.
My breath caught while his fingers fumbled at each buttonhole, the light pressure like the delicate fluttering of a baby chick’s wings. And, then—oh, goddamn, then—when he unfastened my trousers and tugged them along my hips. The tiny gasp he issued when my dick, so hard and aching, sprang free of the denim folds.

After placing our clothes over the tree stump, there we both stood. Nothing between our naked bodies but warm spring air and need.

Emory Joe sank to his knees in the sand, arched his chest and palmed his nipples. “Glory.”

To hear my name loaded with such want, spoken in such an unbearably gentle caress.

I followed suit and dropped to my knees, taking his hands in mine. His hands. Shaking, holding tight.

“Yeah?” I turned up his palms and pressed them to my lips.

The taste of his skin—a delicate mix of faded shaving lotion and roses.
Oh, the wonderful pain in my groin.

“Do something to me.” He turned the request into a soft little moan.

“What do you want me to do?” Grasping his wrists, I pulled him against me. His body, unbearably soft and writhing, the satiny hardness of his dick pressing into mine. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“I don’t know.” With his lips breathing the words onto my neck, he twined his fingers in the hair of my nape and squeezed. “It feels so good, I have to… to….” A whimper. “Please.”

Drawing back, I cupped my palm to his cheek, thumbed the downy stubble. “Have you really ever kissed a boy before, Emory Joe?”

“No.” He glanced away to the creek. “Surely not because I haven’t wanted to. There’s just no boys like… me… to kiss in these parts.”

“Then let me see what I can do for a fella who’s never kissed a boy before.” A wispy, quick meeting of the lips. “Lie down, Emory Joe.”

His gaze fixed with mine, Emory Joe let his arms slide from my neck, and he slowly lowered himself onto his back in the sand. “Kiss me again.”
I lay beside him. “You liked kissing, then?”

He didn’t reply, just nodded, parted his lips, and lifted his head a bit.

“How much did you like it?” I sighed the words close to his mouth, reveling in the pleasure of the almost-touch of his lips.

Resting his head on the ground again, he traced his forefinger along my chin. “Very much.” 

About the Author:

I’m Texas born and raised, an old fashioned, bling-loving girly girl. I love to read and write stories of men and women and the sizzling chemistry that draws them together. Passion. My heart is helplessly bound to romance of a time long gone- gritty, sexy stories of men in fedoras and overcoats. Old Spice Aftershave, Lucky Strike cigarettes, fancy cuff links, hair pomade, mobsters. Clandestine whispers on Bakelite telephones from the shadows of cheesy restaurant phone booths. Stories of a time when sex was all the more sexy because it wasn’t plastered on every billboard—no naked Joes and dames in every ad in every magazine. Lovemaking—hot, sweet-and-naughty, a secret between lovers. My make believe world is sex and danger, hotter than Hades but wrapped up in a deceptive package—gals with soft skin, pretty lace slips, seamed stockings, satin peignoirs, powder puffs and Chanel No. 5. And the tough guys in dress shirts and suspenders who lust to get their hands on the garters they know tease just beneath those kick pleats. I’m a goner for the dynamics of testosterone meets sugar and spice.

Find Vastine online at:


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Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Is It Summer Yet?

To enter the fabulous Grand Prize Giveaway they need to go to the blog hop page and leave a comment - Share your best summer memory!

So what's my best summer memory?

It would have to be last summer. Yep, last summer. What was so great about a year ago (or there abouts)? I'm not much of a camper. My idea of camping includes a hotel room. Why? I tend to freak out that I've forgotten something along the way - like leaving my camera in the room, forgetting clothes or something else slightly off-kilter. Yeah, I'm a worrier.

Three years ago, we bought a camper. Actually, it's an RV. It's not fancy and it's not new. It's got a few years on it. Now, remember, I'm not a big camper. In order to go to a race, I was left in the camper with the tot. Tot and I are great. We have a solid relationship. But leaving the both of us in the RV could've been really, really bad. Yeah. Why? Although I know how to operate the appliances in said RV, along with the central air, there was also a good chance I could blow the whole RV sky high - like by leaving the gas on or forgetting to turn on the hot water before showering (I've done that, it's not pleasant).

What made this summer fun was how tot and I got to bond. Yep. We had to work together. We work together pretty well as it is, but if we turned on the hot water, he reminded me to turn it off when we were done. He helped me cook and kept the dogs under control. We laughed together and had a good time.

When Dh came to 'rescue us', it wasn't a big deal. Sure, I wanted him there. I love him. But tot and I had everything under control. The funniest part? DH thought for sure we'd blow up the camper, too.

Guess we proved him wrong.

Now what about you? What's your favorite summer memory? Comment on the main page, but in addition to those giveaways, I'm giving away a prize pack featuring a tote bag, a unique beaded bracelet/earring set and signed swag! Sure! All you have to do here is leave a comment with your summer memory, your name and your email. Giveaway is open to everyone - USA or International.

Now keep hopping and have fun. 

Monday, April 21, 2014

Blisse Bunnies!

Find more bunnies here!
It's time for the Blisse Bunnies to invade the blog! I'm excited. I love when the bunnies HOP by. I know, I know. Bad joke. Grin. But the cool thing is the prizes are for you. Yep! I've got a two up for grabs!! One winner will receive a copy of Tied Desire. The other winner will receive a prize pack featuring a bracelet and earring set made by me as well as signed swag! What do you have to do to get your name in the hat to win? Leave a comment about the excerpt of Tied Desire, your name and your email. Easy peasy! Good luck, happy hopping and happy commenting. 

Tied Desire by Megan Slayer 
Club Desire Book 1
M/M, Anal Sex, Toys, Spanking, BDSM
Resplendence Publishing

Get your rocks off however you want at Club Desire. We’re not easy and we’re not free, but we are discreet. Find your fantasy in the club.
            Ford Gehrig likes everything hard—his racing and his sex life. His career driving stock trucks is riding high. He’s a top performing rookie. Club Desire fulfills his needs for pain in his pleasure. But even a strong man has his breaking point. His wounds run deep and won’t be easy to overcome. Will the club be his salvation or his downfall?
Master Zane knows the rough side of the club well. He’s been at Desire longer than many of the Doms. Few subs turn his head like Ford. He wants the hot blond on his table, against his cross and in his bed. Nothing at the club comes easily, but Zane’s not one to give up. Will he be able to pierce the protective walls around Ford’s heart, or will his own past be the barrier he can’t destroy?
Only time, some cuffs and a few spankings will tell if this tied desire is meant to last.
An AllRomance Ebooks #1 Bestseller!
“Stand. I want you to sit on the couch with me.” Zane offered his hand.
Albeit tentatively, Ford cooperated. He rose and followed the Master to the oversized leather sofa. For the first time since he’d entered Zane’s private space, he glanced around. Instead of the stark look of T’s room, this one was decorated in rich burgundys and navys. A couple floor lamps provided light. The standard bondage bed and a mattress on a platform completed the otherwise lush look.
“We need to talk. Please sit.” Zane’s words forced Ford to look at him. “Were you happy with T?” 

Ford eased down beside Zane, not touching the larger man. Should he answer honestly? Might as well. “I enjoyed our time together.”
But I’d rather he’d have been you. Oh shit. He couldn’t admit that.
Ford allowed himself to ogle Zane. Full muscle in every part of his body, his arms were both sleeved in tattoos and a thick leather X crisscrossed his sculpted chest. A barbell decorated his right nipple. His leather pants molded around his strong legs.
For the first time since Ford had come to Desire, he looked Zane in the face. Scruff darkened his thin cheeks and dark lashes ringed his eyes. His black hair stood in spikes and twin earrings dangled from his left ear. He didn’t have telltale smile lines around his mouth. Didn’t the man grin at anything? Ford doubted Zane could be sad with all of the sexy men and women at his disposal.
Zane’s brown eyes narrowed, and the crinkles formed at his brow. “Somehow, I don’t believe you enjoyed being with T.”  He trailed his fingers down Ford’s cheek. “He claims you get off on name calling and degradation. I don’t buy that. I can see you getting off on the power shift, but not the other. You seem too timid—in a good way—for that harsh of treatment.”
Ford pressed his lips together to keep from gawking. In less than a minute, Zane had read him well. “You’re correct, Sir.”
“I want to start there. I’ve watched you in action. I know what you like and don’t like, but I want to hear you tell me your boundaries.”
“No needles or blood. I’m squeamish. Don’t choke me or abuse me. I can take pain, and I’ll use my safe word when I get to my limits.” Ford held his head high. “I enjoy the paddle, being restrained and sucking cock.”
“Very good.” Zane curled his fingers beneath Ford’s chin. “What’s your safe word?”
“Biscuit, Sir.”
“Nice.” Zane nodded. “Since T has seen fit to toss you back into the submissive pool, I’m stepping in. You’re mine. Do you wish to play?”
All of Ford’s desires and fantasies were coming true. Sure, he hadn’t wanted to part with T, but if he could spend time with Zane, then perfect. Ford wished he’d worn appropriate clothing for a scene, but who cared. He didn’t. Time to channel his sorrow into something sexy.
Ford placed the still full beer bottle on the floor, folded his hands and bowed his head. “Yes, Sir. I’d like to play.”
©Megan Slayer 2014

Thursday, April 10, 2014

New Release ~ Cat Groove, Stray Cats - Book 3

 Cat Groove (Stray Cats, Book 3) by Megan Slayer  
BIN: 06884-02217
Word Count: 13K
Page Count: 45
Changeling Press

He’s found his mate and his groove, but he’s got to convince her they belong together.

Watching his woman with another man just about killed Roman. His heart beat for Jessa. His ability to switch over to his human form has allowed him to show her his other side, but will he scare her away? He’s willing to work his groove in order to win the heart of the woman he loves.

Available here:  


©Megan Slayer, 2014

Roman's cock twitched beneath the towel. She would have to pick right now to want him to shift. He'd have to ditch the cover-up and she'd see his erection. Great. She'd think he was nuts and a perv. Whatever. No one had said finding his mate would be easy and he doubted convincing Jessa they belonged together would be a small task. He stood and followed her back to the bathroom. Along the way, she grabbed a baseball bat.

Now she wanted protection. He sighed. He'd do whatever he needed to in order to make her feel safe. He waited as she closed the door.

"Okay. Shift." Jessa stared at him. "Do it."

"Yes, ma'am." Roman crouched down and closed his eyes. His back itched as fur sprouted from his skin. His bones popped and shrank. Tendons shortened and his claws protruded from his fingers. He shook his head and then opened his eyes. The change had worked. She had to be his mate! He stared up at her and meowed.

"But..." Jessa reached for him. "Roman?" She clutched him in her arms. "How? Why?" Tears slipped down her cheeks. She held him up to her face. "Brat. You watched me change and shower... you know everything." Her voice trailed off. "Everything."

Roman licked her face, tasting her tears. She'd been through the wringer in the last year. He'd wanted to shift so badly, but he needed the Halloween moon in order for his change to work. All that time he'd watched her stumble into the relationship with John. He crinkled his nose and sneezed. Just thinking about her boyfriend pissed him off. The man wanted her to change. She needed to diet to be thinner because John said so. Her hair wasn't the right color so she dyed it because of him. Then there was the clothing he insisted she wear -- all black and nothing too revealing because she didn't have a figure to reveal. The jackass cut her down at every chance, and she believed him because he reminded her over and over he was the best she'd get.
Bullshit. Roman wriggled in her arms. He could shift and by goddess, he'd prove John wrong. He'd win her heart and seal the deal with his mate. He'd prove to her she was more than a dress size or an "almost" pretty face. He imagined sliding into her pussy and hearing her scream his name. Yeah, he wanted to hear his name on her lips.

"So now you change back?" More tears streamed down her cheeks. "Do you still work your protection duty?"

He'd lay down his life for her in a heartbeat. When she placed him on the floor, Roman closed his eyes and shifted back into his human form. His bones snapped and changed shape. The fur disappeared and his claws retracted. He crouched on the floor and opened his eyes.

"I'm here for you, sweetheart. Protection, defense... whatever you want." He snatched the towel from the floor. "But first I need something besides this towel to cover up with. I'm a tad exposed."

The soft terry cloth barely covered his butt when he wrapped the towel around him. If it slipped, he'd flash her. Part of him wanted to show her everything. Hell, he'd fallen a little in love with her when she'd picked him up at Hildy's house a year before. He couldn't wait to make love to her and seal the bond between them. The rest of him knew better. The more he pushed, the better the chance he'd freak her out -- again.

"I don't have anything that'll fit you." She grabbed her robe from the hook. "Will this work? You'll look silly, but you're thin enough it should wrap around you."

"Perfect." He shrugged into the robe, then tied the belt. Good timing. The towel gave way. He wasn't totally at ease, but he'd make do. Besides, he didn't like hearing her talk about size. She was beautiful in every way. Size didn't matter to him. "Why don't we talk? I've got a lot of explaining to do and not a lot of time to do it in."

Jessa shrugged. "What the hell? Why not? I can't see where anything else can go wrong tonight. To the living room?"

Now he could explain everything to her. Roman nodded. He'd take the chance available. "To the living room."

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

New Release ~ All on the Field, Club Desire - Book 3

All on the Field by Megan Slayer 
Club Desire, Book 3
M/M, Anal Sex, Toys, Spanking, BDSM
Resplendence Publishing

Get your rocks off however you want at Club Desire. We’re not easy and we’re not free, but we are discreet. Find your fantasy in the Club.

Coming clean and accepting what you want has never been this sexy.

Jordan Brody commands the landscape on the football field. His punt returns are legendary. What’s not so legendary? His sexuality. The hulking football player likes to be spanked and dominated, but he’s not comfortable explaining his needsuntil he visits Club Desire. The visit just might signal the game changer he’s been looking for.

Simon Blue knows how to dominate and how to read people. The moment he sees the sexy football player, he’s transfixed. Taking on a sub isn’t in his game plan, but there’s something about Jordan that calls to Simon’s soul. He’s convinced that a little spanking, some rope and a lot of patience will help Jordan seek the peace he desiresif he can convince Jordan to trust and submit.

Will these two wounded souls charge down the field in the ultimate score or fumble before the game begins?

©Megan Slayer, 2014

Article by article of clothing, Jordan stripped himself bare. Being naked didn’t bother him. The locker room afforded no privacy. After a win, the guys routinely slapped each other on the ass, back and chest in congratulations. After a loss? The rookies tended to bear the brunt of the frustration and anger. Anyone with less than two years in the league was hazed by the older players. Jordan had been with the Wild Cats for five years and had never participated in the hazing, but he’d been on the receiving end a couple of times. He’d had his locker stuffed with soiled uniforms, his belongings hidden from him and the inside of his locker plastered with pictures of naked women.
He’d laughed and brushed off the incidents, knowing he’d gotten off easy. The taunts lobbed at the rookies could be harsh. Sometimes there were scuffles. He’d kept his head down and focused on his football career.
But he wasn’t at the practice complex. He was in the middle of the club with Simon. No one would be making fun of him here.
Jordan folded his clothing and placed the garments in a neat pile on one end of the couch. He sat on the cushion. What was he supposed to do while he waited until Simon returned? The chilly air in the room wrapped around his body, and his balls tightened. His nipples hardened, and he fought off the desire to touch himself. Simon hadn’t said a word about masturbating.
Anticipation slid through his veins. He’d never been with a Dom before, but from what he’d seen in porno movies and what he’d heard from Rocke, a Dom wasn’t a bad thing. The man in charge would demand the events of the evening were on his terms.
Jordan could handle taking orders. But for how long? When would his sense of pride enter and scream to take over? When would he realize he was being a pansy by letting another man spank him?
Shit. He hated when the dark thoughts entered his mind.
Behind him, the door creaked. Jordan bowed his head. Did Simon expect him to show respect that way? Or should he drop to the floor on his knees? Was Simon even behind him?
“You’re quite colorful.” Simon placed his hand on Jordan’s back. His breath warmed Jordan’s skin. “Soon, I’ll have you explain each marking.”
Oh? He’d never told anyone about the art—not all of it. Even his tattoo artist didn’t know the meaning of many of the images.
Simon stroked his fingers up and down Jordan’s spine. “Interesting.” He strolled around Jordan, giving Jordan a chance to look at him again. Instead of the tight black T-shirt, Simon wore a black tank top. He crouched in front of Jordan.
“I can see the wheels turning in your mind. You’re not sure what’s about to go down. You’re keeping yourself guarded in case you do something you believe is stupid.” He curled his fingers under Jordan’s chin, forcing him to look Simon in the eye. “When we play, I have rules. Rule one is no secrets. Tell me everything. If something feels good, bad, hurts, makes you mad, whatever, you tell me.”
“Yes, sir.” Was he supposed to call Simon by his name or sir?
“Rule two is how you will address me. In a scene, you will call me S. Out of a scene, you may use my name.”
“Yes, S.”
“Good boy.”
“Rule three is the boundaries. I will abide by your boundaries, but I reserve the right to push you when I feel you’re ready. I am here to make you happy and give you the release you desire.”
“Yes, S.”
“Rule number four concerns trust. I need your total trust. I respect you and will do my best to give you what you need. You must trust me that if I push, I’m doing it for a reason, not out of some perverse pleasure. You control what we do and when. Understand?”
“Yes, S.” Actually, he wasn’t sure he got what Simon meant. He’d been under the impression that the Dom ran the show. According to what Simon had said, the control was more or less in Jordan’s hands.
“You don’t look convinced.” Simon swiped his thumb across Jordan’s bottom lip. “If you use your safe word, we’ll stop. I respect you and your wishes. If you can handle offering up your control to me, I offer up mine to you, as well.”
“Thank you, S.” Jordan shivered. At least, he’d found a man who wanted to play equal. “What’s my safe word?”
“String bean.” A smile twitched on Simon’s lips. “Do you wish to back out?”
“Not a chance.” Hell, being under Simon’s care seemed like the most natural thing in the world. “I accept, and I’m grateful. Thank you, S.”
“Now, we’ll begin.”