Bad Behavior (Bad in Baltimore) (36 page)

It takes a strong man to be this fabulous.

Tough Love

© 2014 Heidi Cullinan

Special Delivery, Book 3

Crescencio “Chenco” Ortiz pulled himself up by his garter straps after his father’s will yanked the financial rug from under his spank-me pumps. He doesn’t need anyone, yet when Steve Vance steps into his life, the prospect of having a sexy leather daddy on tap begins to take on a certain appeal.

There’s a hitch when he learns Steve is friends with Mitch Tedsoe—the half-brother Chenco never knew except through his father’s twisted lies. Despite his reservations, soon Chenco is living his dreams, including a performing gig in Vegas. Now if only he could get Steve to see him as more than just a boy in need of saving.

Steve’s attraction to Chenco is overshadowed by too many demons, ones he knows his would-be lover is too young to slay. Yet as he gets to know the bright, determined young man whose drag act redefines fierce, Steve’s inner sadist trembles with need. He begins to realize Chenco’s relentless tough love might be the only thing that will finally set him free.

Warning:
This story contains glamorous drag queens, exhibitionist secondary characters, and no-holds-barred BDSM play, including watersports. Readers are advised they may well leave this novel feeling uncharacteristically fierce.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Tough Love:

“So, you told me we weren’t going to be done playing after the trailer, but nothing’s ever happened.”

The comment came from so far out of nowhere Steve had to take a second to form a response. “You’ve never asked for anything else to happen.”

“Steve, I’d like something else to happen. Please.”

Steve’s head filled with crazy, carnal images of pressing Chenco down into the grass, tugging on his hair and taking his mouth in a deep kiss, swallowing gasps and groans. This wasn’t the serene, no-sex control and comfort Steve had given before.

It was, however, what Steve wanted now.

He tried to deflect. “Are you talking about the punishment over what happened with Randy?”

“Not right now, no. I would like that sometime, though, if you’re still willing. I see him wincing and touching his shoulder when he works in the kitchen, and it makes me feel bad.”

Yes, and Steve had left it way too long. Really, it was almost too late. The thought that he’d maybe missed the window to comfort Chenco made him ache with loss.

Chenco ran a hand down Steve’s arm. “I’m not talking about Randy right now. I’m talking about playing. With you.”

Mayday.
“Playing how?”

Chenco’s smile sent shivers down Steve’s spine. “However you like, Papi.”

Steve sat up straighter in his chair and caught sight of Randy milling about in the kitchen.
There’s your out.
“Everyone’s still up. They might come outside.”

“We could go somewhere else.” When Steve kept quiet, Chenco’s cheeks stained red. “Forget it.”

Get a fucking grip, Steve.
He swung his body to face Chenco. “I’m not saying no. But I need to know what you want.”

“Well,
I
want sex, but I assume you’ll still tell me no.”

That’s right, it’s not happening,
Steve wanted to say, but once Chenco looked at him, sauce mixed with shy, fire dancing in the back of those hesitant eyes, he was undone. He didn’t speak, only stroked the side of Chenco’s face. Those brown eyes softened, guards coming down.

Chenco nuzzled tentatively into Steve’s hand. “Do you
want
to have sex with me?”

Yes, Steve did. He ached for it like nothing he’d ever yearned for, a want that terrified him. “I’m too old for you.”

Steve almost laughed at the angry look Chenco gave him. God, to be twenty-four again. Thinking this, though, only made Steve remember how lost and helpless
he
had felt at that age.

“I do want you.” Steve gentled his voice. “I just don’t know if it’s a great idea.”

“What, do you think I’m going to be some kind of moony stalker? If we have sex, I’ll assume I’m moving in? Why can’t it be about having a good time?”

Because I’m an old, tired man who forgot how to be carefree a long time ago. Because I’d love you to move in, even if I never so much as touch you, and that’s really fucking crazy.
“I don’t think you’re a moony stalker.”

“Okay.” Chenco relaxed a little. “I meant what I said. I don’t sleep around.”

Steve couldn’t hold back a smile. “I know. You’re choosy. I like it.”

“Booker says I’m a frigid prude.” Chenco’s face clouded. “Do you know, he hasn’t called me since that night? We’re due for another show soon, but we haven’t rehearsed. He doesn’t know about the trailer—hasn’t asked.” He ran a weary hand through his hair. “I think I’m going to have to move in with Lincoln. I don’t want to, but I don’t have any choice.”

Yes you do. Come stay with me. Play or don’t play, but stay. Let me make everything okay.
Steve bit the entreaty back. “You always have choices.”

“I had one choice—to let my mother turn me into someone I wasn’t, or to go off on my own. I chose my pride, and this is what it bought me. I live the real-life version of those romantic stories where the duke’s daughter runs off with the stable hand. They don’t live happily ever after. They live in abject poverty, miserable, cold, hungry. They have each other and nothing more, and pretty damn quickly it isn’t enough.”

“Do you wish you would have gone the other way?”

Chenco shook his head. “I don’t. But…I wish the fairy tale were real.”

Steve couldn’t bite his tongue anymore, not without taking it clean off. He couldn’t stop this train, but if he schooled himself, if he did his job, he could keep it under control. Straightening in the chair, putting his hands on his knees, he looked Chenco dead in the eye.

“Kneel.”

Pleasure curled in Steve’s belly at how gracefully Chenco complied with the command. The boy was nervous, yes, self-conscious, afraid of rejection, afraid of being mocked—but he was determined too, and he was here, obeying. Playing. Brave, beautiful, proud Chenco, kneeling before a man.

When Steve’s hand slid into that dark, curling hair, Chenco shuddered, and the reverberation rang all the way into Steve’s soul.
So much want.
So much yearning, so much need, but so much
strength
.

This confident man wasn’t Gordy. How had he ever seen the two of them as the same?

You don’t deserve him. You don’t deserve someone like this.

Jesus, nothing was ever more true, but when Steve started to draw back, Chenco looked up at him, wounded, confused, and it was over.

With a sharp pull, Steve drew Chenco’s face right into his crotch.

The sharp, hot breath of surprise against his fly was better than any caress. Steve watched, want and pure, red lust burning as Chenco’s lips parted, as he stared at the bulge in front of him. The saucy bottoms Steve had tricked with in his youth would have leered up at him and reached for his fly. Gordy would have nuzzled in like a grateful bear cub, sucking up musk.

Not Chenco. He hesitated, yearning but holding back, wanting but not daring to take. There was fear there, but it wasn’t of Steve. It wasn’t even trepidation over kneeling, no hesitation of being caught giving a blowjob beneath the stars. Chenco feared being seen, period. Of being tough without his drag. Exposing his vulnerability to anyone, no matter how safe they were. Letting Steve take his control away, being the one who played
that game
.

He feared it, but he faced it.
Oh, baby.

For the first time in fifteen years, it was Steve who choked. It was Steve who didn’t have the guts to reach for his fly, who couldn’t bring himself to force Chenco’s face into his groin, though it was what they both wanted. Fucking hell, he wanted Chenco stripped
down
while he knelt, wanted to fuck his face so hard everyone came out to see what the ruckus was about. He wanted them all to see, wanted them to know this boy was his. He wanted— He wanted—

Steve gripped Chenco’s hair, yanked it until his boy’s hot breath burned against his leg, half of Chenco’s face pressed into Steve’s thigh. He kept him pinned there by his hair, clamoring for control.

He couldn’t do this.

Chenco turned his face into Steve’s leg and bit him lightly through his jeans.

Steve’s hand tightened on the curly dark hair, and he felt Chenco’s scalp fighting the pressure. This wasn’t playing, this wasn’t a scene—and if it was, Steve wasn’t the fucking Dom. Was Chenco, though, or were they flying blind together?

With a whimper, Chenco bit harder. The more Steve tugged, the more Chenco cried out and the deeper his teeth went, until Steve could feel the burn of Chenco’s jaw pressing through the denim into his thigh. God, but it was glorious.

With a choked roar, Steve crammed that wicked mouth to the hot length of his cock. What he should and shouldn’t do was forgotten as he ground Chenco’s face into his rod, fingers digging in as Chenco bit here too. Jesus fuck, but he wanted to pound into that mouth. He wanted to back Chenco against a wall and slam into his sweet face until Chenco came undone around him.

He could do it. He could take him right now. Right here. He’d asked for it, begged for it. Fuck, it’d be so good, so sweet, and Steve could show him,
really show him—

“
No.
”

Steve wasn’t aware he’d pushed Chenco away, not until he was standing over him, looking down at a red-faced, confused boy.

“Did…did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Steve fought for breath, for control.
Give him an answer. Not the truth of why you stopped, but give him something. Anything.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. But I’m not going to face-fuck you on the patio.”

Chenco sat back on his heels, placing his hands delicately on his thighs. “Because I’m too young?”

“Because I said we’re not. You want to play, you play by my rules, and I said we’re done.” He let out a shuddering breath. “I told you I play with pain. I don’t know if I can ease you in.”

“You mean you think you’ll hurt me not in a good way?”

Steve ran a hand over his smooth scalp. “I mean I can’t make it nice. You rile me up like nobody has in a long time, and I don’t know that you’re ready for zero to sixty. Don’t tell me you are. You don’t know what it is yet I’m talking about doing with you.”

“I would if you told me. I could show you how much I’ll surprise you.”

Steve could not, could
not
answer, so he clammed up.

Chenco eased a little, reluctant but accepting. “Are we done, sir?”

God yes, get me out of here.
“Yes. Get up and go inside.”

It had been the worst scene ever, Steve thought as Chenco rose. He had to give him another round, soon, if only to clear up this mess, but nothing more. Chenco was not Gordy. Chenco was fire and danger, and he deserved so much better. This was a bad idea, and Steve had to
stop
.

Chenco brushed Steve’s shoulder with his hand as he passed by. “I would have, you know. I would have let you face-fuck me on the patio.”

A howl of
pure need
clawed Steve’s gut, driving an urge to pull Chenco back. Steve marshaled himself, but only just, and as he heard Chenco slide open the glass door to the dining room, he gave in.

“You can stay.”

Chenco paused with the door half-open.

“You can stay.” This time Steve was able to make his voice a little less rough. “In my house. However long you want. However long you need to, you can stay with me. Your brother is looking for trucking jobs, so he’ll be around for a while yet. You should be here too. I have the room. I enjoy your company. Stay at my house, save your money, figure out what you want, what you need. Even if Mitch leaves.”

For a long time Chenco didn’t say anything. Steve waited for Chenco to ask if they’d have sex if he stayed, and honest to God, Steve wasn’t sure what he’d say. Probably yes, probably he’d sell off any part of his soul if only Chenco would tell him he wasn’t leaving. If they could have more nights together on the patio in the quiet, so he’d see that bright smile and those beautiful eyes every time he sat down to dinner. He’d give anything right then to make him stay, and he was terrified he had no mask and this naked need was written all over his face.

Chenco kept his expression carefully schooled. “I’ll think about it,” he said, and disappeared into the house.

Sometimes a guy’s best angle is below the belt.

David’s Selfie

© 2014 Daisy Harris

When David, a single father, vows to get laid just once before the year ends, he doesn’t figure on losing his cell phone—and with it one very revealing picture. Lucky for him, his phone is found by a disarmingly handsome man who might be perfect for the kind of casual Christmas fling David is after.

Go-go dancer Craig never would have guessed that the guy with the cute cock shot would turn out to be a doctor. Or that he’d find himself lying about his night job and worrying David will find out the truth. To complicate matters, each of their hook-ups requires days of planning. Yet before he knows it, Craig has a new boyfriend, and possibly a whole new family.

David’s ready to dive head-first into something new, but if Craig’s going to commit, he’ll need to come clean about his job, his past, and—most of all—the naughty picture that drew him to David in the first place.

Warning:
Contains a male exotic dancer and extremely intimate photography. May contain traces of Zumba, bad roommates, and sad childhoods. Call your doctor if after six hours you still can’t get the grin off your face.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
David’s Selfie:

David wouldn’t have been surprised if MackinSeattle hadn’t responded. But respond he did, right when David was at the playground with Maia. Hastily, David agreed to meet the man. Someplace public. That’s how David ended up outside a bar called Pony at ten p.m. on Friday.

He yawned in his hand, shivering since he had to stand in line behind a half-dozen men. Still, the beat pulsing inside the club got his energy up.

I’m not too old for this.
At thirty, a lot of guys went to bars and dance clubs. Maybe not men who’d spent their twenties in medical school and trying to cram their bisexuality into a relationship with a woman. But to some guys, thirty wasn’t too old.

“ID?” the guy at the door asked him.

David dug his wallet out of his back pocket. Between the bags under his eyes and the lines of worry he’d carved out after his wife’s death, he doubted he looked anywhere near twenty-one, but he was flattered that the bouncer asked.

Inside, there was a small dance floor where a dozen men and a couple women rubbed together in time with music. Tables were placed along a bench at the edge of the room. Everywhere, groups talked or laughed. With the exception of a six-foot-tall drag queen, everyone else was dressed in more or less the type of thing David would expect at any bar in Seattle. T-shirts, flannel, jeans… Maybe their clothes fit a little better than straight men’s, but at least there were no sequins or sparkles other than the ones on the statue of Santa by the door.

A man wearing a red felt hat with white furry trim climbed onto the far end of the bar.

And…wow. Other than the Christmas hat, the guy wore nothing but low-slung gym shorts and high-top sneakers.

Nervously, David licked his lips as he catalogued every inch of the go-go boy’s body. Actually, the guy was more of a go-go
man
than a boy. His thighs were thick and covered with hair, his forearms brawny as he reached down into his…

Oh my God.
David covered his mouth since it must have been hanging open.

“You want something?” The bartender knocked on the counter to get David’s attention.

“Yeah. Rum and Coke?” That was what David drank back when he and Ana had first been dating.

“Sure thing.” The bartender poured a glassful and handed it across.

Once David moved away from the bar, he wasn’t sure where to stand. He pulled out his cell phone to check if MackinSeattle had messaged, but there was nothing in David’s inbox. He didn’t want to contact the guy because now that David was here, he wasn’t sure he was ready to go through with it.

With nowhere else to rest his attention, he looked to the go-go boy again. The way the guy danced was mesmerizing. No twerking—this guy was too butch for that. His hair was a paler brown than David’s, his skin a gold that may have been spray tan. More alluring, his chest full of short-clipped hair led to a taut belly with a wide happy trail. Despite having the body of an athlete, the dancer probably wasn’t much younger than David. Four or five years, maybe, but not more. But while David wasn’t sure the thing between his legs still served a purpose, the guy up on stage exuded sex. Hot, dirty, no-holds-barred sex.

David sucked at the dregs of his rum and Coke.

“Need a little more Christmas cheer?” The bartender smirked.

David rubbed his face, wondering if his mouth had been open again. Worse yet, whether he’d been drooling.

“Yeah. Um…a double?” David had to get home to relieve the babysitter in…he checked his watch…an hour and a half.

“Here ya go.” The bartender winked as he set down the glass. “It’s on me.”

David’s cheeks went hot. Wow, no one had flirted with him in… Well, okay, some of the nurses joked around with him, and even that one guy who worked at the front desk, but that was just work banter. David might be okay in the face, but other than the occasional run while pushing Maia’s jogging stroller, he was frightfully out of shape.

Sucking on his straw alleviated some of David’s stress, so he kept doing it. A few seconds later, there was only melting ice in his glass. The music that pulsed through the walls and the dance floor seemed to be pumping through his body. Without meaning to, David popped his heels off the floor. Not dancing—he’d need to be far drunker for that—but he was certainly starting to enjoy himself.

Thumbing back to his online profile, he checked again for a message. His belly tightened when he saw a little red “1” in his inbox.

Here now. You won’t be able to miss me. Just call me ‘Daddy’.

Blinking, David looked up from his phone. At the doorway stood a guy in full-on leather gear. He was shirtless under his vest, his nipple bars shining on display. He wore a leather baseball cap and chaps over jeans.

Oh. My. God.

David was in no way up to dealing with this.

He patted his back pocket, making sure he had his inhaler as well as his phone. David hadn’t had an asthma attack in years. Good medication and a careful lifestyle had his illness well-managed. But tonight…

His breath caught in his throat and held there. God, he needed to leave before the guy spotted him.

After stumbling past a wall full of 70s porn, David pushed through the door and into the graffiti-covered bathroom. His breath was coming in pants, and his throat felt like it was closing. He dragged his inhaler to his mouth and took two quick puffs.

One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand… He waited for the Advair to take effect.

Wanting to distract himself, he pulled out his phone. Unfortunately, the leather daddy had sent three more messages, asking if David was at the bar. In a panic, David sucked his inhaler again, pumping another dose of medication into his lungs.

He could apologize to MackinSeattle later. Erase his profile. He’d be a monk until Maia was in high school, or find some middle-aged guy to date who wouldn’t want anything from David besides the occasional brunch.

Frantic knocking sounded at the door. “Hey. You okay in there? I gotta piss.”

“Yeah.” David cleared his throat and shoved his inhaler in his pocket. “I’m coming.”

He pushed out of the bathroom and, ignoring everyone in his path, headed straight for the door. No one stopped him, and the leather guy must not have noticed him because next thing David knew, his feet had carried him to the sidewalk and he was marching back to his car. Given that he was slightly tipsy, not to mention jittery from a double dose of asthma meds, he should have taken a cab. His house was right down Madison Street, though, not even two miles away. He climbed in and with shaking hands pulled from the curb.

The streets were empty, and he kept to the twenty-mile-per-hour speed limit. Each stoplight seemed to judge him, first for trying to get laid, then for driving when his blood alcohol level may have been flirting with the legal maximum.

Besides, his babysitter needed to go home.