NEW RELEASE: COLD JUSTICE (The Asylum Fight Club Book 4) with NSFW EXCERPT!
Times are pretty crazy, so I haven't gotten to do as much for this new release as I wanted to, but I'm so excited to have it out there. I know reading and writing has helped me so much in finding an escape right when I need it. I really hope my books do the same for you.
That said, I'm hoping to have some updates for you soon of things to look forward to. I appreciate your support so much and my thoughts are will you all.
Stay home if you can. Stay safe.
And Happy Reading!
With his name on several government assassination lists, Wren Gibson’s prison sentence might’ve been the shortest in hacker history, until an unlikely rescue lands him behind the sturdy brick walls of The Asylum Fight Club. Where everyone can game the rules, yet he’s forbidden from even placing his piece on the board.
But one Dom tempts him to gamble everything.
The Asylum’s resident, on-call medic, Jared “Doc” McCleod is familiar with the histories of every man who crosses the club’s threshold. Their pain, their fear… Of them all, only Wren has held on to his secrets, a fascinating contrast with how completely he gives up control. As the general on the front lines of The Asylum’s internal and external battles, it’s Jared’s duty to make certain the quiet sub with soulful brown eyes doesn’t fly under his radar for long.
Showing his hand could cost them both.
When Jared takes on the task of helping Wren recover from an unexpected injury, Wren begins to wonder. While the Dom is tending to everyone else, who is there for him? To show Jared he can be the sub he needs, he would willingly light himself on fire. For an ex-con with a target on his back, risking that kind of notice is a dangerous strategy, but...
Sometimes, getting what you want requires going all in.
Palm pressed over warm flesh, moist lips going still under Jared’s hand nearly made him forget what he’d been about to say. Blood pulsed low and hard, entering his dick like a punch. He pressed into the discomfort, forcing Wren back against the cushions, needing to control something, if only the boy’s mouth. “You’ll stay where I want you. Go where I tell you, when I tell you. Understood?”
Eyes wide, Wren nodded.
One knee on the couch, he fought the urge to move his palm over flared nostrils, to drink in the moment of fear that would follow. Struggles that would tighten lithe muscles beneath his hands until the boy sagged and he parted his fingers to let him inhale cold, precious, perfect breaths.
Jared dropped his hand, moving to the other end of the sofa, his “Drink up your tea, boy,” a little too gruff.
Without hesitation, Wren lifted the cup. Took a full mouthful of the scalding beverage. Then continued to drink.
Horror spiked through him at the way the boy followed his orders to the letter. He jerked forward, knocking the mug clear of Wren’s fingers before he could take another mouthful. “Fuck, boy. Do you have any sense in your head?”
Wren’s already red face turned blotchy as his eyes filled with tears. The mug rolled across the Oriental carpet, spreading a dark stain over the crimson and cream pattern. Wren scrambled after it, a distressed cry escaping his lips. Standing, Jared moved to the stain and covered it with his boot, so his foot filled the boy’s view.
On all fours, Wren froze, breaths coming quicker. Slowly sat back on his knees, in wait position, his arms behind his back, gaze lowered.
“Hm.” Tapping two fingers under the boy’s chin, Jared compelled him to lift his head. “Open.”
Brown eyes darkened and pink lips parted.
Cupping Wren’s chin, Jared pulled out his penlight, then bent to peer in his mouth. “Show me.”
As Wren stuck out the pert length of his glistening tongue, Jared shone the light, examining for blisters. There was no apparent damage other than overly red oral mucosa.
“Let’s see if we can make you think twice about abusing yourself, boy.” He straightened, issuing the hand command for stay. Leaving Wren there, Jared went to the kitchen to collect six ice cubes in a cup. Returned, pointing to the couch. “Up.”
Wren scrambled up.
Jared sat, pulling him into his lap, one arm around his shoulders, and tipped the boy’s head back to gently extend his neck. “Open.”
Sweet lips parted, the boy’s submission to him absolutely beautiful. No reservations. He’d have to be more careful with the gift in the future—there was little self-preservation instinct in this one. A diamond in the rough that could be polished to exquisite brightness if handled correctly.
Trailing the ice over the tiny dent at the middle of a lush lower lip, he smiled when Wren shifted on his lap, the round softness of his bottom an invitation he did his best to ignore. Ice chilled his fingers, cold water running down his wrist to dampen his shirt cuff as he pressed the cube in the boy’s mouth and withdrew it in a rhythmic motion. Water dribbled down that rounded chin, a tempting trail that suggested dirtier uses.
“Hold it in your mouth. Don’t swallow.”
Full lips puckered into a compliant pout, Wren’s cheeks hollowed, drawing the cube from his fingers.
Taking the next cube, Jared used his other hand to unbutton the boy’s trousers. Palming the ice, he slid his oh so naked fingers past the constriction of elastic and cloth, pushed aside the length of hard flesh to grasp a handful of beautifully firm balls, and pressed the ice against the underside of Wren’s sac.
“Three swallows. Six cubes. We’ll continue until they’re all melted.”
Head tossing minutely, Wren whimpered as more water dribbled down his chin.
The ice melted, turning to a shard, and he withdrew his hand to pluck the next cube from the glass. “Open. Don’t swallow.”
Wren wiggled against him, opening his mouth, keeping his head tipped back to contain the melted ice water.
Jared pressed the next cube between his lips, then tapped his chin to close them.
The next chunk, he slid between softly fuzzed ass cheeks and pressed against a compliant hole.
Wren opened to him without his having to ask, and he murmured his “Such a good boy” against his ear as he pushed the ice inside. “You’ll never hurt yourself, so stupidly, unthinkingly again, will you?”
A minute shake of Wren’s head, sorrowful brown eyes telling him everything he needed to know. The lesson was getting through.
The next cube in the boy’s mouth. He took the last, warmed it against his palm, slicking his fingers, and wrapped his hand around the boy’s straining dick. That he was so beautifully needy, despite the punishment, wasn’t lost on Jared. Fisting his length, he jacked him off in slow strokes, careful not to press too hard, not wanting to abrade tender tissues. Precum leaked over his fingers, adding a stickiness to the damp that he was tempted to clean away with his tongue.
Soft flesh, cold and heat, all of the sensations he’d denied himself for so long wrapped around him, constricting his breaths. Wren pressed back against him, the chilled wetness seeping through his trousers, playing with the dangerous line of a wordless request Jared wanted nothing more than to grant them both.
“You may not come.” He whispered the words to himself, but Wren went still.
He hadn’t meant the directive for the boy, though the restraint would serve them both. This was a punishment—too much pleasure had been taken and given already. Next time, he’d remember his gloves, wouldn’t get lost to the sensations this one flooded him with. Control would be easier to maintain that way.
The last of the ice melted away. Jared breathed deep, forcing his hand to still before pulling it away. Refastened dark slacks to brush the placket smooth. Nostrils flared, Wren breathed in harsh pants, his arousal dancing through the flames of his distress. He regarded the boy’s puffed cheeks and watering eyes, his struggle not to swallow.
One corner of Jared’s mouth lifted, unbidden. “Beautiful.”
Wren’s brows drew together with his whimper.
Lifting the cup, he took pity and held it under the boy’s mouth. “Spit.”
Water cascaded into the glass.
Holding Wren’s gaze, he brought the cup to his mouth and drank down the melted ice, swallowing every drop of the boy’s submission, consuming his distress until there was nothing left. “Forgiven.”