LOGINYu Yan hesitated, then slowly turned around and braced his hands against the wall. He heard Lucheng moving behind him, the sound of a bottle opening. Then, cold, slick fingers were pulling his pants down."Relax," Lu Cheng murmured, his hand caressing Yu Yan’s ass cheek. "This is just to get you rea
The black sweater was soft, expensive cashmere that clung to Yu Yan’s skin like a second layer. The v-neck was deep, framing the leather collar perfectly. It was humiliating to wear it, but the alternative—wearing nothing, or worse, facing Lu Cheng’s wrath—was worse.When Yu Yan entered the dining r
He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. There were only five rules written in Lu Cheng’s neat, sharp handwriting.RULE #1: You will address me as Gege or Sir in private. RULE #2: You will wear the collar at all times unless I remove it. RULE #3: You will not touch yourself or com
Yu Yan didn't know how long he lay there. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours. The ache in his groin eventually subsided into a dull, throbbing frustration, leaving him feeling hollow and drained.He eventually pulled his clothes back on, his movements sluggish and heavy. He felt
"So eager," Lu Cheng murmured, squeezing him just enough to make Yu Yan see stars. "You really are a desperate little thing, aren't you?"He began to rub his palm in slow, agonizing circles. The friction of the denim against Yu Yan’s sensitive flesh was torture—too much and not enough all at once. Y
He shifted his weight, pressing his hips down deliberately. Yu Yan felt the hard length of him again, unmistakable and demanding. A fresh wave of panic washed over him. This was actually happening. His stepbrother was going to force himself on him."Please," Yu Yan whispered, the fight draining out
"You're late." The voice was a low, flat accusation that cut through the sterile silence of the studio. Alex stood in the doorway, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. The man who spoke, Marcus, was a legend in the fashion world. A reclusive genius whose photographs were worth a fortune. He w
"Your card was declined." The voice was flat, devoid of emotion. Kyle stood at the front desk of the gym, his heart sinking. The receptionist, a bored-looking girl, held his credit card between two fingers like it was contaminated. Behind him, the clank of weights and the grunts of men were a const
The final week of the project arrived. The frame of the house was up, and the crew was working on the roof. Leo was more comfortable now, his body accustomed to the physical labor and the constant, low-level arousal from his secret tasks with Gabe. One afternoon, Gabe called him up onto the partia
"Hold still. The line is shaking." The voice was a low growl, vibrating through the tattoo gun pressed against Leo's ribs. Leo gritted his teeth, his hands clenched into fists on the leather armrests of the chair. The needle buzzed, a constant, high-pitched hum that drilled into his bones. He had b







