LOGINIt can only get naughtier from here until this story is over. Get under the cover. Please do well to support my book.
Three days later, the storm hit. It was a blizzard of epic proportions. The wind howled like a dying animal, rattling the window shutters. The temperature plummeted.They piled every blanket and fur they owned onto the bed. They huddled together for warmth, skin to skin.Julian woke up shivering. Th
The first week in the cabin was a blur of adjustment. There was no hum of electricity, no distant traffic, no ticking clocks. There was only the wind, the crackle of the fire, and the sound of their own breathing.They fell into a routine that was primitive and domestic. Aiden chopped wood. Julian c
Julian cried out, his head falling back. It burned. It had been days. He was tight.Aiden didn't stop. He thrust all the way in, burying himself to the hilt."Fuck!" Julian screamed. "Yes!"Aiden grabbed Julian’s hips. He fucked him hard and fast. The car rocked under their movements. The metal crea
Aiden sat in the back of a van parked three blocks from the precinct. He was shirtless, his shoulder bandaged, sweat gleaming on his chest. The van was filled with monitors.On the main screen, he watched Julian in the interrogation room. He watched every subtle shift of Julian’s body language. He s
Across from him sat DeteRtive Miller. A man with a tired face and a mustache that had seen better decades."You're saying he forced you," Miller said for the third time. He tapped his pen on the file. "He kidnapped you from your office? Held you for weeks?""Yes," Julian said. He kept his voice soft
Julian’s eyes snapped open. The sound cut through the post-coital haze like a knife. It wasn't a dream. It was a siren. And it was close.He sat up, wincing at the pain in his arm. "Aiden."Aiden was already moving. He rolled out of bed and ran to the window. He peeled back the curtain just an inch.
The world ended with four pathetic words on my phone screen.‘We need to talk.’I stared at the message, my heart turning into a cold, heavy stone in my gut. I was on the family couch, a piece of furniture that now felt like a witness stand for my execution. I knew what that phrase meant. It was th
“You think you can run away from me?” he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. He was so close now I could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the intoxicating mix of his cologne, clean sweat, and something uniquely, primaly Marcus.“I—” I started, but I didn’t get to finish.He
He stood up and picked up one of the instruments, a small, silver rod with a tiny, sharp point on the end. It looked like a pen for flesh, a tool for writing stories of pain and pleasure on skin.“This is where it will go,” he growled, his voice a low, possessive rumble. “Where everyone can see it.
“This,” he said, holding up the collar, “is a symbol of your submission. When you are with me, you will wear it. It will remind you of your place. Of who you belong to.” He buckled the collar around my neck. It was a perfect fit, the cool leather a comforting, restrictive weight against my skin. It







