All Chapters of Nailed: Men In Heat: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Chapter OneThe EncounterThe party was extravagant, just like every other Dominic LaVey threw — chandeliers dripping with glass like diamonds, champagne flowing like water, violins playing softly in the background while the powerful pretended to be human for the night.Dominic stood above them all, quite literally, on the mezzanine level of his hotel’s private ballroom, nursing a crystal tumbler of scotch and ignoring yet another mindless conversation about offshore investments.He was bored.Painfully bored.Another charity gala for a cause he didn’t believe in, surrounded by people who laughed too hard and lied too easily. His assistant, Gemma, had threatened him with public relations hell if he didn’t show face. So here he was — half a million dollars in custom decor, a guest list full of influencers, and still nothing made him feel alive.Until he looked down.His scotch froze halfway to his lips.Down by the lobby café — not part of the event, not dressed for the occasion — was

Chapter ThreeThe ConfessionElias had never been more nervous in his life.His shirt was too tight. His jeans itched. His chest wouldn’t stop thudding like something dangerous was about to happen.And the worst part?He wanted it to.He stood in front of Dominic’s penthouse door, fingers curled around the strap of his canvas bag like it was some kind of armor.He wasn’t sure what tonight meant, he just knew Dominic had further texted:“I want to take this further. But only if you’re ready.”And he had replied:“I want to understand what I’ve been missing.”Now here he was.Twenty-two. A virgin. About to enter the penthouse of a billionaire playboy who looked at him like he was the last pure thing on Earth.The door opened.Dominic was shirtless, he just had sweatpants on and at the sight, Elias nearly forgot how to breathe.The man was unfair. All sculpted abs, deep ridges, smooth skin, and a trail of dark hair disappearing beneath his waistband. His feet were bare, his hair messy fr

Chapter FiveThe Second TimeThe city slept behind the floor-to-ceiling windows of Dominic LaVey’s penthouse, a glittering sprawl of lights stretching out beneath them like the world had bowed in surrender. But Elias couldn’t look away from the man kneeling in front of him.He had found himself almost running down when Dominic had let him know he was home from his company and realized he probably wouldn’t be able to stop whatever they had anytime soon.Dominic had stripped him slowly. Reverently. Each button of Elias’s pale blue shirt had been unfastened with a kiss to exposed skin, each soft sound Elias made cataloged like scripture in the older man’s mind.“You can stop me,” Dominic had murmured, warm breath skimming the inside of Elias’s thigh as he knelt there, broad hands cradling fragile hips like glass. “Anytime. You just say the word.”Elias didn’t say the word.He’d nodded instead, his fingers trembling where they curled in the sheets behind him. His eyes were wide, glassy, p

Chapter SevenA Lesson in ObsessionThe late afternoon sun cast a molten gold through the towering windows of Dominic’s penthouse, but Elias barely noticed. He was still in Dominic’s shirt — loose on his small frame, smelling faintly of spice and musk.His body ached in places he never knew could ache, a dull throb between his legs, his thighs sore from being spread so long. And yet, his heart fluttered every time he remembered the way Dominic had kissed his spine afterward, whispering things Elias never thought a man like him could say.He padded barefoot across the marble floors, trying not to feel awkward in the open space. The penthouse was too big and rich but Dominic wasn’t. Dominic was fire and warmth, danger and tenderness all in one breath.And he was watching him now, sitting shirtless at the kitchen counter, coffee mug in hand, laptop open but forgotten. Those dark eyes followed Elias like they always did — greedy, hungry, possessive.Elias flushed and shifted nervously, un

Chapter 1: The TransferKeaton’s POVThe first thing I learned about prison was that the air here smelled like disinfectant and sweat. Cold, sharp, like bleach trying and failing to wash out years of violence. Chains rattled somewhere down the corridor, followed by the sharp bark of a guard ordering someone to shut the fuck up.I’d seen prisons before—on TV, in movies, in the news. They always looked the same: steel bars, peeling paint, men pacing like caged dogs. But stepping into one as an inmate? That was different.The cuffs bit into my wrists as I shifted. They’d been on since the bus ride from the county, and the metal had left raw grooves across my skin. My ankles were chained too, forcing me into a stiff shuffle every time I moved. The orange jumpsuit didn’t fit right—too short in the legs, too tight across the chest.“This way, Rhoades.”The guard behind me shoved at my shoulder. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of stumbling. I lifted my chin and walked steady, letting my e