Kinked Up by M.C. Roth
Book 1 in the It’s a Kink Thing series
General Release Date: 2nd August 2022
Word Count: 75,115
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 283
Genres:
BONDAGE AND BDSM,CONTEMPORARY,EROTIC ROMANCE,GAY,GLBTQI
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Book Description
Can Trick choose between the love of his life and the sub of his dreams?
Nav can’t count the number of times he has wished he could close his eyes, hand over the reins and let someone take care of him. It’s a dream that none of his exes have been able to fulfill—not that he really understands what he needs.
At least, he doesn’t until he stumbles into a dark alley to get away from the bustling noise on the dance floor where he doesn’t belong. He’s not alone in the alley, and the stranger who gives him everything he’s longing for isn’t a stranger at all but Trick, his gorgeous neighbor who has a body that models would kill for and the softest blue eyes that Nav has ever seen.
Trick has everything he could ever wish for, including his kinky fiancé, Theo, who has been by his side for ten years. So when Trick sets up an intense scene in an alleyway that pushes their boundaries beyond anything he could have imagined, his life seems perfect. But when the alley lights flicker on, he discovers the man against him isn’t his fiancé at all.
One perfect mistake will change their lives forever.
Reader advisory: This book contains pain play and consensual non-consent.
The bar was packed with sweaty bodies and a mixture of cologne and perfume that almost covered the scents of want and sex. The music was loud enough to get lost in, with a steady thrumming beat that pounded against his sternum and made it feel like there was a chickadee trapped in his chest. The lights were low, and the shadows long, concealing naked flesh and creeping hands as people hovered close on the dance floor, their legs entwined.
Normally, Nav would have been out in the press of bodies and heat, lost in the desperate craving for sex—maybe not in a regular bar, just in case a few assholes decided that he was a little too gay for their tits and ass party. He didn’t even mind dancing with women, because they could move, and if he were lucky, their boyfriends would become awful jealous and decide that Nav needed to be taught a lesson on how to take a cock.
Nav was an ‘A’ student in that class. He could take cock like a horny teacher’s assistant, and his blowing skills were good enough to make any straight man doubt himself. He was proud of the number of men who had flocked to the right side of wrong after he’d shown them what was on offer.
But not here. He was sitting on a stool to get wasted and drown in his single sorrows. Sasha had already almost chained him to his bar stool, which was between two ladies who were probably both hookers. That could have been the only reason that they were hitting on him when he emitted gay vibes like a fifty-foot transmitter.
Taking another sip of his drink, he glanced both ways. They still looked like chicks, and they were both still smiling at him like they knew something he didn’t. Maybe Sasha hired them to guard me?
He knocked another beer back, just in case it made a difference. He couldn’t remember what number that was, but he was feeling the buzz, even if he was still far from drunk.
“You hanging in there?” asked Sasha, planting himself between the prettier woman and Nav. She quirked her glossy lips into a frown before she caught sight of Sasha, giving him a once-over that made Nav want to roll his eyes.
His best friend was good looking, but not in a way that made him the slightest bit attractive to Nav. It was probably a good thing, because Nav could hardly stand Sasha on a good day. He wasn’t sure if it was the backwards ball cap or the unlaced Nikes that turned him off—or perhaps the entire undersized and bulging ensemble.
Sasha panted as he leaned against the bar, sweat beading on his forehead and tanned collar bone. His T-shirt was at least one size too small, but it wasn’t as tight as his pants, which were blatantly displaying his too-obvious bulge.
Nav gulped and looked away. He must’ve been drunker than he thought if he was eyeing up his friend like that. The first and last time he’d kissed Sasha, he’d ended up gagging and going through an entire tube of toothpaste before he’d finally gotten rid of the lingering taste of Cool Ranch Doritos.
“I still don’t get it,” said Nav, slamming his empty glass down on the bar. His words weren’t slurred yet and the room was still steady.
“Nothing to ‘get’, man. If you fuck some guy’s dad, they are going to break up with you.” Sasha shook his head, laughing as he flagged down the bartender. The woman on his right sighed and slipped from the barstool, heading onto the dance floor. Sasha slid onto the vacated seat, resting his elbows on the surface of the bar.
“Nah, I don’t care about that asshole.” Nav looked into the sea of bodies. “What does he have that I don’t?” What does Theo have that makes Trick love him? Nav growled, picking up his empty glass and trying to drink. He blinked in confusion when his lips remained dry. He could have sworn there was another swallow or two.
“Lines, borders and maybe a hint of commitment,” said Sasha, obviously thinking that they were still talking about Everette. Nav didn’t give a shit about his most recent ex. It had been over before it had begun.
“I mean, come on, Nav. You’ve broken more hearts than anyone I’ve ever known combined, and you don’t give a shit.” Sasha grabbed Nav’s empty glass, sharing a few words with the bartender while eyeing Nav out of the corner of his eye.
Was it so terrible that Nav didn’t care about a single one of his exes? Maybe it was a bit harsh. Not one of them had looked at him the same way Trick had looked at his fiancé in that painting. No one had loved him so much that his chest ached.
“His fiancé isn’t even that good looking. He’s completely fucking average. I could probably even pass for him,” said Nav, looking down at himself. “I’m about the same height, same weight and same hair color. But he doesn’t look at me like that. Nobody fucking does.”
“Nav, is something going on?” asked Sasha, his voice losing its humored edge. He leaned in closer, until Nav could smell his Gain laundry detergent over the cherry perfume from the woman on his other side. Sasha’s beer was half gone, but Nav couldn’t remember seeing him drink.
The floor wobbled as Nav stepped off his chair too quickly. Somebody must’ve cranked the heat in the bar as a joke, because he suddenly felt like he was dripping sweat. It was so loud that he couldn’t even hear himself think over the barrage of noise.
How could Sasha stand it? He just sat there, drinking his beer as if it were just another night out—like his chest wasn’t aching and his throat wasn’t swollen shut so much that he could scarcely breathe.
It’s never going to happen. The big L word would never make it into Nav’s vocabulary. He might as well stop looking, because as soon as he’d seen that painting, it had been decided.
“I have to go get some air,” said Nav, turning away from the bar. His friend called out for him, but he pushed through the crowd toward the rear exit, refusing to look back.
The alley called to him, along with its putrid-scented garbage bins and the stray cat that probably thought it got paid to mark its territory. He didn’t want to face the brightly lit street or the line of people waiting to get into the club. They all had what he didn’t.
He pushed the door wide, ignoring the warning sign that an alarm would sound if he did. Most of those signs were fake, and no one would hear anything over the music, anyway.
Cool spring air struck his face, drying the sweat and scents from his skin immediately. He stepped into the cold, taking a deep breath as the sounds of the club sank away through the closing door. It latched shut, the steady beat the only thing that made it through the thick steel.
He’d been in alleys more times than he could count, but never alone. No matter what part of the city he was in, they were all relatively identical. They smelled the same, at least, and all had a feeling of open privacy. They made for a great place for a no-questions-asked kind of fuck—his specialty.
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M.C. Roth
M.C. Roth lives in Canada and loves every season, even the dreaded Canadian winter. She graduated with honours from the Associate Diploma Program in Veterinary Technology at the University of Guelph before choosing a different career path.
Between caring for her young son, spending time with her husband, and feeding treats to her menagerie of animals, she still spends every spare second devoted to her passion for writing.
She loves growing peppers that are hot enough to make grown men cry, but she doesn’t like spicy food herself. Her favourite thing, other than writing of course, is to find a quiet place in the wilderness and listen to the birds while dreaming about the gorgeous men in her head.
Find out more about M.C. Roth at her website.
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