by
Four wheels move the body. Two wheels move the soul.
ANSON: I was just a mercenary back from fighting the good fight overseas. I was on a quest for my father, my roots, looking for answers. Turk Blackburn, Bent Zealots MC Prez, ordered me on a fresh operation to prove myself, my guts, my valor. Infiltrate the Navajo Rez and find out who is claiming the Zealots’ turf, using kids to cook drugs. My partner is the famous badge slut, Ormond Tangier, known far and wide for his mad oral skills, his subservience to anyone in uniform. Mercenaries don’t wear badges, but my dominant side soon has me all over that seductive Spanish servant. A man may as well have a few laughs while on a fatal mission. Because these things never end pleasantly.
ORMOND: I was flung into a life-or-death battle against the slimy Iceman, leader of a rival MC. Iceman is running all sorts of questionable ops on Bent Zealots land, and now Anson and I have to prove our street creds just to stake a claim in our own backyard. I’m a friend of cops, firemen, and soldiers alike, but suddenly I only want one man ordering me around. Anson Dineyazzie, macho half-breed hired gun, has stolen more than just my heart. This was never supposed to happen. ANSON: I swear I’m never falling for that service bottom Ormond. I’m accomplishing this op and going back to Afghanistan. But I have to wrest control of this Rez land from Iceman and the lethal hit man who has been trailing us. I’d bury anyone who got between me and Ormond. Does that mean I’m in love? God, I hope not. Don’t think I can take that again. Just need to get back onto the open road and blow the dust from my soul.
Publisher’s warning: This book is not for the faint of heart. It contains scenes of gay sex, illegal doings, violence, mild BDSM, and forced seduction roleplay. There is no cliffhanger or cheating and there is a HEA.
Editors:
Cover Artists:
Pairings: M-M
Heat Level: 5
Romantic Content: 4
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 26-35
Protagonist 2 Age: 26-35
Tropes: Alpha Character, Badass Hero, Bodyguard/Guardian Angel, Class Differences, Coming Home, Criminals & Outlaws, Enemies to Lovers, Fated Mates / Soul Mates, Forbidden Love, Forced Proximity, Healing Power of Sex, In Uniform, Love Can Heal / Redemption, Meet Cute, Most Mindblowing Sex Ever, Passing as Straight, Star-Crossed Lovers, Thrill of the Chase, Trapped Together, True Love
Word Count: 60000
Setting: Arizona
Languages Available: English, French, Italian, Spanish
Series Type: Same Universe / Various Characters
He didn’t even rip it over his head, he tore the material in his haste to see Ormond’s bare chest. Ormond felt buffer than ever, his torso sporting biomech tats of zombies he had crafted in his time, various monsters and aliens crawling in three-dimensional gore. It was how Ormond rolled. He had not gone overboard on the drawings, but confined them to his pecs, leaving his washboard abs creamy, softly dusted with a line of chestnut fur. He was proud of his torso, and he could see the effect in the officer’s eyes.
Now Van Winkle tore at Ormond’s belt buckle. “That’s what I want. I want to see you naked. I want to see you completely at my mercy, gay boy. I want to see you sprawled on that bed buck naked, ready and waiting for me.”
READ MOREOrmond couldn’t help it. His erection leaped from his jeans as hard as a diamond, the length and breadth of it slapping right into Van Winkle’s paw. The sergeant gripped its heat as he drew Ormond close to him. He slapped Ormond’s bare ass as he fondled Ormond’s meat. He was almost loving now, in a weird way. He nuzzled his mouth against Ormond’s, muttering shit so low Ormond could only make out a few words.
“Nice hot, fat cock…hung like a horse…juicy dick…”
Ormond almost started relaxing into it, but just as suddenly, the guy was yanking Ormond’s pants down to his ankles. “Come on! Get on that bed. That’s what I want to see. A naked, muscular buck waiting eagerly all for me!”
Ormond had the distinct impression that Sergeant Van Winkle had at least pictured this scene many times in his mind’s eye before being able to enact it. His language was too specific, too perfectly rehearsed to have been a one-off, spur of the moment thing. Well, so what if the commanding army man had toyed around with other men before? Ormond had never understood why some of them just couldn’t fucking admit they liked cock.
Van Winkle didn’t even give Ormond a chance to step out of his jeans before shoving him so violently he flew through the air. Ormond landed on his back on the bed, air expressed from his lungs with a loud oomph, his boner bobbing against his stomach. Van Winkle stood at the foot of the bed with spread feet, supreme and in charge. He ripped his own shirt off, displaying his pasty, hairless torso to the fluorescent lightbulb. Ormond’s penis might’ve even shriveled a bit at the sight of the “88” ink on Van Winkle’s pec. What the hell. That’s his own prerogative if he has white power propaganda painted on his body. I’m not about to marry the guy.
COLLAPSE
