Bad Romance

Description

Bad Romance – Mychael Black

La petite mort ~ the little death.

Vampire Kris Sutton works from home as a thriller author. It’s an easy–if yet lonely–life. Then he meets Myles Shepard and finds himself happily falling into the kind of intense relationship he’s always wanted.

Myles Shepard harbors a very dark secret. When he meets local author Kris Sutton, though, he realizes he’s found the perfect submissive and partner–one who not only accepts his activities, but who is also wickedly eager to join him.

TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNINGS

* Graphic murder on-page
* Childhood abuse/trauma discussed
* BDSM
* Blood play
* Fisting
* Watersports

Available on Kindle Unlimited

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EXCERPT:

“Why are you doing this?”

Derrick Summers had to stop and actually think about the answer to the young, nameless man’s question. He finally just shrugged. “Because I enjoy it.”

Terror-filled eyes stared at him. Tears dripped down the man’s pale cheeks, and he flinched when Derrick reached out to wipe the wetness from his face with gloved fingers. The young man’s lower lip trembled, but Derrick wasn’t swayed. He never had been, never would be.

“Please.”

Derrick smiled. “Just close your eyes. It will be over soon.”

* * *

I grimaced as I read the scene. Something just didn’t sit right. Maybe it was the location? Would Derrick bother dragging a victim to the woods, or would he just lure the young man home and do it there?

“Ugh.”

I sat back in my office chair, leery of the creaking. I really needed a new one, but that was out of the financial cards until the advance came in for this book. Of course, I actually had to finish said book. I was sitting in the middle of chapter fifteen, and, up until now, I hadn’t hit a stumbling block. For some reason, though, my muse decided this was a lovely time to question, well, everything.

“Coffee,” I muttered, scrubbing my hands over my face. “I need coffee. That’s it. Then maybe I can focus.”

I saved the file and grabbed my mug before standing. Annabelle raised her head from where she’d been napping on her bed in the corner of the office. I crouched and rubbed my pitbull’s head, earning a tongue bath up my right arm. She stood, stretched, and then proceeded to give my beard a good wash as well. One thing I’d learned the moment I’d adopted her at five months old was that pitties had zero concept of personal space.

“You know, that’s what showers are for.”

She gave me one of her trademark pittie smiles—another thing I’d found to be very true—at the mention of a shower. She loved bathtime. Hell, she loved water in general. Jumping into puddles after a good rain was a regular occurrence on walks.

“Come on. Maybe Dad just needs to get away from the computer.”

I stood, and she followed me into the living room. She scrambled up onto the couch, which never failed to amuse me. She barely stood tall enough, being rather short and stocky. I got a crunchy dog bone from the treat jar, went over, and received a kiss before giving her the bone. Only then did I catch sight of the digital clock on the end table.

“How the hell is it already almost dinnertime?”

I could tamp down the real hunger and settle for food for the time being, even though it didn’t provide a lot of sustenance.

“Pizza?” I asked, looking over at Annabelle. Her head snapped up from where she’d been licking the couch clean of crumbs. “All right, pizza it is. Sausage, pepperoni, extra cheese good for you?” The dog plopped down, head on her paws, and blinked impossibly big, utterly irresistible golden-brown eyes at me. I chuckled. “Noted. I’ll be back soon.” At least she would get some nourishment from it?