Description
La petite mort ~ the little death.
The French phrase ‘la petite mort,’ or “the little death,” traditionally refers to the momentary loss of self associated with orgasm. In the following stories, it takes on a darker meaning, where desire and death are separated by only the thinnest of lines.
The Perfect Drug
Max Lockhart is a Dom with a penchant for the darker side of edgeplay. Finding a sub who can handle what he dishes out, however, is difficult. That all changes when he meets Caleb, a young sub with a murky past and a dark secret.
Caleb Whitley craves pain more than most subs. A chance meeting leads him into the arms of a Dom who knows exactly what to do to send Caleb to his knees. When Caleb’s secret comes to light, though, he’s forced to make a choice: trust Max completely… or risk everything — including his freedom.
Bad Romance
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
The Perfect Drug:
* Extreme BDSM edgeplay
* Blood play
* Watersports
* CBT
* Public humiliation
* Medical play
* Edging
* Graphic torture and murder on-page
* Borderline necrophilia
* Age gap (20 years)
Bad Romance:
* Graphic murder on-page
* Childhood abuse/trauma discussed
* BDSM
* Blood play
* Fisting
* Watersports
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EXCERPT from The Perfect Drug:
“The body of another young man was found along the riverbank near downtown. This makes victim number seven in a long, terrifying manhunt. Authorities—”
The bartender changed the channel, shaking his head. “Damn cops have no idea what they’re doing.”
“Nah, they do,” a customer down the bar said. “They just don’t give a shit.”
Max Lockhart didn’t bother to argue; the guy was right. The police kept dragging their feet while paying lip service to the news cameras. All the victims had been gay men. In this town, with its overwhelmingly close-minded population, being queer was an automatic death sentence—literally.
“You’re a retired cop, Lockhart,” the guy said. “What do you make of this?”
“Retired being the operative word,” Max replied. “I try to stay out of it, to be honest.”
“Another, Max?” the bartender, Jake, asked.
Max shook his head and pulled out his wallet. “I should probably get going.” He put a twenty on the counter to cover the one drink he’d had, plus a hefty tip.
Jake nodded in thanks. “Take care, man.”
“You, too.”
Max slipped on his coat and sidestepped a couple of half-drunk guys before stepping outside into the cold February night. He wanted nothing more than to find a cute twink, take him home, and push him to his limits—and beyond. Guys who craved the kind of domination he gave, however, were few and far between. Those who thought they could handle it crumbled far too quickly for Max’s liking.
Even at eleven, traffic was insane. He enjoyed living in the city, but he could do without all the damn insanity at all hours of the night. The sidewalk was just as busy, with barhoppers, addicts, and not-so-subtle prostitutes beckoning anything with a heartbeat and a dick.
Max just wanted to go home and shut out the world for a while. He gave a group of questionable young men a wide birth before rounding the corner. He loved younger guys, but what he wanted, he wouldn’t find on the streets.
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