The Perfect Drug

Description

The Perfect Drug – Mychael Black

La petite mort ~ the little death.

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.

TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNINGS

* Extreme BDSM edgeplay
* Blood play
* Watersports
* CBT
* Public humiliation
* Medical play
* Edging
* Graphic torture and murder on-page
* Borderline necrophilia
* Age gap (20 years)

Available on Kindle Unlimited

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EXCERPT:

“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.

When he reached his building, he started up the steps. The doorman opened the door for him, and Max nodded in greeting.

“Long day, Mr. Lockhart?”

“You could say that.” Max tugged out his keys from his pocket. “Have a good night, Mitch.”

“You, too, sir.”

Max headed for the elevator and then up to his apartment. Once inside, the door locked, he just sighed and dropped his keys into the little dish on the bar. Outside, a car horn blared, most likely at whatever drunk or drugged-out idiot who decided to play chicken.

No question about it. Max did not miss working in homicide. Hell, he quite enjoyed his retirement, even if he still had shit to keep him busy. What he really wanted, though, would have to wait. The club he frequented in the next city over wasn’t open tonight, and even then, the chances of finding a guy who enjoyed edgeplay were slim.