Read an Excerpt
“I thought you’d like the look of him. Rumour has it he’ll do anything you want. Really...anything.”
Brett Morton stared across the crowded dance floor. His friend was very wrong. The sight of Shawn Tate practically naked and wrapped around another man was not at all to his taste.
Knowledge of the rumours already running around the hotel only made it worse.
It was always the bloody same. A beautiful new submissive walked into a place like this and all hell broke loose. Two minutes later, every dominant guy in a twenty-mile radius was boasting that he already knew him and had already screwed him.
Brett left his friend standing by the bar without a word. He strode across the dance floor, straight towards a young man he’d been quietly keeping his eye on for months.
Halfway there, he saw the man dancing with Shawn yell something to a friend standing a few yards away. The second guy grinned and shimmied between dancers to press up against Shawn’s back, sandwiching the smaller man between them.
Brett jostled his way past the crowding bodies. Every damned man on the floor seemed determined to prevent him from reaching the three dancers on the opposite edge of the dance floor. He finally arrived at their side, just in time to see Shawn look over his shoulder to smile at the man behind him.
As he turned back, Shawn’s eyes flashed towards him and opened very wide.
“Brett! What are you—?” He pushed against the bare chested man in front of him, but the guy just wrapped his arms more firmly around him. His grip on Shawn’s arse, where his low slung cut offs barely clung to his body, tightened. Ignoring all of Shawn’s efforts to push him away, he glowered at Brett.
“Who the hell are you?” he yelled over the thumping music.
“He’s my boss,” Shawn said, looking from the man in front of him to the man behind him and then back to Brett again. “I...”
Brett cast a pointed look at the hands still pressing against the first man’s chest.
“I believe he’s telling you to back off.”
“Fuck off, if you want to chase your secretary ‘round your desk, do it at work. We saw him first. If you want him—you can bloody well wait until we’re done.”
Brett didn’t miss the stress the man put on the word we. He looked from him to the other man, whose arms were also wrapped firmly around Shawn, staking a claim on the younger man’s body.
As he saw it, any man who went to a BDSM resort and purported to be a dominant should be able to back up that claim on his own. If he needed his friend to stand up for him, he really should have picked a different sort of lifestyle. Either that, or he should admit he was a submissive and just bloody well get on with it.
Brett reached between them and took hold of Shawn’s wrist. Each of the other men tightened his grip on him. Shawn twisted around to look at each of them in turn, obviously not at all in favour of being caught in the middle of a three-way mine’s-bigger-than-yours contest.
“Don’t be tiresome, children,” Brett told the younger men sandwiching Shawn. One let go of his prize to square off against him. The other immediately did the same so he could back up his friend. That was all Brett needed from them. He deftly manoeuvred Shawn from between them and put the smaller man behind him.
“Who the—?” one of the would be dominants began.
“Yes, yes, very interesting,” Brett said, letting boredom seep into every word as the music faded into a quieter but equally thumping rhythm. “Now, you can either have a temper tantrum in the middle of the dance floor—in which case you’ll be thrown out. Or you can just accept the fact that whatever you planned to do with Shawn isn’t going to happen—and find someone else to play with.”
“You’ll be chucked out too. Let’s see if you’re so bloody sure of yourself if we all take it outside.” He pushed at Brett’s chest. “You won’t be the one fu—”
He tried to shove Brett again. Brett only had a certain amount of patience to waste on a man like that. He caught the other guy’s wrist and simply twisted until he dropped to his knees with a yelp.
“Brett!” Shawn put his hand on his arm, trying to get his attention. “What are you...?”